#Syria my beloved

[lunapdf]

KHEER! BP'S COMING BACK IN AUGUST! YGE CONFIRMED IT YESTERDAY! Now I have to prepare for them and SNSD. I love it here

OMG WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS

THANK U FOR TELLING ME SYRIA DONT WORRY GURL I'LL BE HERE FREAKING OUT THE WHOLE TIME WITH U 😭😭😭

[salty-accords]

Aphrodite Intro Pages

Let us delve into the realm of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, known as the Smile-Loving. She is a divine beauty, Her radiance rivaling that of the heavens, yet Her wrath can be as fierce as the sea She was born from. Emerging from the sea froth of Ouranos' castration, She is hailed as the daughter of Zeus. While She may be a minor deity of the sea, particularly associated with sea foam and creatures like tortoises, turtles, and clams, Her influence extends far beyond, shaping numerous myths and narratives as the Goddess of Passion.

These pages will give you a glimpse into my understanding and reverence of Aphrodite. The content, largely drawn from my grimoire, is a testament to my unique perception and worship of this goddess. However, it's important to note that the altar concept, while significant to me, is a conceptual representation and not a direct reflection of my daily worship. These visuals are crafted with the internet in mind and are highly aesthetic.

55. To Aphrodite (The Orphic Hymns, Athanassakis and Wolkow translation; excerpt)

Heavenly, smiling Aphrodite, praised in many hymns, sea-born revered goddess of generation, you like the night-long revel, you couple lovers at night, O scheming mother of Necessity. Everything comes from you: you have yoked the world, you control all three realms, you give birth to all, to everything in heaven, to everything upon the fruitful earth, to everything in the depths of the sea, O venerable companion of Bacchos. You delight in festivities, O bride-like mother of the Erotes, O Persuasion, whose joy is in the bed of love, secretive giver of grace, visible and invisible, lovely-tressed daughter of a noble father, bridal feast companion of the gods, sceptered, she-wolf, beloved and man-loving, giver of birth and life. Your maddening love-charms yoke mortals, they yoke the many races of beasts to unbridled passion. Come, O goddess born in Kypros: you may be on Olympos, O queen, exulting in the beauty of your face, you may be in Syria, country of fine frankincense you may be driving your golden chariot in the plain, you may lord it over Egypt's fertile river bed. Come, whether you ride your swan-drawn chariot over the sea's billows, joining the creatures of the deep, as they dance in circles, or on the land in the company of the dark-faced nymphs as light-footed they frisk over the sandy beaches, Come lady, even if you are in Kypros that cherishes you, where fair maidens and chaste brides throughout the year sing of you, O blessed one, as they sing of immortal, pure Adonis. Come, O beautiful, O comely goddess, I summon you with holy words, I summon you with a pious soul.

[opencommunion]

"Dead are my people, gone are my people, but I exist yet, lamenting them in my solitude. Dead are my friends, and in their death my life is naught but great disaster. The knolls of my country are submerged by tears and blood, for my people and my beloved are gone, and I am here living as I did when my people and my beloved were enjoying life and the bounty of life, and when the hills of my country were blessed and engulfed by the light of the sun. My people died from hunger, and he who did not perish from starvation was butchered with the sword; and I am here in this distant land, roaming amongst a joyful people who sleep upon soft beds, and smile at the days while the days smile upon them. My people died a painful and shameful death, and here am I living in plenty and in peace. This is deep tragedy ever enacted upon the stage of my heart; few would care to witness this drama, for my people are as birds with broken wings, left behind the flock. If I were hungry and living amid my famished people, and persecuted among my oppressed countrymen, the burden of the black days would be lighter upon my restless dreams, and the obscurity of the night would be less dark before my hollow eyes and my crying heart and my wounded soul. For he who shares with his people their sorrow and agony will feel a supreme comfort created only by suffering in sacrifice. And he will be at peace with himself when he dies innocent with his fellow innocents. But I am not living with my hungry and persecuted people who are walking in the procession of death toward martyrdom. I am here beyond the broad seas living in the shadow of tranquillity, and in the sunshine of peace. I am afar from the pitiful arena and the distressed, and cannot be proud of ought, not even of my own tears. What can an exiled son do for his starving people, and of what value unto them is the lamentation of an absent poet?

Were I an ear of corn grown in the earth of my country, the hungry child would pluck me and remove with my kernels the hand of Death form his soul. Were I a ripe fruit in the gardens of my country, the starving women would gather me and sustain life. Were I a bird flying the sky of my country, my hungry brother would hunt me and remove with the flesh of my body the shadow of the grave from his body. But, alas! I am not an ear of corn grown in the plains of Syria, nor a ripe fruit in the valleys of Lebanon; this is my disaster, and this is my mute calamity which brings humiliation before my soul and before the phantoms of the night. This is the painful tragedy which tightens my tongue and pinions my arms and arrests me usurped of power and of will and of action. This is the curse burned upon my forehead before God and man.

And oftentimes they say unto me, the disaster of your country is but naught to calamity of the world, and the tears and blood shed by your people are as nothing to the rivers of blood and tears pouring each day and night in the valleys and plains of the earth. Yes, but the death of my people is a silent accusation; it is a crime conceived by the heads of the unseen serpents. It is a sceneless tragedy. And if my people had attacked the despots and oppressors and died rebels, I would have said, 'Dying for freedom is nobler than living in the shadow of weak submission, for he who embraces death with the sword of Truth in his hand will eternalize with the Eternity of Truth, for Life is weaker than Death and Death is weaker than Truth.' If my nation had partaken in the war of all nations and had died in the field of battle, I would say that the raging tempest had broken with its might the green branches; and strong death under the canopy of the tempest is nobler than slow perishment in the arms of senility. But there was no rescue from the closing jaws. My people dropped and wept with the crying angels. If an earthquake had torn my country asunder and the earth had engulfed my people into its bosom, I would have said, 'A great and mysterious law has been moved by the will of divine force, and it would be pure madness if we frail mortals endeavoured to probe its deep secrets.' But my people did not die as rebels; they were not killed in the field of battle; nor did the earthquake shatter my country and subdue them. Death was their only rescuer, and starvation their only spoils.

My people died on the cross. They died while their hands stretched toward the East and West, while the remnants of their eyes stared at the blackness of the firmament. They died silently, for humanity had closed its ears to their cry. They died because they did not befriend their enemy. They died because they loved their neighbours. They died because they placed trust in all humanity. They died because they did not oppress the oppressors. They died because they were the crushed flowers, and not the crushing feet. They died because they were peace makers. They perished from hunger in a land rich with milk and honey. They died because monsters of hell arose and destroyed all that their fields grew, and devoured the last provisions in their bins. They died because the vipers and sons of vipers spat out poison into the space where the Holy Cedars and the roses and the jasmine breathe their fragrance. My people and your people, my Syrian Brothers, are dead. What can be done for those who are dying? Our lamentations will not satisfy their hunger, and our tears will not quench their thirst; what can we do to save them between the iron paws of hunger? My brother, the kindness which compels you to give a part of your life to any human who is in the shadow of losing his life is the only virtue which makes you worthy of the light of day and the peace of the night. Remember, my brother, that the coin which you drop into the withered hand stretching toward you is the only golden chain that binds your rich heart to the loving heart of God."

Gibran Khalil Gibran, "Dead Are My People," written during the Great Famine of Mount Lebanon, in which 200,000 people were starved to death by a blockade imposed by European forces to weaken their Ottoman opponents in World War I. The man-made famine killed one in three people in Beirut and the surrounding Mount Lebanon Mutasarrifate (which encompassed today's North, Keserwan-Jbeil, and Mount Lebanon governorates). This peasant population was strangled by threefold oppression: from the European imperialist war machine, Ottoman Turkish imperial oversight, and the local capitalist class. The boom and bust of the global silk industry, monopolized by France, destroyed Mount Lebanon's silk-centered economy shortly before the war, leaving the population impoverished and vulnerable. The famine was key to the European victory which led to the occupation and partition of the Levant and enabled the colonization of Palestine. The partition placed Lebanon under French control, fulfilling a longstanding French colonial desire for Lebanese land and labor.

Further reading/listening: Graham Auman Pitts, "Was Capitalism the Crisis? Mount Lebanon's World War I Famine" and "A Hungry Population Stops Thinking About Resistance: Class, Famine, and Lebanon's World War I Legacy" Kais Firro, "Silk and Agrarian Changes in Lebanon, 1860-1914" Melanie Tanielian, "The War of Famine: Everyday Life in Wartime Beirut and Mount Lebanon (1914-1918)" and The Charity of War: Famine, Humanitarian Aid, and World War I in the Middle East The Fire These Times, Lina Mounzer and Timour Azhari, Legacy of the Great Lebanon Famine (audio)

[ducktoonsfanart]

My artworks during 2023.

Until I find a template for a set of my drawings that I did in the course of a year, I will post like this, so it will be a long post and I apologize to everyone for that, but here's a little retrospective from last year. I also wish everyone a happy holiday!

Although I already have my retrospective from my post here: https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/738256253962403840/2023-tumblr-top-10

Also here I will respect my drawings that I did during the last year, because after all this is my art blog, while my main blog is here: https://ducklooney.tumblr.com/

Like every year, here I will make a retrospective of my drawings that I did during the previous year as well as my best drawings from last year. Unfortunately, unlike in 2022, I was not forced to post every month because of the jobs I was doing, and I was absent a lot until the end of the year. I still managed to somehow make a Mickey Mouse 100th anniversary jubilee as well as make my own new ideas as well as some gifts for my friends as well as some crossovers. Unbelievable, but I turned to Ducktales 2017 and drew them. However, I stuck to drawing related to Three Caballeros, Darkwing Duck, Duck comics, Duck Avenger, OG Ducktales, Quack Pack, classic shorts, some Looney Tunes stuff and more. Yes, I have changed my drawing style a bit as opposed to 2022 and yes, in addition to Donald Duck and Duckverse, I have also turned to Mickey Mouse and Mouseverse and his friends and I hope to do more in the future during the new year 2024. Also, today is Julian New Year, so once again I wish you a Happy New Year!

As for my main blog, I managed to get over 900 followers, while on this art blog of mine 75 and I hope that I will manage to get over 1000, i.e. over 100 and I hope that in addition to my beloved ducks, I will also turn to others to my favorite things from cartoons, comics, video games, literature, movies and more. All in all, thank you for your support and continue to support me in the future. Thank you all!

And now the results of my drawings, that is, an overview through the year 2023:

January 2023 - Donald Duck with his family and his best friends - Happy New Year and Happy Holidays! - Modern Three Caballeros and Quack Pack - 32 notes (likes, reblogs and comments)

February 2023 - Unfortunately, I didn't publish anything at the time, but I drew Angel Duck (Donald's conscience) from Donald's Better Self related to the tragedy that happened in Syria and Turkey during the earthquake, but I didn't publish until the beginning of November and that on the occasion of the unfortunately bad events in Israel and Palestine, as and tragedy in my country. And I posted it here: https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/733191514056966144/donald-duck-and-his-nephews-as-angels-mourn-the

Angel Duck pleads for the victims - 18 notes

March 2023 - Same unfortunately, but I drew Magica de Spell as Cleopatra, as well as Scrooge as Caesar and Gladstone Gander as Mark Antony and published it only in December, after a few months, related to Duckmber and related to history. Part of my Duckverse in history.

Cleopatra in Duckverse - Magica De Spell as Cleopatra - History in Duckverse - 20 notes

April 2023 - Happy birthday Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck plus Phooey Duck! - Tripletsmania - 32 notes

Admittedly, drawings from 2022, but I still posted about the 85th birthday of Donald's nephews, one of my favorite characters.

Also, April 2023 - Duckverse and Looney Tiny Toons - Huey, Dewey and Louie and Daffy Duck Birthday Easter Party - 23 notes (crossover)

May 2023 - Huey Dewey and Louie Duck - Happy Late Easter!- Disneyland - 23 notes

True, this post was more popular than that one, but it's still a drawing from 2022, while that one was as a gift for my friend, which I didn't post until May. Also see: https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/717339649404747776/happy-mothers-day-duck-family-grandma-duck

June 2023 - I didn't publish anything at the time, but I drew Donald Duck and his friends with his family, mostly their faces and it was related to Donald's birthday. Post in July.

Donald Duck and his family and friends - sketch (Duckverse) - 35 notes

July 2023 - Duck Teenagers - Quack Pack - Six Fanarts - Ducktales-Duckverse characters - 35 notes

August 2023 - Unfortunately I didn't post anything, but that month I drew Donald Duck and Gyro Gearloose with my nephews celebrating Donald's birthday and didn't post until November. See: https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/735189018680115200/donald-duck-celebrates-his-birthday-with-his

Donald Duck celebrates his birthday with his partner Gyro (Donro) and his nephews - 23 notes

September 2023 - Same, except I then drew the Three Caballeros (Donald Duck, Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles, also one of my favorite characters) and didn't post until the next month.

The Three Caballeros Together Again! - The Legend of The Three Caballeros - 36 notes

October 2023 - Ducktales Adults in spacesuits on the Moon in space - Ducktales Kids and Teenagers in spacesuits on the Moon in space - Ducktales in Space (AU) - 40 notes

November 2023 - Happy 95th Birthday to Mickey and Minnie Mouse! - Tribute to sci-fi movies and comics (cosplay) - Star Wars and Star Trek - 39 notes

Also, November 2023 - Duckvember - Mother Duck (Ducks) - Duck Family in Quack Pack AU - 37 notes - and related to the 80th birthday of Grandma Duck, one of my favorite characters.

December 2023 - The Quest for Kalevala - Kalevala - Scrooge as Väinämöinen VS Magica as Louhi - Tribute to Don Rosa (Duckverse) - 37 notes

Also December 2023 - The Donald Duck Chronicles - Donald Duck and Goofy in Kingdom Hearts - Crossover Duckverse - The Secret Life of Donald Duck - My Version - 45 notes

And finally my most viewed drawing is:

Once Upon A Studio - Mickey Mouse and Friends - HAPPY 100TH ANNIVERSARY DISNEY STUDIO! - 54 notes

Some things were challenging for me, and some will be yet to come, and yes, what I did not succeed in last year, I will do in this year with even more good challenges and even more good surprises. And indeed in some things I have succeeded, while in others I am just a beginner. I thank everyone for following me and keep following me and there will be more surprises. And thank you all for supporting me! And it won't just be about Disney and Warner Bros.

Once again, happy holidays to everyone and a happy new year 2024!

If you have any impression of what you liked the most and what you didn't like about these drawings, feel free to say so.

Feel free to like and reblog this! And keep following me! :D

[mariacallous]

Seeing the children of Gaza under siege brings all of this back. I have spent my whole life coming to terms with growing up in violence, when I was made to learn that children are fodder for war – “collateral damage”, according to the people who talk endlessly about war on TV. My life has been an endless search for the humanity that my granny believed in till the very end. “How terrified and vengeful are the men who kill children?” she would say quietly, as if asking herself. I hear that question today.

Children bear the brunt of war. Working as a humanitarian on the Syrian border in 2014, I saw injuries caused by the barrel bombs that were dropped on civilians day after day. The barrels were packed with nails, shrapnel and oil. The injuries were horrific. Children were killed by nails that pierced their skull or oil that burned them alive. Between 2011 and 2021, a child was killed or injured every eight hours on average in Syria. In Iraq and Ukraine, cluster bombs dropped by the US and Russia kill children long after they have been dropped or fired. These illegal weapons are designed by people who want the bombs to remain dormant until they are ready to kill again, usually children who pick them up. I now know that there are no monsters in the dark. Only adults who are terrified enough to kill.

The feeling that someone wants you dead never quite goes away. It lives in your body as an alarm reminding you that the world is dangerous and unfriendly. It colours every new interaction – you learn forensic vigilance when entering a new place. The question – will this kill me? – is playing on a loop in your subconscious, only sometimes floating to the surface and shocking you out of your day to day existence.

War has the same impact on children, no matter where they are born. I began to understand this after a beloved teacher whose father was one of the first soldiers to liberate Auschwitz gave me Anne Frank’s diary. I recognised the same dialogue in her thoughts as she hid from the people that wanted her dead. She wondered just as I had about who was inflicting such cruel violence and why. Reading her entries, I lived through her bargaining and her attempt to make sense of a world that didn’t value children’s lives, a world that dehumanised her so that she could be killed.

I founded a charity, Amna, in 2016, to help children recover from the trauma of war. Working with refugee children in Greece, I saw the same terror and confusion that I felt when living through war. I’ll always remember a little Kurdish girl in one of the play groups that I ran at a camp in northern Greece. She was seven or eight years old – the same age as my sister when we fled from Kabul. She was so scared that she had stopped speaking. She was scared of other children. She was scared of the adults in the room. Even when I offered her a toy she would wince and hide behind her mother. She remained speechless for months, until the care she received in group therapy made her feel safe enough to reach for a toy. Still tentative, still scared, she held the soft toy carefully away from her face as if following instructions of her own.

War confuses people, especially the adults who wage them. They get lost in technicalities and self-deception, the desire to be righteous in their pain and victimhood, no matter what the cost. As a child it was so clear to me what needed to be done. I would get angry after each experience of hiding from the shells. I didn’t understand it then, but there was such intelligence in my anger. It didn’t manifest as a desire for revenge or the need to make me or my family into victims who couldn’t recover our life or our humanity. It came out as a resolute demand that played over and over in my 10-year-old head, and has echoed ever since: stop killing children.

‘I remember the silence between the falling shells’: the terror of living under siege as a child

[valarhalla]

"Gone are my people, but I exist yet,

Lamenting them in my solitude...

Dead are my friends, and in their Death my life is naught but great

Disaster.

The knolls of my country are submerged

By tears and blood, for my people and

My beloved are gone, and I am here

Living as I did when my people and my

Beloved were enjoying life and the

Bounty of life, and when the hills of

My country were blessed and engulfed

By the light of the sun.

My people died from hunger, and he who

Did not perish from starvation was

Butchered with the sword; and I am

Here in this distant land, roaming

Amongst a joyful people who sleep

Upon soft beds, and smile at the days

While the days smile upon them.

My people died a painful and shameful

Death, and here am I living in plenty

And in peace...This is deep tragedy

Ever-enacted upon the stage of my

Heart; few would care to witness this

Drama, for my people are as birds with

Broken wings, left behind the flock.

If I were hungry and living amid my

Famished people, and persecuted among

My oppressed countrymen, the burden

Of the black days would be lighter

Upon my restless dreams, and the

Obscurity of the night would be less

Dark before my hollow eyes and my

Crying heart and my wounded soul.

For he who shares with his people

Their sorrow and agony will feel a

Supreme comfort created only by

Suffering in sacrifice. And he will

Be at peace with himself when he dies

Innocent with his fellow innocents.

But I am not living with my hungry

And persecuted people who are walking

In the procession of death toward

Martyrdom...I am here beyond the

Broad seas living in the shadow of

Tranquillity, and in the sunshine of

Peace...I am afar from the pitiful

Arena and the distressed, and cannot

Be proud of ought, not even of my own

Tears.

What can an exiled son do for his

Starving people, and of what value

Unto them is the lamentation of an

Absent poet?

Were I an ear of corn grown in the earth

of my country, the hungry child would

Pluck me and remove with my kernels

The hand of Death form his soul. Were

I a ripe fruit in the gardens of my

Country, the starving women would

Gather me and sustain life. Were I

A bird flying the sky of my country,

My hungry brother would hunt me and

Remove with the flesh of my body the

Shadow of the grave from his body.

But, alas! I am not an ear of corn

Grown in the plains of Syria, nor a

Ripe fruit in the valleys of Lebanon;

This is my disaster, and this is my

Mute calamity which brings humiliation

Before my soul and before the phantoms

Of the night...This is the painful

Tragedy which tightens my tongue and

Pinions my arms and arrests me usurped

Of power and of will and of action.

This is the curse burned upon my

Forehead before God and man.

And oftentimes they say unto me,

'The disaster of your country is

But naught to calamity of the

World, and the tears and blood shed

By your people are as nothing to

The rivers of blood and tears

Pouring each day and night in the

Valleys and plains of the earth...'

Yes, but the death of my people is

A silent accusation; it is a crime

Conceived by the heads of the unseen serpents...

It is a Sceneless tragedy...And if my

People had attacked the despots

And oppressors and died rebels,

I would have said, 'Dying for

Freedom is nobler than living in

The shadow of weak submission, for

He who embraces death with the sword

Of Truth in his hand will eternalize

With the Eternity of Truth, for Life

Is weaker than Death and Death is

Weaker than Truth.

If my nation had partaken in the war

Of all nations and had died in the

Field of battle, I would say that

The raging tempest had broken with

Its might the green branches; and

Strong death under the canopy of

The tempest is nobler than slow

Perishment in the arms of senility.

But there was no rescue from the

Closing jaws...My people dropped

And wept with the crying angels.

If an earthquake had torn my

Country asunder and the earth had

Engulfed my people into its bosom,

I would have said, 'A great and

Mysterious law has been moved by

The will of divine force, and it

Would be pure madness if we frail

Mortals endeavoured to probe its

Deep secrets...'

But my people did not die as rebels;

They were not killed in the field

Of Battle; nor did the earthquake

Shatter my country and subdue them.

Death was their only rescuer, and

Starvation their only spoils.

My people died on the cross....

They died while their hands

stretched toward the East and West,

While the remnants of their eyes

Stared at the blackness of the

Firmament...They died silently,

For humanity had closed its ears

To their cry. They died because

They did not befriend their enemy.

They died because they loved their

Neighbours. They died because

They placed trust in all humanity.

They died because they did not

Oppress the oppressors. They died

Because they were the crushed

Flowers, and not the crushing feet.

They died because they were peace

Makers. They perished from hunger

In a land rich with milk and honey.

They died because monsters of

Hell arose and destroyed all that

Their fields grew, and devoured the

Last provisions in their bins....

They died because the vipers and

Sons of vipers spat out poison into

The space where the Holy Cedars and

The roses and the jasmine breathe

Their fragrance.

My people and your people, my Syrian

Brother, are dead....What can be

Done for those who are dying? Our

Lamentations will not satisfy their

Hunger, and our tears will not quench

Their thirst; what can we do to save

Them between the iron paws of

Hunger? My brother, the kindness

Which compels you to give a part of

Your life to any human who is in the

Shadow of losing his life is the only

Virtue which makes you worthy of the

Light of day and the peace of the

Night....Remember, my brother,

That the coin which you drop into

The withered hand stretching toward

You is the only golden chain that

Binds your rich heart to the

Loving heart of God....."

"Dead are My People," Kahlil Gibran, written in response to the Great Famine of Lebanon in 1916.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

okay, i've heard you're one of the 'greek gods are white' people. how do you explain 'zeus athiops', considering linguistic research proved that's a word for what we now call Black. how do you explain drastically different depictions of the same deities in Syria and Lybia and more. how do you explain that a third of the pantheon have eastern roots. like girl... please get out of that mindset.

i think you need to legit drop that whole whiteness thing. it'd reductive as fuck, to us Europeans too. leave it to the people who made it, adhering to whiteness is just erasing heritages.

If that's what you got out of the discourse, you have a really USAmerican thinking pal, albeit not a USian. Or perhaps someone simplified this to you in this way and you took it word-by-word. Let me tell you what the discourse is actually about, and why there's a problem even when the Greek gods are depicted (for example) blue-eyed and blond, like N. Europeans.

It is about the treatment of pantheons by Western nations, a treatment with colonizing and imperialistic attitudes which separate the gods from their culture. A treatment that ignores depictions of a culture with an extremely large history and reduces it to distinctly Western and Anglophone pop-culture and Fandom.

Just because this happens to a nation which is considered generally light-skinned it doesn't mean it shouldn't alarm you. And the complaints of Greeks only alarm you when they address changes from lighter to significantly darker appearance, and not the opposite.

I bet you didn't send Greeks any hatemail when they were complaining about actors being too pasty and saying "This person doesn't even look like a Greek. More Irish. They even have an Irish accent…" We had this problem for centuries. N. Europeans had this super pale depiction of our gods which they considered "noble" and they saw actual Greeks are dark barbarians who are "not like the original Greeks". Now this type of projection is happening again, in order to make the West feel better, and we are actually told how we look and don't look.

Now we constantly hear "You are too light to be Greek"/"You don't look Greek" because another stereotype has settled among the powerful nations that control our image. Needless to say, this is negative too, just by the nature of being untrue, and harmful to Greek people. But this doesn't seem to worry you. You only worry when the West tells you to worry because now the cause is "noble" according to them. They never stopped seeing themselves as the righteous and noble ones. Fuck other cultures and their specific issues and histories, right?

Treating popular pantheons as a blank canvas will happen to more "races" and ethnicities when they start being considered "white" specifically in the US, our "beloved" planetarch nation. (There's already some discourse about Mexicans and Asians being the "new white"). In 50 years perhaps your grandchild will shout at a Mexican for not understanding why "it is okay" for the deity Tezcatlipoca to be depicted half-Chinese half-Nigerian.

The same thing happened to the Greeks. In many parts of the world, Greeks are still "non-white" and in the US we only recently became "white". The Middle Easterners and N.Africans are also "White" on paper. The Greek Whiteness is also only on paper, since the Westerners get the hickeys every time they hear our names, or see a part of our culture which so resembles the Middle Eastern ones. Or they clock us as Mexicans, Arabs, Turks etc. But I digress.

My point so far is that this Western approach, in its effort to be progressive, has used pantheons of foreign cultures in a way that it negates these cultures and their depictions, or their beliefs. (Something that I wouldn't call progressive)

Onto the depictions themselves. As you understand, me - and the overwhelming majority of Greeks - wants to maintain them. To this day, within the Greek culture I haven't seen depictions of native gods as - we would say today - Black. If we had some that would be okay. But we don't. I reckon, even other lands who got Hellenized didn't change the "race" of these gods. Sometimes they were alterations, yes, but to the point we are talking about a new deity, and certainly not a deity the Greeks would recognize or worship. Then we are not talking about Greek mythology, but mythology of other nations which, at some point, came in contact with the Greek culture.

But, again, it doesn't look like the Greek gods had different races in the depictions of other nations. Even today the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations don't racebend the gods. They see them as they are in the ancient depictions. Perhaps they indeed saw these gods looking a bit more like them but if you think Greek people and their neighbors (N. Africans, M. Easterners) belong to different races… you might want to check some racist notions you might hold.

"Aithiops" can mean "glowing" and "of burnt face". (αἴθω < πρωτοϊνδοευρωπαϊκή ρίζα *aidʰ- (φλέγω) = burn/on fire + όψη = face/look) It's an Epithet (an adjective) of Zeus on the island of Chios (Lycophron, Cass. 537, with the note of Tzetzes.). You can see where this island is and you may easily understand that it had more or less the same population as the rest of Greek areas, in which "Black" individuals were very rare.

But the most important thing is, we also haven't found a depiction of Zeus as a "Black" individual. If we had found a statue with the features of a "Black" man and the name Zeus underneath, I'd be happy to say "Some Greeks indeed saw Zeus as Black". I don't mind the "race", I mind how everyone gets in mental gymnastics to try and defend a lie just because it sounds progressive.

Perhaps in their minds this aspect of Zeus had the appearance of a Middle Eastern but... this is not what you call another race. Even today Greeks don't consider Middle Easterners and South Arabs a different "race". Also, as I said in the beginning, it could just mean "Glowing Zeus", like his face is glowing so much as if it is on fire. One word can have more than one use. The "αιθ-" root is also used about the sky, because it's glowing. The word Aether/Aitheras which we still use in Greece (αιθέρας/αιθέρες) refers to the skies. Maybe he had a "appearance/face like the sky"

Also, very important: Back then the region where the country of Ethiopia is today was called Abyssinia. The Greeks, in the period you're thinking about, probably had no contact with the land which today is Ethiopia. Aethiopia was a whole region, possibly the Middle East. (See the post here where many sources are gathered)

The first depiction of Andromeda, an Aethiopian princess as "Black" came from Ovid, who came much later and who is not part of the Greek narrative. He's also very unreliable because with his stories he wanted to oppose the status quo and therefore the mythological figures of his time. The Greek depictions have Andromeda and her family look more or less like Greeks. (Otherwise, they would have noted the difference in appearance)

Plus, Andromeda and Perseus birthed the nation of Persians. As you know, while there are "Black" Persians the population, in general, is not "Black". Plus, I am not even sure the Greeks had contact with the "Black" Persians because they are mostly extremely far south. Such a small population so down south it's not something to base the whole Look of a Nation on, at least.

It's the Northwesterners that always use the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations as an excuse to disrespect these depictions. (Meanwhile the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations don't agree with this. They never get ACTUALLY asked)

Not to mention, the changes the western nations make are not part of a cultural exchange and they don't happen naturally through cultural osmosis. It's plain theft and ownership over the gods of a foreign culture, which they have been doing for some centuries now. The Western cultures are dominant over the Greek one. We are towards the bottom of the ladder socioeconomically in Europe. The US is literally a puppet-master of the Greek nation (and many other nations). Our government can't even fart without checking with the US. Oh, and the US also helped the 70's Junta rise to power.

Lastly, the Greek gods don't have "Anatolian origin". This rhetoric (which again implies that ancient people of a region were all the same stock) has been refuted. Nobody "stole" gods from anyone. There are so many posts on these blogs about it. Greeks were also in Anatolia for 3.000 years before the genocide, so we are not even talking about separate regions. (But I know that you saw them as separate so I approached the argument the way you meant it)

There are common roots, common beginnings, perhaps but the difference grew so much that neighboring nations had distinct gods. They also believed that their gods were distinct. You have to respect that, and also you can't lump them all together because they "all look the same to you" or some sort of a similar mindset. The Greek gods are not interchangeable with the Assyrian gods etc.

One or two, like Dionysus, indeed were brought from outside. But most are considered native to the land. (Aphrodite, too, is native to the island of Cyprus) And the Greek gods are considered ethnically Greek. The Greeks considered themselves born by these gods. Each line had a god that gave birth to it or claimed to descend from a god. See more at the end of this great video: (Video with Timestamp) Again, the Greek gods are not ethnically Japanese, or ethnically Argentinian, or ethnically Norwegian. They come from a specific culture, with specific stories and appearances. You cannot imply otherwise without making all cultures a disservice.

You can see more discussions about this, including why the argument "But a minority must be represented!" kind of argument.

Some are a bit old but the general point is the same.

*In my language "Black" for a person is not exactly a positive term so it's in quotations. The term "race" is also extremely bad in Europe. I leave this disclaimer cause I know no one gives a shit if non-Anglophones must say slurs to convey a point, as long as we all speak the USAmerican way :) We also know that the individuals I am talking about weren't identifying as "Black".

[haveyoureadthispoll]

Salama Kassab was a pharmacy student when the cries for freedom broke out in Syria. She still had her parents and her big brother; she still had her home. She had a normal teenager’s life. Now Salama volunteers at a hospital in Homs, helping the wounded who flood through the doors daily. Secretly, though, she is desperate to find a way out of her beloved country before her sister-in-law, Layla, gives birth. So desperate, that she has manifested a physical embodiment of her fear in the form of her imagined companion, Khawf, who haunts her every move in an effort to keep her safe. But even with Khawf pressing her to leave, Salama is torn between her loyalty to her country and her conviction to survive. Salama must contend with bullets and bombs, military assaults, and her shifting sense of morality before she might finally breathe free. And when she crosses paths with the boy she was supposed to meet one fateful day, she starts to doubt her resolve in leaving home at all. Soon, Salama must learn to see the events around her for what they truly are—not a war, but a revolution—and decide how she, too, will cry for Syria’s freedom.

[captain-mj]

this isn't really an ask but I have no other way to channel this thought that has been plaguing me for the past month so just hear me out, i just need this to be out there!!!

Farah, the loml, is middle eastern, right? Even if her country isn't real, it's mostly based off Syria, which is near Egypt and shares a similar dialect and somewhat similar culture.

I have this distinct memory of my mother singing me and my brother a song when I was younger nearly everyday and I can't stop thinking about the stupid fucking idea of Farah's mother doing the same with her and Hadir.

I'm not going to write out the sing in Arabic because you aren't going to understand it.

The sing says.

"O dearest of beloveds, O sugar and dissolved, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, O most precious of the precious ones."

Fuck it I'll write it in arabic too.

يا اعز الحبايب، يا سكر و ذائب، سكر، سكر، سكر، سكر، يا اغل الغالين

Idk if this song is real or just made up by my mum because every time I search it something random pops up.

That's litteraly all but the thought is keeping me up at night so have it.

This had me tearing up, ngl.

This is kinda related, but my mom always sang Frère Jacques to me as a kid despite neither of us knowing French. I didn't even know the translation to it until years later but I never really needed to

So... I love this! Thanks for sharing it :)

[rubberizer92]

📣🏆 Get ready for the epic finale of OBEY - the world's first rubber show! 🌟 Out of 18 countries, Croatia, Italy, and Syria have reached the pinnacle and now compete for the prestigious crown! 🏅 From this moment until tonight 20.00 CET, the power lies in your hands as you can vote in Instagram Stories, Posts, and Tumblr to support your country! 🗳️💫 Each nation showcases three captivating images: one enchanting us with their mesmerizing looks in their capital cities, another flaunting their bulging hard muscles at the beach in revealing speedos, and the third radiating confidence in their glorious golden potential winner outfit! Every like, comment, save, and share counts, so make your voice heard! 📸❤️

🇭🇷 Pozdrav, dear audience! I am Ivan, proudly representing Croatia in this thrilling final! 🌟 Croatia's heart beats within me, and I promise to give my all to win this crown for my beloved country! 💪 From our mesmerizing looks to our bulging hard muscles and the splendor of our potential winner outfit, I am determined to make Croatia proud! Your support is the key to our success, and together, we can achieve greatness! Vote for me, and let's bring the victory home to Croatia! 🙏❤️ #VoteForIvan #OBEYFinals #CroatiaForTheCrown #OBEYseason2

[crazy-walls]

i just saw in your tags that you have a fave medieval blorbo? not to be nosy but like if you ever feel like talking about him i'd definitely love to read it! (yes i could look him up myself, but where's the fun in that?)

i haven't talked about my boy ortnit in far too long so i absolutely love that you asked and am more than happy to use this opportunity, thank you!!

setting the scene: it's the mystical time that all medieval middle and northern european heroes live in (sometimes at the same time, sometimes a generation or maybe five apart, but like, quite a while ago even for the 1200s onward). here in lampart - italy for us modern peasants - near lake garda there's the coolest, toughest, strongest, richest ...hero... to be. his name is ortnit. [or otnit, medieval authors don't really care about spelling.]

you see, he's the young king of lampart but he's not fully there yet to having the perfect kingdom, because obviously he needs to have a queen to rule said kingdom with. after much consideration, his uncle is like "well, there's this utterly beautiful, virtous (for a savage heathen) princess* somewhere in the middle east but you must not - and i repeat - not go after her because her heathen father machorel will kill you if you take away his daughter. as in, literally chop off your head. because he wants to marry her himself when his wife is dead." [i'd say this is a setup on the uncle's part but medieval characters Just Are Like That.]

obviously, because he's the coolest and strongest king and a complete dumbass, ortnit has to go and get said daughter to marry him. his mother, of course, is anything but thrilled. and you see, ortnit is quite the mama's boy, but no matter how much she pleads with him not to go he is dead set on it, and if he's already on the way anyway he might as well turn that into some kind of crusade. so his mother gives him A Ring and sends him off on a little adventure (=aventiure) first, saying that The Ring will guide him - and it does. The Ring takes him to the dwarf alberich who promises to give him the best armor, the very best sword and also be his Helper. this is kind of a Whole Job in medieval epic poems. oh, also, the dwarf is actually ortnit's biological dad who raped his mother - but that's cool; and gracious as he is, ortnit forgives his mother for her "infidelity" to who he always thought was his actual father. #menwritingwomen or something.

ortnit gets his cool armor and even cooler sword and sails off with his knights towards what is later labeled syria. on the journey his knights think he's insane because dwarf-daddy alberich is invisible to anyone but the wearer of The Ring and ortnit is talking to thin air him. anyway, they reach syria and dwarf-daddy plays invisible matchmaker by insulting and threatening machorel. [this could actually be a setup. jury's still out on that ~800 years later.]

long(ish) aventiure short: there's a siege on the castle, then a big battle, meanwhile invisible dwarf-daddy convinces the princess to come with him and marry ortnit to save her father. blackmailing with a beloved family member's death, such a strong basis for a healthy marriage. she also gets christianed on the run because duh. can't marry some random fucking heathen.

right after that dwarf-daddy has to save the day again and fight machorel because ortnit basically faints on his horse. they make it back to the ship unharmed and sail back to italy. machorel is Not Happy. and he has A Plan: as a ""conciliation gift"" he sends a hunter with two huge eggs to lampart; they'll into a magical "toad" and "elephant".

as we all know, elephants do not hatch from eggs. unfortunately for ortnit, our italian king does not know that. he WILL find out, though. eventually. when the eggs have hatched and two huge dragons are terrorising lampart and eating everything and everyone in their way. and since he's the coolest, toughest, strongest, richest king and responsible for this disaster he is the one who has to slay those dragons. so he dons his armor and heads straight for - you guessed it - dwarf-daddy. alberich, however, is Not Happy either, refuses to help ortnit once more [again, this might be a setup]. he advises him to Not, Under Any And All Circumstances, Fall Asleep. ortnit pouts, throws The Ring at alberich's feet and rides off to find the dragon(s).

the dragon** is rather good at hide-and-seek, though, so ortnit rides and rides and rides. and gets tired. and decides to just have a small rest. and promptly falls asleep.

apparently, dragons also have a sixth sense for sleeping kings. the dragon creeps close, sees that delicious meal-in-a-can and - without even waking ortnit up - carries him to his offspring who SLURP HIM RIGHT OUT OF HIS ARMOR. [-> "sougen in durch daz werc" - "saugen ihn aus der rüstung" - the armor actually stays fully intact which is important since ortnit's tale is later followed by wolfdietrich who slays the dragons, gets the armor and marries ortnit's widow]

the end.

no, really. that's how ortnit dies. slurped out of his armor by dragons the SECOND his mother and biological father can't/refuse to help him. so there he is, this young, strong, pretty, heroic dumbass fratboy of a king who can't get shit done on his own. he has like half a braincell. he is literally Doomed By The Narrative. and i'm utterly obsessed with his ineptitude and death.

*please note that the syrian princess doesn't even have a name in the first versions of this epic poem so i'm not using one, sorry girl. she's later called sidrat tho.

**suddenly it's only one dragon who has two baby dragons, there are a few theories about how the offspring being conceived by those first two dragons is a parallel to the incestuous obsession machorel has with his daughter

[aaakikoo]

ARE THERE ANY ARABS HERE?

IF SO WHERE YOU FROM?

[sherryzade]

Hit me with those music recs, darling, my family forbid nonAmerican music when I turned 14 lest it make me Less Well Assimilated and I need to catch up

i gotchu friend, it's a crime that u were robbed of experiencing arab music and we must right this injustice !!!!

pls note that its late and i am who i am meaning i will gush endlessly abt my love for arab music and culture so there is a read more. also i'm MUCH less familiar with farsi and persian music than i am with arab music so i can't give many recs for that but spotify has a nice persian essentials playlist and a contemporary farsi playlist, and rly if you look up iranian/persian/farsi music, you will find a TON.

dammi falasteeni (my blood is palestinian) by mohammad assaf ⁠— [youtube w translation] ⁠— i think this is like. THE quintessential arab song. the unofficial palestinian national anthem. absolutely no one is normal about this song, and why would you be when it slaps so hard? a huge symbol of palestinian resistance, and recently removed from spotify for "antisemitism" (huge lie, the song is just a celebration of palestine)

nassam alayna el-hawa (the wind blew over us) by fairuz ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— fairuz is one of the most iconic arab singers and she drops classic after classic. her music is v traditional and i always joke that it's old ppl music (bc all arab parents adore her) but she's universally beloved. also translation note: in arabic, "hawa" i.e. wind is a metaphor for love!

yalla tenam reema (let reema sleep) — [spotify] [translation] ⁠— very popular levantine lullaby that feels like home 🥲❤ lots of versions of this song exist, but this is the most popular. fun fact: i forgot abt this song for a long time until i read it in a book documenting syrian culture and it unlocked hidden childhood memories.

sah sah (wake up) by nancy ajram ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— nancy ajram is a rly popular contemporary arab musicians, very hip w the youngins on the tikky takky, and her music is a blend of traditional arab elements with western pop! very fun, very upbeat, immaculate vibes

lamma bada yatathana ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— ik i said fairuz is "old ppl music (affectionate)", but this song is like. about 800 years old so it takes the cake lol. it's from ye olde andalusia, so lots of versions of it exist. the singer here is lena chamamyan, a syrian singer whomst i adore.

cha'am (damascus) by lena chamamyan ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— i have to include this song in particular bc i'm incapable of listening to it without tearing up. it's about the experience of being displaced from syria, and lena sings it with so much emotion that it's just. very cathartic and painful and beautiful all at once.

el hantoor by saad el soghayar ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— this song is so unbelievably cute and also like. the VIBES. what else is there to say. i, too, wanna ride a carriage around egypt.

el tannoura (the skirt) by fares karam ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— listen. yes this song feels a little sexist but like. it fucks so hard and it is my feminist kryptonite. also, PS on the translation: it says that he calls her "conceited" but imo that's not a great translation. the song more has a vibe of "oh she's hot shit and she knows it," but its not like outright insulting. you could very much make the argument that this song is not objectifying and more just sex positive.

the police are not ours by jowan safadi ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— remember kids: acab applies to west asia too !!!

boshret khair (good tidings) by hussain aljassmi ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— gang i'm so normal about this song (lie). literally such a bop with such a lovely message about solidarity among your countrymen and beyond. if i wasn't so busy shaking ass i'd be crying. s tier song, this is what healthy patriotism looks like !!

hadal ahbek (i will still love you) by issam alnajjar ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— this song blew up on the tikky takky and i mean. for good reason. so catchy, so wholesome, so romantic. literally no notes, its a perfect song.

fawda (chaos) by carole samaha ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— absolutely banging song with the sole message of "get these drama queens away from me, god i need to breathe" and she's so real for that

holm (dream) by emel ⁠— [spotify] [translation] ⁠— tbh i just stumbled across this song and thought it was dope, but just now i checked the singer's about page on spotify and i need to listen to more of her stuff cause she's got an amazing history. she's a tunisian singer and was a huge voice for the tunisian revolution. her voice is fr angelic, so its dope to know that she's an incredible person on top of being an incredible singer.

fuqaati (my bubble) by ruba shamshoum ⁠— [spotify] [translation + interview] ⁠— this is a very small niche artist but she's literally so talented and has a more jazzy style than the other recs on this list so !! i had to include her bc her style is super unique and pretty. also we always hype up palestinian artists in this household !!

there's literally no shortage of dope arab music basically, this is literally just a sampling of my faves. spotify has a bunch of dope arab music playlists that they update weekly and if you like the general sound then i highly recommend listening to more of it! also even though arab music def has its own like. unique sound, there's tons of artists that do tons of various genres. there's arab jazz, arab reggae, arab rap, etc etc etc, we love cultural exchange and cultural appreciation, amen

[erismourn]

i want to hold the palestinian people in my arms. i want to hold the people from sudan and congo and lebanon and syria and let them know that people care everywhere all over the world. i want to hold every antizionist jewish person who's having a crisis of faith watching people commit genocide under the false flag of their beloved religion. i just want people to be happy and kind to each other.

[crazycatsiren]

I saw you use a rabid pet analogy when it comes to growing up around systemic racism and unlearning that etc etc

I love that analogy a lot and it reminded me of the whole Harry Potter debate. Folks arguing "It was part of my childhood and it helped me through the hardest times of my life!!" But it's still a rabid dog that needs to be put down.

Other than sharing my thoughts about it I wondered if that analogy even can be used to talk about things other than racism because I love it a lot and last I heard about a "rabid dog" analogy it was someone being super xenophobic toward those fleeing from Syria

I can't take the credit for this one.

It came from a response to one of my Harry Potter posts of a long while back actually. I can't for the life of me remember who said it, but the analogy was used exactly on Harry Potter. That it's like a beloved pet that caught rabies.

[stupidlesbian1]

For all the people “both sides”-ing and still thinking biden is the better of two evils, id like to introduce you to one of my favorite Cavafy poems, They Should Have Bothered translated by yours truly

They Should Have Bothered

I’ve ended up without a home and money

This cursed city, Antioch

It ate up all of money

That doomed (city) with its expensive living

But i’m young, and my health is excellent

I have the Greek excellence

(I know and i know more Aristotle, Plato

what a rhetor, what a poet, what a whatever you say)

From military [matters] i have an idea

and i’m friends with leaders of the mercenaries

I’m also in [the know] about leadership [matters]

In Alexandria i stayed for 5 months last year

And i know (and that’s somehow useful) what’s happening there

You see the evil doers’ intentions his inhumane [actions] etc

And i’m fully ready and equipped

to serve this country,

My beloved Syria

In whatever job they put me in i’ll strive

to be great for my country. that’s my intention

But if their systems of leading stop me,

We know what they do. should i even mention?

If they stop me, why’s it my fault

I’ll first go to Zavin

and if the idiot doesn’t appreciate me

I’ll go to his enemy, Grypeas

and if that moron doesn’t hire me

I’ll go straight to Hercan

One of the three’s gonna want me

And my conscience shall be fine

Because the choice is meaningless

All three of them harm Syria all the same

I’m a ruined man, why is it my fault

Poor me is just asking for a helping hand

The gods should have bothered

And made a fourth one that’s good

Id happily go to him