(Source: phebz-quinn, via amatueuretwyttor)
(Source: phebz-quinn, via amatueuretwyttor)
(via alifewithchocolate)
AND I REALIZED, ALL OF US FAILED. AND I WAS LIKE…
(Source: sheamnessy, via alifewithchocolate)
(Source: two-luxuries, via gerardthefuckingpoet)
(Source: youmakeme-laugh, via gerardthefuckingpoet)
when men open doors for me
yearning for my smileand my lover cups my hips, pulling me to her
whispering “mine”and
when my mother looked at my skirt and said “you’re not going out in that”
and my father said I was dead to him,
an embarrassment to the familyand they gave him a job instead of me,
and again, and again,and when they spoke over me, boys and beards alike,
wrote their words and theories on my skin
called me hysterical, unreliable, psychotic,and
the psychologist asked me what underwear I was wearing,
and the doctor told me to get undressed
while another refused to treat my impure body at alland strange men pulled at my crotch and my breasts, groping, reaching, tearing,
or the taxi driver said I could pay with sex
and I ran like hell
stumbling in the darkness
wishing I’d worn flatsand their fists hit my chest, and my body crumpled
they call me slut, whore, cunt
and everyone blamed me, anyway.And you, my sisters, you closed the doors to shelters
and my bruises healed aloneorganised conferences and
wrote books
while my words went unheardand you told me die tranny bitch
called yourself radicaland never once realised how much
you are like the men
you hate.
This was written by Emily Manuel.
(via piinkparade)