Let’s stop acting like punk is rebellion/resistance/anti oppression because honestly, the punk scene coddles rapists, is full of racism/white boy chauvinism/misogyny/classism/much more. We aren’t a family. You’re my enemies and I will destroy you.


People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.
This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:
Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.

We were grabbing a bite of lunch at a small cafe, in a mall, right across from a booth that sold jewelry and where ears could be pierced for a fee. A mother approaches with a little girl of six or seven years old. The little girl is clearly stating that she doesn’t want her ears pierced, that’s she’s afraid of how much it will hurt, that she doesn’t like earrings much in the first place. Her protests, her clear ‘no’ is simply not heard. The mother and two other women, who work the booth, begin chatting and trying to engage the little girl in picking out a pair of earrings. She has to wear a particular kind when the piercing is first done but she could pick out a fun pair for later.

"I don’t want my ears pierced."

"I don’t want any earrings."

The three adults glance at each other conspiratorially and now the pressure really begins. She will look so nice, all the other girls she knows wear earrings, the pain isn’t bad.

She, the child, sees what’s coming and starts crying. As the adults up the volume so does she, she’s crying and emitting a low wail at the same time. “I DON’T WANT MY EARS PIERCED.”

Her mother leans down and speaks to her, quietly but strongly, the only words we could hear were ‘… embarrassing me.’

We heard, then, two small screams, when the ears were pierced.

Little children learn early and often that ‘no doesn’t mean no.’

Little children learn early that no one will stand with them, even the two old men looking horrified at the events from the cafeteria.

Little girls learn early and often that their will is not their own.

No means no, yeah, right.

Most often, for kids and others without power, ”no means force.”


from "No Means Force" at Dave Hingsburger’s blog.

This is important. It doesn’t just apply to little girls and other children, though it often begins there.

For the marginalized, our “no’s” are discounted as frivolous protests, rebelliousness, or anger issues, or we don’t know what we’re talking about, or we don’t understand what’s happening.

When “no means force” we become afraid to say no.

(via k-pagination)

This goes along with my rant on how promises mean so much until you realize no one over 10 keeps them. 

Right next to my rant about how my parents have never said I’m sorry. Not as an adult, not as a child. Never. 

I literally cannot stress with you how important it is as an adult to be able to tell your child that YOU sometimes are wrong. I don’t have kids, I know, I don’t ‘get it’ but fuck that shit. I WAS a goddamn kid and that is the one thing I remember. I remember never, ever, ever being right and when I was it was met with the frivolous dismissal and to this day confrontation, authority figures, and the words of those who even appear they know what’s going on strike a fear into my heart that only now am I able to analyze in any sense other than fear. I’m 30 fucking years old.


(via nainami)


and then in our growing lives we are told to say “No” when met with problems


(via doctorhotmail)