buddhabrot:
“Namio Harukawa
”

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dulcez:

Billie Holiday photographed by Carl Van Vechten, 1949

(via abstrackafricana)

antikythera-astronomy:

A crescent Moon being photobombed by a crescent Venus

(Image by Pál Váradi Nagy)

(via rooskes)

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clarawebbwillcutoffyourhead:

so these are messages from the person behind the Bambi Ortiz and Harmony Rodriguez personas.

she is a white woman, it appears she DID get arrested last week but was not assaulted and it was not for sex work.

she created these personas well over a year ago, and had them become active in sex work community. I’m not often in NYC, so i didn’t think it was weird I never met them, but I never asked if anyone else had, and it turns out no one else did either because… we trust other people who say they are sex workers, right?

Both personas participated in a Tits and Sass round table on racism in the industry, even tho the woman behind them should absolutely have known better than to–actually I don’t know why I’m saying that, she should have known not to do this.

Until a friend of mine yesterday started adding up discrepancies everyone thought they were real.

Police DO rape sex workers all the time, Oakland, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Washington, Portland.

I want to somehow emphasise that even though what Lily did was incredibly fucked up and wrong, please don’t stop believing in survivors. Please don’t go all Sarah Schulman. She was able to pull this most recent scam because it is so common, especially for police to abuse women of colour.

Lysistrata is an organisation founded and run by low income and street based sex workers to help out low income sex workers, usually with th funds of more well off sex workers. They were acting in good faith–I believe we all were. This was someone we knew and trusted and we also believed we knew Bambi.

It is okay to share these screenshots, but I wanted to add the explanation and the plea to still believe survivors.

Aside from the personal damage she’s done to her relationships, i want to minimise the damage she’s done to survivor credibility.

Please share. I know how fucked this whole thing is. Please share and please still support sex workers and survivors.

(via workingitinportland)

THE WIND OF ORISHAS


I

This land will not always be foreign.
How many of its women ache to bear their stories
robust and screaming like the earth erupting grain
or thrash in padded chains mute as bottles
hands fluttering tracts of resistance
on the backs of once lovers
half the truth
knocking in the brain like an angry steampipe
how many
long to work or split open
so bodies venting into silence
can plan their next move?

Tiresias took 500 years they say to progress into woman
growing smaller and darker and more powerful
until nut-like, she went to sleep in a bottle
Tiresias took 500 years to grow into woman
so do not despair of your sons.


II

Impatient legends speak through my flesh
changing this earths formation
spreading
I will become myself
an incantation
dark raucous many-shaped characters
leaping back and forth across bland pages
and Mother Yemonja raises her breasts to begin my labour
near water
the beautiful Oshun and I lie down together
in the heat of her body my truth becomes stronger
Shango will be my brother roaring out of the sea
earth shakes our darkness swelling into each other
warning winds will announce us living
as Oya, Oya my sister my daughter
destroys the crust of the tidy beaches
and Eshu’s black laughter turns up the neat sleeping sand.

III

The heart of this country’s tradition is its wheat men
dying for money
dying for water for markets for power
over all people’s children
they sit in their chains on their dry earth
before nightfall
telling tales as they wait for their time
of completion
hoping the young ones can hear them
earth-shaking fears wreath their blank weary faces
most of them have spent their lives and their wives
in labour
most of them have never seen beaches
but as Oya my sister moves out of the mouths
of their sons and daughters against them
I will swell up from the pages of their daily heralds
leaping out of the almanacs
instead of an answer to their search for rain
they will read me
the dark cloud
meaning something entire
and different.

When the winds of Orisha blow
even the roots of grass
quicken.