“I remember watching news coverage of the Challenger liftoff in 1983 which was Ms. Ride’s first mission into space. A few days later my next door neighbor told me that I couldn’t read his book because it wasn’t a girl’s book. I responded that there was a woman astronaut now and that meant that women could do anything. He couldn’t argue with my logic and handed over the book.”—My friend Suzanne, relating one of my favourite stories about Sally Ride. (via themightyif)
Politician at door:(blah blah blah)...and my strong commitment to traditional family values, as my wife of 28 years will attest.
Shade's mom:Sir, I don't care if you have orgies every Tuesday night so long as you get your job done.
Shade's mom:Also, if "traditional family values" is a sneaky way of saying "anti-gay marriage stance," you should know that my daughter is bisexual, and if I never get to cry at her wedding because some law you passed made her wedding illegal, I will personally see that your wife of 28 years has a lesbian awakening in time for you to discover the virtues of traditional divorce.
Whether or not you can “contribute” to society is not a measure of whether or not your life is valuable and worth preserving.
These are standards held up by a society values money and production over everything else. If you think life has any less value or worth because of an inability to do any of the above you are fucking wrong.
You are important and your health and well being are important.
Please be kind to yourself.
I needed to hear this today but I still struggle with the validity of the last one because my father was huge on “You don’t work, you don’t eat” & has always made me feel like crap because I can’t “work” the way I’m “supposed” to.
I honestly don’t know WHAT to believe on this anymore. Both sides have merit & seem sensible, in some ways.
Can I just say, as a cancer survivor, I am so fucking sick of people referring to us as “brave” or some shit, like we race into burning shelters and rescue kittens? I don’t appreciate my illness—a really horrifying series of events that forever negatively altered my life and mental health—being used as a political football by duckfuckers like the Romneys, but I also get resentful as fuck of people who trot out survivors like their own inspirational parade of misfits.
We’re not heroes, and we are not, as a gestalt, particularly brave. A lot of us are assholes, and we get angry and depressed and furious and rage against the machine/world/cosmos for what’s happened to us. This weird expectation that A)cancer is an obstacle you must overcome, B)everyone overcomes it, and C)everyone is somehow better for it, is fucking infuriating.
You know what cancer did to me? It made me uninsurable, knocked my ass into a depression so deep I couldn’t crawl out for five years, turned my parents against each other, helped ensure my mother’s relapse to alcoholism, and financially drained my family. And I didn’t even get the inspiring kind of cancer, either. I never had to go through chemo or radiation therapy, but my cancer type is so fucking rare most of my oncologists hadn’t even heard of it. There’s no fucking charity or corporation organizing runs and walks and yogurt-top-collection bullshit for me.
So, yeah, Ann Romney surviving breast cancer? Fuck her. Even if the disease is gone, the tumors excised, cancer doesn’t just pack up its bags and disappear. It lingers. Fuck her. If my cancer ever came back, I’m fucked. She might miss a couple horse shows.
I really think this story deserves to be heard.
Call me an insensitive asshole, but this is how I feel about chronic illness & disability in general. We’re people, we’ve got this thing we have to deal with, we deal with it as best as we can. We live our lives to the best of our ability. This doesn’t make us heroes, it makes us humans.
And fuck society for assigning “bravery” or “heroicism” to certain illnesses & disabilities and not others. If you’re going to call someone strong for living through, say, cancer, I want to be called strong for living through depression. Because it *does* take a fucking hell of a lot of strength some days.
Although that being said, my mother’s cousin’s 10 year old daughter has leukemia, and I must admit, her outward look on things is pretty awesome. (OTOH, I don’t know what she’s like when she’s with her family or on her own. She could be crying and terrified all the time… and that would be an acceptable response to something like that.) She’s totally rocking the bald head & hat thing as best she can. I could see why someone would be inspired by her. I thought she was pretty cool, myself. (Keep rocking, Brittany!)
Bodies are hairy. No matter the gender, your face will have hair and that is more than okay.
Your butthole is going to have some hair too. And maybe your nipples. And your tummy. And where ever else.
Stretch marks. Those are a thing. Everyone gets ‘em. If you don’t, you probably don’t have skin.
Vaginas smell. Every vagina has a scent. Don’t worry about it! (Unless something seems wrong, then go get it checked out! No need to feel embarrassed or ashamed.)
Vaginas come in all different shapes, sizes, colors, flavors. All are beautiful.
Penises come in all different shapes, sizes, colors, flavors. All are beautiful.
You don’t need to shave anything if you don’t want to. It’s tooootally not mandatory.
Sometimes people get butt acne.
You can have a vagina and want short hair and think dresses are just the worst.
You can have a penis and want long hair and think dresses are just the best.
You can wear whatever you want and style your hair however you want.
You can even think whatever the hell you want.
People might tell you that you are a girl because you have a vagina. People might tell you that you are a boy because you have a penis. People will tell you what your gender is. But in reality, you don’t have to be that gender. You don’t have to be either of those genders.
You are what you are and it’s just the worst thing if you try and hide that.
Also, you might not get underarm hair until you leave puberty around 18-20. You might not get more until around 30. Or you might have hardly any. Some people are hairy folks, and some people are not. It’s all cool.