#hijab spring

[newestcool]

Hussein Chalayan s/s 1999 rtw ''Geotropics'' Creative Director Hussein Chalayan Newest Cool

[lruza]

[raspberry-beret]

Art Weekend - Ornamental Mixtapes V3 by Julia Ibbini

Using computer algorithms, Julia Ibbini creates complex designs inspired by Middle Eastern traditional symbolism as well as her Jordan and UK dual nationality background. She laser cuts these designs into paper and carefully layers them to create complex patterns and hand paints them with ink. The resulting designs are intricate and complex as inspired by Islamic geometry, embroidery, and meenakari enamel work.

[lee-romee]

[aiiaiiiyo]

[hijab-described]

Spring Awakening Makeover

[ID: Makeover game thumbnail featuring a face with a split down the middle. The left and right side of the face are different people. On the left is a woman with medium skin and green eyes. She wears pink makeup and a white-purple patterned headscarf. On the right is a woman with light skin and brown eyes. She wears orange eye makeup and heavy blush. Her headscarf is white with floral pattern. Her brown bangs are visible. Surrounding the face are makeup utensils and cherry blossoms. /end ID]

Spring is such a beautiful time with it's emerging flowers and soft colors. Recreate the look of spring in this relaxing pastel-colored makeover game.

(Link in a reblog. If it doesn't show up, my username on Meiker is "Ameera")

[marsmerizing-sims]

Available now!

Hijab Col. #7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/hijab-collection-75153901

Welcoming Spring (FREE): https://www.patreon.com/posts/welcoming-spring-75153097

[thatstormygeek]

But one key group was left out. The Uncommitted Movement, the antiwar, pro-Palestinian action that placed second to Joe Biden in this spring’s discarded primaries, had spent weeks trying to move the convention, both in matters of symbol and substance, against the U.S.-armed slaughter in Gaza. In the end, their efforts had boiled down to one extremely achievable ask: to give a Palestinian-American — any Palestinian-American — or a doctor who had witnessed the suffering at the hands of the Israeli military a brief speaking slot, at any time during the four-day-long national pep rally. ... But the word that had come down on Wednesday turned out to be final. No Palestinian would be allowed to speak. ... Nevermind, too, that there was already a tearful presentation on the horrors of October 7, from the parents of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, an Israeli-American veteran of the IDF who is still being held hostage in Gaza — a presentation that the Uncommitted delegates made sure to attend in solidarity with the families of Israeli hostages, by the way. ... The refusal to platform a Palestinian speaker echoes nothing so much as the refusal, on orders of then-President and candidate Lyndon Johnson, of the integrated Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, under the leadership of Fannie Lou Hamer, at the 1964 Democratic Convention in Atlantic City, sixty years ago this month. It similarly ignores the substantive divide between the protesters outside the convention and the uncommitted delegates inside — the fact that the latter are trying to work within and in coalition with the institutional Democratic Party. While some, like some in the MFDP, will likely continue to work for Harris’ election this fall, the refusal to give the reformers even a token platform on the main stage fuels arguments that the party, and perhaps the entire political system as it stands, is too hopelessly corrupted to work with, and thus must be challenged or overthrown.

It seems that those instincts are now operating — that the Harris-Walz campaign and the convention planners decided they could afford to alienate Palestinian-Americans and their ever-growing contingent of allies on the antiwar left. That it would be better to disappoint and insult them than to challenge, in the mildest of ways, the pro-Israel contingent or the reactionary center. It was clear from last night’s programming that their play is going to be to appeal to disaffected Republicans and so-called “moderate” independents, by focusing on militarism, police, and Harris’s career as a prosecutor, locking away criminals and “securing” the border. She telegraphed that in the foreign policy section by declaring with almost Reaganite bravado: “As commander in chief, I will ensure America always has the strongest, most lethal fighting force in the world.” I really think they could have done both. I don’t think that having a Palestinian woman, hijab and all, deliver what was at bottom a bog-standard Democratic convention speech, with a shoutout to her father’s Jerusalemite origins where others shouted out their Hispanic or Native American heritage would have necessarily detracted from that pivot. I think they could have shored up part of the Michigan Arab-American vote without scaring away the voters they hoped to gain by trotting out ex-Republican congressmen and the Genesee County sheriff. I want to believe that sacrificing the lives of tens of thousands of innocent Gazans, along with the other Omelas children of the world, in Haiti, Congo, and elsewhere, is not really the intractable trolley problem — a trade between potential victims of American fascism at home and the victims of American militarism abroad — it is made out to be. But maybe I’m naïve.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Damage Gets Done - SAS Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 8

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 |-| Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Summary: Tension runs high as the SAS carries out a potentially disastrous raid on Benghazi

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, eventual Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Language, descriptions of graphic violence, implied death, Randolph Churchill

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @trenchenjoyer @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd

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Diana crouched down to eye level with the jeep's side mirror, squinting against the sun that reflected in the glass behind her as she did her best to tuck every last curl safely away beneath the headscarf she had shrouded herself in. Their raid on Benghazi was fast approaching, and it had been decided amongst the group that the easiest way to smuggle her into the city would be to dress her like a regular civilian, rather than attempt to explain away her military garb.

Once she had finished the task, pinning back one last curl that simply would not stay put on its own, she had moved to stand, but the sight of her own reflection gave her pause. It was rare that Diana remembered much of anything of her mother, but some days she looked so remarkably like her that it seemed to draw long-buried memories back to the surface. She had those same dark eyes, the same curve of the lips and point of the nose. She could almost half-remember sitting in her mother's lap as she put on her hijab each morning, the calming tones of her singing keeping the child from getting in the way. When she was herself, the similarities were hardly noticeable. But now that she dressed like her mother too, those brief, hard years were becoming visible again in the back of her mind, as if watching on through a veil.

"Hey," Jim Almond's voice rang out behind her. Springing upwards to resume her regular posture, she glanced at him with a welcoming smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Diana nodded assuringly. "Yeah, I just... I look like my mother." She grinned at the confession, and he couldn't help but return the smile. Jim squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and their heads both turned as Stirling's voice came from over by the well where he stood with Randolph Churchill. Since the Prime Minister's son had arrived, she had managed to avoid speaking to the man, but it appeared Stirling was not going to make it easy on her.

"You've been summoned, milady," Almonds teased, and she slugged him gently in the shoulder, kicking up sand as she marched over.

"Oi," Diana greeted, tipping an imaginary hat to Stirling as she rested a hip against the side of the well.

"Diana, it seems you haven't yet been introduced to Mr Randolph Churchill, here," David spoke. His tone was jovial, friendly, but she could tell he was teasing her, and sent him a sideways look as Churchill reached for her hand, pressing dry lips against the back of her palm. She did not attempt to disguise her grimace, especially as she heard Pat and Johnny chuckling at her discomfort from back by the truck.

"A pleasure," He greeted, maintaining his attempt at a charming smile even as he noticed her wiping the back of her hand against her trousers.

"Winston's boy, eh?"

"... The Prime Minister. Yes."

She shrugged. "Not my Prime Minister."

Randolph let out something between a huff and a laugh. "Oh, you didn't vote Labour, did you?"

Diana's brow raised as she lit one of the cigarettes in her pocket. "I'm Egyptian, Randy."

"Right, yes... Of course... You're a rather striking young lady, you know."

Stirling almost choked on the dirty water he had pulled from the well as he tried not to laugh, and she stomped hard on his foot, digging in her heel. "Yes. I do know. Is that all?" When neither of the men spoke, she nodded firmly, patting Stirling on the shoulder. "Wonderful exercise, thanks David."

Pat was still laughing at her as she returned to the others, his enjoyment only enhanced as she flipped him off, propping herself against the back of the lorry with her elbows.

"He liked you," Cooper teased, a boyish grin overtaking his expression as he jammed a fresh cartridge of bullets into his gun. Beside him, Reg didn't say a word, his brow furrowed, expression thunderous, the only sound coming from him the occasional indecipherable grumble.

"Fuck off," She sang, holding her cigarette between her teeth as she sifted through the bullets they had brought to fill the small pistol she had been given to conceal on her person. To go with her civilian costume, Sadler had acquired her own car - a creaky, unassuming thing with a bad paint job, but an almost brand-new engine that could get her out of a tight spot should the need arise. It was risky, to enter Benghazi alone, to separate herself from the rest of the group, but once inside the walls she would find them again, and finally receive a gun that was worth a damn.

Seekings had scarcely looked away from his weapons since the moment of her approach, checking and re-checking every gun and knife he had on his person as a permanent scowl etched his face. His hat was resting in the truck bed beside Diana, and she noticed, seizing it by the visor and planting it firmly onto his head, forcefully capturing his attention. A smile curled the corner of her lips, and he couldn't help but do the same, finally able to take in her new appearance up close. He missed her hair - the only part of her wild enough to reflect the spirit inside. She looked wrong without it, every inch hidden from the world.

"Chin up, soldier," She teased. Reg hated this plan. He hated it more than he'd ever hated any of Stirling's batshit insane ideas before.

They were putting Diana in danger. More danger than they ever had before. She would take her own car into Benghazi, alone, with nothing but a tiny pistol to protect herself and a cache of explosives hidden under her seat. They were relying on nothing but her pretty face and Arabic tongue to get her into a building none of the others would dare try to breach for fear of a bullet to the skull. And worst of all, she didn't seem to care.

"You're good on the plan?" He prodded.

Diana let out a chuckle at his uncharacteristic concern. "All good."

There was no certainty they'd all see each other again after tonight. And one question plagued Reg - one question he ached to know the answer to yet could never bring himself to ask. Did she remember that night in Stirling's flat? The night she had spent sitting on the hardwood floor in that wonderful dress, the night she had kissed his bruised knuckles and smiled at him and made him feel all kinds of confusing things. If only she cared as much for herself as he did.

In order to avoid any suspicion, Diana was ordered to pass the checkpoint into the port city an hour before the others - a measure taken to dispel any possible assumption that they may be arriving together, but an altogether risky move. If the others were intercepted at the border, she would be in Benghazi alone, forced to carry out her objective and escape without any backup whatsoever. In the Great War, General Hannigan had made his reputation through acts of reckless daring, and it seemed he had passed this lack of regard for self-preservation onto his daughter. A quiet fell over the small group as the time came for her departure, a duffel bag of explosives hidden in a compartment Sadler had hollowed out beneath her seat. Diana seemed unphased, quickly affirming their rendezvous point with Stirling, but the others watched on in grim silence, hesitant to even wish her good luck for fear of jinxing their fortunes. They all knew there was a chance that this could be the last time they were all together. It wasn't an impossibility. They'd lost Eoin. They'd lost Jock.

Tonight had the opportunity to ruin everything.

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The desert road unfurled itself before her, the wheels of the car kicking up sand as Diana streaked across the landscape, radio tuned to a local station as she sang off-key to an Arabic cover of a Billie Holiday song, occasionally interrupted by static from the terrible reception all the way out here.

It was not until the checkpoint came into view that she realised she was driving altogether much too fast, and the breaks let out a terrible shriek as Diana attempted to slow down, jostling the wooden barrier with the bonnet as she rolled to a clumsy stop. Now she remembered why Stirling had initially appeared so horrified at the prospect of letting her drive herself.

One of the soldiers marched up to her window, knocking harshly on the glass until she rolled it down to let him speak. He scolded her in a flurry of Italian that she only partially understood, and Diana attempted to thrust her forged papers at him, matching the man's irritated tone in her own rambling Arabic, spouting meaningless nonsense whenever she ran out of things to say once she as confident he didn't understand a word.

The soldier examined her papers, occasionally asking her questions as he peered closely at the writing. Diana could only decipher a few words here and there - certainly not enough to gauge the soldier's meaning - and so she continued her meaningless tirade in the hopes of moving things on.

"I really like this song!" She declared, brow furrowed, tone angered as she pointed sharply at the radio, the soldier's expression growing more confused by the minute as he attempted to decipher what the frustrated woman was yelling at him. "It's very good! But I'd like to get moving, I'm very hungry!"

"Cosa?" The soldier asked, still clutching her papers.

Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, reaching out and tearing the document from his grip. "Is this really the best your lot could do? Fucking embarrassing really." His mouth hung open, gaping as he found himself helpless to decipher a word of her ranting. With a pointed gesture towards the barrier, she finally seemed to get through to the man, who hurriedly ordered for her to be let through.

Nodding to the soldier in mock appreciation, Diana cranked the radio back up to full volume as she passed, resuming her sing-along as she trundled towards Benghazi, taking extra care to regulate her usually reckless driving as she entered the pedestrian-littered streets. It wasn't entirely unheard of to see a woman like her driving alone here, but just unusual enough to ensure that, whenever she slowed down or stopped for traffic, she would hear a wolf whistle or jeer from some passer-by. It was nothing Diana hadn't heard before, but still, her grip on the steering wheel tightened with agitation each time.

Benghazi was littered with administrative buildings and headquarters for the Nazi and Italian forces, with guards at every entrance. This was not a problem. Diana didn't need an entrance. One of the key Italian admin buildings had a side wall facing a nearby alleyway, used almost exclusively by street vendors and tourists, when there were any. But there was not a guard in sight, for the wall had no doorways or windows that could be used for infiltration. Engine rumbling to a stop, she yanked the gearstick, pulling in to park along the side of the alleyway. Rummaging below her seat, Diana retrieved the explosives she had been given, concealing them in a small compartment she had sewn into the bottom of her handbag, hidden beneath all manner of day-to-day belongings.

The only explosive she left behind was a primed Lewes bomb, prying open a loose seam in the driver's seat cushion with her fingernails and burrowing it deep inside among the stuffing. Worst case scenario, the car would be removed by guards hoping to keep the perimeter clear, and provide a helpful distraction come nightfall.

Best case scenario, this explosion would rip a hole straight through the building, killing dozens.

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The moment their truck pulled to a stop, Reg was on the lookout, his gaze scouring their surroundings for any sign of Diana among the sparse, moving crowds of civilians.

"Hey," Almonds hushed voice reached out to him as they clambered out of the truck bed. "She's not coming. Stirling told her not to be seen with us until it's time to go." Reg almost questioned this - questioned why, of all things, Jim knew he was searching for Diana. But it struck him as best not to ask, best not to come face to face with his own weakness that apparently everyone could see. This wasn't the time for it.

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Diana had spent her afternoon in a nearby cafe, sipping on herbal tea to calm the beating of her nervous heart as she waited for nightfall, pretending to read a book as she watched the soldiers walking around in her peripherals. Anyone who had paid enough attention would have noticed that she hadn't turned the page in almost half an hour, but there were hundreds of women in Benghazi who looked just like her. She was utterly unremarkable, utterly unworthy of notice. The disguise was working wonders.

But darkness was falling. And the longer she stayed, the more suspicious her presence would become. Ensuring her headscarf was still on properly, Diana departed, shoving her book back in her bag as it covered the concealed explosives within. She prayed the carefulness with which she handled the bag had not been too obvious as she made her departure, slipping away down a nearby side street.

The car was still there. She made a mental note as she passed, tossing a crumbled paper bag containing a Lewes bomb into a nearby trashcan, one of many lining the back wall of another administrative building. Laying individual charges was never going to do a significant amount of damage, but it would certainly provide ample distraction. If the guards were too busy chasing after exploding bins and cars, they would miss the real targets.

She wanted a cigarette, but frankly, the idea of smoking one so close to a bag full of bombs made her nervous. Diana was just about to throw out her matchbook as a precaution when a lone guard turned the corner towards her, rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, gaze pinned on her from the moment he entered the space.

"What are you doing?" He called, eyeing the matches in her hand with suspicion. His Italian accent was heavy, but his English wasn't half bad. He thought she was a local - that was good, he was searching for some in-between dialect to bridge the language barrier between himself and the Libyans.

"Smoke break," Diana replied simply, trying to maintain the accent of her mother tongue even as she spoke her second language. It was difficult - she had been taught Arabic by Egyptians and English by the Brits, it was not a line she was used to blurring.

The guard flicked his wrist, beckoning her closer as he reached into his breast pocket for a proper lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the battered box in her bag, he held the flame up to her, just far away enough that she had to lean in towards his chest, dipping her chin to meet it. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing every inch of her face and quickly travelling downwards. His hand reached up, knuckle brushing lightly against her cheek. Diana felt the urge to recoil, nausea dredging up the pitifully sparse contents of her stomach. Instead, she pulled herself back up to full height, a pleasant smile curling her lips as she took a puff of smoke.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be out here alone," The guard tutted, a glint of lust in his eye that made her want to vomit straight onto his boots. "Anything could happen."

She let out an easy laugh, shaking her head slightly. "Well, then it's a good thing I have your gun, isn't it?"

He paused for a moment, head tilting to the side as he squinted in confusion. "...What?"

Diana's hand shot out at his face, not even pausing to drop the cigarette, its burning butt scorching the flesh of the soldier's cheek as her fingernails met his eyes, scratching painfully at his corneas. Before the man could scream, her free hand, balled into a tight fist, punched him sharply in the windpipe, and the guard choked for breath, staggering backwards as blood began to run down his face from where her nails had taken chunks out of his eyelids.

Blinded and winded, he groped for his rifle, but Diana seized it in an instant, a kick to the stomach sending him toppling backwards onto the ground. If she had shot him, she would've drawn half the guards in the port. Besides, this was more fun.

"Fascist fuck," She muttered, tearing off her headscarf, curls erupting outwards like a lion's mane as she balled up the fabric, stuffing it down into the guard's mouth so he couldn't speak. With the pocket knife tucked in her boot, she sliced off one of the straps on her bag, using the long strip of fabric to bind the man's hands behind his back. The guard whimpered helplessly, sounds muffled by the fabric that he found himself unable to spit out as his feet lashed out, kicking wildly but never landing a blow, his vision still blurred and useless in the dark.

Diana manoeuvred the thrashing, whining man into a nearby alcove, propping him up against the backdoor of a local restaurant. Delivering a swift, sharp blow to the head, the guard fell unconscious, and she was free to leave his limp body for someone else to find once she was long gone.

But now there was a problem. Her disguise was ruined - her headscarf gone, bag noticeably torn, blood staining her fingernails. A wad of spit was enough to clean most of the visible dirt from her hands, and she realised she had little choice but to get rid of her bag. Carefully retracing her steps back towards the car she had abandoned, Diana tossed the entire cache of explosives into the trunk and made a run for it. Perhaps multiple distractions were off the table for tonight, but this distraction was certainly about to be a big one.

Tousling her hair and undoing the top few buttons of her shirt, exposing a sideways view of her cleavage, she felt satisfied with her new disguise. If she couldn't pass as someone's dutiful housewife, she could at least do her best to blend in with the local prostitutes.

God this was humiliating.

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Reg and the others were waiting impatiently behind a nearby car, anxiously watching Stirling and Churchill approach as soldiers swarmed their truck, which had - until now - been their only means of escape. David approached the group, strolling casually so as not to betray his agitation, although his brow began to furrow as he surveyed the group.

"Where's Diana?" He whispered, leaning in close. Reg thought he might vomit.

"She's supposed to be here?" Riley hissed. One by one, their expressions began to fall with concern.

"I told her to meet us at the rendezvous, she's supposed to-" Stirling had gone from a state of panic to one of confusion, trailing off as his gaze locked itself upon something behind the others. Reg turned to follow his eye, brow raising as he spotted Diana across the street, purposely avoiding meeting their gaze as she strolled through the crowded space. But something had changed since that morning - she looked different. She looked good.

There was no time to express relief, no time to calm the thumping of his heart as Stirling ushered the group out from their rendezvous spot, marching across the street. They were making it up as they went along now - the most dangerous way to be. But she didn't follow, simply stood in a nearby doorway, leant casually against the wall.

"Seekings, go over and pretend to chat her up," Stirling ordered under his breath. Reg suddenly realised what was going on. "Get her over here with us, now."

Seekings slipped away from the group, taking extra care to look at ease, confident, not like he was following orders. His eyes met Diana's, and he stepped up onto the doorstep beside her, the pair standing close. "...You look different," He pointed out.

"It's been an... eventful afternoon," She explained. As she spoke, she maintained an easy, flirtatious smile, ensuring that anyone passing by would still believe she was a prostitute trying to chat up a client, despite the words being exchanged. Reg felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, turning his face redder by the second.

"We've gotta go," He said, and she nodded, following alongside him as they moved to rejoin the others. He felt her gently nudge his side, and slug his arm casually over her shoulder. They would have to keep up this pretence until the very last minute, until they were somewhere free from any prying eyes. But Reg couldn't even pretend to dislike the position he now found himself in, her body slotted against his in a way that just felt right, her shoulder somehow comfortable as it dug into his side. Her hair blew gently with each exhale he took, and he was almost too distracted to pay attention to the others, watching her instead of the guards Johnny was attempting to negotiate their way past. Reg couldn't even understand Italian - in his mind, this was a much better use of his time.

It seemed Diana had realised this distraction, for a sharp poke to the ribs alerted Reg that they were moving again, sauntering past the men after whatever ruse Cooper had concocted had worked. "Start paying attention," She muttered, beginning to smirk.

But there had been no time to formulate a retort before an earth-shattering explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet, a great ball of fire turning the sky red as a building burst into flames a few streets over. It was bigger than the blast from any single Lewes bomb, and Reg raised a brow, looking down at Diana who had begun to cringe slightly. Stirling turned to stare pointedly at her.

"I had to improvise," She shrugged, and Reg almost laughed before his own charges exploded somewhere behind them, and the group broke out into a sprint, making a wild dash for the nearest side road that could potentially promise a means of escape.

The first explosion had been so huge that almost every guard in the port had began running towards it, and once the other bombs went off as well, the place was plunged into chaos, no one sure of which crises they should tend to first.

"Where's your gun?" Stirling hissed as she ran alongside him.

"Like I said, change of plan," Diana huffed, catching a pistol as he tossed it over to her, the group crouching around the corner of a nearby building to evade the scattered guard force.

"Well, y'know," Almonds shrugged. "At least the bombs worked."

She let out a breathless laugh, but no sooner had she stopped running was she compelled to start again, dashing towards a jeep Reg had managed to commandeer.

"You got it?" Diana asked, a grin spreading across her face as he touched two wires together and the engine burst to life, rumbling steadily as they dogpiled hurriedly inside. They trundled away at a regular pace, so as not to draw attention, but it may as well have been a hundred miles an hour for how quickly her heart beat inside her ribcage, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, feeling as if it were the first full breath she had taken since the moment she had first arrived in Benghazi.

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Stirling's car ahead had burst through the checkpoint they had passed that morning in a flurry of bullets, picking up speed, the jeeps going faster and faster by the second until they were streaking across the desert. Johnny had been standing atop the back of David's jeep, mowing down the nazis with his machine gun as they passed. As they passed back into safe territory, he turned back to face the second car, grinning elatedly, and Diana replied with a whoop, laughing at their success. She had not quite realised how scared she had been to die tonight until the relief of surviving had settled in, and now she was euphoric, the desert wind whipping her hair wildly in all directions.

Reg had the wheel, unable to tear his eyes from the road for how fast they were travelling, but he began to grin as Riley started singing a raucous drinking song, Diana and Jim joining along by the second verse. Almonds had taken off his hat, jokingly attempting to plant it on her head, but she let out a yelp as the wind caught its brim, tearing it clean off as the hat vanished into the night. They laughed at this too, everything suddenly hilarious as they were consumed by the joy of victory. The jeep's side mirror had been jostled in their hurried attempt to climb in, and rather than reflecting the road behind, Reg could see her - smile visible even in the darkness, both hands trying in vain to hold down her hair against the desert wind.

It may have been the greatest night of his life.

[reasonandempathy]

Why is the American Left so Anti-Saudia but they say nothing about Iran?

I always found it weird how much the Left seems to dislike Saudi Arabia and highlight its human rights abuses and why the alliance is against American national interest. This is far back as Michael Moore’s documentary Fahreneit 9/11, Vox who did a special on weapons sales to Saudis, Morning Joe which kept calling MBS a butcher, The View after Biden’s visit and Krystal Ball on Breaking Points.

Interestingly these same people always go at pains to say why US should seek peace with Iran and how the government does not represent the American people. When Trump was sabre rattling Iran they said he’d start WW3. It took until the hijab protest angle for them to cover Iran critically. Even Egypt who is an American vassal under El-Sisi gets criticised all the time including by Vox/MSNBC but when the Muslim Brotherhood got in power after the Arab Spring, which is against all sorts of progressive causes, they were never really criticised.

I always get frustrated by how people throw everything to the Left of Trump as "the Left".

Joe Scarborough is nobody's Leftist. He was a far-right wing congressman from Florida in the 90s and voted to impeach Clinton in 98. MSNBC has routinely fired left-wing and Muslim dissenters to the Mainstream Washington politics (which is center-right), and to this day is filled with center and right-wing talking points. You think the Left would have Raytheon War Privateers talking up Israel in itss slow-rolling genocide without criticism?

That being said, I would significantly advise OP read a book, or talk to a leftist. Preferably in real life. The concept of "The Left doesn't criticize Iran or Muslim Brotherhood" is somewhat divorced from the broader reality and context. Saudi Arabia and Egypt are American allies and their actions are things that the US Government directly or indirectly supports.

Saudi Arabia is a US ally, so the left is critical of that close relationship and the supplying of arms such as fighter jets to such a brutal regime (currently engaged in a devastating war in Yemen using American weapons). In contrast, the US has huge tensions with Iran, so the call from the left is "do not escalate this to war." In both instances the intent is the same: to reduce the threat of war.

Try to say what you're saying directly and in descriptive language and it falls apart at face value.

"The left-wing has no criticism of anti-democratic Theocratic states." Center-left criticism of the Muslim Brotherhood has been around for a long, long time. It's easily google-able.

Or how about: "Why does the Left criticize an American vassal state with a puppet in charge?"

Bringing up the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt just speaks to how little attention you pay to the Country. The Muslim Brotherhood hasn't been in power there since 2013 when a military junta took over and threw thousands of them in jail.

[newestcool]

Thierry Mugler s/s 1999 rtw Creative Director Thierry Mugler Model Audrey Marnay  Newest Cool

[raspberry-beret]

1145 - Clearwater

[lee-romee]

[quotidian-oblivion]

Your turn, Voidster!

sketching pad: describe yourself from a stranger’s point of view!!

oof, okay uhhh i'll try my best 😅

~

I see her walking across the street every day to school, always fully covered and quite comfortable. I suspect she wears her school uniform under her outer layer (abaya). You can always tell what she's thinking because she's very emotive and expressive.

A slight spring in her step, a smile stretched across her face, a quiet laugh to herself, some happy muttering which she thinks no one can hear, means that she's happy. She's having a good time. You see that often, which makes me wonder how someone can be so cheerful so often.

Shuffling footsteps, eyes stuck to the ground, head bowed low, hands barely moving by her sides or on the straps of her bags, a dull shine to her eyes, and eyebags more evident means she's either tired or sad. Her voice is either quiet or not there at all.

Except when she sings.

She always sings. Whichever song is stuck in her mind, she sings it. She takes approximately 7 minutes to walk to school, but she likes stretching it out whenever she can. You can always hear her singing whenever she's idle. It might be a habit or a personal tic, but it's clear that her voice is something she is connected to. I've seen her use it up on stage and in front of a crowd sometimes too. But singing...

That's something she uses to calm herself down if she's upset with sad little songs that imply hope. She sings high-pitched and bouncy songs when she's happy. She sings screamy songs when she's angry or frustrated about something.

She thinks no one can hear her because she watches the shadows and frequently turns her head to see if someone's near to lower her voice while singing, but you hear a few notes anyway. And they're always so full of emotion. It makes you wonder how someone can express so much yet hide even more.

She doesn't look anything special. Black hijab, sky-blue or sometimes black abaya, brown skin. Just an average Joe, really. But when I got closer to her, talked to her, became a friend, I was opened up to a running tap of different perspectives on life. She tries her best to be the best, even though she doesn't have to. There's a world of tragedy beneath all that emotion, but she embraces it. That's why she holds so much cheer and emotion. She embraces all the good and all the bad, though with difficulty. She's confused, but does everything to figure it out. She wants to please everyone, but sticks firmly to her values. And she loves. She loves so much and so passionately.

I wish I had a love and passion like that. She says that she loves too much sometimes. But I don't think so. I think with a love as great as that, she can spread it in this world where there are magnanimous vats of hate. She just needs to learn when and where and how to release it.

She's a special person, she just needs to learn how.

~

I've heard of character analysis but this is a whole different level.

I think I need therapy.

[hijab-described]

hey!! I saw your pride meiker, so cute!! Just curious, I want to make a magical girl meiker with some hijab options, is there any specific hijaboptions you'd like to see in dress up games?

Hi! Thank you so much for reaching out! I generally love any and all hijab options in games, though obviously I've got some favorites.

I'm partial to face-framing scarves which are draped over the back of the head with one flowy piece pinned next to the face. It's a style that I included in my pride maker, but here's another reference image for that:

[ID: A Black woman wears a draped purple hijab and orange jacket. The pin holding it together is visible close to where her ear would be. /end ID]

Created with Hijab Girl Dress-Up Game by pastel-chibiku on meiker.

Here's also a tutorial on how to drape it: [hijab tutorial] (Personally I like it when it's pinned not as tightly, but a tighter pin can make it more secure. Maybe that's useful when you're a magical girl and very physically active.)

I also love looser scarves which show a bit of hair and neck, which is a style I like to wear myself.

[ID: Alice wears a loose blue scarf with some of her blonde bangs and her neck visible. /end ID]

Created with Alice in Wonderland Dress Up Game by ameera on meiker.

There's also a style called tudong/tudung in Indonesian. I'm not too familiar with it, but I sometimes see it in photos and think it looks so good. It has a way of draping the headscarf in a very prominent arch over the forehead, sometimes using a sown-in curved visor to achieve the look. This product video shows the style beginning at second 12. (It also shows the non-rectangular shape of the scarf, in case that's a useful drawing reference.)

This game Hijabi Dress-Up - Sea Breeze by elyon on meiker also has two very nicely drawn scarves.

[ID: Side-by-side picture of the two hijab styles. One is a simple face-framing style with one long piece draped over the shoulder. The second is the aforementioned style with the loose end near the face. /end ID]

Also, I think it's really great when games include a niqab option (face-veil). There's so many niqabis out there but they get so little representation.

[ID: A woman with medium skin wears a purple hijab and niqab. Her underscarf is crisscrossed in style. /end ID]

Created with Spring Awakening by ameera on meiker.

Then there's also the very simple style of just taking a scarf, placing it on your head, and flipping one side over your shoulder. Like my profile pic. It's a timeless classic.

I'd also advice to include at least one "hijab friendly" outfit in your game, meaning one outfit with arms and legs covered. Hijab is more than just the scarf, it also includes covering the rest of the body, though each hijabi decides for themselves how much is right for them. (For example, some show a bit of hair/neck/short sleeves/etc., while other's opt to wear a burqa or niqab.)

I hope that answer was useful! If you have any more questions, feel free to ask! You can also check out some photo references if you want to get even more of a feel for different hijab types. For example the selfie tag or photography tag on my blog.

Also, if any of my followers want to join in on the conversation, please do! I would love to hear what your favorite hijab styles (for games or in general) are.

[fashinistagirlunit4]

diversity on the catwalk

fashion creatives are embracing inclusivity and body positivity, exploring themes such as size, gender, age, race, and disability.

Precious Lee, Ashley Graham, Paloma Elsesser

The fashion industry is constantly improving and evolving, we are starting to see more culture and diversity through ought each season.

In July 2020, Gucci launched its new genderless shopping category on its website called ‘Gucci MX’ using only gender neutral models to showcase the pieces.

Brands such as Simone Rocha, Rachel Comey and Vivienna Westwood are starting to include many more older models to showcase their work this is making the fashion world more diverse and as the seasons go on their seems to be more inclusivity each time.

AlexandraKutas

Hailing from Ukraine, Alexandra Kutas claimed the title of the world’s first runway model in a wheelchair as well as Ukraine’s first fashion model with a disability. Alexandra modelled on the runway during Ukraine Fashion Week in 2015 and a couple of months later unveiled a photography exhibition called “Break Your Chains” alongside photographer Andrei Sarymsakov in an effort to break down society’s stereotypes and negative perceptions of people with disabilities.

Kelly Knox for Grazia 2018

Greater diversity within the fashion community opened up a space to celebrate all beauty and gave a platform for people with disabilities to be more visible. As a result we are seeing more people with disabilities making appearances on runways, on the cover of magazines, in fashion ads and beauty campaigns.

Jean Paul Gaultier haute couture spring/summer 1998

among the roster of major designers Jean Paul Gaultier is notable for his concerted adoption and celebration of queer aesthetics from placing men in skirts in 1985 to repeatedly drawing on the homoerotic motif of the Genet-esque muscly. Over the years he has had many collaborations and with friend and muse Tanel Bedrossiantz to various striking ends. In his spring summer 1998 Age of Enlightenment influenced couture show, Bedrossiantz apps rated in a tightly corseted ruffled gown over a white shirt and tie an image so iconic it was included in the catalogue for vogues 2019 camp.

Somali-American model, Halima Aden 2017

Halim Aden was the first Muslim woman to wear a hijab on the international high fashion catwalk at the Max Mara show held in Milan on 23rd February 2017.

Madeline Stuart is a 20-year-old model with Down syndrome from Brisbane, Australia. Madeline has walked in Art Hearts Fashion Week, Mercedes Benz Fashion Week China, Style Fashion Week, Melange Fashion Week, Runway Dubai, Sunshine Coast Fashion Festival, and Birmingham Fashion Week. She has appeared in Vogue, Teen Vogue, Cosmopolitan, Woman’s Day, Women’s Weekly, Elle, New York Times, People, Marie Claire, Huffington Post, and many more. She was also named Model of the Year in 2016.

Nina Marker famous model with autism

Nina Marker was scouted at a McDonald’s in 2014 and was quickly snatched up by Elite Model Management. She has walked the runway for Chanel, Dior, Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Valentino, Givenchy, Fendi, and Versace, among many others. Nina is an advocate for the Autistic community, as she herself has Asperger’s. She has talked openly about being treated differently when she was young and the depression she experienced following that; she is passionate about creating awareness for Autism and wants to show people that Autistic people can do anything they want to do.

Harvard Referencing:

Shutterstock (2020). Unforgettable Photographic Moments: 2020’s ‘Big Four’ Fashion Weeks. [online] The Shutterstock Blog. Available at: https://www.shutterstock.com/blog/big-four-fashion-weeks [Accessed 28 May 2023].

Mcloughlin, L. (2017). Ashley Graham shows off curvy figure in clinging latex mini dress. [online] Mail Online. Available at: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-4871728/Ashley-Graham-shows-curvy-figure-latex-mini-dress.html [Accessed 28 May 2023].

Brain, E. (2020). Gucci Mx Line Explores Gender Fluidity Within Fashion. [online] HYPEBEAST. Available at: https://hypebeast.com/2020/7/gucci-mx-non-binary-gender-fluid-collection-fall-winter-2020-jackie-1961-bag-lookbook.

Tsui, D. (2019). Finally, Some Age Diversity on the Runway. [online] The Cut. Available at: https://www.thecut.com/2019/02/older-models-of-all-ages-were-on-the-runway-at-fashion-week.html.

Managment, M. (2018). | MiLK Model Management. [online] www.milkmanagement.co.uk. Available at: https://www.milkmanagement.co.uk/women/women/1152-kelly-knox/ [Accessed 28 May 2023].

The Photo Studio. (2018). 20 Disabled Models And How They Got Their Starts. [online] Available at: https://thephotostudio.com.au/all/modelling/20-disabled-models-and-how-they-got-their-starts/. [Accessed 7th June 2023]

Stuart , M. (2015). Madeline Stuart NYFW 1st catwalk appearance with my Jellyfish men. [online] www.youtube.com. Available at: https://youtu.be/n9PMB9y9xAc [Accessed 7 Jun. 2023].

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