Category: submission

I like my family

I was at my grandmother’s place today. I came back from Romania some time ago and that was the reason I noticed today, that my family is a good example.

My grandfather (72) helps my grandmother with cooking – he is proud about cutting potatoes, apples and carrots – and he also makes coffee and sets the table. My uncles, as well as my grandfather do some dishes (my grandmother is just so fast at starting to do them ^^“)
When I was doing dishes (we ate a lot ^^”) my uncle came over, took a towel, said: “So that the women don’t have to do everything.” and started drying the dishes and putting them away.

All this is just normal now. I like my family.


website | instagram | facebook Hi there! I’m part of a feminist…

website | instagram | facebook

Hi there! I’m part of a feminist art collective called Temper Tantrum. I would love it if you could share our site. We’ve got a bunch of stickers, buttons, zines and prints. Thanks so much!

speak up!

i love your blog so much! so i decided to share a moment i just had yesterday.
i was in chemistry yesterday doing a lab, and the group behind me was all boys… suddenly i feel a bump on my butt. the boy says, “oh sorry.”
then two or five minutes later i feel two more bumps/taps into my butt.
i come home and tell my mom then she calls the school…and tells the front office about it.
i can’t stand it, people aren’t free to just tap my body . it’s mine, not theirs.
same thing like when i was in chemistry, and i was writing and suddenly this boy says, “dang look how big her boobs are.” to his friend pointing to me.
like sometimes i just feel so uncomfortable.
so i decided to speak up about being sexually harassed by these boys. i know we all can speak up about it if we are a victim!


Hi there! I just recently started following you and I loveeee your blog. I saw your post on relationship advice and I thought I could help even if only a little. First, the threatening to kill himself thing he did was a HUGEEEE red flag. He should have been reported to someone that is not okay. That was emotional manipulation. Second, you should end it for good. I don’t think you have commitment issues, I think you’ve had a bad relationship that has left a mark. I don’t know much about you but you are a fiercely intelligent young lady and we need more people like you in the world. And a badass lady like yourself DESERVES AND HAS A RIGHT to be treated like a princess. I know its tough to let go of someone you love, but he’s not good for you. Dishonesty is his problem. Not yours. And lying in a relationship is a red flag. Also telling lies about you and your personal shit ALSO BIG HUGE MEGA NO NO. You got your whole lifeee a head of you. You have a bright future and I know you’ll attract amazing people. Let him go. You’ll definitely find someone else. You deserve the truth and you deserve someone who makes you feel safe and warm and that guy is worth the wait. I hope this helps! Remember none of this is your fault. You gave him plenty of chances. And if he makes you feel threatened or unsafe please tell an adult you trust. Or someone at school. Keep your head up always and keep running this awesome blog and voicing those thoughts! If you need me I’m here. Have a lovely night/day.

I was at work the other day and we have to either work in the kitchen or be on the store. Everyone…

I was at work the other day and we have to either work in the kitchen or be on the store. Everyone hates the kitchen, so to get on with the story I was arguing with this guy to see who would go in the kitchen and another co worker was like ladies first. The guy interrupted him there and was like yeah! Women belong in the kitchen so go! My coworker was like uh let me finish the ladies should get to pick first and i said take your ass to the kitchen😊 some men just think saying these things are ok bc they are social norms and it’s sad it’s 2017 come on now🙄 btw love your blog

All Lives Matter vs Black Lives Matter

Being an All Lives Matter-er person, is like going to a shoe store, and telling them to sell shirts, and pants too.

hey there. i just want to share a story about girls who claim to be feminist, but deep down really…

hey there. i just want to share a story about girls who claim to be feminist, but deep down really only use it for the label and to spread female chauvinism. i also want to talk about people who think their partner deserved the rape. and my friends who refuse to be on my side, bc they’d rather be friends with a rapist than deal with drama. sorry if i ramble, but the “#metoo” thing on FB makes me want to talk.

many years ago my abusive ex boyfriend raped me. my current boyfriend at the time told me i deserved it, because i had cheated on him with my ex before. i still feel terrible about the cheating, but the rape was real and i did NOT deserve it. anyway, my now ex forced me to stay friends with my rapist for the sake of “the group”, which includes a female i have known for a loooong time. she strongly started calling herself a feminist a few years ago. i started to notice, however… she only talks about feminism when a man doesn’t want to be with her, or when it looks good on fb… and she was not there for her “sister” when i thought i would be able to count on her, when i was verbally assaulted by my rapist for THE LAST TIME and she called the cops on ME. 

it started out with a party on NYE. i had spent a week having anxiety attacks preparing to be around my rapist, for “the sake of the group”. my feminist friend, who knew he was an abusive psycho and also my ex… was on her knees basically stroking his dick in front of the entire room.  so, i went off to smoke with another friend. i was already tipsy, and used to pretending to be my rapist’s “friend”, so i didn’t really care when he wanted to smoke too. he basically brushed the girl off of her to come upstairs and smoke with me and an old friend, who also knew about the rape. my rapist was really drunk, like the time he raped me .. and ANGRY… and was screaming top volume about politics in my face. all i kept saying was “please, lets change the conversation i don’t want to talk about this”… he continued yelling, i asked for THE FIFTH TIME “___, can you PLEASE stop? you’re making me really anxious”, and i showed him my shaking hands. he knows i have a panic disorder. i wanted to leave, but he was blocking the door. my male friend just sat there and let the fight happen, didn’t stick up for me or even bother to say “could you shut up?”. as soon as my rapist saw my hands, he got really in my face and SCREAMED, “YOU KNOW WHAT??? YOU’RE JUST A STUPID FUCKING BITCH!!!”. He always verbally abuses me at parties and when we dated, but this time was the last. I went to throw the content of my drink on him, but he lifted his arm that was holding his own drink. As I threw the liquid content, his glass clinked into my glass, and split his lip. He knew what had happened,an accident. but, before I could even blink he was running downstairs telling everyone I stabbed him with a shard of glass.  before my “feminist sister” could ask if I was “okay” or “what happened??”, she had already called the police and told them her friend had been assaulted by me! so the cops come within ten minutes, which everyone blamed ME for btw, bc my rapist couldn’t have walked down the street and said he slipped on the ground and called the ER himself. instead, my “feminist friend” decided it was her duty to call the cops!! so my rapist went outside to the cops and bold face lied to them… he told them i started it all and attempted to brutally mutilate him. luckily my rapist heard me say, “this man has done things to me in the past that i could have called the cops on but didn’t” i also had a voicemail saved of him threatening to rip my lungs out and kill me in case i really needed to show the cops what this guy was like. so, even though the rapist stuck to his story, he told them he didn’t want to press charges. when i came inside everyone was angry at ME for disrupting the party before the ball dropped. nobody cared that a grown man had screamed in my face that i was a stupid fucking bitch, whilst not letting me leave the room. my friend who was in the room during the fight literally said, “he was screaming at you, but you shouldn’t have let it escalate to that.” so i still basically deserved it. nobody cared that the “feminist” had called the cops without even warning ppl to hide their weed, and that she or my rapist was the reason no one saw the ball drop. my ex boyfriend who told me i “deserved” the rape was there, and gave me evil glares all night….. i thought for sure my feminist friend would at least apologize after i ended up freaking out and screamed to the room what he did to me in the past, and that it was “THE LAST TIME” bc i was “SICK OF GETTING ABUSED BY MY ex/RAPIST”. i cried for about twenty minutes solid while she just stared at me and continued to laugh and party with my ex that told me i deserved it, whilst flirting with him! i have been having flashbacks about that night and the rape ever since Jan, and now I know that no matter what… even when the biggest feminist at the party finds out her friend is a rapist… that they will remain the rapist’s friend until the end of time. Because, I “deserved it” and was being “dramatic”.

So after that I have been having a lot of trouble trusting “feminists” who act like they care so much, but only when it suits them… I think feminism is great, but I’m just so angry and I want to confront her. I want to let her know that what she did was a move against the feminist cause, even if he was hurt … she didn’t even ask if I was okay. Usually for a girl to toss a drink on a man, the man did something to warrant it. I didn’t say anything negative to her, though… for “the sake of the group”. Then she stopped following me on social media a few months ago, completely out of the blue… knowing damn well we are going to be at parties together again. Why would she do this on top of everything else? I never called her out for ppl saying I ruined the party, when she almost ruined my life if I had gone to jail. I am not wealthy like her, i wouldn’t have had bail money… and I should not have had to face punishment ONCE AGAIN due to my rapist. I have such mixed feelings. I would love to go around calling myself a feminist, but I’m literally afraid of the word thanks to all the female chauvinists, and my in real life experiences.

I know I should look for new friends, but it isn’t easy in a one square mile town where everyone knows your name. On top of it all, my rapist’s sister went around town calling me a “rape crier”. so, it really hurts when I finally stick up for myself, and once again IM the bad guy! I have PTSD from the rape, and this just made it all so much worse.

Do you have any words of advice? Or tips on how to figure out who the real feminists are without having to be attacked by a male IRL first? Or how to get people to understand that it’s not okay for men to scream that women are stupid bitches to the point where they are having a panic attack? Should I just accept that most people suck, and stop talking about it? I worry that every time I make a post on fb about rape or abuse, someone is sitting there thinking… “liar. slut. she deserved it.”, even though I never mention my story or that it happened to me. I want to put myself out there. I want to post “#metoo” statuses, but it seems like in this world if you actually get raped instead of just a slap on the booty at a bar, you’re being “dramatic” or “lying”, or at the very least are questioned about it.  . I feel sometimes like women are worse to each other than men. I just don’t know what to do and I feel so fucking alone, even though I’m happily married with a man who knows i didn’t deserve it…. he doesn’t understand the pain and the flashbacks and daily morning panic attacks. I want friends who don’t sympathize with rapists, and feminists who are what they say they are!!!

I don’t know if this was the right type of content to submit to your blog, I just really like your posts and you seem to offer good advice. I’m sorry my story is so long… Thank you so much for taking the time to read it <3

Feminists don’t hate men. Misandrists do. Know the difference,…

Feminists don’t hate men. Misandrists do.
Know the difference, people.

Everything wrong with society

Society raises robots 

Boys are taught that they can’t cry nor show emotion, taught that they can’t be human.

Girls are taught to hide their emotions, lest they be asked “are you on your period”, taught that it’s shows that you are weak.

Society is huge on double standards

‘Boys must be over 6ft, and have muscles"

‘Why are girls so self conscious?’

If you hate yourself, you must be fishing for compliments.

If you love yourself, you must be narcissistic.

Society has an obsession with victim blaming and ignoring the true problem

‘Boys can’t be the victim of rape because they always want sex’

‘All men are trash’

‘She was obviously asking for it’

‘Well what were you wearing?’

As if you could blame an entire gender on the actions of a few

As if the amount of skin you show determines your ability to consent and say NO

We are supposed to be able to think, we are not savages and should be able to understand that an absent of a YES means NO.

What was the point of this mini rant? 

To call society out on it’s bullshit! and to rant because of frustrations  

The point is we are not robots and have the right to emotions, we have the right to love ourselves because a bit of body positivity never hurt nobody, and IT IS NEVER THE VICTIMS FAULT why is it so hard to understand that?

Racist Societal Views of The Black Male Body & Appreciating…

Racist Societal Views of The Black Male Body & Appreciating My Black Body for What It Is by Patrick Jonathan Derilus

Sophomore year in high school, I started exercising in the school gym after school almost seven days a week. I willed myself to motivation to start doing it. I didn’t now how to start, but I knew the schemata to exercise: you spend thirty minutes to two hours running outside, or on a treadmill, and lifting a few dumbbells in repetitions of ten to fifteen. And after two weeks of doing that, I started to see results. I created my own strict routine and discipline. I lowered my food intake. I only drank water. Ritually, I stopped eating at 6:00 PM every day. And that worked for a while.

Whenever my mom, or my aunts would make food, sometimes they’d ask me if I wanted to eat. I’d militantly say no. I always took account of the time. Say it were thirty minutes past the designated time I decided to stop eating for the day; I’d punished myself with twice as much exercise the following day. So in the gym, men: from freshmen, juniors, some seniors to a few sophomores commended me for my perseverance in keeping up with exercising and losing weight with questions like, “how’d you do it?”

For a while I was brought to have lost this weight. I even felt like my depression was lifted off my shoulders for a while. Previously, I had the idea that exercise would be what would alleviate my stress. Years later, I soon understood that exercise keep me moving, but in no way did relentless exercising mean the suspension of my mental illnesses.

At first, I used to believe everything was changed because of volition—sheer individual conscious decision, that ‘willpower’ was center to what ameliorated, destroyed, or abolished all things permanently. I previously thought will was what would allow me to will my mental illness away, that will is what would advance my exertion toward losing weight, but will isn’t everything.

This logic was horribly flawed, antiquated, rigid, arrogant, and was actually in part of my upbringing, imposing onto myself the expectations of how I thought society and my family, viewed this logic, how I thought they viewed me. It was toxic, untrue. It didn’t make any sense. Sadly, for whatever I didn’t believe did not become a reality, was a result in unmerciful victimized self-blame onto myself.

“Why isn’t this working? I lost weight? Shouldn’t my depression be gone?” would be the nature of my internal dialogue. This was what my train of thinking was like for a long time, unknowingly did I felt overstressed and worried about not following their expectations. Not feeling that my mental illnesses had gone away made me worry of what, for example, my mother and my aunts would believe of me. Excessively did I make my interpretations of how they would feel about me not feeling ‘happy’ from having lost weight an invented belief that floated over my worries.

It was long after Monroe Woodbury High School, after SUNY Orange, that I learned that maybe what influenced me to exercise was not what I wanted. Jokingly, Broly the Legendary Super Saiyan was my influence for wanting to be brawny. A former friend or two I had who would slap my arms and yell to me that I was ‘too big.’ I used to laugh and take these sayings with lightheartedness. My aspirations to be so-called ‘big’ wasn’t really a thing to me anymore. I think what it was, was that I thought that if I was this size, I would be attractive.

I did gain some of the weight back at some point, and lost it nearly as quickly as I gained it back. I read somewhere that losing weight quickly after gaining it is prone to me experiencing severe heart conditions. That wasn’t the main cause of me gaining the weight back the third or fourth time. It was more indifference.

Little thoughts here and there appreciating my body in the state that it was, and sometimes disliking it, disliking my own body so much that whenever I put underwear or pants on, I’d make sure the sides of my stomach were above the pant line over my the sides of my stomach fat. Other times, I’d leave it right at the pant line. It was never consistent. Even now, while I’ve been away at SUNY New Paltz, I’ve gained a bit of weight, but it wasn’t so much sadness that overcame me.

It was more indifference again, like, what was wrong with my body? Nothing was wrong with it? I still had muscle from when I used to exercise strenuously as I first started back during my sophomore year in high school. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m attractive, sometimes in the colloquially bastardized sense of the word, narcissistic, like “shit, I look good.”

 I’d admire how I look when I look my deltoids and my arms, but I guess I’ve learned to start appreciating the all of my Black body, too. And while I should be exercising more often, something affects me differently when I visit the gym than how it did years ago. I’ve learned that when I was appreciated for my arms, my muscularity, by nonBlack people, I was being racistly objectified.

And with time, I guess, I became afraid of having exercised to reach that level of physique again? To avoid looking like a racial archetype? I love my Black body, but I would become disoriented as soon as some covertly or overtly racist white person would objectify me. They would even desexualize me via their white racist imagination with this whitewashed assumption that I am somehow…“not like other Black men.”

These people are whom I call covert racists, and what I also call white supremacist credentials: morality, virtue, intelligence, accomplishments, and mostly our labor. Whenever a white man or white woman says they love Black men, or praises a Black man, alive and or dead for our accomplishments, academic, artistic, philosophical, linguistic, physical, spiritual, or otherwise, we are worshipped for our service, under their Whiteness, as if we are indebted to it. White people value Black male life insofar as we subject ourselves to their racist credentials. 

They love our Black male bodies and our creations, but look over the fact that we’re human, BLACK HUMANS. Thus in these regards, white people objectify me, whether it be my Black body, my Black dick, or my natural Black hair, making these verbally sexual advances to justify in their minds that I am nothing more than their racist object, and they whitewash and tokenize me to make themselves feel safe, yet, irrefutably, they perceive me as less a ‘danger’ insofar as I am not being unapologetically Black and resistant.

Digressing back to my experiences in going to the gym, I viewed it differently. It wasn’t just me, a Black man, going to the gym, exercising then leaving. It was weird as well walking in there sometimes. I wasn’t looking at my physique as if it needed to be “corrected.“ 

Before, I ascribed self-worth to my muscularity, but I also learned that at the same time, it was dangerous because of the Black and white male symbiotic homosocial activity that took place there. Whether a man lifted two fifty pound dumbbells with ease and he sounded these weird grunts as if he was plummeting toward his death, or a man looming over another man, voyeuristically observing him as he attempted to bench press 145+ pounds in three to four sets of ten, it was all the same. I wasn’t there looking to be better or stronger-looking than the next man exercising. I’d be there to take care of my Black body.

And it’s so easy to get caught up in long-winded competitive talk about what muscles in my body I’m working out on, or what my technique was, or that I even cared about these things now than I did as an eighteen-year-old teenager. I’m not saying exercise is unimportant, or that a Black man making himself fit is wrong. I’m saying there will always be sociopolitical implications that follow the choices a Black man would make in how his representation might be used against him in imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchal culture. It’s important to be aware of what my Black body is getting itself into, whether it be in the gym, at the gas station, in a classroom, everywhere.

My views changed drastically. I don’t believe that my weight determines my worth, and I’m not saying this to earn SJW points. I’m saying this because it’s wrong, ignorant, and fatphobic to think in that way. I might be overweight, but over time, I’ve honestly come to like my body in the shape that it is. How muscular or refined my face might look shows only how much effort I’m putting into my exercise and that I’m obviously dedicated to fitness, yes, of course, but it doesn’t define my Black beauty.

Aestheticism (noun.) — the belief that our main efforts in life should be focused on creating and enjoying beauty, in all its forms.

you can also find my personal essay on my website: —

and few more photos of black body positivity on my instagram: @ablackliterary_