this fucking show, y’all

this fucking show, y’all

(Source: holybazookas)

Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on.

Immigrants. First generation.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo.

(via theijeoma)




Nobody gives the black girl mob credit for being smart as fuck. They clown but at the end of the day they are really intelligent.

And it’s not subtle at all.
Taystee is a math prodigy in addition to being well-read, Poussey is multilingual, Cindy just knows shit, Suzanne studies Shakespeare, Watson was a good student in addition to being a track star, Vee is basically an evil genius. Piper often learns the most from them; they taught her how to fight and helped translate Pennsatucky’s biblical threat.
The show flat out acknowledges the (academic) intelligence of the black inmates time and time again, but the audience collectively ignores it.


(Source: ageofdesiderata)

Dear friends of Tumblr,

It was a nice time while it lasted, Tumblr.

In an effort to start holding myself more accountable to blogging/writing, I’ve decided to create (err, continue) a Wordpress blog. Feel free to follow and read along if you’d like, or not. 

This is not to say that I won’t be posting in here at all, only that I don’t think Tumblr, as a writing platform, is where I feel comfortable expressing my thoughts anymore. It’s not you, it’s me.





You don’t need to be white to perpetuate anti-black racism. 

Sext: I saw you for the first time in 3 years yesterday and all of a sudden I was 15 again and it was January and I still thought that love smelled like stale Christmas trees and tasted like snow. And we became adults together and fell apart like adults do because they don’t know anything more than children.
Sext: I saw you for the first time in 3 years yesterday, but you did not even act like you recognized me and suddenly I am 18 and it is June and love smells like melting asphalt and tastes like blood.

—"The First One" by Claire Luisa  (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source: claireluisa)


Backstage at Lane Crawford fall 2011 campaign by Mert Alas Marcus Piggot

eyebrow goals

bar culture

Because it’s summer and I have some free time, I’ve been going out to bars during the day to grab a couple of beers and watch some of the games. Some observations:

  • Knowledge of beer and sports is pretty much crucial towards integrating into the bar scene
  • Today I realized just exactly how introverted and quiet and awkward I can be around people I don’t know, particularly around the typical American guy that hang out in bars
  • I realize just how much of a bubble I’ve been in the past few years by surrounding myself with very politically-conscious folks of color in activist/community organizing/radical spaces who are, for the most part, very easy-going and warm. The vast majority of people do not approach you and talk to you like how I am used to.  
  • I am suddenly very aware of the physical space I take up as an Asian-American woman, about my body, about the way I look, about my presence. As if every time I introduce myself to people, there is always an unspoken, underlying need to prove myself to be cool and likable. 

Epigraphs from Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events as tweets

(Source: lifeinthelittleapple)