![living-planet:
Whale and kite rider, Guanacaste, Costa Rica [532x800]http://living-planet.tumblr.com/](http://24.media.tumblr.com/98edd06552ddd3eae90e72a9d3a099b4/tumblr_ml6009zaNq1rbykrgo1_250.jpg)
Whale and kite rider, Guanacaste, Costa Rica [532x800]
http://living-planet.tumblr.com/
Untitled (Ocean), 1969, by Vija Celmins. Graphite on acrylic ground on wove paper
“Contemporary Works on Paper” on view now in galleries 121–123.
(Source: faux-e, via masterbaits)
I need feminism because when I call out others on their sexist jokes and comments, they often tell me I’m too sensitive and that I should “Lighten Up”
(Source: airows)
THE BLACK TRAP IN MUNICH BY ALBERTO SEVESO
Italy, Portoscuso-based artist Alberto Seveso
Erin (from A Dress A Day)
I wish someone would have told me this when I was younger.
(via iamateenagefeminist)
(Source: burrito-princess, via literarynerd)
The countries never invaded by the British (colored white on the map):
Andorra
Belarus
Bolivia
Burundi
Central African Republic
Chad
Congo, Republic of
Guatemala
Ivory Coast
Kyrgyzstan
Liechtenstein
Luxembourg
Mali
Marshall Islands
Monaco
Mongolia
Paraguay
Sao Tome and Principe
Sweden
Tajikistan
Uzbekistan
Vatican City
actually you can cross mali off the list now.
(Source: airows)
“Vote On Top”: Vote Chris Cortes for UA Vice President (by Christian Cortes)
When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.
“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.
“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.
But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.
Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”
All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”
And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.
About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.
This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.
“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”
(via imensidao-do-mar)
Where they have burned books, they will end in burning human beings.
—Heinrich Heine (1821)
(Source: vintageanchorbooks, via literarynerd)
Anti-Choice “Medical Experts” Play Increasing Role in Abortion Legislation Testimony
As anti-choice state legislators introduce more and more abortion restrictions, the testimony for and against such bills is becoming increasingly important in influencing final votes. In some cases, such as the recent Indiana medication abortion law hearing, the divide between real science and anti-choice “science” is clear when anti-choicers are unable to find even one practicing medical professional to show up to defend the bill, while opponents are able to recruit numerous doctors to discuss its problems.
“As part of his ongoing attempt to restrict abortion access to low-income women, Alaska Sen. John Coghill recently video conferenced national medical professionals to testify in a recent committee hearing; they all claimed abortion is never medically necessary and is harmful to a woman’s physical and mental health.”
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