Here’s some fantastic news for your Friday: On Thursday, the California Senate unanimously approved a new bill that defines sexual consent as a firm “yes” rather than a lack of “no.”

micdotcom:

This is a big win for anti-rape activists, many of whom have been touting the necessity of an “affirmative consent” standard for years. California Gov. Jerry Brown (D) has the next month to sign the bill into law. If he does, schools across the state would be required to define consent before engaging in sexual activity as an “affirmative, conscious, and voluntary agreement” or risk losing state financial aid funding.

(via girl-supremacy)


tonystarks:

clap your hands if you’re bisexual, asexual, or any other sexual and get erased by both the heterosexual and homosexual community

(via happyun-birthday)


Q
post a dick pic
Anonymous
A

lesbiarchy:

Don’t ask anyone on tumblr what radical feminism is unless they’re a radical feminist because there’s 99% chance everything they say is completely inaccurate and misguided

(via starsandradfems)


creepy-cute:

love her

(via radbabyradfem)


jawnthebaptiste:

kingjaffejoffer:

Michael Brown’s dad before the burial. 
The emotion and all of the sweat…. shit is hard to look at, even if its only a picture

I didn’t want to reblog this because it’s hard to look at, but people SHOULD see it.
We SHOULD see a father mourning his teenage son.
We SHOULD see how a killing like Mike’s can take a toll on not only a community, but a family.
It’s as easy for young black men to become martyrs as it is for them to become victims. They can never just be humans. 
We can never just be.

jawnthebaptiste:

kingjaffejoffer:

Michael Brown’s dad before the burial. 

The emotion and all of the sweat…. shit is hard to look at, even if its only a picture

I didn’t want to reblog this because it’s hard to look at, but people SHOULD see it.

We SHOULD see a father mourning his teenage son.

We SHOULD see how a killing like Mike’s can take a toll on not only a community, but a family.

It’s as easy for young black men to become martyrs as it is for them to become victims. They can never just be humans. 

We can never just be.

(via thestrengthofwomen)


sourwolve:

youtuber gets angry that girls like music 


whatisbands

sourwolve:

youtuber gets angry that girls like music 

whatisbands

(via smitethepatriarchy)


problackgirl:

"real men dont rape" actually, real men do rape. they do. men rape. it isn’t done by ~fake mythical special brand of evil~ men, it’s done by real men, men who may seem nice, men who you think you can trust, men you know, men who you’re close to. real men do rape. that’s the problem

(via radbabyradfem)


Porn is not about sex, it’s about sexualized power. Porn, a few outliers notwithstanding, is about men fucking women into submission, often violently. If it weren’t, there’d be no choking, no puking, no bukkake, no gang bangs, no double (or quadruple) penetration, no ATM, no slapping, no name-calling, no images of multiple men high-fiving each other while they use and abuse one woman’s body, no porn copy containing phrases like “until she cries” or “watch this little whore get ____” or “Interchangeable Female Body vs. Fearsome Violent Penis.” The porn industry, if it were just all about sex rather than about sexualized hate, wouldn’t be in a race to the bottom with itself to create ever more absurd configurations of bodies, the sole aim of which seems to be to subject women to the most heinous abuse possible.

Don’t bother telling me that the porn you watch isn’t quite that gnarly. Check out the behavior of the men in comparison to that of the women, look at the positions of the bodies, think about the camera angle, listen to what is being said, think about whose pleasure seems paramount, then come back and tell me the porn you watch isn’t just as much (if not more) about dominance and submission as it is about sex.
Nine Deuce (x)

(via m00nofmylife)


I am sixteen the first time-too young, too shy, and too soft to say “no.” He puts his hand on my thigh and I shiver a little. “What’s wrong?” he asks. I stare straight ahead and mumble, “I’m cold.” I hate the way his fingers feel. Hate their roughness and that I can tell how often he picks up a guitar by his hard callouses. I hate the way he makes jokes about the movie to distract me from his hand creeping up to my lap. I hate his sweaty smell. His patience. His persistence. His loud laugh. And yet, I stay silent. I remain seated. I do not say “no.”

It takes him three weeks and eight movies for him to slip his fingers behind my underwear and dig around a little. Immediately after wiping his hand on his pants, he turns to me and says, “Damn that guy really can’t act, can he?”

I tell myself I have no excuses. Nothing to say. Sure, he came over without an invitation, but I never asked him to leave. He walked through my front door one afternoon and said he had some movies he wanted to watch. “It’s always more exciting to see something for the first time with someone else,” he said. I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no. In my silence, he found exactly what he wanted to hear.

The ninth time he plopped down on the fraying couch beside me and turned the movie on he said, “Spread your legs. Do that thing with your mouth that I like so much.” I looked at him and grimaced. “There you go,” he smiled. “Keep doing that. Knowing I have to convince you makes me want you more.”

Now, when I tell him to leave, he laughs in my face. He says, “Oh, now you want me to go? After all the times you said nothing? Yeah, right. What’re you going to do, tell people I raped you or something? Don’t be such a baby.” I bite my lip and look away. I dig my nails into my thigh and try hard not to cry. Baby. Baby. Baby. Such a fucking baby, I think over and over again.

He’s got a point, I think. I can’t hate him if I never told him to stop. But then his sweaty fingers using force to pry my tightly closed thighs apart comes to mind. I think of how I sat there lifelessly as he offered me a massage. I think of my frowns. Of my lack of appetite. Of my shaking fingers and twitching mouth. I think of all the things that silence says, and not one of them is “yes.”

Silence Is Not A “Yes” | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

(via lora-mathis)