Writer, Digital Strategist, Lover of Pop Culture Randomness and Master of Shoes

I am not superwoman. My mother is not superwoman. My mother’s mother is not superwoman. I am, we are, soft. Can shatter. Crumble in your hands. Our survival does not mean we prosper. We are like other women but unlike them. So do not tell us we can handle anything. We only seem like superwoman, a figment of your imagination, because you have forced our lives to be perpetual labor with only seconds of relief. If we carry the world on our shoulders and the children on our backs, what are we but your glorified mules slapped with guilt praises of perseverance and strength. Our bones and our blood and our sweat have built the wealth of nations. Our burial should not be the first time we rest.

Yasmin Mohamed Yonis (via ethiopienne)

We Lie the Most to Ourselves

roxanegay:

I did nothing this weekend so today I will be working my ass off and then I will rinse and repeat for the rest of all time. Or something.

We have places that can be marked on a map with bright red Xs and beneath those bright red Xs are memories and moments we have shared. This could mean…

This was brilliant and heartbreaking. Wow.

I’m still cheesing from this happening on Saturday. If you’ve never read @bitchesgottaeat’s blog, you have missed out on laughing til tears flow. Sam is bae. 😍

I’m still cheesing from this happening on Saturday. If you’ve never read @bitchesgottaeat’s blog, you have missed out on laughing til tears flow. Sam is bae. 😍