I think people need to be more comfortable with illegalism and I’m not kidding. Of course the more legal something is, the safer and easier it is to do, but the more people who disregard the law, the harder it is to enforce. There are plenty of laws on the books that people just ignore and are never or rarely policed.
Becoming more comfortable with little illegal activities makes you more comfortable with bigger more important illegal activities. Additionally, it is crucial to build a wall of silence. Nobody talks everybody walks.
People who give out food without a permit, hold a march without a permit, grow a garden without a permit, are more likely to be people you could turn to to work with on preventing an eviction, or keeping people out of cop hands, or helping your friend Jane get crucial healthcare when it’s not legal in your state.
Communities comfortable with these acts won’t call the cops, and then nobody knows that it’s happening.
People have got to shift from both the idea that lawful = good/ illegal = bad, and that the illegality of something means that’s the end of it, and the only fight left is to make it legal again.
you can always tell how little people actually care about art based on how much they hate modern/contemporary art
“Author of 25+ best-selling Pride & Prejudice variations”
Yeah, no.
This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years.
If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life.
“Oh boo hoo you shouldn’t ask your friends for favors we’re all adults”
I just spent three hours pulling up carpet and staples for a friend’s home renovation and we all did nothing but chat and joke and have wonderful conversation the whole time.
Helping somebody move or renovate or giving them a ride to the airport is functionally the same as going mini-golfing or playing a board game: it’s an activity that you do that is made more fun by having good company, and which provides something to talk about when the conversation lulls.
do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets
remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.
thank you, Marsha. we remember you.
survived checking my bank account. i deserve a little treat
Crying with my mama—
I ask what the limit to her love is.
She says that there’s nothing,
still some clarity is wanted.
She doesn’t understand
becoming something different,
but I can hold her hand
and she can ask forgiveness.
There’s a
blue sky ahead—
it grows
by keeping promises.
If god
made wheat
for bread,
then god made me to be an honest man.
Daily in communion with my deepest wishes—
shaving in the mirror,
reading science fiction.
Tomorrow and tomorrow, I will learn the meaning,
of the lengths that I will go to be alive, and love, and listen.
There’s a
blue sky ahead—
it grows
by keeping promises.
If god
made wheat
for bread,
then god made me to be an honest man.
I will not repeat the tenets of my born religion,
or lend weight to an argument that I am not sufficient.
I am not determined by the love that I am given.
I am here because I’m here because I’m here,
and it is written.
There’s a
blue sky ahead—
it grows
by keeping promises.
If god
made wheat
for bread,
then god made me to be an honest man.
I will choose myself over the institution.
I will not believe the propaganda that I’m used in.
I can break my heart to own my revolution.
Oh, and I am more courageous for the wanting.
I am more courageous for the wanting.
And I can choose to be
an honest man.
Mama, I won’t plead,
I’m simply what I am—
and you can still believe
whatever that you can.
shit(and sometimes serious)posts of a 22yo trans man
389 posts