You see something absurd. You hear something absurd. You read something absurd = Yeah,TNTG. Posts tagged sexism.
solange is too trill
Solange is her own muse
Why do girls still list ‘Lord Of The Rings’ next to things they are interested in? Do they not realise guys haven’t seen that as ‘edgy’ or ‘attractive’ since about 2006?
The fact you enjoy one of the most successful book/films of all time does not make you stand out, alright?
Now, If you’d write how much you love the work of David Gemmell or Brandon Sanderson, then.. yeah, I’d hit it.the female stifles a scream and steadies her breathing as her eyes rapidly scan the textpost for the sixth time. her hands tremble as she quickly rips down her gandalf posters and throws her lord of the rings triology into the fire. she sits back down. ‘guy not attract to girl ???who enjoy lord of the riINGs??? .… closE One’ she whispers to herself as she wipes her forehead. she successfully remains attractive to the opposite sex yet another day
I don’t want to take away from the perfection of the response above, but I would really love a chance to ask the OP if it has honestly never occurred to him that women might be listing things as among their interests because they themselves are interested in it, not because they’re trying to crack the secret code of how to get into your pants.
ya’ll out here acting like racism/sexism/transphobia/queerphobia/etc. is just an inconvenience for us rather than violence against our bodies
“ Why is the term “friend zone” so popular when the term “unrequited love” already exists and is more accurate? I suspect it’s because it shifts the locus of responsibility. “Unrequited love” focuses on the person who has the crush. The feelings being discussed are the crushing person’s, thus the responsibility in on them to get over their crush and move on. “Friend zone”, on the other hand, focuses on the crush object’s choices. The phrase erases the agency of the crushing person. All blame for their pain is put on the crush object. “Unrequited love” is something that can happen to both sexes, but “friend zone” is a sexist concept that implies that women are solely responsible for men’s happiness, and not men themselves.
“ In the game of patriarchy, women are not the opposing team, they are the ball.
— ~Anita Sarkeesian (via tabularasae)
“ Objectivity has been little more than male subjectivity.
— Adrienne Rich (via tabularasae)
“ Saying that you’re a nice guy is like a restaurant whose only selling point is that the food doesn’t make you sick.
—
6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person | Cracked.com
This advice needs to be in every EULA on the internet. Click Accept and win life.
(via allisonmoon)
That particular article has some stellar points and a few absolutely horrid bits, and I think it has a lot of really fantastic advice for people who are in a particular life situation — which can simultaneously be awful advice for people who aren’t in that situation.
That disclaimer in mind, the above quote about ‘nice guys’, and every section dealing with the foul fantasy that any individual is entitled to someone else is GOLD.
(via shadesofmauve)
Yeah, I was in perhaps the wrong sort of mood when I saw that article the first time, because all I did was crumple up and sob. There are days I’d honestly rather be dead than have to live in a world where the only way to “succeed” is to be the kind of person that about half this article endorses.
So really, read with caution. Tough love is appropriate in some situations and fucking well fatally crushing in others, and I’m getting a little weary of having that link paraded around as THE BEST THING EVER.
I’ll stand by the nice-guy takedown, though. ;)
Fuck “nice guys” forever.
(via thegoddamazon)
D.C.
by Tatyana Fazlalizadeh.
“ I suspect it’s difficult for men to imagine a world in which their bodies have long been inextricably linked to their value as an individual, and that no matter how encouraging your parents were or how many positive female role models you had or how self-confident you feel, there is an ever-present pressure that creeps in from all sides, whispering in your ear that you are your body and your body defines you. A world where, from the time of pubescence on, you can feel the constant and palpable weight of the male gaze, and not just from your male peers but from teachers and sports coaches and the fathers of the children you baby-sit, people you’re supposed to respect and trust and look up to, and that first realization that you are being looked at in that way is the beginning of a self-consciousness that you will be unable to shake for the rest of your life.
Even if they are never verbalized, the rules of bodily conduct for females become clear early on: when school administrators reprimand you for the inch of midriff that shows when you lift your hands straight in the air or youth group leaders tell you that the sight of your unintentional cleavage is what causes godly young men to fall, you learn that your body is dangerous and shameful and that it’s your responsibility to cloister it in a way that is acceptable to everyone else. You learn that your body is a topic of public debate that everyone is entitled to weigh in on, from a male classmate telling you that those jeans make your ass look huge to the male-dominated United States Congress dictating the parameters that rape must fall within to be considered legitimate. To be a woman, and to live life in a woman’s body, is to be held to a set of comically paradoxical standards that make you constantly second-guess yourself and jump through a million hoops in pursuit of an impossible perfection.
Even if they are never verbalized, the rules of bodily conduct for females become clear early on: when school administrators reprimand you for the inch of midriff that shows when you lift your hands straight in the air or youth group leaders tell you that the sight of your unintentional cleavage is what causes godly young men to fall, you learn that your body is dangerous and shameful and that it’s your responsibility to cloister it in a way that is acceptable to everyone else. You learn that your body is a topic of public debate that everyone is entitled to weigh in on, from a male classmate telling you that those jeans make your ass look huge to the male-dominated United States Congress dictating the parameters that rape must fall within to be considered legitimate. To be a woman, and to live life in a woman’s body, is to be held to a set of comically paradoxical standards that make you constantly second-guess yourself and jump through a million hoops in pursuit of an impossible perfection.
