“ When somebody says, “I don’t think women should be raped for wearing short skirts, but what do they expect when they do go out like that?” what you are actually saying is that if a woman in a short skirt is raped, you will be less likely to hold her rapist culpable. Which makes a woman in a short skirt really appealing to a rapist. That’s something that you did. That’s not something the woman in the short skirt did, or something the rapist did. You made that woman a more comfortable target by making it clear that if she got raped, you would be less upset about it, less willing to see the rapist go to jail, less willing to support the woman. A woman is not increasing her risk of being raped by wearing a short skirt. You are increasing her risk of being raped by saying that women who get raped in short skirts should have expected that. Rapists hear you say that. By only raping the women that bystanders agree should be raped, a rapist reduces his chance of being caught and, if caught, punished. And that is why he will pick those women, over and over again, not because there is something more appealingly rapeable about them — they have what any woman has, as far as rape goes — but because he will be less likely to be held culpable for his actions. ”
— From the follow-up post to A Few Things To Stop Doing When You Find a Feminist Blog.

wasitreallyabox.blogspot.com

Textos das Sun. Meus textos.
Uma tentativa de organizar a bagunça.

maybe i should run away

"sometimes the best thing we can do is just sit down and breathe for a minute. it doesn't help, and it doesn't change anything, but just in case you're thrown off the deep end - breathe."


from wearecities

"I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn’t deserve it. Because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention. For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks-accidentally-and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you’re alive."


from Running With Scissors

'cause i don't do too well on my own

"It feels like drowning. That’s how I’d explain it. Life. It feels like drowning in the most beautiful elegant ocean in existence. It’s like grasping at the water to get to the top, it’s like sinking by the beautiful fish and remarkable sea life. You’d ask me how it began. It began when I entered the water, just like learning to swim. It took me a little bit too long to figure out that there was no justice, no truth, no forgiveness. No one is going to jump in to save you, it’s all on you. No getting around it, no turning back. All I could see was the shadows that I left behind me, like footsteps in the sand. And all I could look forward to were the splinters of light where I imagined that hope broke through. My parents said, one day things will be different. They promised me someday I would understand. I’m beginning to lose faith in those promises, because the water just keeps getting deeper and darker, and it’s getting harder to see where I’m going. There’s always been those people, the people who love to tear you down. The sharks, vicious and intimidating. But I read somewhere, maybe in a magazine, that sharks are just as afraid as us as we are of them. So I guess that counts for something. Everyone is just as scared and oblivious as you are, you just can’t get lost in the tide, fight for your life. Through all the emotional hardships I’ve been through, I’d like to tell you I have it all figured out. But words are just words. And every lesson unlearned is a secret waiting to be hushed and told. So no, I don’t have a tragic tale of abuse and harm. Just a battle of thoughts and being scared. Now I feel like I’m running into disaster left and right, and I was dropped into an oblivion where I was doomed to failure and the crash of the waves drowns out the hope . As I’m growing up, all I feel is mislead. Like my lungs are collapsing and I’m still trying to have my voice heard. Nothing is ever enough, but we work at it and we try. So I’ll hide away my memories in a box, keeping them away from the corrupted mess of a world. And I’ll pretend I’m still strong until I can get to the surface and gasp for air."


by fauximpact.tumblr.com