The Rains of Castomere by The National
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Audre Lorde (via lunetlautre)
THIS. Saw the Glenn Ligon exhibit at LACMA today where these ever-important few lines played a little part, but spent most of my time there talking about boys with one of my two-ever mentors.
This sentiment is so true and makes me so upset, but handily explains why I don’t believe in Slutwalk and don’t care to debate with anyone and why I barely every really write, tweet, blog, even talk, about feminism. Because I know already, and because I don’t give a shit about turning my oppressors, because that’s not interesting to me. My feminism is in the doing: in being a writer, generally, and a self-employed biznez person, being honest and for-real, hanging out and working with people who get it, and only being with guys who like that I am funny and cool and not just some tittays. And when it comes down to it, I care about what my many nieces and nephews and my not-now-gross-but-later kids think about themselves and each other, not what some random, dumb 40-year-old man thinks about anything. (via katecarraway) |




