As a lesbian I have always been hyper conscious of my physical presence around my close straight female friends.
I have this internal conception that in order to maintain very close platonic female friendships I have to be very restrictive of my physical nature so as to…
for the first time,
you don’t really imagine that they would
turn out to be someone important to you.
You don’t really assume that
when you first learn someone’s name
that after awhile you would begin to really
get to know them inside and out,
or how you begin to pick up their habits,
and start talking like them,
or finishing the food off their plates
you don’t really see these things
happening, when you first meet someone.
Without really expecting it, this someone
who was only just a stranger to you before,
can all of a sudden mean so much more,
can become someone so special,
and someone you can’t see yourself
living without. Keen Malasarte, "I never thought you would have such an effect" (via acupofkeen)
Up until my second year of high school,
I allowed myself to believe that I wasn’t like other girls
as if there was something fundamentally wrong with other girls
that I had to disinherit.
I used ‘girly girl’ as an insult
like the carefully applied foundation, the long-learned eyeliner
the too-bright lipstick they nearly missed their bus to put on
made them less.
Unlearning was a slow process that I’m still slogging through.
I catch myself raising my eyebrows at a girl on the other side of the room
and have to make myself remember it doesn’t mean shit.
Femininity is not a synonym with stupid or frivolous or weak;
I’ve seen girls who can shiv with a high-heel and look great doing it
or they can sweat and grunt and spit and not give a damn either way.
Your worth is not a win-or-lose depending on if your skirt goes below your knees.
Whether makeup or a bare face or fake eyelashes so heavy you have to squint
a long dress or inch-long skirt or jeans that rip at the knee or shorts that flash your underwear
dreadlocks or metal ear-stretchers or leggings without pants or bedazzled neon nails
bikini or burqa or hair shaved in strips or long plaid shirts
a hoodie that needed washing three weeks ago or dangling earrings or worn out sneakers
a scarf to hide your adam’s apple or sunglasses that cover half your face
braces or glasses or pigtails or a jagged pink mohawk or eighteen clearly visible tattoos-
Wear it as battle armour.'You'll Get Shit For It Anyway,' theappleppielifestyle. (via theappleppielifestyle)
She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself, and to all of the world. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?
Avraham Chaim, Thoughts after The Alchemist
Inspired by Ksenniya.tumblr.com
This is one of the most freeing statements I have seen in a while
love is not possession
again, love. Is. Not. Possession. (via verucadarling)
By: Alex M.
My initial assignment was to write about heteronormativity, but first a prelude: On March 25th, I went to The Campaign for Southern Equality’s Jackson MS direct action event for marriage equality. The Campaign for Southern Equality has a campaign called “We…