feelingmadclever

[feelingmadclever]

I know it’s not hard to point out reactionaries hypocrisy when it comes to like safe spaces or hug boxes or whatever but genuinely how much of an echo chamber do you have to exist in for you to think this is a reasonable thing to say

[feelingmadclever]

"She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again."

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

[feelingmadclever]

[feelingmadclever]

Feel like pure shit I just want him back

[feelingmadclever]

on roe vs. wade // knitting needles

(I wrote this after Amy Coney Barrett was appointed to the Supreme Court. TW that this has some graphic descriptions of abortion.) 

I’m knitting a sweater for my boyfriend. I’m slow at knitting, so it’s taking me months, even though I’m using the simplest pattern possible. I chip away at it in the evenings when I’m watching TV or listening to podcasts. Slowly a skein of dark green yarn is transformed, through a series of simple loops, into a warm, wearable object. I think about how in Puritan times, housekeeping and so-called women’s work were progenitors of witchcraft as we know it – how turning milk into butter or a sheep’s fleece into clothing were their own type of alchemy, viewed with suspicion by men.

Knit one row, purl the next. Stockinette stitch, which gives you the classic “sweater” appearance. The “right” side is smooth and flat, composed of neat rows of interlocking “V”s. The “wrong” side is bumpy and knobbly, though somehow cozy and inviting in its own way. The right side is more satisfying to look at, but I’m fonder of the wrong side, the side you wear closest to your skin.

I think about how women used to use knitting needles to perform abortions. Fitting, really, that they took symbols of domesticity and used them to reject motherhood. I can’t stop thinking about it when I’m knitting, when I’m watching the blunt tips of my needles weave in and out of yarn, how it would feel to push them up inside me. The thought is enough to make me nauseous, dizzy. In medical school, I inserted speculums and swabbed cervixes for infections and cancer; I know how soft and vulnerable that tissue is, like a ripe peach. You could plunge a knitting needle in without much resistance. I get cramps on my period, not debilitating, but enough of a dull ache that it makes me cranky and preoccupied. I try to imagine having the will to induce a much deeper and sharper pain than that. My needles click against each other and I wonder how much blood would come out if I were to lie down, spread my legs, and slide one inside me.

I should be used to blood at this point. I’ve seen litres of it by now, hanging in transfusion bags, soaking through bandages, pumping or oozing from various wounds. I’m a surgery resident, which is much less glamorous than it sounds, and I get frustrated by people who try to portray us as heroes. I’ve noticed that writers, with their writerly eye, tend to focus on the most banal features of a hospital, as if these details somehow have meaning in themselves. There’s always mention of an IV dripping, fluorescent lights flickering, a TV playing silently in a waiting room. It’s as though the implied presence of death lends an aura of significance to everything around it. But when you work in a hospital, and illness and death is part of your daily routine, the TV is just a TV.

There is nothing glamorous about death. In books and movies about back-alley abortions, women are portrayed as martyrs, as tragic heroines. Female pain is made into a spectacle; authors and directors focus with lascivious attention on the beading sweat, the grimacing mouth, the back arched in agony. Even in our death throes we cannot escape the male gaze. Male suffering is unnatural and unacceptable, but female suffering is expected, even celebrated. In reality, it’s as brief and inconsequential as flipping a page. There is nothing noble about suffering or dying in pregnancy or childbirth. There is simply a woman, a human being with hopes and thoughts and dreams, who is here one moment, gone the next. 

Insert the tip of one needle inside a loop of yarn; wrap another loop on top and slide it from one needle to the other. I dream of violence. I dream of driving by anti-abortion protesters and hurling chicken blood in their faces. I dream of burning down the houses of the wealthy and powerful, who purr with catlike satisfaction as they sentence women, poor women, to suffering and death. I dream of riots, of broken glass and burned-out cars, while I fly a flag with a pair of crossed knitting needles. In the meantime, I pass loops of yarn from one needle to another, and my knitting grows.

[feelingmadclever]

Men are unhappy that women are living longer healthier lives without them. See men aren't only going after abortion. They are going after birth control and any use type of sterilization. They want to force motherhood onto women.

They have been doing this for decades. They made women feel like if they were single and had cats, they were gonna be living a miserable life. Now millennials and generation z women are seeing that living alone with a pet is actually a peaceful life.

Then came the leftover women term. Which is something that didn't come from America, but China. The Chinese government came up with this term to try to trick the few women in China to get married. See the one child policy over there has left tons of men and little women. Some of those women decided not to get married for whatever reason and the government is trying to shame them into getting married.

Women, not just in America but Worldwide have been revolting against these traditional gender roles. They are realizing that men are not needed for absolutely anything and don't bring anything into their lives.

[feelingmadclever]

I’ve been caught up on Succession for a few weeks now and I will never…I mean NEVER be over the fact that THIS man…

Is also THIS man like???

You’re meaning to tell me I’ve had a crush on ToM WaMbSgAnS all these years??? I feel BETRAYED! I have been BAMBOOZLED! I am a CLOWN 🤡

*me upon learning this cursed information*

Props Matthew Macfayden for having ✨the range✨ though

[feelingmadclever]

happy bday nic braun everyone slut it up today in his honor

[feelingmadclever]

I'm having thoughts about Midnight Mass

The thought that John did all of this just to have a second chance at a life with Mildred and a chance to know Sarah.

The thought that this thing happened to John that healed all of the things he suffered from and his first thought was to bring it back to his home to help the people he loved the most.

The thought that John, as Paul, would go around and tell people how fond he is of them through the lense of Monsignor Pruitt.

The thought that as soon as Sarah passed, Mildred and John made peace with their lives ending with the sunrise.

The knowledge that Annie was willing to slit her own throat not only to save the life of her son but the lives of her friends, people she loved.

The thought that Riley, after taking that young girls life, would do anything to make sure he never hurt another person again, including taking his own life.

The thought that Sheriff Hassan just wanted what was best for his child and tried so hard to do his job the right way and fought so hard for these people even though they constantly had their backs to him.

The thought that Ali tried to change religion/himself because he wanted to be like everyone else and Beverly didn't even know his name.

That part in the end where the sun comes up and their singing just stops, without even finishing the song.

I have so many more thoughts but they're so scattered. This show is so beautiful and so well written.

[feelingmadclever]

no one:

not a soul:

cassie in lexi’s play:

[feelingmadclever]

It’s so rare seeing memes that praise men and boys so here are two nice ones.

[feelingmadclever]

My body is Not a temple. it is a thermos. for soup

[feelingmadclever]

the feminine urge to fall in love with a girl

[feelingmadclever]

Taylor Swifts new short film All Too Well is fucking genius and here’s why

Hollywood puts children through hair and makeup to look like women. It allows us to justify the age gap relationships. All Taylor does is not hide how young Sadie is compared to Dylan.

And as a result some of these shots are haunting because Dylan looks like he could be her dad. Your stomach turns, wondering if this is okay because Sadie looks childlike.

And this is what I always preach that just because it’s legal doesn’t mean it’s moral. The kitchen scene represents this so well when both are simply acting their age and the maturity gap is huge

Sadie is 19/Dylan is 31

Taylor was 20/Jake was 29

[feelingmadclever]

this video is making me SOB

[feelingmadclever]

"I did my best."

[feelingmadclever]

God gives her silliest soldiers to her strongest clowns