Text 25 Feb


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Text 14 Feb 868 notes


If you don’t work towards dismantling the antiblackness and/or Islamophobia you encounter from your friends and family, don’t glorify Malcolm X.

If you think someone’s life and the impact they can have on the world is nullified after encounters with the prison industrial complex, don’t glorify Malcolm X.

If you don’t treat converts to Islam with the respect and welcoming environment which they’re so routinely deprived, don’t glorify Malcolm X.

If you entrench yourself so deeply in arbitrary respectability politics that alienates a significant portion of Black people, don’t glorify Malcolm X.

Because what I see so often is not a genuine appreciation for the man, his journey and the intricate details of his life, but an opportunistic sensationalism of pieces of his legacy, which is just a great of an injustice as outright slander.

Malcolm X was Black, an ex-con, a Muslim, a civil rights leader and one of the greatest individuals to ever walk the Earth. He was all of these things at once and each facet of his identity helped shape who he became.

via CWL.
Quote 14 Feb 12,386 notes
Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion… Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.
— Frida Kahlo (via shiftinconsciousness)

(Source: strange-bloom)

Text 14 Feb 378,366 notes





the sound of high heels on the pavement as you walk is the ultimate power trip, like you could be buying milk or on your way to assassinate someone

or you could be crippling yourself to uphold a patriarchal beauty standard

or you could be simply wanting to wear high heels while crushing the patriarchy. Click click mother fucker. 

Click click motherfucker

Photo 14 Feb 123,896 notes sirius-draws:

it’s been a trying past few days



it’s been a trying past few days


Text 14 Feb 1 note you can’t make homes out of people, but i made a mistake and did.
Photo 13 Feb 202 notes majdimam:

“To Allah we belong, and to Him is our return” — Qur’an, 2:156.


“To Allah we belong, and to Him is our return” — Qur’an, 2:156.

Text 13 Feb 3 notes last chance

i am slowly watching my grandmother die, lost to age and whatever mystery is causing her brain to malfunction and die. it is painful to watch someone so vibrant die so slowly. she has only days left. i dread the hospital visit later. mercy. 

i didn’t have much of a relationship with either grandmother; from a happy, vibrant child i became withdrawn and sullen and cold as i grew older due to circumstances no one wished upon my family. i am fortunate then that i have one last shot in the form of my grandparents in england. though we are not blood related, they have taken my brother and i as their own and i love them dearly. a last chance at developing a relationship.

Text 16 Jan

above all, music gives me courage.

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