Senegal’s innovative approach to prostitution
Asians are the loneliest Americans. The collective political consciousness of the ’80s has been replaced by the quiet, unaddressed isolation that comes with knowing that you can be born in this country, excel in its schools and find a comfortable place in its economy and still feel no stake in the national conversation.
Haven't even used glitch yet and already a huge fan 💜
Dash agrees: “The root of amateur is the Latin word for love, and our aesthetic follows from that quickly.”
Capturing how things look fools us into thinking that we’ve captured their truth. But appearance is bare fact.
Disability is always seen as a misfortune, and disabled characters are simply opportunities to demonstrate the kindness of the able-bodied protagonists.
You don’t get justice with the politics of guilt. You get it with the politics of solidarity.
Africa is not a project, it is not summer school, for us that live here it our lives, our home and our future.
Every perception, no matter how objective it seems to the witness, is infused with personal beliefs.
It was like being a vegan cookbook — other people used you as a symbol for communicating about themselves.”
This is one of the saddest untold stories in American history — the way in which the victims of racist oppression and violence have hurt the bodies of their own children in an effort to protect them from a hostile society
. Don’t we all treat suffering as a disruption to existence, instead of an inevitable part of it?
We’re born, we learn to be afraid, learn to be looked at, learn to be quiet, we bleed, we give birth, we age, we’re forgotten, and then we die.
Mr. Trump embodies a fantasy of masculine power reclaimed.
I can take ownership of my privilege and write it into my career narrative.
ou see, when you kill ten million Africans, you aren’t called ‘Hitler’. That is, your name doesn’t come to symbolize the living incarnation of evil. Your name and your picture don’t produce fear, hatred, and sorrow. Your victims aren’t talked about and your name isn’t remembered.
Victims are not victims, not some fragile, sorrowful aftermath. Victims are survivors, and survivors are going to be doing a hell of a lot more than surviving.
Depression is more seductive,” he said. “Its tool is: ‘Wouldn’t it be way more comfortable to stay inside and not deal with people?’ Grief is an attack on life. It’s not a seducer.
We don’t have a choice but to talk to our son about Ferguson, Eric Garner, workplace frictions, Baltimore, Charlotte, Alton Sterling and on and on.
But none of it, they concluded, would cause long lasting psychological harm.
Fifteen years later, it is clear they were wrong.
“No one owns this land. This land belongs to the earth. We are only caretakers. We’re caretakers of the earth.”
It’s not “adulting” to be able to create and stick to a budget or change a smoke detector battery, it’s “what people do because we all have to live life and exist in the world as something other than really tall toddlers.”
“No my friend. I sometimes believe that Africans will need visas for heaven too.”
Have I not yet proven I have no long-term intentions in your countries? And what if I did? Am I a criminal for wanting to live elsewhere? Or is it my muddy feet you fear will dirtify your white couches? I will clean them at the door.
At 26 years of age, and one of the fastest people in the world, he joined a special league of sportspeople who used their platform at the Olympics to perform audacious acts of political and human rights activism.
I may be naturally reserved, and more comfortable alone than I will ever be in a crowd, but I am not at the mercy of my nature.
Here’s the thing about a community college commencement: It’s not just joy-filled, it’s triumphant. Because for many of the people proudly waving their diplomas, this day was far from a certainty.
“No one takes their family into hiding in the heart of an occupied city unless they are out of options,” notes Mattie J. Bekink, a consultant at the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. “No one takes their child on a flimsy boat to cross the Mediterranean unless they are desperate.”
Men who want their wives at home while they celebrate the professional successes of their daughters.
But in my position as a black female reader, I pour into stories and leave them feeling more stupefied than full, wondering if boredom in literature is another form of white privilege—one that women of color cannot access as society’s direct adversaries.
Finally, it seemed, there was a female innovator who was indeed able to personify the Valley’s vision of itself—someone who was endeavoring to make the world a better place.