deafmuslimpunx:

youurlove:

Junius Stinney was the youngest person in America to be executed on death row in 1944 at age 14. He was quickly accused by the (white police) of ‘killing’ two little (white girls) with lack of evidence. His conviction and sentencing opened and closed in one day. There were no witnesses called and there was no transcript of the trial details and black people were not allowed inside the courtroom during that time.
[I always repost this because i don’t want anyone to forget about him!]

May Allah rest his soul in peace

deafmuslimpunx:

youurlove:

Junius Stinney was the youngest person in America to be executed on death row in 1944 at age 14. He was quickly accused by the (white police) of ‘killing’ two little (white girls) with lack of evidence. His conviction and sentencing opened and closed in one day. There were no witnesses called and there was no transcript of the trial details and black people were not allowed inside the courtroom during that time.

[I always repost this because i don’t want anyone to forget about him!]

May Allah rest his soul in peace

(via aamerrahman)

Some people seem to think that it’s petty or unimportant to point out racist celebrity misbehaviour because there are ‘bigger issues’ at play when it comes to racism, ie ‘there’s worse racism out there.’You should understand that normalising the casual mockery of people of colour through accepted mainstream culture - structurally preserving a white majority’s right to have fun at someone else’s expense - is a key building block in maintaining the hierarchy of racism. It’s naive to write off this kind of seemingly banal, pervasive everyday behaviour as if it somehow has no connection to people ultimately accepting actual systemic violence like the NT Intervention, the War on Terror, our refugee policy, and Australia’s straight up unwillingness to question our role in the wholesale dispossession of Aboriginal people.

(Source: aamerrahman)

also i shouldn’t have had a 4 hour nap this afternoon, i can readily admit that was a massive mistake for my sleeping pattern.

for some reason i thought it was a good idea to read through the submissions into the Parliamentary Inquiry into the funding of specialist sexual violence services (in prep for my oral submission next week) at 3am in the morning. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. So much sad, hoping that these people have not shared their stories in vain and that the Government actually acts on the recommendations of struggling support services.

peble:

did i actually save or did i imagine it? better save eleven more times

(via quackdown)

You can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly.

(via mined)

(Source: sincerelynargis, via pulse-line)

nickyottav:

EgyptianLovHer shot by NickyOttav

oni-queen:

jacksonspace:

thesecretkeith:

I was about to reblog this, when I looked up and noticed my cat was just staring at this cucumber on my kitchen table

Interesting.

Scientist cats.

(Source: theamericankid, via catstitsfeminism)

it’s weird that i really only came to terms with my femininity once I started dating women. when dating guys, I felt at odds with my femininity as there was some kind of weird prescripted role that I had to fit into. i remember dressing more boy-ish, shaving less, asserting myself more and feeling like i needed to exist more androgynously as a kind of resistance to social forces. now i sit really comfortably with my hard/soft queer femininity, love being a fuckin princess and getting treated as a femme by my significant other. weird how that works!

captain-im-fine:

I still see you like that, you know? Two nervous kids swinging slowly side by side at 4am. Just the police sirens slowly fading in the distance, the sound of the sea gently humming into the boat sheds, and your voice in my ears. We were talking religion, politics, possession, and star signs, pretty heavy for a first date. Your eyes were full of questions about me, you spoke only truths about yourself and what you thought of the world. Your opinion was loud and confident, I loved that about you even back then, it went hand in hand with your laugh. It broke the silences, the way you’d throw your head back as if your smile was just waiting to greet the sky. That’s when I knew I loved you. Thats why I fell in love with you, when the heavy stuff was the small talk, when your honesty made me blush, burning red under streetlights, your lips colliding with mine. I still look at you now the same way as that night, you know? Like Im seeing you for the very first time. Our hands too shy to leave our pockets, but you felt safe, you always felt safe, in a good way, like home, or bed. And now our hands find each others as easy as clasps on a locket, or two pinkys making promises at 12am, over little things, like you liking my new haircut. Sometimes I stray into sadness and start to slowly unravel, melting into little pools of angst in our sheets, crying over stupid things like washing, and rent, and ex lovers, fighting with fistfuls of anger and insecurity. But I’ll always come back to you. I love coming home to you.