Carefree, if only for a moment
The French charity the Mimi Foundation told 20 cancer patients they would give them makeovers. All that was required of them was to keep their eyes closed to make the reveal more exciting. The patients expected that when they opened their eyes, they would look beautiful — but they got something else completely.
This literally made me cry with joy.
Crying so hard. I love this so much.
A white man and an elderly Native man became pretty good friends, so the white guy decided to ask him: “What do you think about Indian mascots?”
The Native elder responded, “Here’s what you’ve got to understand. When you look at black people, you see ghosts of all the slavery and the rapes and the hangings and the chains. When you look at Jews, you see ghosts of all those bodies piled up in death camps. And those ghosts keep you trying to do the right thing.
“But when you look at us you don’t see the ghosts of the little babies with their heads smashed in by rifle butts at the Big Hole, or the old folks dying by the side of the trail on the way to Oklahoma while their families cried and tried to make them comfortable, or the dead mothers at Wounded Knee or the little kids at Sand Creek who were shot for target practice. You don’t see any ghosts at all.
“Instead you see casinos and drunks and junk cars and shacks.
“Well, we see those ghosts. And they make our hearts sad and they hurt our little children. And when we try to say something, you tell us, ‘Get over it. This is America. Look at the American dream.’ But as long as you’re calling us Redskins and doing tomahawk chops, we can’t look at the American dream, because those things remind us that we are not real human beings to you. And when people aren’t humans, you can turn them into slaves or kill six million of them or shoot them down with Hotchkiss guns and throw them into mass graves at Wounded Knee.
“No, we’re not looking at the American dream. And why should we? We still haven’t woken up from the American nightmare.”"
The Red Road
If you are interested in hearing a Native American perspective on the mascot issue, this is an excerpt from “Wolf at Twilight” by Kent Nerburn.
(from Lee Deranger)
Why cello there
This has 130 notes.
Y’all need to chill this wasn’t that funny
This is the post that put me over 500 followers. I hate everything
would you say that we need to
story of my life
My class pretended to play dead.
Just as the Mayans predicted, the apocalypse came with the signal of a cough.
these middle schoolers read better than my high school honors english class
I REALLY HAVE TO REBLOG THIS IM SORRY THE FUCKING TEACHER
WOMEN TELL YOUR DAUGHTERS THIS.
Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found
Here are some fun sites
Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics
Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli
Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies
*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*
You’ll be okay, friend <3
i will reblog this everytime it shows up because any of my followers could have a bad night right now
When young women are sexually assaulted, we question their pasts and critique their clothing choices, yet rarely ask their attackers to simply be accountable for having no self-control, and no respect for the humanity of the girls they’ve violated.
When middle school girls post half–naked photos of themselves on Instagram, we vilify and ostracize them as cheap and easy, while ignoring the dozens of young men who mindlessly vote their approval each time, who feed the insecurity, and who perpetuate each degrading act with the click of a mouse.
When high school girls get jobs at chain restaurants, which require them to expose their body parts to strangers over trays of nachos, we bemoan their lack of humility and class, yet never question the thousands of men who fill these eateries every day; many with daughters the same age as the ones they ogle.
When women embarrassingly writhe on poles for a few sweaty dollar bills, in dimly lit bars ironically called “Gentlemen’s Clubs”, we heap insults and judgement on them, yet let the many married men who pay both the dancers and the mortgage each month, come and go without blemish or critique.
Sooner or later, we need to stop letting boys be boys, and we need to challenge them to be men.
Sooner or later, we need to pull them out of their perpetual adolescence and into adulthood, and ask them to evenly carry the weight of sexual standards.
Sooner or later, we need to show our young men that the they can actually raise the moral temperature in sexual situations, not reflect them."