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forgetimabluedreamer · 11 months

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I watched a video the other day of a young Jewish American woman discussing the pro-Zionist propaganda she was exposed to in Hebrew school when she was younger. How in one instance students were asked what their first thought was when thinking about Israel, to which she responded with the word war. This train of thought was then immediately shut down. But it stuck out to me because my answer to this question was the same. More specifically my first thought has always been their military.

Even before the terrible and horrific events that have occurred this month, before more attention was brought to what is happening in Palestine, since I was a child and the only thing I knew about it was what my mother would discuss with me when talking about history (at the time she was my only source of information because I was all of nine). They don’t teach you these things in school, nothing about the occupation and apartheid that is instituted in Palestine. Nothing about the genocide or ethnic cleansing.

Whenever I would happen to hear about Israel, any off handed remark, I would think about their military. When I was a child it was a strange concept to wrap my mind around the idea of mandatory military service. I knew it was different from the draft and that it was mandatory for all Israeli citizens, men and women, to serve in the IDF once they were of age. There are countless countries that implement mandatory military service, to different degrees and within specific circumstances but my entire life, living on an entirely separate continent, this was a nation I knew to be renowned for it. I have seen this notion be disseminated through popular culture and news without any of the historical context, or if so there were firmly assigned roles between who was the hero and who was the villain.

I still remember when I was in elementary school all the headlines and commotion that occurred when a model refused to serve in the IDF back in the early 2000’s (not that it was for any altruistic reasons or condemnation of the occupation of Palestine, made that much more obvious by her current instagram posts 16 years later) and the widespread condemnation she received. I have seen countless movies and television series were a character is mentioned having a background of serving in the IDF (or Mossad as western media treats them as interchangeable) as explanation for their fighting prowess and capability. Consistently and without fail, this idea of the supremacy of the Israeli army has been perpetuated throughout the years. Since before I was born. In none of those instances were the Palestinians ever mentioned aside from being the foe that threatened Israel. Nothing of the slaughter, occupation, and discrimination that they have faced for the better part of a century. Always implied to be a religious fueled aggression on their part when in truth it has everything to do with territory and resources. With extreme nationalism and the far right.

It is horrifying to watch the rate at which misinformation is being spread through the news and social media. Israel has had more than fifty years to perfect their propaganda methods, to weave this tale that what they are doing is just and right. Condemning anyone who criticizes their actions as antisemitic. They have the backing of countless western politicians, businesses, and celebrities because at the end of the day they only care about the bottom line. It’s why the American government has given Israel billions of USD in aid to Israel with Biden promising billions more. Why former chief of Mossad Tamir Pardo was slammed for saying that what is occurring in Palestine is apartheid. Why so many news outlets have reported outright lies, and why you continue to hear journalists repeat the same question “Do you condemn Hamas?” over and over again. All the while Palestinians are without resources, shelter, clean water, no military whatsoever, no means of defending themselves from this annihilation.

#free palestine #free gaza #please stop conflating anti Zionism with antisemitism

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shutterlens · 1 year

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About Me + DNI:

• I am staunchly pro-Palestine and I aim to advocate as best as I can for the liberation of the Palestinian people. Ceasefire now. 🇵🇸🍉

By the way, Zaen and Yahya, Palestinian children in Gaza and the sons of a man named Muhammad Shehab, need your help with getting the funds for their evacuation, so I've attached the link to their GoFundMe campaign here:

https://gofund.me/21ce54ec

To add, Mohammed and his family, including his elderly parents, also need your help in getting the funds to evacuate Gaza as well. I have attached the link to their GoFundMe campaign here:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-mohamed-and-his-elderly-parents-from-genocide

Youssef and his family need your help to get out of Gaza as well, so I've attached Youssef's GoFundMe campaign here:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/jczht-help-hassan-and-his-family-get-out-of-gaza

Please donate if you can, but if you can't, I highly encourage you to spread awareness of this GoFundMe campaign by sharing it elsewhere.

• I am currently testing out a new online identity because my old online identity has appropriated the yin-yang symbol, an important and significant symbol of east Asian culture, for far too long. I sincerely apologize for having actively perpetuated such hurtful practices and I will do what I can to do better in the future.

• I am autistic and have been diagnosed as such since about late elementary school.

• You are not allowed to use my art in NFTs or AI generation at all. No exceptions.

• This blog is a SFW (not sexual and not kink or fetish) art blog, though I may occassionally post gore art onto here, which may be distressing to some viewers.

• To my mutuals: if you want to put reblog bait on your blog when you know I am following you here on Tumblr, please tag the post you're reblogging as reblog bait, e.g.- "#tw reblog bait" to let me know that I am safe to ignore it without feeding my instinctual fear with this kind of content.

• How I primarily tag distressing/triggering content:

#tw [distressing content]

• My Current Favorite Media:

Crashbox

DHMIS (the original web series)

Trivia Murder Party

Quiplash

Deltarune

• My Current Favorite Music Artists/Bands:

Lemon Demon

Gorillaz

• My Current Blog Tags:

#shutterlens = my current posts

#shutterlens vent = my current vents

#shutterlens art = my new art (on or after May 2, 2024)

#shutterlens asks = asks on my blog • My Old Blog Tags: #8bityinyangart = my old art

#8bityinyang vent = my old vents

#8bityinyang = my old posts - The following Do Not Interact list is completely non-negotiable. This is something that I fully stand by and do not want to hear any argument about.

Do Not Interact: • Any and all accounts who are and/or support the following:

• AI generation users who wrongfully claim to be "artists" or "writers"

• Predators, e.g.- pedophiles/child predators/(NO)MAP zoophiles, incest, etc.

• Proshippers (those who make predatory (e.g.- child-adult sexual/romantic relationships, incestuous, abusive, etc.) ships within fictional media. The glamorization of these predatory fictional ships normalizes and encourages real-life predatory behavior and is therefore not accepted by me under any circumstance.)

• Bigots, e.g.- queerphobes (e.g.- homophobes, anti-mspec bigotry, aphobes (including aspec-exclusionists), transphobes (including transmeds, TERFS, and more), anti-nonbinary bigotry, etc.), racists, antisemites, fatphobes, islamophobes, ableists, misogynists, etc.

• Supporters of the ongoing genocide on Palestine (zionist/pro-genocide/etc.)

• Accounts that post primarily sexually explicit, overly gory, or kink and/or fetish-related content (I have designated my main account here to be SFW (not sexual), so, even though I'm mostly pro-kink as long as it doesn't harm anyone, I do not feel comfortable with being associated with NSFW (sexual)/gore content.)

• Anyone who is either at or under the age of 13 (This blog may contain content that those who are 13 and under would find distressing.)

#dni list #shutterlens #8bityinyang #byi #before you interact #before you follow #rules

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antoine-roquentin · 6 years

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A children’s speech pathologist who has worked for the last nine years with developmentally disabled, autistic, and speech-impaired elementary school students in Austin, Texas, has been told that she can no longer work with the public school district, after she refused to sign an oath vowing that she “does not” and “will not” engage in a boycott of Israel or “otherwise tak[e] any action that is intended to inflict economic harm” on that foreign nation. A lawsuit on her behalf was filed early Monday morning in a federal court in the Western District of Texas, alleging a violation of her First Amendment right of free speech.

The child language specialist, Bahia Amawi, is a U.S. citizen who received a master’s degree in speech pathology in 1999 and, since then, has specialized in evaluations for young children with language difficulties (see video below). Amawi was born in Austria and has lived in the U.S. for the last 30 years, fluently speaks three languages (English, German, and Arabic), and has four U.S.-born American children of her own.

Amawi began working in 2009 on a contract basis with the Pflugerville Independent School District, which includes Austin, to provide assessments and support for school children from the county’s growing Arabic-speaking immigrant community. The children with whom she has worked span the ages of 3 to 11. Ever since her work for the school district began in 2009, her contract was renewed each year with no controversy or problem.

But this year, all of that changed. On August 13, the school district once again offered to extend her contract for another year by sending her essentially the same contract and set of certifications she has received and signed at the end of each year since 2009.

She was prepared to sign her contract renewal until she noticed one new, and extremely significant, addition: a certification she was required to sign pledging that she “does not currently boycott Israel,” that she “will not boycott Israel during the term of the contract,” and that she shall refrain from any action “that is intended to penalize, inflict economic harm on, or limit commercial relations with Israel, or with a person or entity doing business in Israeli or in an Israel-controlled territory.”

The language of the affirmation Amawi was told she must sign reads like Orwellian — or McCarthyite — self-parody, the classic political loyalty oath that every American should instinctively shudder upon reading:

When asked if she considered signing the pledge to preserve her ability to work, Amawi told The Intercept: “Absolutely not. I couldn’t in good conscience do that. If I did, I would not only be betraying Palestinians suffering under an occupation that I believe is unjust and thus, become complicit in their repression, but I’d also be betraying my fellow Americans by enabling violations of our constitutional rights to free speech and to protest peacefully.”

As a result, Amawi informed her school district supervisor that she could not sign the oath. As her complaint against the school district explains, she “ask[ed] why her personal political stances [about Israel and Palestine] impacted her work as a speech language pathologist.”

In response, Amawi’s supervisor promised that she would investigate whether there were any ways around this barrier. But the supervisor ultimately told Amawi that there were no alternatives: Either she would have to sign the oath, or the district would be legally barred from paying her under any type of contract.

Because Amawi, to her knowledge, is the only certified Arabic-speaking child’s speech pathologist in the district, it is quite possible that the refusal to renew her contract will leave dozens of young children with speech pathologies without any competent expert to evaluate their conditions and treatment needs.

“I got my master’s in this field and devoted myself to this work because I always wanted to do service for children,” Amawi said. “It’s vital that early-age assessments of possible speech impairments or psychological conditions be administered by those who understand the child’s first language.”

In other words, Texas’s Israel loyalty oath requirement victimizes not just Amawi, an American who is barred from working in the professional field to which she has devoted her adult life, but also the young children in need of her expertise and experience that she has spent years developing....

The bill’s language is so sweeping that some victims of Hurricane Harvey, which devastated Southwest Texas in late 2017, were told that they could only receive state disaster relief if they first signed a pledge never to boycott Israel. That demand was deeply confusing to those hurricane victims in desperate need of help but who could not understand what their views of Israel and Palestine had to do with their ability to receive assistance from their state government.

The evangelical author of the Israel bill, Republican Texas state Rep. Phil King, said at the time that its application to hurricane relief was a “misunderstanding,” but nonetheless emphasized that the bill’s purpose was indeed to ensure that no public funds ever go to anyone who supports a boycott of Israel.

At the time that Texas enacted the law barring contractors from supporting a boycott of Israel, it was the 17th state in the country to do so. As of now, 26 states have enacted such laws — including blue states run by Democrats such as New York, California, and New Jersey — while similar bills are pending in another 13 states.

This map compiled by Palestine Legal shows how pervasive various forms of Israel loyalty oath requirements have become in the U.S.; the states in red are ones where such laws are already enacted, while the states in the darker shade are ones where such bills are pending:

The vast majority of American citizens are therefore now officially barred from supporting a boycott of Israel without incurring some form of sanction or limitation imposed by their state. And the relatively few Americans who are still free to form views on this hotly contested political debate without being officially punished are in danger of losing that freedom, as more and more states are poised to enact similar censorship schemes.

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anaxolotladay · 6 years

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( big fucking word dump to get my thoughts together; TW for antisemitism and a lack of editing

tentatively titled, “Lucky”, ‘til i can edit it to the essay i want to write )

❝ We didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too? He wasn’t as lucky as I was. ❞

it took a while for me to be able to joke about being the “token jew friend”. because really, what was so “token” about it? ever since i stopped wearing my star and keeping my hair tied up, it’s harder to tell. i’ve been teased about “pointed ears” and my family’s long-passed-down “jewy nose”, but with these thick rimmed glasses, it takes the attention away. i’m aware of the privilege my skin color affords me. nobody looks too hard; i’m passing. i’m lucky, something i’ve always been told by every generation of family i meet. i’m lucky, and i know it.

my elementary schooling was private hebrew schools (on scholarship for our low income large family, where my mom worked as a school employee) between two different states. i grew up in so many jewish communities and with such a large family, i never thought of it to be so different.

that was lucky.

fifth grade- the first year of junior high- we couldn’t afford private school any longer, nor could the majority of my sixteen-person grade level. three of us switched to the same public middle school. nobody knew where we came from, but that was alright until somebody asked. Dan H. in art class asked if we were “hebrews”, because “oh, i thought ‘jew’ was a bad word”. the three of us laughed! that was hilarious! until he started interrogating us, asking us if we knew it was OUR people who killed Jesus.

we didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too?

he wasn’t as lucky as i was.

throughout middle school, more and more students had just started to learn about the Holocaust and Hitler- aka my second grade history unit, aka my family history-- and all the jokes they’d heard and read about began to make sense. the “shoah”, the “fire”, the “ovens”. hilarious. the wise words of my old hebrew teacher echoed in my ears: as long as we don’t forget, it will never happen again. but i started wondering why we had to teach THESE kids about it, and fuel THEIR jokes. middle school, it was mostly all just poorly timed jokes in bad taste.

THAT was lucky.

come high school, i shared a bus with the only other jewish kid in my neighborhood, Ari J.-- a year younger than me, left our old hebrew school a year later than me. he was a bully and i hated his guts, yet, he was kin. we didn’t talk in all my four years of high school. but at the back of the bus sat another group of boys, the ones who wore shirts that read: “That’s nice, babe, now make me a sandwich”, and called eachother “f*gs”, and told jokes in racist accents. they were larger than Ari and i combined. we kept our heads down.

they dared not crack the same racist jokes in the hallways of school-- there were black, indian, AND asian teachers around, who could call their parents, god forbid!-- but the gays and the jews of the school? outnumbered and quiet. i heard nazi jokes shouted two hallways down. i heard the laughter that followed.

one day, boarding the bus about four seats in front of Ari, the ringleader of Back of the Bus Bad Boys waltzes up the steps and shouts, “HEY, you Jew in the back!!!” i felt my blood run cold, and sat completely still as he stormed down the aisle. i smelled his gym sweat as he breezed past my seat, and exhaled a relieved sigh. except, turning around to see who he was referring to, i couldn’t believe my eyes: the lot of them had slid into and behond Ari’s seat, were tousling his hair, were shoving his shoulders and laughing. “Pretty hot outside, but not as hot as those ovens, am I right?” i couldn’t hear if Ari replied. i didn’t know what to do. the bus lurched forward and the insults were hurled louder: “Hitler wasn’t such a bad guy, y’know? Just incompetent. He never carried through, but he had the vision.” when i got home that day, i cried and cried. the next morning, i reported them to the counselor, but begged her to wait a few days to take action; what if they thought it was Ari who’d reported it? what would they do to him?

would he be so lucky again?

a year later, i’m on a trip to New York City- the second time i’ve been, but the first time alone with my mom. it was a busy day over school break, and the city was bustling-- walking back to our lodging, there was a pro-palestine rally occurring about a block away. flags were waving! people were shouting for justice! it was amazing! we raised our fists in support and kept walking. but after packing our bags and leaving the same way we came in, we stepped to the sidewalk and heard louder noise down the road. the streets were stuffed to gills, police officers stood with their backs to the rally, face to the crowd. the proud rally had turned angry, blaming not israel for their troubles, but their “rabbinic leaders”. new flags were hoisted, depicting the magen david, star of david, crossed out in red. their faces were pink with righteous fury, shouting against the ears of the officers to let them march, to take vengeance on their jewish oppressors. my mother and i ducked to the back of the crowd, removed our star necklaces, and kept our heads down. i felt the points digging into my palm. i wore it a few times afterwards-- the star i’d fawned over at our Yom Ha’Atzmaut festival, supporting local israeli immigrants, bought for me in surprise by my bubbe-- but after the chain broke, i couldn’t find it in me to wear again. i’d never felt so scared, but i emerged unnoticed and unharmed.

that was the luckiest i had ever been.

during my first year of community college, i had a class with a nazi apologist. nobody thought about it too hard, since he was also the best designer in our group, but walking to our class, i’d hear him shout from behind me: “What’s up, you fucking kike?!” i’d never heard it out loud before. when i whirled around, it turns out he was greeting his “buddy” further up in front of me. i walked a little faster to class, hoping he wasn’t suspicious of me now.

he wasn’t. how lucky of me.

on that same campus, i heard more jewish slurs than i could even recognize at the time. some i’d only read of. others were learned of in hindsight. ignorance was bliss. past tense.

i told my family these stories, face burning. my zayde’s eyebrows would raise and my mother would shake her head, recounting her own stories. my siblings had never been familiar with these terms. i wish i could apologize for teaching them.

they were pretty lucky, too.

when i transferred schools, it was during election season. i never brought up my judaism until the high holidays-- early in the school year-- when i’d need to miss class, and would be returning home to NY for a few days. even then, i told my roommates and teachers, that was it. i was alone for some of those holidays for the first time ever, and there was no community to be found. it was an irrelevant secret.

during election season, however, were the pro-Trump rallies. the protests. the women’s marches and the mud slinging. some of my friends saw words on the news that they’d never heard of before. the mistake i had made was explaining them, outing myself. again, it was no big deal at the time, my friends were supportive.

but from then on, i was referred to as one of their “minority friends”. and that was annoying, because i didn’t have the right to claim that title. i wasn’t being “oppressed”. i had just started to learn about “privilege” and “oppression” and politics and diversity. i knew i was privileged, i never had the RIGHT to claim oppression. i didn’t experience racism daily and i never would. there were people of color who were harassed and discriminated against and denied service because of the way they LOOKED, things they could not change about themselves. i will never experience that. it was 2016, i was not oppressed!

multiple times, i was introduced to others as the “jewish friend”. and it stopped bothering me, because it wasn’t untrue. apparently, jews were a rarity in these parts. it was funny. it was part of my identity. and for the most part, people didn’t care.

then, our 45th president was elected.

within three days, over four dozen synagogues, campuses, homes and vehicles had been vandalized with swastikas. jewish cemeteries were torn apart. hasidic civilians were punched in the faces. i couldn’t bring myself to call home for an entire week, because that would mean admitting out loud that i was scared. my research writing essay that semester was a small 8-page essay, analyzing and documenting the rise in jewish hate crimes, and where they happened. i had to stay in the know. i brushed up on jewish history. i listened to family stories. i relearned everything i could so i knew how to navigate arguments, debates, and accusations. afterall, i’d been pretty sure i was the only jew on campus.

within a year, i met another one. it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but my excitement was tangible. we’d throw yiddish back and forth and tease eachother in brooklynese or russian-bubbe accents. he knew what holidays i would refer to. it wasn’t a big part of the friendship, but it was nice to have some familiarity. i was brought into a new group of friends who were curious, and eager to learn. i’d never thought about judaism as a culture or history before that, until these discussions ensued and i realized just how MUCH my life was shaped by it. and it was fun to share stories and meals and holidays with people who wanted to celebrate with me.

this past semester was the first time i didn’t go home for the high holidays. i found a synagogue in the next city over, and two whole other jews who wanted to celebrate with me on campus! on yom kippur, we met up to break the fast. they were clearly as excited to meet another jew as i was.

unfortunately, i was a girl. a “nice jewish girl”, if you will. their view bled into the conversation. and on top of that, one of them wanted to chant the barucha, loudly, OUT LOUD, in the middle of a dinner-busy campus dining hall. the other guy and i mumbled it with our heads kept down. suddenly, we were tense. we were scared. my roommates asked me why that was. i told them that you can’t just chant hebrew in public in this day and age! why was that? have you ever heard of muslims speaking arabic in public and being labeled terrorists? do you understand the kind of danger semitic languages entail?!

we had been ignored, but some folks aren’t so lucky!

a week ago, i was walking down the hall of my class building. it was mostly empty, save for one or two other students. out of the blue, i hear one of them say loudly, “Shalom!” i spun around. “excuse me?” the girl walking behind me laughed and said, “it’s just something he does”. we walked down the hall for a few more min, chuckling about it. i asked if she or he was jewish, she said neither of them were, but thought it was hilarious when i explained how the guy had managed to say “shalom” to the only jew in the department.

i let out a breath i hadn’t realized i’d been holding. funny, right? he never would’ve guessed.

yesterday, at 9:50 AM, a synagogue was shot up an hour and a half away from me. but not just any synagogue. one of the most well known conservative shuls in the Squirrel Hill area. in particular, the one my pittsburgh family were members of. the one i had watched my two cousins become bat and bar mitzvahs on the bimmah of. the one i had, for the first time, met three branches of family from my adopted uncles’ side, family who had welcomed me to their congregation and introduced me personally to the rabbi: “Yes! She’s our brothers’ niece! Our family has come such a long way to celebrate with us, tonight!” and then-rabbi, Rabbi Chuck, laughed a booming sound and shook my hand with both of his, cracking jokes and telling me how happy he was i was here.

yesterday, at the Tree of Life--Or L’Simcha temple, there was a baby naming ceremony- a time in jewish tradition where a new baby of the community is spoken into the family and recognized by the congregation. the rabbi will speak its names-- english and hebrew-- and the world rejoices under them. yesterday, there were twins to be celebrated. yesterday, three congregations had come together under one roof, so many families and friends supporting and celebrating the new arrival.

yesterday, a celebration of life turned into a vigil mourning death.

eleven shulgoers were not so lucky.

i have never met Rabbi Hazzan Myers, but i know he’s taken care of the community since then. i can’t imagine the fear he must have felt, after hosting the tight-knit community he’s helped build, harbor, and lead. i can’t imagine walking back into that building a week from now and continuing to read torah, the way i know he will.

Rabbi Hazzan will forever remember how lucky he was, to make it to next week’s torah portion. living in a community that has always been safe, and hospitable, and embraced eachother as neighbors, the remaining minyan will never forget how lucky they were, as well.

my family in pittsburgh-- aunt janice, uncle steve, and cousins hannah and tyler-- were so lucky to have stayed home, yesterday morning, and i am so lucky that we live in a day and age of cellular devices.

i was on the phone with my father and grandfather, both in florida, when dad received a group text between his brothers, their sister janice, and him, assuring everyone that they were home safe. he asked me to look up what happened in pittsburgh.

i never thought it would be my family.

i never thought it would be their home.

12 casualties could have been 16.

i’m so lucky it’s not my family sitting shivah, this week.

#venting #antisemitism #long post under read more

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honeybadgerradio · 7 years

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Born Without a Gender? | Polecat Cast 116

The gender police begin their crackdown, the Chicago Pride march expresses their anti-semitism, and Vice doesn't like to have their stuff archived. Let's do this.

Support us monthly! http://www.patreon.com/honeybadgerradio

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Host Links:

Max Derrat’s YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCj8orMezFWVcoN-4S545Wtw Dr. Randomercam’s YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/DoctorRandomercam Scott’s Big and Robot Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUqhBQXO2g08BmpftUZnXfg Hannah Wallen’s YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_7Bt0vnvdJqAwF8Ow8iT0g

[Download link] -----

Canadian Authorities Can’t Recognize Child Abuse When They See It By Max Derrat

Remember when you were in elementary school… and all the kids had regular, boring names like Scott, David, Kelly and Emma? Yet, there was that one kid who had a weird name like Ferdinand or Amaryllis… and all the kids picked on them for their name? We’d be all like… “god, their parents must really have it out for them to give them a name like that.” Well, I’ve got a story for you that is sort of a… let’s say… modern update to that childhood trauma. Let me introduce you to a Canadian parent named Kori Doty. She is a self-identified ‘non-binary trans person’, and is also a Max Derrat-identified child abuser. She recently had a child she named Searyl Atli. Since Searyl’s birth last November, Kori has been fighting to keep her baby’s gender off government records. In an interview with the CBC, Kori said she is “raising Searyl in such a way that until they have the sense of self and command of vocabulary to tell me who they are.”

Kori added: “I’m recognising them as a baby and trying to give them all the love and support to be the most whole person that they can be outside of the restrictions that come with the boy box and the girl box.” In order to reinforce her world view, she has been trying to get the provincial government of British Columbia to issue a birth certificate without a gender marker. While the baby has received health cards with an “undetermined” gender, Searyl has yet to receive a birth certificate to Kori’s liking.

So not only is Kori’s baby named Searyl, but the baby doesn’t have a gender. It’s almost like she wants the school-kids to crucify her child during recess. By the way, to all of those who are offended that I was referring to Kori as “she” rather than “they”… two things: 1) I don’t give respect to child abusers, and 2) suck my big fat yellow cock. Original Article: https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/3934423/gender-unknown-baby-registered/

The Pronoun Police By Mike J.

Canadian police in the Halton region have tweeted out the following last week, "DYK (Did You Know) If you're not sure what pronoun somebody uses, just ask. What are your preferred pronouns?". The now deleted tweet also included a handy chart denoting the proper usage of gender pronouns. The chart included traditional pronouns such as he, she, and they and lesser known pronouns such as ze, zir, and eir. It's no secret that this tweet follows in the wake of Bill C-16, the very same bill Professor Jordan Peterson criticized as infringing on freedom of speech. Bill C-16, which passed June 19th of this year, criminalizes using incorrect gender pronouns with fines and possible hate crime charges.

Original Article:https://heatst.com/culture-wars/police-advise-people-to-ask-others-preferred-pronouns-publish-gender-neutral-pronoun-chart/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-37875695

http://archive.is/WA4YM

Progressivism Collapses Under Its Own Logic By Max Derrat

There’s nothing that makes me feel more satisfied than when I see the internal inconsistencies of progressive leftism exposed. Pro-tip to anybody who detests a particular segment of the radical leftist movement and wants to see it collapse: single out the lead voices and ask for their thoughts on Jews (I’m being facetious by the way).

About a week ago, during a gay pride parade in Chicago, three people were ejected for carrying pride flags emblazoned with a Jewish Star of David. When organizers tried to rationalize their decision later on, some bizarre statements were made. In a blog post on chicagodykemarchcollective.org, the flag carriers were accused of “expressing Zionist views that go directly against the march’s anti-racist core values.”

One of the flag carriers, named Laurel Grauer, said that she has marched for ten years with the flag. During the march, organizers, volunteers, and other marchers expressed views that can be summarized into one sentence: “You have to leave because you are making people feel unsafe. You are putting them in danger by being here.”

When Laurel expressed support for the State of Israel, she also tried to state a belief that there should be a free and independent Palestine. But nevertheless she was shut down with the following: “You cannot be Zionist and believe in a Palestinian state, Zionism is inherently racism.” Laurel followed up with the following question to one of the organizers right before she left: “So you are asking the two people carrying Pride flags with Jewish stars on them and the ‘God hates fags’ contingent?” The volunteer answered: “yes”.

Original Article: http://www.haaretz.com/us-news/1.797845

Vice Fighting Back Against Archiving

By Andrew G.

Archiving Services such as the Wayback Machine, archive.is, megaladon.jb and others, are now joining the ranks of Discord and 4chan as “right-wing” websites and online services, according to Vice News. Vice has changed its website so that it is very difficult to view some archived articles posted on their website. For example, while attempting to archive some Vice articles using the Way Back Machine, users will be greeted with a 404 error: “page not found.” While one can still take screenshots of webpages, screengrabs are always susceptible to claims of modification. A webpage can still be saved as html to one’s computer, but Web Browsers FireFox, Chrome, and Edge will have problems displaying the saved webpage, while only Internet Explorer is able to display the html in its entirety.

Vice has decided to go this route because they are “taking a stand against Racism, Bigotry, and Islamophobia,” and that archiving services are being used by “right-wing activists to discredit us and other reputable news outlets.” Vice claims that by archiving articles, Vice isn’t given the chance to “update, remove or edit” the original posts and that their reputation is being damaged in the process.

However, isn’t the point of archiving services supposed to “archive” what was originally written, as well as show the changes that have been made? And, should we be putting the trust in “news outlets” such as Vice to show any edits to articles they post?

Sources

http://theralphretort.com/vice-disabled-archiving-sites-against-them/

https://i.redd.it/hswa5437mg7z.jpg

A site that is able to be archived

https://web.archive.org/web/20170704133209/http://nj1015.com/spadea-addresses-officers-at-nj-police-honor-legion/

Check out the latest Honeybadgers episode.

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breakingtheglasses · 7 years

Text

Born Without a Gender? | Polecat Cast 116

The gender police begin their crackdown, the Chicago Pride march expresses their anti-semitism, and Vice doesn't like to have their stuff archived. Let's do this.

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Canadian Authorities Can’t Recognize Child Abuse When They See It By Max Derrat

The Pronoun Police By Mike J.

Original Article:https://heatst.com/culture-wars/police-advise-people-to-ask-others-preferred-pronouns-publish-gender-neutral-pronoun-chart/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-37875695

http://archive.is/WA4YM

Progressivism Collapses Under Its Own Logic By Max Derrat

Original Article: http://www.haaretz.com/us-news/1.797845

Vice Fighting Back Against Archiving

By Andrew G.

Sources

http://theralphretort.com/vice-disabled-archiving-sites-against-them/

https://i.redd.it/hswa5437mg7z.jpg

A site that is able to be archived

https://web.archive.org/web/20170704133209/http://nj1015.com/spadea-addresses-officers-at-nj-police-honor-legion/

New Honey Badger stuff

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eldritadh-a · 8 years

Text

When I was 10 years old, I told my mother I wanted to practice Judaism.

This hadn’t come out of nowhere; Number the Stars lay on the bed in our tiny hotel room in Venice, and a few months earlier I had begged my mom to take me to the bookstore so I could buy The Diary of Anne Frank. I remember the woman at the checkout counter looked at me skeptically – tiny, round-faced, golden bangs swinging into my blue eyes – and warned my mother that this book might not be appropriate for someone my age. My mother – with her angled face and curly, dark hair – glanced down at me for a moment, then told the lady at the desk that I was reading well above my age group. She bought the book for me, and true to form, I finished it inside of a week. I read every book about the Holocaust I could get my hands on, every book about Jewish culture I could find in the library of my elementary school in some tiny Swiss village on the outskirts of a tiny Swiss city. The day after I informed my mom of my intentions, I begged her for the book of Hebrew folk tales I saw in the gift shop of the Venice Ghetto; the thing weighed as much as I did, and it took me a good long while to read in its entirety, which I was very happy about.

When I was 10 years old, sitting on the bed of that tiny Venice hotel room next to my copy of Number the Stars, I told my mom that I wanted to practice Judaism, and she looked at me in shock and anger. Looking back, I imagine that I can remember her eyes: blue, like mine. Looking back, I can imagine what was crossing her mind: her infant grandmother in the arms of her great-grandparents fleeing pogroms in Russia; her father, who never entered another synagogue after he joined the marines, who can recite Yeats but not the Torah; my agnostic father and his WASP family and the Italo-Jewish / Anglo-Celtic all-Bostonian schism, the walls of my dad’s parents’ house that whispered to my mother ‘you are not one of us’ even when nobody’s voices ever did.

But when I was 10 years old, steeped in stories about brave girls finding solace in humanity and their faith at a time when the entire world wanted them dead, I knew nothing of that more personal history. All I saw in her eyes like mine was a flash of anger that was also present in the next word out of her mouth: “why?”

I stumbled through an explanation about how fascinating and beautiful the religion seemed to me, how good it seemed, how loving. The distaste radiating from her was palpable; looking back, I see myself through her eyes, I see her through her own eyes. Blaming herself for this, for not anticipating this, what else could she expect from burying her Jewish-blooded daughter in literature written by other Jewish women’s daughters?

She watched me sharply while I muddled through my unrehearsed explanation. “You can do whatever you want when you grow up,” she told her 10-year-old, “but you should think hard about whether you really want to be Jewish, and don’t make any decisions right away.” It was the answer I had more or less expected – it was the same thing my dad had told me more broadly when I was much younger and wanted to go play on the Catholic school’s playground (not because I wanted to be Catholic, but because it looked like a really cool playground). It was the same answer, but from my mother, the shock and horror in it wasn’t something I could forget.

Years passed, and I stopped reading books about Jewish girls. My anthology of Hebrew folk tales went into storage in a basement somewhere. Off and on I considered taking Levenson -- my mother’s maiden name -- as my second middle name. I accepted that quarter of myself, but didn’t flaunt it – just as I quietly accepted the Italian, the Irish, the English, the German. The Morabito, the McElhinney, Ermalinde, the Mumford, the Carey.

Over the next decade and a half…

I learned that my mother had gotten plastic surgery on her nose when she was in high school to make it more generically European.

I learned about my great-grandmother, from Russia.

I looked for the name Levenson in lists.

I learned about the Israeli-Palestinian Crisis, and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I went to Prague, then to Terezin. I saw the ghettos, the graveyards, the concentration camps, the prisons. I saw the synagogues – the secret chambers beneath Terezin’s houses, the wooden parapets soaring over medieval stones by the ancient resting place of rabbis and scholars, the geometric canopies of gold and glass beside a headless statue of Kafka.

When my mom was in Indonesia, a tourist spoke to her in Hebrew because he mistook her for Israeli.

I told the boy I was dating that I was part Jewish. “Can’t you see it?” I asked him. He told me that when I had my hair braided, kind of. Otherwise, not really.

I asked my mother why she had allowed my dad’s family to pressure her into baptizing me as a Protestant. She said her father had taught her never to take a hard stance on anything, especially if it was something a Gentile wanted. To keep her head down if it wasn’t going to cause real damage. To let them do what they wanted, to not make a fuss, to not close any doors – just in case.

I learned more about the Israeli-Palestinian Crisis, and took a hardline pro-Palestine stance. I condemned Israel and Zionists, and threw my support behind Palestine as hard as my little 20-something self could manage.

My mother and I learned simultaneously that the part of Russia her grandmother was from is now part of the Ukraine. My mom set to work learning everything she could about that particular town.

My grandfather had a heart attack and almost died, sparking a return to religion. He began to urge my mother to seek out the Jewish community where she lives – a community she had never been a part of in her entire life, mostly because he had made himself apart from it and brought his family with him. He began to urge her – now a very successful middle-aged UN staffer with a boyfriend – to find a Nice Jewish Boy to marry.

I took a slightly less hardline stance on the Israeli-Palestinian Crisis – one more in line with my belief in the goodness of people and the corruption and cruelty of governments.

Sometimes my mother and I would travel together, often with my little sister. We went back to Prague, went to Barcelona, to Rome. Wherever we went, my mom would seek out the Jewish quarter. She’d look for the ghettos, the synagogues, the statues, the placards. In Berlin we spent hours in museums, wandering through memorials. We let ourselves feel the enormity of the world’s grief. I learned to remember my heritage when it mattered, and detach myself when I needed to. In temples and synagogues; in museums and memorials; in the cemeteries raised up over the course of 800 years and those whose headstones still gleam in the sun 80 years after they were placed there in their thousands; under the weight of the holocaust; I am Jewish.

It’s been 14 years since that night in Venice.

I’m still blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and milk-skinned. Nobody looks at me and just knows. Even the curl of my hair could be Celtic or Italian as easily as it could be Semitic. I could bury that quarter of myself, or keep it so close to my body that no one will ever see it – sort of like I’ve been doing for the past 14 years, since that day when I was 10 and told my mom I wanted to be Jewish.

But I’ve spent too long feeling like an imposter in every identity I think might fit me. When I was 10 years old, I told my half-Jewish mother that I wanted to be Jewish; she told me to wait, to think long and hard about whether Jewishness was something I wanted to claim. I am a practicing Pagan and have no intention of changing that, but I am Jewish. My mother is non-practicing, but she is Jewish; my grandfather was non-practicing for most of his life, but he is Jewish; my great-grandmother never knew her home country because she was Jewish; my great-great-grandparents fled their home because they were Jewish. Why shouldn’t I be?

And if I can take pride in my Italian heritage and know the name of my German ancestor who lived 300 years ago, if I can know the names of my genocidal English forebears who arrived on the Mayflower and the Irish surname with its inconsistent spelling that my family lost somewhere along the way, then I can embrace the ethnicity that comprises a significant fraction of me, that, of the gifts my mother has passed down to me from my great-grandmother, is the least ephemeral.

So I’m Jewish. As much as I am English or Irish, even more than I am Italian or German, I am Jewish.

Suck it, Nazis.

#this is mostly for me #to get my feelings in order #but it's been on my mind for a LONG time #and now with all the open antisemitism...#it seems salient

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