My life looks more interesting with filters, doesn’t it?
A gentleman and a scholar.
Bisexual, poly, angry feminist.
Guys this picture is so important to me. Sometimes i back out of cosplaying a character because im worried people will judge me or shame me for doing it because im black. Im constantly worried people wont take my cosplays seriously because im just a black girl dressing up as iconic white characters. And sometimes that fear makes me feel like I shouldnt do it, like cosplaying isnt for me and I shouldnt go to cons.
But meeting this little girl made me understand how important it is to show my love for characters even if they arent my race. This little girl came up to me and asked for a picture at LexCon, and I almost cried. She came up to me the ONLY black Harley in a sea of perfectly “accurate” white Harleys. And I was so happy she did, and so happy I was there. Im glad I chose to cosplay a character I love, and to be there representing black cosplayers, because now this little girl might have a little bit more confidence in herself. Maybe my being there helped this little girl see that even girls like her can be geeky and cosplay whoever they want.
I really hope so. I know this made me feel more confident. And this is a picture im gonna treasure forever!
Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane
- Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial.
- In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school.
- This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’.
- The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius.
- Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men.
- Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23.
- Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution.
- In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless.
- But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72.
- Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read.
- Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co.
- But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton.
- Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement.
- Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever.
Um, holy shit.
Wow. Why the hell have I never heard of her before?
Elle Woods was hollering back before the movement. This is why i love this movie. It’s so progressive. Elle is a femme feminist who comes by it the hard way. She doesn’t change for the bookish people, the elitists, or for the feminists. She just does what she needs to do, and what she wants, even when at first it was chasing a boy. Then the movie drops the romance. IT DROPS THE ROMANCE. chick flicks don’t do that. Emmett asking her out is a footnote at the very end. And this whole time, she is classy, and lady like, and has pride in herself and her work. She’ll go to a costume party as a playboy bunny, but like hell will she sleep with her professor for an internship. Elle is my feminist role model
I remember listening to my DAD defend Legally Blonde. An uncle was saying “Oh look, it’s that stupid movie again.” as he flipped through the channels. My dad responded with “Oh yeah, that movie where the blonde girl with great grades works really hard to get into pre-law, studies hard and proves herself to her peers and bosses while maintaining her integrity and not sleeping with her boss? What a terrible message to send girls.”
Also, I love this movie because Reese Witherspoon.
And don’t forget that she has serious female friends and wins the case by way of her specialist knowledge of so-called “feminine things” that no one else takes seriously enough to even bother with.
The movie also passes the Bechdel test.
LET’S NOT FORGET that even though it starts with a situation where two girls are rivals for the same guy, they BOTH choose to ignore the social codes (and hollywood bylaws) that tell them they should be cat-fighting and trying to one-up each other, and instead they realize that they make good working partners and better friends and screw rivalry, AND ALSO HAVE EACH OTHER’S BACKS RE: WORKPLACE SEXUAL HARASSMENT. And that it portrays sororities as places where women can learn to work together and respect each other and help each other out, which sets the stage for the way Elle treats everyone she meets for the rest of the movie. OH AND IT HAS A FAT SIDE CHARACTER WHO OVERCOMES EMOTIONAL ABUSE, IS NEVER FAT-SHAMED OR USED AS THE BRUNT OF A FAT JOKE, AND LANDS THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE ENTIRE FILM.
Also, Elle still stays true to herself in a professional setting. Even when it’s tough for her, she always keeps being her bubbly, peppy self. She doesn’t let what others say about her stop her from being a kickass lawyer that also is unafraid to express herself how she wants to.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost."
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
I’m really glad I read that.
>teenage actress’s private nudes get leaked
>teenage actress is reviled as a slut and a whore and a bad role model
>james franco asks a seventeen-year-old girl if he can meet her in a private hotel room
>james franco gets to go on saturday night live and joke about what a silly doofus he is for soliciting sex from a girl literally half his age
DO NOT DARE OVERLOOK THIS POST