— Hillel Neuer (via 3rd-wave)
The President’s desk.
— James Baldwin (via beckisbookshelf)
This is a video of a parade in Paris on the Eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day. Approximately 17,000 people participated. In this video the protestors first sing anti-semitic comedian Dieudonne’s Holocaust mocking song “Shoah Nanas” which translates as Holocaust Pineapples, where he blames Jewish people for his government fines for hate speech and mocks the Holocaust as a means for Jews to profit. Afterwords they chant “Juif, la France n’est pas a toi” which means “Jew, France is not for you.”
Reblog the hell out of this. I’ve seen it before, but it never gets many notes. People are dismissing anti-semitism in France and it is killing me.
Why am I not seeing this pass my dash every day like I do so many other causes? Why doesn’t this seem to merit even a casual reblog? Can you honestly watch this and not feel something turn cold in your soul?
— A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner (via xstayfocused)
— Hillel Neuer (via 3rd-wave)
— - Israeli author Amos Oz (via girlfromdistrict2)
Solidarity with IsraelThanks to Abraham Joseph Pal for these great photos from the LA Solidarity with Israel rally . More can be found here
I was there!
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming."
When I heard that my 21-year-old son, a student at Harvard, had been stopped by New York City police on more than one occasion during the brief summer he spent as a Wall Street intern, I was angry.
On one occasion, while wearing his best business suit, he was forced to lie face-down on a filthy sidewalk because—well, let’s be honest about it, because of the color of his skin. As an attorney and a college professor who teaches criminal justice classes, I knew that his constitutional rights had been violated.
As a parent, I feared for his safety at the hands of the police—a fear that I feel every single day, whether he is in New York or elsewhere.
Moreover, as the white father of an African-American son, I am keenly aware that I never face the suspicion and indignities that my son continuously confronts. In fact, all of the men among my African-American in-laws—and I literally mean every single one of them—can tell multiple stories of unjustified investigatory police stops of the sort that not a single one of my white male relatives has ever experienced.
how could you not reblog this.
Hardcore judging you if you don’t reblog this.
This is my favorite tattoo picture.
reblog every time.
I’ve reblogged this so many times. Never will i stop.
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
Cheryl Strayed in Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar
Song: “We Will Become Silhouettes” by The Postal Service