Just a set of quick photos I did for class.
Chronic illness 101.
Reblogging again because I am about to walk out the door to do something that would drain a half or full battery, and I’m already at 40%
Sports Editor at The Nation, Dave Zirin
"I am a big girl. A voluptuous, curvy, dress-wearing lesbian. I love my body; it’s the only one I’ll ever have. I eat a lot of greens and work out and drink gin martinis and put M&Ms in my froyo and sometimes I don’t do anything but watch Project Runway. I am allowed to look sexy, feel sexy, and be in love. I am worthy of all of those things, and so are you. Own your good and bad, and all the scary parts that you’ve been covering up because it is yours and no amount of judgement can tell you how to love your body. In the words of Sonya Renee, the body is not an apology. You are magic. “
femininity is sooo intertwined w capitalism too like if you needed more proof that its not harmless. There are billion dollar industries built on making women feel like shit. And these companies are all owned by men. These men make money off us and then tell us we arent good enough so that they can make more money off us.
you know that phrase “being a woman is expensive”? thats not an accident.
If you are female, expressing hatred for your own body is not just acceptable, it’s practically de rigeur. Failure to indulge in the requisite amount of self-flagellation – my thighs! my skin! my face! – isn’t just negligent, it’s unfeminine. Self-hatred is fundamental to how femininity is constructed, more fundamental than any of the more obvious external symbols (dress, make-up, shoes). What matters is not that you are beautiful, but you know your place in the beauty hierarchy (and since every woman ages, every woman’s place will eventually be somewhere at the bottom).
Young women are encouraged to bond over their dislike of excess body hair, surplus flesh and “uneven” skin. They are meant to do so in a jovial way, egged on by perky adverts informing them what “real women” do: worry about having underarms beautiful enough for a sleeveless top, celebrate curves with apologetic booty shakes and cackle ruefully over miserable Sex-and-the-City-style lunches of Ryvita and Dulcolax. It’s a gendered ritual; men get football and booze, women get control pants and detoxes. We are supposed, of course, to be grateful. Hey, you don’t have to be perfect! Just know you’re not perfect and act accordingly, with the appropriate levels of guilt and shame!
Fairy tale after fairy tale tells us that what matters is being beautiful “on the inside” but what does that really mean? It means submission, obedience and the suppression of one’s own desires. Don’t be haughty and proud. Clean the hearth. Kiss the frog. Love the beast. Suck it up when you’re replaced by a younger model. Sure, you may look fine, but you mustn’t feel fine. You mustn’t be vain. You mustn’t be angry. All fury and pain must be turned back on itself. That way you’ll be a real princess: silent, fragile and never threatening to challenge the status quo.
- Glosswatch, Almost Famous, real women, and the normalisation of self-hate. (via nextyearsgirl)