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As women and men who believe in equality for all I believe there needs to be a place where we can openly discuss the issues and problems facing women today. This is a safe place to do so.


the problem of slut shaming in kpop (x)


Daria, the 90s queen of cynicism & women power #femspo #femspiration


Daria, the 90s queen of cynicism & women power #femspo #femspiration

I don’t like wearing my shorts and tank tops in public because I feel like a slut…

My LITTLE SISTER said this to me, and this is how fucked up society can make a person. (via the-gaystache)


I need more people to be aware of Mary Lambert and her incredibly message of Body Love.  This woman has such an incredibly heart and soul that she pours into her music and spoken word.  Seeing her live was one of the most inspiring experiences I have ever had and I was moved to tears.  Who she is and what she stands for are such a fresh awakening in today’s music industry.  We need someone like her, we need her.  I’m not even sure how to explain it in words, but her voice, her soul, her songs, her message, her body, her life are all things that we need to hear and see in today’s music industry and public eye.  She is a role model for every girl out there that has ever been put down for her weight, for her past, for her sexual orientation, for her lifestyle habits, for mental disorders.  She is a real woman, showcasing how real women are and being an advocate for real women.


pinterest (feimineach)



pinterest (feimineach)


How to correctly act upon seeing “hate” against white people (if you are white) - by tumblr user aphkolko

yes i have shitty handwriting, yes it looks really crappy, yes it looks like i drew it in ten minutes bc i did

but i got my message across bc i keep seeing white ppl be really whiny over such a small comment just like shut up man

Ever notice how, when we’re kids,
they call us boys and girls.
And there’s no wiggle room in titles like that.
And maybe it feels a little suffocating,
and maybe it feels right.
But I grew up, found my curves and my voice—
hair in the places we’re not allowed to talk about.
And all I hear about are, even now, all these men
and girls.
Like while they were busy growing up,
I got stuck in this prepubescent wet dream,
where boys with hungry hands run fingers
down my hairless thighs
and leave humid breaths at the seam of my neck.
I noticed men have this way
of using infantile language like love poems.
You’re his “girl”—
You’re always gonna be his “girl”
He rattles it off like the sweetest kind of promise,
and dresses you up in your best doll clothes,
and this is what you’ve got.
This is what you’re given.
Ladies! How many of your fathers ever told you
you would always be Daddy’s Little Girl,
even after you were paying your own mortgage?
And exactly how many eight year old boys
have watched fathers go off to work,
go off to war,
to get told they’re man of the house, now.
Even though they’ve got two older sisters,
with high school diplomas,
even though they’ve got a mother
with hands made of the same kind of marble
they build monuments out of—
but no.
That little boy, can’t even reach over the counter,
that little boy, he’s a man, now.
I don’t know how many years I’m expected
to stave off the rougher parts of womanhood.
I gotta buff out my wrinkles,
I gotta paint on my face.
They don’t get to see all of the things that make me.
See, I’ve got these beautiful stretch marks
that break like creamy tributaries
over my thighs.
So I wanna know, what makes me girl
and what makes me woman?
And how come I’m not the one
who gets to decide?

Girl, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

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