25. elementary school prof. lets go play outside

We were lied to. The women of my generation were told that we could ‘have it all’, as long as ‘it all’ was marriage, babies and a career in finance, a cupboard full of beautiful shoes and terminal exhaustion – and even that is only an option if we’re rich, white, straight and well behaved. These perfect lives would necessarily rely on an army of nannies and care-workers, and nobody has yet bothered to ask whether they can have it all.

We can have everything we want as long as what we want is a life spent searching for exhausting work that doesn’t pay enough, shopping for things we don’t need and sticking to a set of social and sexual rules that turn out, once you plough through the layers of trash and adverts, to be as rigid as ever.

As for young men, they were told they lived in a brave new world of economic and sexual opportunity, and if they felt angry or afraid, if they felt constrained or bewildered by contradictory expectations, by the pressure to act masculine, make money, demonstrate dominance and fuck a lot of pretty women while remaining a decent human being, then their distress was the fault of women and minorities. It was these grasping women, these homosexuals and people of colour who had taken away the power and satisfaction that was once their birthright as men. We were taught, all of us, that if we were dissatisfied, it was our fault, or the fault of those closest to us. We were built wrong, somehow. We had failed to adjust. If we showed any sort of distress, we probably needed to be medicated or incarcerated, depending on our social status. There are supposed to be no structural problems, just individual maladaption.

"These words are directed to all of those people who, without belonging to the EZLN, share, live and struggle with us for an idea: to build a world in which many worlds fit. Or to put it another way, we want to have a birthday that celebrates many birthdays."
-Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos

I been round the block
before i had teeth in my mouth
to bite back words.
i’ve been round the block
before the hair on my head
curled enough to tangle thoughts.
Ive been round blocks too big to see
I remember trees on blocks so
strong their roots their life tore concrete like skin like paper
I remember trees so big the blocks stood still afraid to move to be torn like concrete like skin like paper.
I remember trees with skin so soft
and thoughts so big they let them fly
all over everything i remember
a tree that whispered to me.

Between. if gravity is
Weaving slow time between us into
Mass then we are building
Just by being

@keyballah so happy singing i got this today!

@keyballah so happy singing i got this today!

“…he dropped the kind of knowledge that made you want to pour oceans over your skin in gratitude for the melanin.”

—Key Ballah, Master of Hip Hop (via keywrites)

e v e r y t h i n g


—The Way I chose to Love you (via keywrites)

i haven’t climbed in 3 months. fracture in my left middle joint. grouchy grouchy like you wouldn’t believe.

“Please stop calling this a nation of immigrants. We are not a nation of immigrants. We are a nation of colonizers, ex-slaves, ghosts of genocide victims, and preferred immigrants.”

—Maurice Lucas Goes IN (via sonofbaldwin)

(via newwavefeminism)

Laid up

With a finger injury. 2+ months, crossing fingers (hah!) I won’t need surgury on my knuckle.

Also, took maybe too many tries to spell knuckle.

I asked Yuri, “How do I do this? How do I live a political life with motherhood?” I was exhausted, but Yuri made it seem so easy.

“This,” she said, gesturing to my daughter in her lap, “is what you do. You just take your daughter everywhere, like I did with my kids – protests, rallies, long late-night planning meetings. We take our children with us and they grow up to be good people, people who care about the community. And she will learn what kind of woman her mother is by watching you work in the movement.”


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