“But he also notes that women who experience heightened pleasure around the G-spot area aren’t crazy or making it up. Indeed, biopsies of vaginal wall tissue have shown that in some women, there are more nerve endings in the purported G-spot than in surrounding areas…” Oh, thanks for the fucking shout-out. Maybe it’s not all in your head.
Breathe a sigh of relief, chicks, because “it’s been documented.” Whew! We did studies to be sure you were really feeling that sensation some of you told us you were feeling. *head pat*
I'm confused about what Beethoven was doing in the black composers post. He was German.
By golly gee! I keep forgetting that Black people didn’t exist until the Fresh Prince of Bel Air came on television! Or that Black people existed in anywhere else than Africa even with slavery going on :) My apologies.
Anyway, here’s proof that Beethoven was Black:
"… Said directly, Beethoven was a black man. Specifically, his mother was a Moor, that group of Muslim Northern Africans who conquered parts of Europe—making Spain their capital—for some 800 years.
In order to make such a substantial statement, presentation of verifiable evidence is compulsory. Let’s start with what some of Beethoven’s contemporaries and biographers say about his brown complexion:
"Frederick Hertz, German anthropologist, used these terms to describe him: ‘Negroid traits, dark skin, flat, thick nose.’
Emil Ludwig, in his book ‘Beethoven,’ says: ‘His face reveals no trace of the German. He was so dark that people dubbed him Spagnol [dark-skinned].’
Fanny Giannatasio del Rio, in her book ‘An Unrequited Love: An Episode in the Life of Beethoven,’ wrote ‘His somewhat flat broad nose and rather wide mouth, his small piercing eyes and swarthy [dark] complexion, pockmarked into the bargain, gave him a strong resemblance to a mulatto.’
Beethoven’s death mask: profile and full face
C. Czerny stated, ‘His beard—he had not shaved for several days—made the lower part of his already brown face still darker.’
Following are one word descriptions of Beethoven from various writers: Grillparzer, ‘dark’; Bettina von Armin, ‘brown’; Schindler, ‘red and brown’; Rellstab, ‘brownish’; Gelinek, ‘short, dark.’
In Alexander Thayer’s Life of Beethoven, vol.1, p. 134, the author states, “there is none of that obscurity which exalts one to write history as he would have it and not as it really was. The facts are too patent.” On this same page, he states that the German composer Franz Josef Haydn was referred to as a “Moor” by Prince Esterhazy, and Beethoven had “even more of the Moor in his looks.’ On p. 72, a Beethoven contemporary, Gottfried Fischer, describes him as round-nosed and of dark complexion. Also, he was called ‘der Spagnol’ (the Spaniard).
Other “patent” sources, of which there are many, include, but are not limited to, Beethoven by Maynard Solomon, p.78. He is described as having “thick, bristly coal-black hair” (in today’s parlance, we proudly call it ‘kinky’) and a ‘ruddy-complexioned face.’ In Beethoven: His Life and Times by Artes Orga, p.72, Beethoven’s pupil, Carl Czerny of the ‘School of Velocity’ fame, recalls that Beethoven’s ‘coal-black hair, cut a la Titus, stood up around his head [sounds almost like an Afro]. His black beard…darkened the lower part of his dark-complexioned face.’
Engraving by Blasius Hofel, Beethoven, 1814, color facsimile of engraving after a pencil drawing by Louis Letronne. This engraving was regarded in Beethoven’s circle as particularly lifelike. Beethoven himself thought highly of it, and gave several copies to his friends.
When the teacher answers your question but you still don’t understand
hey since school is back and we’ve all been there here are some tips if you get stuck in this situation and are not beyonce and therefore cannot control the very gravitational forces of this universe and are instead bound by your meager mortal body:
say “what i’m hearing you say is X, is that correct?” and repeat back the last sentence or a few words. teachers often don’t notice if what they are saying is confusing because they already know the information so it seems obvious to them!! like you know when you’re trying to explain a tv show to your friend and you barrel ahead and they’re like “????? why would she murder him” and you’re like “no, it makes sense" it’s like that but if someone asked you "i heard you say she murdered him?" you’d be like "yeah bc he was actually her husbands evil twin in disguise" PLUS it makes you sound a lot smarter than saying "what?"
ask “why is that the case?”
try writing down their answer!! a lot of us are kinesthetic (learn by doing) learners and until we do some sort of action, we don’t get it haha
if this does not help say “is there a way you could demonstrate that visually?” you might just be a visual learner and hearing it does not help you!! plus the graphic or slide or whatever they use to explain it might clarify better than their words.
say “can you show me an example of that?” sometimes just seeing it applied makes it easier to understand!!
ask, “is there anything else that is like this?” and usually your teacher will give you a comparison like “yeah! this concept is sort of like…something that you’ve probably witnessed” and that makes it easier!! :)
wait until after class and see if the rest of class cleared up your question. if it didn’t, ask it again but instead of being like “sorry idk wtf you’re even saying” just say “I just wanted to make sure that I understand it this time. I asked x and you said that y. is that correct?” firstly even if you said something TOTALLY WRONG you still sound like a smartypants and secondLY now you have a chance to walk through it as slowly as possible with them.
a lot of these also apply in normal people conversations like if you totally lose track of what someone is saying just repeating their words back to them makes it sound like you’re a good friend and not a space cadet (we all been there) and if you’re in a heated debate with a hottie you can usually kick them to the curb by undermining their arguments with “what’s an example of that?” they will be so impressed by you that they will not see the swift left hook you deliver to assert your power as the hottest hottie in the room you beautiful intelligent creature you
good luck out there my friends!! :)
srsly tumblr how are you so great at teaching each other shit, i love you.
“Wal-Mart earned $27 billion in profit last year. They could afford to pay their bottom million workers $10,000 more a year, raise all of those people out of poverty, cost — save taxpayers billions of dollars, and still earn $17 billion in profit, right? It’s simply nuts that we have allowed this to happen. […] You know, this ridiculous idea that a worker on Wall Street who earns tens of millions of dollars a year securitizing imaginary assets or doing high-frequency trading is worth 1,000 times as much as workers who earn tens of thousands of dollars a year educating our children, growing or serving us our food, throwing themselves into harm’s away to protect our life or property, that this difference reflects the true value or intrinsic worth of these jobs is nonsense.”—Nick Hanauer, Venture Capitalist, on the necessity of a living wage (via cognitiveinequality)
“I hate writing about the terrible things that happen to women, or I suppose it is more accurate to say I hate how I feel obligated to write about the terrible things that happen to women. I feel this obligation because terrible things have happened to me and because for too long I stayed silent. I was scared and ashamed and humiliated. My silence only amplified these feelings, the self-loathing, the isolation. If speaking about violence against women makes other women feel less alone, I am going to use my voice. And still. I hate writing about the terrible things that happen to women. I hate the inescapable feeling that writing about such issues accomplishes so very little. I hate the exhaustion I feel when I see yet another news story about a woman who has suffered at the hands of a man. I hate the guilt I feel because I am exhausted. Exhaustion is such a luxury.”—Read the rest: Why I Hate Writing About Janay Rice (via roxanegay)
“The summer that marriage equality passed in New York, we saw the number of homeless kids looking for shelter go up 40 percent," says Carl Siciliano, founder of the Ali Forney Center, the nation’s largest organization dedicated to homeless LGBT youth. A former Benedictine monk-in-training, who once went by the nickname Baby Jesus, Siciliano had spent years living in monasteries and serving in shelters run by the Catholic Worker Movement before his own sexuality inextricably came between him and his institutional faith. "I ended up just feeling like the Catholic Church was wack," he says. "Cardinal O’Connor [the archbishop of New York at the time who once said if he was forced to hire homosexuals, he would shut down all of the Catholic schools and orphanages in the diocese] was like the arch-homophobe of America." Siciliano was working at a housing program for the homeless in the Nineties when he noticed that his clientele was getting younger and younger. Until then, he says, "you almost never saw kids. It was Vietnam vets, alcoholics and deinstitutionalized mentally ill people." But not only were more kids showing up, they were also disappearing. "Every couple of months one of our kids would get killed," Siciliano says. "And it would always be a gay kid." In 2002, he founded the Ali Forney Center, naming it after a homeless 22-year-old who’d been shot in the head on the street in Harlem, not far from where the organization’s drop-in center currently resides. Siciliano had been close with Forney and felt that had he had a safe place to go, he might be alive today.
Since founding the center, Siciliano, 49, has become one of the nation’s most outspoken homeless advocates. “I feel like the LGBT movement has been asleep at the wheel when it comes to this,” he says, running his hands through his closely cropped hair and sighing. “We’ve been so focused on laws – changing the laws around marriage equality, changing ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ getting adoption rights – that we haven’t been fighting for economic resources. How many tax dollars do gay people contribute? What percentage of tax dollars comes back to our gay kids? We haven’t matured enough as a movement yet that we’re looking at the economics of things.”—
As with crime novels or science fiction, labelling entire genres “popular junk” or “ambitious art” is too simplistic: the teen book you like is Y.A.; the teen book I like “transcends the genre.” This debate has focussed on books. The funny thing is that, in television, the situation is nearly reversed: seeming “teen shows” were the ones that, in the nineties, smartened up the medium, becoming a bellwether of psychological complexity. The one-season series “My So-Called Life” and “Freaks and Geeks” were more groundbreaking and radical than practically any show on network television at the time—certainly more so than splashy adult dramas like “Ally McBeal,” and, arguably, more than a much praised crime series like “N.Y.P.D. Blue.” During the era of “The Sopranos,” other shows emerged that blended teen drama with such “degraded” categories as horror and noir, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Veronica Mars” among them. Like any work that emphasizes the emotional life of teen-age girls, these series faced condescension, and were often conflated with greasier fare, like “Beverly Hills, 90210.” And yet they were the shows that began to erase the distinction between comedy and drama, to muddy established genres, and to forge a way to be warm and humane without falling into sentimentality. Contemporary shows on ABC Family, including “The Fosters,” fall into this same double bind: it’s hard to convince an audience seeking ambitious television that a show that’s designed to reach teens as well as adults might challenge them, particularly when it lacks the formal signifier of TV for grownups—looking like a movie. But how is it a guilty pleasure to watch a thoughtful show about family life? Is it the pleasure that’s the problem?
See, that’s the really funny thing: you don’t have to “get” it. It literally does not matter if you are deeply and profoundly confused why that girl is wearing a crop top - it’s her body and she’s allowed to put whatever she wants on it, regardless of whether or not you find it attractive. You don’t have to “get” why other people would say “you look so cute” or hold her body like a well-strung harp. Your ignorance does not make the song of her lips any less of an aria.
You don’t have to “get” someone’s sexuality because you’re not them, are you? It is hard enough being young and in love and unsure of what our skin can handle and confident that the hands of our lovers are warm enough to set us on fire. We are so worn out from just getting out of bed we have no fight left in us while we hunt for what it means to be ourselves. You don’t have to “get” why two men would grab each other’s bodies like lifejackets in a storm. You don’t have to “get” why every time I kiss a girl, I feel the earth shatter under me and sparks run from my toes to the tips of my fingers. You don’t have to “get” how it’s possible I like everyone regardless of gender. It doesn’t change how I feel. I don’t get how some people like cilantro. I haven’t voted to make it illegal. I haven’t spat at the feet of people eating salsa. Our tongues are such strong muscles. Use them to french-kiss your wife, not ask “who is the girl” in my relationship.
Bodies are just vessels for inexplicable energy signals, galaxies we call souls. You don’t have to “get” the changes someone decides to make to theirs. I don’t care if he defies everything you understand in this world about being a man. He can wear dresses and have long hair and put on makeup and if he says “I am a guy,” he is one. Stop asking to peek under the hood. It’s none of your business and it doesn’t make a difference. Your discomfort is because your heart is a closed door and once someone breaks borders you must reevaluate your entire judgement system - your discomfort is coming from a small voice saying “what if everything they shoved down my throat was wrong, what if we are all equal regardless of what we look like or how we dress or what we call ourselves, what if the only reason I grew up like this is because nobody told me I could be different.” If a lady says she is a lady, she does not need to flash you to prove that she is born of ocean mist. Their body is not for your general admission. I don’t care if you’re just “curious.” This is not the circus. They don’t owe you anything, but you do owe them respect.
The funny thing is, most of the time people haven’t even thought about the things they don’t “get,” but the minute they do, a light clicks on in their head. Maybe people just wear things and get tattoos and pierce their bodies for no other reason than because it looks cool and they’re an all-around hottie. Maybe everyone just loves in their own shaky ways, maybe they love every boy or only one girl or two people at once or they only love aromatically and none of these matter because love is doing no harm. Maybe people are in control of their own identity and you don’t get to complain about it.
Or maybe you don’t “get” it because you don’t want to. Heaven knows you don’t want to empathize unless everybody looks and acts like you.
”—I don’t “get” higher level mathematics. It still exists, it still functions. It is still beautiful in a way I can appreciate even without understanding. People don’t have to come with a textbook explaining their choices for you to accept them. People are just trying to live and they’re not there to answer your questions. Do you realize how stupid it sounds when you say “This person is different, I’m frightened, get rid of it”? /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
So I saw Belle a few weeks ago and I LOVED IT. As someone who grew up loving period pieces (and still watches the BBC Pride and Prejudice whenever I’m feeling sick/in need of comfort), this movie was almost everything I could ever want.
Which is not to say that there weren’t some aspects that I have mixed feelings about. My mom knows a lot more about the history of law and Britain than I do and she made some good points, namely that the decision in the Zong trial had less to do with the Chief Justice’s moral objection to slavery and more to do with supporting international trade. She pointed out that the white people in this movie are highly idealized and a bit “white savior” (though I do think that Dido herself exercises as much agency as she possibly can).
And my mom is right about that. But you know what? Amma Asante said she wanted to tell a story in the tradition of Jane Austen. And the characters and stories in Jane Austen are meant to be idealized. They always have happy endings. Despite being insightful and witty and (sometimes) political, they represent the fantasy of a world as Jane Austen wished it were. The white people in Belle are not probably accurate in terms of the historical figures they represent. But they are much closer to the people Dido deserved. Dido, as a human being, deserved people who loved her as a complex person and would defend/protect her as best they could, who would fight with her. And I think it’s powerful to see that story.
Belle is one story. It shouldn’t be expected to be EVERY story. We wouldn’t expect that of a period piece with a white lead. I hope we get to see more period pieces like this. I hope we get period pieces with no white actors. I hope we get period pieces set in America and China and Ethiopia and Mexico with women of color leads. I hope we get period pieces with people of color leads in the tradition of Thomas Hardy and the Bronte sisters and E. M. Foster and Elizabeth Gaskill. I hope we get Toussaint Louverture and Mary Jones and St. Maurice. I hope we get The Wind Done Gone instead of Gone with the Wind. I hope we get ALL the stories. Because that’s what the Didos of today deserve. That’s what we all deserve.
Standing in the middle of the after-party for the premiere of my new movie, Belle, a few nights ago, Prince - yes, Prince - thanked me and the movie’s lead, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, from the stage. He was playing a 90-minute private concert for us all, which was utterly surreal and exhilarating.
My mind fluttered back briefly to 2009, a year that I once defined as the worst of my life. Three projects I had been commissioned to write and then direct collapsed within weeks of each other.
A couple were Hollywood studio projects, the other, which had just been announced at Cannes, was a British independent film - a labour of love for me.
I had done everything that those experienced in the film industry had advised me to do; having won a Bafta for writing and directing my first feature film, AWay of Life, I hadn’t put all my eggs in one basket and had ensured that I was developing a good slate of projects that would lead to me cracking my second feature film.
Yet two of the projects succumbed to the burgeoning financial crisis and the other simply hadn’t worked out creatively. It was a strange feeling - and with little else to do, I yielded to over-analysis. Was this some way of the industry telling me that it didn’t want me? Perhaps I had been foolish in believing that as a black female writer and director I could forge my way in a world that allows shamefully few women of colour to be successful in the area I had chosen. I felt utter rejection.
I was in this mindset when, halfway through 2009, a print of an 18th-century portrait was forwarded to me from the producer Damian Jones. He had for some years been trying to get a project about it off the ground. A dual image of Dido Elizabeth Belle and her cousin Elizabeth Murray, it was this portrait that formed the inspiration for my movie Belle.
I was astonished by its radical nature. In it, Dido Belle, who is bi-racial, stands staring out at us, wearing expensive jewels and a fashionable silk dress. She is painted striding forward, which is unusual because 18th-century portraiture rarely depicted women with any movement. With head turned towards us and confident gaze, Belle points to her face, as if to say, “I am here!”. By her side is her blonde, white cousin of the same age, similarly dressed. That the painter has treated Dido Belle with equal value to her white counterpart made the portrait a groundbreaking piece of art. It moved me, in turn, to put together a groundbreaking film.
I decided to make this as much an Amma-esque film as Austenesque. As I began my research, I thought about the parallels between my life as a black woman writer and director, and Belle’s. That I have been able to make tracks in the film world certainly feels like a privilege, and yet, like Belle, that doesn’t negate the set-backs that race and gender can bring, the times you feel like a lone survivor. My position of being privileged as a black woman film-maker, though not fully equal, connected me to Belle’s experience in Kenwood House - where Lord Mansfield, her Great Uncle, raised her .
I knew I needed to exploit my emotional connection to Belle’s experience to create the film. I put Belle on an internal journey, from an uncertain girl who says “As you wish, sir” to a determined woman who metaphorically comes to say, “As I wish!”, and have her experience a profound political awakening en route. I used character traits as well as experiences from my own life, such as the language that was used towards me growing up in a white environment as a child, so that Belle’s growth, strength, and internal challenges would be rooted in a place of emotional truth.
The historical facts such as the painting, the period, and her upbringing within a privileged family that raised her as an aristocrat, compelled me to define my movie as one about race, politics, art and history - but also one that looks at themes of gender, identity, belonging and equality. Being bi-cultural - I was born and raised in London, the child of West African immigrants - I feel at the intersection of all these themes and wanted to place Belle there, too. One element I wanted to explore was the issue of “ownership”. Although the slave’s experience was entirely different to that of the woman, both were nevertheless “owned” - the woman being her husband’s property, assuming his last name on marriage.
When I spoke to Oprah Winfrey about this during an incredible garden lunch that she threw for me and the cast of Belle last month, she said I had given her an “ah-ha!” moment. I almost burst into tears. She taught me that my journey into as-yetuncharted territories by most who looked like me, was and is possible.
I often think of Belle’s forward movement in the painting. It motivated me to make a forward-looking film - an example of how great art can inspire change. If my movie contributes in any way towards change for women, and certainly women of colour in this industry, it would be a profound testament to Dido Belle’s presence.
Belle, starring Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Tom Wilkinson, Miranda Richardson and Penelope Wilton was released on 13 June: Director, Amma Asante; producer, Damian Jones; screenwriter, Misan Sagay.
tumblr, i can’t find whatever post it was that appeared on my dash and motivated me to find and see this movie (eventually—it’s on VOD now and i really regret not having gotten out to a theater to see it), but thank you collectively all the same for such a wonderful recommendation.
Chaumtoli Huq, former general counsel for NYC Public Advocate Tish James, attended a rally in Times Square with her family, and afterwards, waited on the sidewalk outside of a Ruby Tuesday restaurant while her husband took their children (10 and 6) to the…
For the past thirty-some years, Rivers has been filing each and every joke she’s written (at this point she’s amassed over a million) in a library-esque card cabinet housed in her Upper East Side apartment. The jokes—most typed up on three-by-five cards—are meticulously arranged by subject, which Rivers admits is the hardest part of organizing: “Does this one go under ugly or does it go under dumb?”
if you’ve recently heard sam smith’s version of “fast car,” which is going around a lot of blogs today (including outofficial)—please, please, please, promise me you will go listen to the original version. it’s not a heartfelt jazz cover about reckless love penned by a white british gay guy. it’s one small but important part of a fucking masterpiece of an album about being a dead broke, young black lesbian struggling to survive in a fucked up, racist country, and yet still daring to believe in love, and revolution, and a better life.
I have absolutely no quibble with discovering great older work through new covers, or even finding room to love both (or many) versions passionately. (I actually really like sam smith’s album, for whatever that’s worth.)
but in this case the history of the album is really, really important. it was this startlingly specific piece of art that still resonated enough with enough people in 1988 that it sold millions of copies and was nominated for an album of the year grammy. (which she didn’t win, though she she did take home three, including best new artist and best female pop vocal performance for “fast car”—which also went to #3 on the billboard hot 100, which is sort of impossible to believe but true.)
this album was one of those “i didn’t know we could do that” moments in my young life, and if you’ve never heard it before, i hope you’ll take the time to listen now. it holds up well. too well.
We do know something about most men who rape. For example, numerous studies have found that while they tend to be more emotionally constricted than nonaggressive men, and are often angry and hostile to women, most of them are psychologically “normal.” The psychologist David Lisak points out that the old stereotype of the rapist was derived in part from extensive studies with incarcerated rapists, many of whom committed acts of grievous violence against their victims, who were often strangers. But according to Lisak, research over the past twenty years clearly demonstrates that the vast majority of rapes are perpetrated by what he calls “undetected rapists,” and they usually know their victims. Undetected rapists are men who typically behave in stereotypically masculine ways, see sex as conquest, and are hypersensitive to any perceived slight against their manhood. But they are not crazy, and they are not sociopaths. “There is simply no evidence, save the rape itself,” Katharine Baker writes in the Harvard Law Review, “suggesting that all or even most rapists are objectively depraved.” Chillingly, she goes on to say that given the social norms that encourage it, there is evidence that rape is “culturally dictated, not culturally deviant.””—
Jackson Katz, Macho Paradox: Why Some Men Hurt Women and How All Men Can Help (via wretchedoftheearth)
there is evidence that rape is “culturally dictated, not culturally deviant”