to all those who say you need white people to have a successful show: may i direct you to avatar: the last airbender and legend of korra
to all those who say that you can’t have a woman of color be a main character and have a successful show: may i direct you to avatar:…
The concept that there are people who’s entire career is based on stalking individuals (mostly women, let’s be real) and photographing them at the beach when they’re just trying to have fun with their families so they can sell the photos to media companies that then scrutinize and rate their bodies as if they belong to the public in the first place is so mind-numbingly outrageous, I just start making angry volcano noises every time I think about it too much.
Go Forth and Educate Yourselves!
I’d also highly recommend watching the Jane Elliot Brown-eye/Blue-eye experiments, which can be found here:
- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pv8mCHbOrs (Part 1)
- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=neEVoFODQOE (Part 2 - Has very important points on Reverse Racism and how it doesn’t exist, and it also dismantles the “We All Bleed Red” mentality.)
Not only should you educate yourself but use this for good. Look around you and help others who don’t have this privilege. Hiring, donating, community service, etc.
After this post went viral, the original artist had to delete their tumblr because they were inundated with death threats.
There were people more offended by this comic than offended by the existence of racial disparities—to the point where they threatened this artist’s life.
Are you for real? Jesus…
^^^ how are you surprised?
White people will do anything to maintain an ignorant, racist society.
Even kill their own who don’t want that.
this is the greatest pun i have ever witnessed
WHEN PEOPLE THINK BEING RUDE TO TEACHERS OR PROFESSORS IS FUNNY
Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickasslavenderpatilbecause everyone should read it
"i don’t support feminism because i don’t hate men"