Tempered Steel & Tatted Lace

poisoned-apple: (via Pinterest)

Sat, 25 May 2013 16:37:14 -0400

poisoned-apple:

(via Pinterest)

crowcrow: things to remember

Sat, 25 May 2013 14:47:00 -0400

crowcrow:

things to remember

[AGGRESSIVELY CARES FOR YOU FROM A DISTANCE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER]

Sat, 25 May 2013 12:56:00 -0400

[AGGRESSIVELY CARES FOR YOU FROM A DISTANCE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER]

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Sat, 25 May 2013 11:04:57 -0400

anarcho-queer: NYPD Data Proves White People Are More Likely To...

Sat, 25 May 2013 09:14:30 -0400

anarcho-queer:

NYPD Data Proves White People Are More Likely To Possess Drugs Or A Weapon Than Racial Minorities When Stopped, Yet 84% of Stop & Frisk Victims Are Black/Latino

During the just-concluded trial on the New York Police Department’s stop-and-frisk program, the city argued that officers’ disproportionate targeting of black and Latino New Yorkers was not due to racial profiling but because each stopped individual was doing something suspicious at the time. The data, however, tells a different story: weapons and drugs were more often found on white New Yorkers during stops than on minorities, according to the Public Advocate’s analysis of the NYPD’s 2012 statistics.

White New Yorkers make up a small minority of stop-and-frisks, which were 84 percent black and Latino residents. Despite this much higher number of minorities deemed suspicious by police, the likelihood that stopping an African American would find a weapon was half the likelihood of finding one on a white person.

• The likelihood a stop of an African American New Yorker yielded a weapon was half that of white New Yorkers stopped. The NYPD uncovered a weapon in one out every 49 stops of white New Yorkers. By contrast, it took the Department 71 stops of Latinos and 93 stops of African Americans to find a weapon.

• The likelihood a stop of an African American New Yorker yielded contraband was one-third less than that of white New Yorkers stopped. The NYPD uncovered contraband in one out every 43 stops of white New Yorkers. By contrast, it took the Department 57 stops of Latinos and 61 stops of African Americans to find contraband.

It’s unlikely that the appropriate lesson to take from these findings is that stops of white people should increase because they are more likely to carry weapons and drugs. Rather, they suggest that police are excessively targeting minorities. Officers may be netting more successful stops of white New Yorkers because they are only likely to stop a white person when they actually suspect that person of committing a crime. Considering one officer’s testimony that superiors explicitly directed him to target young black men, minorities are judged by a much more flexible definition of “reasonable suspicion.”

In general, stop-and-frisk has proven to be remarkably ineffective; nearly 89 percent of all stops result in no charges. The city has also had to settle a surging number of civil rights lawsuits against police to the tune of $22 million in one year.

fuckyeahgirlcrush: In which Marina Diamandis continues to be a...

Sat, 25 May 2013 07:23:36 -0400

fuckyeahgirlcrush:

In which Marina Diamandis continues to be a queen and shuts down body policing

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Sat, 25 May 2013 05:32:36 -0400

Hover text: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but...

Sat, 25 May 2013 03:41:38 -0400

Hover text: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can make me think I deserved it.”

This is apt.

I debated whether or not to share this story.

Sat, 25 May 2013 01:51:09 -0400

unwinona:

And then I debated whether or not to put it on Tumblr…but I decided it was important. Because in my own way, I can (unfortunately) point out exactly what is wrong with men when they don’t realize how hard it is to be a woman. How we do not have equal opportunities and freedoms in everyday life. How most men, even good caring men, have no clue what we go through on a daily basis just trying to live our lives.

So here goes.

I often ride the Metro when I commute from North Hollywood to Long Beach in order to save money. I bring a book, pointedly wear a ring on my ring finger to imply I’m married (I’m not) and keep to myself.

Without fail, I am aggressively approached by men on at least half of these commutes. The most common approach is to walk up to where I am sitting with body language that practically screams LEAVE ME ALONE and sit down next to me or as close to me as possible, when the train is not crowded and there are many empty rows. Sometimes an overly friendly arm is draped over the railing behind me, or they attempt to lean in close to talk to me as if we are old friends. Without fail, the man or boy in question will lean to close and ask me

What are you reading?

Is that a good book?

What’s that book about?

This serves the double purpose of getting my attention and trapping me in a conversation. If I stop reading the book I enjoy to talk to you, random stranger, you hit on me or just stay way too close to me. If I tell you to leave me alone, you get mad at me. Because I somehow, as a woman, owe you conversation.

Tonight when I boarded the train in Long Beach at 10:30pm, it started up right away. I was not on the train more than three minutes before three boys who looked eighteen sat in the row behind me and leaned over the seats into my personal space, close enough to breathe on me. The one with his arm draped over onto the back of my seat asked me—surprise— “what are you reading?” I went through my usual routine. I told them loudly and firmly that I wanted to be left alone to read my book. They got angry. I was told “Why are you going to be like that? I just wanted to talk!” His friends start laughing at me and they don’t move, telling me come on! and why are you gonna be like that? until I tell them to leave me the fuck alone, stand up, and move to the front of the car near the three other people on the train, a couple and a business man in a suit. They spend the next two stops shouting at me from the back of the car, alternating between trying to sound flirtatious and making fun of me, shouting “I bet she’s reading Stephanie Meyer! I bet she’s reading Twilight or some shit! You reading Twilight or some shit?”

They exit the train at the next stop, and I’m relieved. The train is going out of service at the next station, so we all exit to board a new train to Los Angeles. As we board, the business man steps aside to let me go through the door first and asks me if those guys were bothering me. I say yes, that it happens all the time, and he tells he’ll beat them up for me if they come back. He is a nice person who talks to me like I’m a human being instead of a walking pair of tits, and I make a mental note: This is how a real man talks to a woman on a train.

The business man and the couple exit our new Blue Line train an exit or so later, and I think my night is ending on a good note. A seemingly normal man enters the train with his bicycle. At this point I am three rows from the front of the car, another man was sitting near the back of the car, and the rest of the car is empty. Bicycle Man walks halfway down the row, and settles into the seat directly opposite me. Perfect, I think. Twice in one night.

It’s not the first time I’ve been bothered multiple times. As such, I’m still amped from the teenagers on the first train. So when this man leans across the aisle into my personal space and asks me, yes, what are you reading, I assertively but calmly tell him to please leave me alone, I am reading. The man stands up, moving to the front and muttering angrily over his shoulder that it isn’t his fault I’m pretty.

Yes. Exactly that. I am the bad person in this situation because somehow this is all my fault. I started this by being attractive. I am making a mental note to bitch about this to my friends later. I go so far as to write it down so I know I’m remembering it properly.

It is at this exact moment I realize Bicycle Man is not taking it well. The seemingly annoying but normal man a moment before is now talking to himself, becoming agitated. In my years of being bothered by total strangers, I have learned how to hold a book and seem to be reading while taking in everything around me. He is glaring at me, and says out loud in an angry baby talk voice “PLEASELEAVEMEALONEI’MREADING. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALOOOONE.”

Then he’s up out of his seat and things go from bad to worse. He begins pacing back and forth in front of his bike, alternating between screaming something about his mother being dead and calling me a slut, a hoe, a bitch. I am frozen in place. There is one other person in the car, and I’m not sure if trying to change seats will draw more attention to me or less. I trust my instincts and show no fear, doing my best to appear to be calmly reading my book, never once looking up to acknowledge the abuse he’s hurling at me. There are four stops left until we reach the main downtown station where there are lights and security officers. Those four stops are virtually abandoned, and I have no guarantee that leaving to wait for another train won’t motivate him to leave the train as well, leaving us potentially alone at a metro station platform just outside of Compton. I’m frozen in place, trying to plan what I’m going to do if he decides to take all this rage directly to me. I’m ready to kick him, scream, make enough noise that he panics and flees.

At this point he’s punching the walls and doors of the train, screaming at me. He stares me full in the face and screams

SUCK MY DICK, BITCH

YOU BITCH

YOU STUPID BITCH

YOU GODDAMN HO

IF I HAD A GUN I’D SHOOT YOU

I WOULD FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH

This went on for two stops. No one came to see what was happening. The man in the last row was as frozen as I was. I’m not angry he didn’t come to my defense. He was smaller, older, and frailer-looking than I was. Again, I was worried if I got up, I would be turning my back on him to walk down the aisle. In the state he was in, I had no guarantee it wouldn’t get physical, and I had more physical strength with my back to the window and feet in kicking position where I was. If he had chosen to assault me, I would only be making it easier for him by standing up and putting myself directly in his path. On and on, over and over, he screamed at me, screamed at his dead mother, screamed at me again.

The moment we reached the downtown station, I was out the door and down the stairs. I still had to catch a connecting train to North Hollywood, and made sure there was no sign of Bicycle Man before I entered the car. That’s when I finally starting shaking, and almost threw up. By the time I exited the Red Line and reached my car I could barely breathe and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Even now, in my own home, my hands are still shaking and for some reason the stress has made my back muscles feel cold and numb. From all the tension, I can only assume. I can’t eat anything, I still feel like I’m going to vomit, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t cried so much, so hard I still have the headache.

So when people (men) want to talk about “legitimate” forms of assault, tell girls they should be nice to strangers and give men the benefit of a doubt, tell them to consider it a compliment, tell them to ignore the bad behavior of men, I want them to be forced to feel, for even one minute, what it feels like to have so much verbal hatred and physical intimidation thrown at them for nothing more than being female and not wanting to share.

I just wanted to read my book.

It’s not my fault I’m pretty.

She’s right. This is important. Read it.

Kelsey & Stacey...

Fri, 24 May 2013 23:27:38 -0400

Wish you were here.

Candace does pride.

Fri, 24 May 2013 23:13:55 -0400

Candace does pride.

The lesbian strippers and their girlfriends go to Pensacola Pride...

Fri, 24 May 2013 22:12:09 -0400

So far, a lot of driving through Alabama, sexual tension in the back seat, and short tempers in the front.

And vivid travel dreams.

midmourningmusings: loveyouramerica: STR8 is GR8! p.s. THERE...

Fri, 24 May 2013 22:09:36 -0400

midmourningmusings:

loveyouramerica:

STR8 is GR8! p.s. THERE is NO H8!

LOL. MAJORITY PRIDE.

As if you need more things to reassure you’re oh so coveted fucking status as the majority.

Shiiiiiiit. Brennan did a liberal. Look at that!

Indeed, majority pride is a giant LOL. Also a WTF?

Blech.

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Fri, 24 May 2013 20:18:37 -0400

I’m Not Gay

Fri, 24 May 2013 18:28:03 -0400

I’m Not Gay

I keep reading about how the more tattoos a girl has, the sluttier she is...

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:48:42 -0400

This is false.

I have no tattoos, and I’m a total slut.

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Fri, 24 May 2013 16:37:10 -0400

high-blogging: fucking ellen Oh Ellen. One small step for...

Fri, 24 May 2013 14:46:37 -0400

high-blogging:

fucking ellen

Oh Ellen. One small step for lesbian woman…

I really can't with the racist conversations I'm listening to right now...

Fri, 24 May 2013 13:12:13 -0400

When people need to identify someone as a “ghetto black kid” before telling a completely unrelated story about them.

When people see predominantly black schools as shitty because black kids go there, without looking around and asking why they were in schools with zero resources, crumbling buildings, and jail-like atmospheres, in the first place. They don’t think about the fact that POC kids are given the shit schools, then get blamed for the failures of those schools.

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Fri, 24 May 2013 12:55:56 -0400