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"immortality sucks because all your friends die" all your friends die anyway. those we do not mourn are those who mourn us.

"immortality sucks because you forget who you are" we always forget who we are. do you remember who you were at four years of age? who you were at fourteen? "who i am" is a shadow cast on the wall.

"immortality sucks because" skill issue. skill issue. skill issue. give me your liver

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#not me #i’ve got plenty of reasons

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What I need tme people to understand is that it has never been about the porn. Every time I come on my dash and I see posts with full tits and pussy out from some tme queer person with 50k+ notes, not even a community label. No slap-on-the-wrist for full porn clips. It's not because we're queer content creators, or talking about hard kinks, or posting cropped bush pics. If it was about that, then we would see non-transfem accounts being nuked at a similar rate because they have the safety to post shit that much more explicitly "breaks ToS".

But are those blogs flagged and nuked without notice, explanation, or warning? of course not. because it's never been about the porn. It's about dehumanization, and transmisogyny. It's about a website run by people who don't think trans women should exist, who view our bodies and our words as inherently predatory and fetishistic and wrong. Heather was nuked while she was talking about birdwatching. Reece was nuked while it wasn't even posting. Rot was nuked over a post more tame than 70% of the shit I see on this site every fucking day.

This is a website that hates us, that doesn't want to allow us to exist. And every time we try and call it out, I see you. I see you like the posts, but not reblog them. I see you saying "oh no she was so hot, thats too bad :(" while we are lamenting the loss of a friend and sister. It is blindingly clear that you are not listening to us, because you also only view us as sexual beings. You think it's all about the porn, because that's the only part you notice. The only part you care about.

But it's never been about the porn.

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Today, I would like to commemorate an event which has laid a very profound impact on the internet.

Ten years ago on this day (06/08/09), a forum website called SomethingAwful held a photoshop contest titled “create paranormal images”.  The contest would require participants to edit ordinary photographs into creepy-looking images, and then try to pass them off as authentic photos on other paranormal forums.

Two days later, on June 10th, a user by the name Victor Surge would find this thread, and become inspired.  He submitted the two pictures above, featuring a tall, faceless monster which would stalk children, who would then disappear.  He called his monster “the Slender Man”. After this initial post, Surge and others would expand on the character and the story, creating one of the internet’s most famous monsters.  The Slender Man proved to be popular enough to spread to other websites, with 4chan, Deviantart, and TV Tropes all having their own Slender-Mania. On June 20th of that same year, another user on the SomethingAwful forums found the Slender Man, and also wanted to contribute.  Noticing nobody had made any videos yet of the monster, he sat down with some of his friends and planned out a video webseries involving a former college film student discovering and unravelling the mysteries surrounding Slender Man; this would become Marble Hornets, one of the first horror-themed ARG’s of the internet.

That all happened ten years ago.  Ten years of haunting the darkest corners of the internet, and Slender Man has built up a surprisingly dense resume, for a fictional monster.  Several popular webseries, a couple hit games, at least two movies, even inspiring other characters in seperate series like the Silence in Dr Who and the Enderman in Minecraft.  And all this within a ten-year period.

I think this just attests to how much humans can be inspired by an idea.  From a small handful of edited photographs, we collectively constructed a new monster which lurks in our nightmares, and now it almost seems as natural as the horror mythos he was based on.  For better or worse, the Slender Man seems to be here to stay. Happy Birthday, Slendy!  Here’s to hoping you continue to be both terrifying and terrific!

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Dark academia floral name moodboard for Berna Requested by @fourthirtyam

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~ Skull Necklace.

Culture: Aztec

Period: Late Postclassic

Date: A.D. 1200-1520

Medium: Shell

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Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies

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Non fecit taliter omni nationi

not big on institutionalized religion but i really like the Virgin Mary. enjoy seeing her, the little statues, etcetera. she just does it for me

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It is crazy how much someone else’s experience can mirror my own.

I’m Mexican and I too grew up in a culture that glorifies the “American Dream”, in a society that is both hated by the US and enamored with it. In Mexico everyone has a family member or a friend que cruzó al otro lado.

My family is very privileged in a very unequal country and I attended private schools my whole childhood. When I was nine, my mom got a job opportunity that required us to live in California for a year, so I got a taste of life in the US and even learned the language. I’m very thankful both for the opportunity and to my mom for making the decision to come back after the year was up.

Anyways, after learning English, I was always glorified and looked up to by family and teachers, I did everything to learn more and specifically to sound “more native”. Nothing was more embarrassing to me than the hint of Mexican in my accent and my lack of understanding of grammar rules in English. Everything I consumed became American, my social media, the movies I watched, the music I listened to, I too switched the settings mu my phone to English. I read Charlotte Bronte and F. Scott Fitzgerald instead of José Emilio Pacheco and Juan Rulfo and I too dreamed of the lockers of American high schools. I even learned to cook mac and cheese and blts instead of appreciating one of the richest cuisines in the world.

When I entered University I knew I wanted to study literature, and I almost started an English degree, but something stopped me. In a way it would be so much easier, I had already read Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allan Poe, but something stopped me. I knew I had to learn about my own culture, so I chose to get a degree in Spanish (which I’m currently working on). I knew so little of my own literature in comparison to so many of my classmates, but well, today I can say Mexico and the whole of Latin America has an incredibly rich literary tradition. I am incredibly grateful for the choice I made to learn about Sor Juana, Gabriela Mistral, García Marquez, Rosario Castañeda, Ruben Dario… and even Machado de Asís.

May 8th, 2024

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to offend anyone, this is only my complex and conflicting journey to connect myself to my culture.

Why am I ashamed?

What am I ashamed of?

Growing up my parents ultimate goal was to move to the USA, they told me "the green card makes your life easier". All they wanted was to make more money so they could afford a better education for me.

I went to private schools for as long as they could pay it for me and they still couldn't put Brazilian private schools on the same level of USA public schools.

They had me having English lessons for years. "English is the most spoken language in the world" my father said "you have to know English to be successful" and I was an impressionable child with corporate dreams to pursue, so I committed to the bit.

Soon enough I started writing in English.

Then, one of our acquaintances made it to the USA. He made the dream real, solid, reachable. We had hopes for a better life.

In one of our Skype calls he told me the weirdest - and most wonderful - part was the "dreaming in English", as he put it, that after a long day speaking the language you couldn't help but dream on it too.

In my mind, then, it clicked: the more English I consume the more native I become.

A though.

Everything always starts with a thought.

One damn thought.

It was what it took to put me on the road to self-hatred and to make me detach myself from my culture. All it took for me to segregate all the culture available to me- to categorize and "villainize" my culture as a whole. Music, poetry, movies, soap operas, everything was inferior if compared to the big nation.

My cellphone setting were changed to English and I proudly carried around the fact I spoke the language as a badge. I was over the moon when I first read USA texts and could understand them.

For long - too long in my opinion - I was the "English girl" I knew about stuff kids from my country around my age didn't because I would spend a lot of time on forums and alike consuming media like I was about to move to there any moment. I molded my personality to fit their standards so I wouldn't be a fish out of water once I got there.

I found friends who spoke English and taught the ones who didn't so we would speak it in school. A way to talk bad about someone in front of them. A way to mock teachers at the same time they would compliment us for being - god help me, this one will always haunt me - "way ahead of the other children our age". If I could go back and make they take it back...

American high school was the dream to be achieved.

So long being superior, knowing more, quoting Edgar Alan Poe.

"The higher you step, the bigger is the fall".

I didn't go to the USA.

Never even traveled by plane 'till this day.

And in no time, the lack of knowledge of my culture started to catch up with me.

High school took a tool on me. Of all the problems I had probably the frustration of being in Brazil was the biggest of them. Classes weren't interesting because they weren't in English. I didn't have to change classrooms every period and I wouldn't get my driver's license by sixteen. I didn't have a locker. There are no lockers on Brazilian high school.

I was devastated and fought furiously with my - this guy is a saint, I swear, watch it - Portuguese teacher. Professor, actually, he had a doctorate if I remember correctly. Me, a fifteen years or something old fighting a doctor on how Joaquim Machado de Assis is not "good literature". In my head, back then, it wasn't even literature worth.

God, if I knew back then.

I wasn't "prodigy" anymore. I was just rebellious. At everything. Closed in the trap I designed to myself and unable to connect with other teenager.

It wasn't until lockdown that I started to feel a certain need to be a proud Brazilian citizen. Not for politics, economy or raising poverty rates. Those are always present and I was never aware to them. There wasn't time to pay attention to my country's situation if my dream was a white picket fence house instead of a big terrain with a gates, bars and electronic security system.

With TikTok came the trends, and even in my self spite I couldn't help but keep my social medias American.

Call it irony if you will but it was an American trend with a Russian song that brought me back to my roots. Or at least helped me question my actions towards my country.

"I'm just a simple Russian girl, I've got vodka in my veins, so I dance with brown bears and my soul is torn apart."

I stopped and then thought "after everything I have done and I am still not American enough. I will never be a USA citizen" and then "but I am American." and I was in shock. Because I always have been American. Not USA but Brazilian. Sharing the same America as them.

Such a line of thought, however controversial, made me think that if I were to make an edit to this trend what could I use to refer to Brazil?

Making me follow all the way to the question I dreaded the most: "what do I love about Brazil? what is it that even makes me Brazilian after so long hiding from my nationality?"

To be completely honest I was stupefied by how quick the culture flowed in my blood and I realized:

I don't need Little Red Riding Hood. I have the Saci.

We don't have the big white house but we have a fucking palace in our capital.

I want to play games with Narizinho, Pedrinho and Emília at the Yellow Woodpecker farm.

I want to draw in any sheet a yellow sun burning bright.

I can read Capitães de Areia instead of Lord of Flies.

And I should study more about the anti-asylum movement and read about Barbacena's tragedy documented by Daniela Arbex in her GENIUS book Brazilian Holocaust instead of hearing more and more about the USA "gun problem" or "camera on police officers".

I don't mean it as disrespectful or unimportant but I had spent so many time trying to reach the outside, the exterior, that I never once looked around to see the wonderful culture surrounding me.

The soccer, the music, the dance- God, I want to try capoeira before I die, I want to travel to see the Cataratas do Iguaçu and I want to truly understand my ancestors and the explosion of ethnics and cultures my country has to share.

And as the thoughts came and went I realized that I love being Brazilian.

"Festa de Ipanema, meu amor" - Movie: Rio, 2011.

Carnival, axé, samba, pagode, I want to dance.

Mônica, Cebolinha, Cascão, Magali, Chico Bento, I want to live at Limoeiro street.

O Auto da Compadecida (A Dog's Will), Minha mãe é uma peça, it's a comedy I can laugh to with no effort, I can understand the accent and from which region of my country it comes from and I can relate to the joke.

Carolina Maria de Jesus is my Anne Frank.

Coconut, avocado, passion fruit, lime, mango, melon, cashew are not "exotic" foods, those are natural fruits I find with "seu" João at the small vending at the end of the block.

My fruits, my music, my tragedies, my country.

I still accepting this reality. But I don't want to be ashamed to put, even if under a username, in my bio, description or whatever that I am Brazilian.

It's part of who I am.

It's reality is not perfect but it's mine.

I'm not ever giving it up again without a fight.

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HAPPY PRIDE

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whats ur most favored attractive part of someone actually. physically. im asking like a boobs or ass question but for intellectuals and philosophers.

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Having a bruise is great it’s like a second clitoris but it only does masochism