#rape and murder under colour of law

[porterdavis]

When I first started writing this blog around 15 years ago one of my main topics was the astonishing yet massively under-reported frequency of Black men being killed by the police. At the time there was no real awareness of it outside of Black families and communities. There was no central reporting apparatus of any kind that I was aware of.

More than once I was accused of lying. It didn't bother me, I had no real agenda other than being incredulous that a:) it was happening and b:) nobody seemed to care. The drums began beating with the murders of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and of course...George Floyd.

As horrible as those killings were, they obscured another reality -- police were killing Black women on an even larger scale. The sexual abuse and disappearance of this vulnerable demographic went almost completely unreported. (The only worse situation I can think of is the disappearance of Indigenous women in the North).

This story above is a long, well-researched indictment of...all of us.

[toshisurtsdottir]

Rape and Retribution - Chapter 2

Toshi is in court, ready to be sentenced. What will Turpin do? Warning: mentions of rape, murder and other bad stuff lol (we all know you're here for that anyway, so it's more of a promise)

“Toshi Vernier. You are charged with the murder of your father, Surtur Vernier. How do you plead?” Turpin’s voice boomed through the courtroom. Toshi didn’t know how the law worked, but she knew that the judge was corrupt and that no matter the jury, he would have the final say in one’s fate. She eyed the few men sitting by his side nervously. None of them seemed overly interested in what was happening here, only Turpin on his seat and the Beadle below were even looking at Toshi.

It was just over a month ago when she told Turpin about Barker. Barker had since then been executed and the lady owning the meat-pie shop below his barber shop had been right after him. Toshi was confident that Turpin would not have forgotten her, but ever since her trial had begun, everything seemed like he was to sentence her to death as well. Still, she had a tiny sliver of hope left in her. “I plead not guilty, your honour.” She said quietly. The Beadle was glaring at her from below, having recognised her by now. She wished she had killed Bamford right after killing her father. Seeing the disgusting man made her want to throw up. Toshi tried to keep her eyes on Turpin then. He leaned back in his seat, taking an agonisingly long time to make a decision. His eyes then burned into her as he leaned forward again, a small smirk on his lips. It didn’t seem sinister though, Toshi felt like it was simply him holding back a genuine smile. “Not guilty, then. Dismissed.”

Toshi almost didn’t hear him at first. She just stood there, eyes wide, frozen in place. The Beadle was saying something then, speaking to Turpin. But Toshi didn’t listen to what he was saying. She was free to go, he had spared her. The coldest, most cruel man of London had shown her mercy. Swaying slightly, she spun around and hurried down the wooden stairs and out of the courthouse, tears flowing. She was free, it had all worked out after all. She was finally free of her father, free of all the horrors he had put her through. She stood on the sidewalk outside of the courthouse and watched the people pass by, a wide, manic smile on her face. The world around her seemed so vivid, so colourful all of a sudden. She could already imagine her life now, working in a small shop if she could find work, perhaps being able to afford a nice meal every now and then. But most importantly: she would no longer be touched and raped by men every single night. It was over.

Just as she was about to walk home, a hand landed on her shoulder, gripping her tightly. She was spun around and faced none other than Beadle Bamford. He pushed her away from him, bringing his cane up under her chin roughly.

“I do not know what you little whore did to gain the good judge’s favour, but be sure that this is not over.” His slimy voice made her want to cut her ears off. She remembered him moaning disgustingly as he rammed into her from behind. The instant rage this memory evoked almost got the better of her, as she instinctively clenched her fists.

“For now..” he drawled, his beady little eyes glistening angrily. “Judge Turpin wants to have a word with you, whore. Come.” He rudely grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her back inside the courthouse. They didn’t go into the courtroom, however. Bamford instead brought her to a different door. He knocked twice and stepped back, pulling her with him. Before the door opened, he leaned in to speak into Toshi’s ear quietly. “Cheer up. If all goes well, I’ll soon be fucking you again as I please. Your father dying doesn’t mean anything needs to change about that.” He took the opportunity to lick her earlobe, causing her to flinch and move as far away from him as possible. She glared at Bamford and was about to say something, when the door swung open.

Now in the doorframe stood Turpin, towering over both of them. His head raised high as he looked at Toshi. “Miss Vernier.” He stepped back a little, signalling for her to come in. Toshi didn’t have a choice as Bamford pushed her into the room. She stumbled past Turpin, coming to a halt in front of the desk that stood in the middle of the tiny room. She spun around to face Turpin and the Beadle, who was about to follow into the room. Turpin stepped in the doorframe again, denying him entry. “You’ll wait outside, good friend.” His dark voice filled the room. Bamford nodded and scurried away, leaving the two of them alone. The judge slowly closed the door to the small room and turned around to face Toshi, who stood awkwardly by the desk, dark eyes staring at him.

Turpin didn’t speak at first. He walked up to her, getting dangerously close, and then went to sit behind the desk. He opened a small drawer and retrieved a glass and flask, pouring himself a big swig of whiskey. He took a sip, letting Toshi wait and wonder what he could possibly want from her.

Finally, he put the glass down and leaned forward, eyeing her up and down. “I must say..” He began “you look a lot more like a woman if you wear a dress.” He smirked, waiting for Toshi to show any kind of reaction. In her head, thoughts were still running wild. So much had happened in the past two hours. She had thought she’d be sentenced to death all morning, then she got the news that she would be free, all while having to look at a man who (as did many others) once fucked her in her own bed. And now she was in a small room in front of Turpin, scared out of her mind that he would change her sentence or do her any other kind of harm. His words completely slipped past her, as she was thinking about all the things he could possibly want from her now.

“Don’t you want to thank me for sparing you?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes! Yes, Sir. Of course, my Lord. Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart, for having mercy on me.” She stammered out. She’d do anything to make sure he would keep it that way.

“Hm. That’s better.” He hummed, nodding and leaning back in his chair. “Excuse me, my Lord, but why have you called me here? Is anything wrong?” She asked cautiously.

“Indeed. My friend, you know him quite well I’ve heard, has told me more about you.” He eyed her, a small smirk on his face again. Toshi didn’t know what to answer to that, she still wasn’t sure where Turpin was going with this.

“He has asked for me to keep you, so that he can have you whenever he pleases. How do you feel about that?” Turpin smirked, taking another sip of his whiskey.

Toshi hated that idea. If that would happen, Bamford would be dead to her feet soon. She was sick of enduring these men. She had killed her father and gotten away with it. She might not get away with murder a second time, but that wouldn’t stop her. If she had to, she’d kill every person in London. Her feelings must have been written on her face, because Turpin chuckled darkly, breaking the silence.

“I take it you wouldn’t like that idea, girl.” He raised his eyebrows again, awaiting an answer.

“I’m afraid not, my Lord.” She tried answering as calmly as possible.

“Good. I find that looking at you is quite pleasing to the eyes. I’ve decided that, since the Beadle is so keen on having you again, you must somehow feel rather good. He’s never had a whore more than once. So here is my offer: you are in need of a new home, are without money and have no food. You will either end up back in court for theft or die on the streets. I offer you to stay at my home, please me when I call for you and do whatever I ask of you. In return, I’ll feed you and keep you warm and clean. How is that for an offer, girl?”

Toshi frowned at his offer. “I would rather find out on my own whether I can make it or not, Sir.” Her tone was less formal now, her anger becoming obvious.

“I am a free woman now, and I will serve no more men. I’m declining your offer. Sir.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. A devilish smile formed on Turpin’s lips then.

“Oh, you’ve misunderstood. Your freedom doesn’t matter here. It is either me or Beadle Bamford. If I give you to my friend, he is free to use you in ways I assume you are already familiar with. I’m merely offering you to be mine instead.” Turpin sipped from his whiskey smugly.

Toshi glared at him angrily, walking up to the desk and slamming her flat hand down on it. She was about to say something she might regret, but thought better of it. What were her options? If she chose to run, he’d probably hunt her down and get her anyway. He was right, she had no money and no food. She didn’t know how to do any work and would soon have to steal food or money to get by. She leaned down to face him, still glaring angrily at the smug judge.

“I’ll be yours then.” But don’t think for one second I’ll do anything you want me to, she thought.As soon as she said that he downed his drink and got up, a wide grin on his face. “Good girl.”

[menalez]

the biggest projection from TRAs is the argument that if women are defined as adult human females, then womanhood is being based on white supremacist western ideals and thus the definition is racist. somehow, to them, saying women are female means that woc aren't women, when in reality the only people who decided that woc aren't female are TRAs themselves. they are literally projecting their own racist ideas about woc and our realities onto us. even the racists that have oppressed and dehumanised us did so knowing we are female and partook in specific oppression against us using our womanhood. black women were dehumanised as "breeders", experimented on horrifically to form modern gynecology, raped by slave "owners", and made to raise white children throughout their history in the US. to this day black american women face higher risks of trafficking, rape, and other such crimes. native american women are at heightened risk of rape, with so many that have gone missing via kidnapping and murder, and also are disproportionately trafficked. african women are put through FGM, breast ironing, and domestic violence against them is given a pass in a lot of africa (and exists in high rates) among other things. middle eastern women are forced to wear the hijab, are under various forms of male guardianship laws, sometimes sold as child brides, and honour killed. south asian women face acid attacks, are often made into child brides, face high rates of femicide (esp as infants), and forced to endure domestic abuse because theyre viewed as burdens if they get a divorce & return to their family. all of these things are specific experiences to us as WOMEN of colour and it goes back to weaponising our biology against us. many of those acts are in direct relation to our femaleness and our female bodies. we didn't have to identify as anything to be put through that, we didn't have to declare our womanhood to go through that, they somehow simply knew that woc are women and treated us as not only women, but inferior women worthy of not even minimal decency. we faced these things disproportionately throughout history and to this day due to being female. and yet, TRAs will say that recognising that we are female and face oppression on that basis + on the basis of our race is racist bc somehow we aren't considered female. no, YOU don't consider us female. you have shown that repeatedly:

their argument really boils down to: "you think women are female? well i don't perceive women of colour as female so that's pretty racist and white supremacist of you!". in reality, the racists are them.

[johnjankovic]

SHEPHERDS AND WOLVES

I am here. Anonymous

Christianity as the progenitor of Western society has been the proverbial mortar of a great many institutions shaping man’s upward march. Between constitutional governance inspired by St. Thomas Aquinas, the Renaissance’s gallery of art the Church commissioned or capitalism’s Protestant seedbed this influence remains ecumenical. Across a spectrum from politics to science our ethics moulded civilization despite how modern philistines erase them. Reforms allowing criminals to rape and beat innocents with impunity inveigh against the moral compass of Christian jurisprudence upon which English Common Law was founded. Wild hoaxes of Catholic places of instruction murdering aboriginal children saw arsonists set a firestorm upon churches. The Marxist usurpation of government whose policies denounce Christianity impoverish people both materially and spiritually. A long decline over the preceding thirty-five years now crescendoes into a chessboard eerily set in the final few seconds before a great war between Manichean forces. The very strangeness of these times marks the hour. The medical profession gaslights how men purportedly menstruate and breastfeed. Toddlers elect their genders. Pedophilia is mainstreamed. Beliefs once held inviolable are violently twisted under the thrall of Babylon.

A nefarious funhouse exploits man to precipitate the perversion of a world on the eve of its damnation. Yet akin to the Third Law of Motion that for every action there prevails an opposite reaction if Lucifer is an interloper here anew then so too is something far more purposed. That something issues from an anomaly that ripped the fabric of space and time two thousand years ago. It is something condemned to wander the cosmos for eternity for it can neither forgive nor forget. The paroxysm of chaos afoot telegraphs the imminent conflict as the tit-for-tat grows tiresome in the search for a conclusion. The reason for this crossroad hails from a galactic stride humanity is about to embark upon into the final frontier. What ideas man exports to Mars and beyond will determine the fate of his species for millennia and it is incumbent that he be reminded of the catechism that led him here. Much like how Christopher Columbus discovered the New World upon his flagship christened Santa Maria this next expedition will be of a missionary sort. What appears lost on laypeople is how Columbus fancied himself a crusader to reclaim Jerusalem from the Muslims through precious metals sourced in newfound lands. The voyage did not manifest orthogonally to Christianity but quite the opposite. Faith was the cynosure.

Neither vainglory nor hubris coloured Columbus’ feats but rather it was the Catholic convictions he harboured that did. This self-effacement for the sake of a greater cause can be extrapolated onto the entire history of Western civilization. Sacrifice is the marrow and sinews of modernity’s sustained growth. Of course society belies this claim by infantilizing adults into a perpetual state of denial. You see these very people everyday clutching to their mortality through their promiscuous habits or ‘reliving their youth’ in debauchery. These degenerates are wayward children in a sandbox who stink of milk. Pay little heed to them as no more than a cautionary tale. The sons and daughters of our creed do not cower at hardships when their contemplation of the Crucifixion stoutens their resolve to glorify Jesus in their proper comportment. Flesh and bones decay but Christianity’s love suffers no such affliction. Perhaps you have been privy to this phenomenon yourself in the midst of a Sunday Service when a worshipper sobs inconsolably whilst the Holy Spirit imbues them with peace likened to an exorcism. There is power in the blood precisely how the eponymous hymn incants. Indeed the Gospels have been a source of beauty that has incubated a kaleidoscope of wonders from the corpus of Shakespeare to Copernicus’ heliocentric model.

To say things men dare not say or to do things men dare not do describes the invincibility boasted by a believer. Republican President Lincoln bellowed in Congress about the scourge of slavery by citing the Gospel of Matthew that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Such moral turpitude was further upbraided by Frederick Douglass who aroused the conscience of a nation in defence of a Christianity not perverted by predilection towards race. Clara Barton clad in the armour of her faith tended to the injured upon the bedlam of battlefields in the Civil War before founding the American Red Cross. Baptist Minister Martin Luther King purged prejudice in agitating against the tyranny of segregation. Britain’s William Wilberforce in his fervency for Christ became the fountainhead for the Slave Trade Act of 1807 that brought an end to institutionalized slavery. The young maiden Joan of Arc in a parable of David and Goliath was guided by providence to be a lodestar when bloodshed engulfed French sovereignty. Florence Nightingale in her Christian altruism saved scores of soldiers by her sanitary reforms gleaned from statistics. The Augustinian friar Gregor Mendel hailed as the patriarch of modern genetics authored scientific canons he observed in his monastery’s garden. Salvation and discovery are fruits of Christendom.

This pantheon of virtue in its rising watermark for humanity’s lot to forge an ideal society continues with George Washington Carver who reconciled his faith with science. The fruits of this labour with a reverence for Creation heralded a revolution in sustainable agriculture based upon the scientist’s tenets on crop rotation. Then there sits Harriet Tubman identified alongside Moses as birds of a feather in her emancipation of slaves via the Underground Railroad. For this firebrand her physical missions were pilgrimages she attributed to supernatural visions that guided her deep into the bowels of the antebellum South. Tubman fought the good fight for our family. This same gauntlet Archbishop Desmond Tutu confronted through his activism against the inequities within the dark recesses of South Africa’s apartheid. Another vignette would be the philanthropy towards social welfare by the Methodist William Booth who masterminded the Salvation Army. Soap and soup saved many souls in keeping vigil over the marginalized. Far from performative the organization abided by a strict military ethos for its war against sin whose legacy continues to this day. In the firmament of literature Christian allegories between such themes as sacrifice and redemption pervade J.R.R. Tolkien’s anthology of repute.

Brick by brick has the modern world been architected upon ecclesiastical works of Christian men and women. Yet Marxists who are pigmies amongst creatures deride this fact by revising history with their nihilism. These craven sociopaths are quite clever in their biddings for the devil by browbeating dissidents into conformity analogous to how Joseph Stalin secularized Russia. Perhaps the most apposite parallelism harkens back to the Spanish Civil War when a cohort of leftists alienated Catholics by raping their nuns and turning their churches to ash. Again Isaac Newton’s Third Law of Motion echoes in the comeuppance from General Franco who brutalized these godless zealots. History now repeats itself as the sheepish masses are led astray anew. The machinations remain conspicuously the same. Marxists inundate Christendom with military-aged men not persecuted refugees to rouse chaos by exploiting our goodwill and bastardizing the written word. Sin is proselytized to children as captains of the LGBTQ+ cartel groom them. A whole canyon of disparity exists between silently partaking in vice and its celebration. But sheeple kowtow to these orthodoxies by parading their pronouns despite how they enable the mammaries of minors being lopped off or the erosion of women’s autonomy under the jackboot of this social contagion.

A third cause célèbre is the climate change alarmism which is a pretext for humanity’s genocide. You are the carbon the champagne Marxists wish to expunge by doing away with staples like meat for synthetic alternatives laced in chemicals or shuttering farms wholesale. The mendacity reveals itself in how goalposts are so protean as they are moved further afield. The falsehoods of pseudo-scientists continue to be debunked as polar bear populations flourish, Earth’s verdant canopy expands, or corral reefs are rehabilitated. Vandals need to start forest fires just to shore up the narrative although the many fissures betray the ruse. Data is doctored by neglecting to edify the public on how surface temperatures are sampled close to urban heat islands like cities or airports in biasing anthropogenic causes. These same charlatans fail to adjust their models for the Minoan, Roman or Medieval warming periods whose thermal variations conduced to prolific yields from farmlands and vineyards. In fact the sole reason for the diaspora of Vikings inhabiting Greenland and Newfoundland adverts to these kinder climes. Be weary of such frauds indentured to another master. Jesus said, ‘Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be wise as snakes and innocent as doves (Matthew 10:16)’. Do not be stupid.

[aswiya]

Zeynab Serekaniye, a Kurdish woman with a gap-toothed smile and a warm demeanor, never imagined she’d join a militia.

The 26-year-old grew up in Ras al-Ayn, a town in north-east Syria. The only girl in a family of five, she liked to fight and wear boys’ clothing. But when her brothers got to attend school and she did not, Serekaniye did not challenge the decision. She knew it was the reality for girls in the region. Ras al-Ayn, Arabic for “head of the spring”, was a green and placid place, so Serekaniye settled down to a life of farming vegetables with her mother.

That changed on 9 October 2019, days after former US president Donald Trump announced that US troops would pull out of north-east Syria, where they had allied with Kurdish-led forces for years. A newly empowered Turkey, which sees the stateless Kurds as an existential threat, and whose affiliated groups it has been at war with for decades, immediately launched an offensive on border towns held by Kurdish forces in north-east Syria, including Ras al-Ayn.

Just after 4pm that day, Serekaniye says, the bombs began to fall, followed by the dull plink and thud of mortar fire. By evening, Serekaniye and her family had fled to the desert, where they watched their town go up in smoke. “We didn’t take anything with us,” she says. “We had a small car, so how can we take our stuff and leave the people?” As they fled, she saw dead bodies in the street. She soon learned that an uncle and cousin were among them. Their house would become rubble.

After Serekaniye’s family was forced to resettle farther south, she surprised her mother in late 2020 by saying she wanted to join the Women’s Protection Units (YPJ). The all-female, Kurdish-led militia was established in 2013 not long after their male counterparts, the People’s Protection Units (YPG), ostensibly to defend their territory against numerous groups, which would come to include the Islamic State (Isis). The YPG have also been linked to systematic human rights abuses including the use of child soldiers.

Serekaniye’s mother argued against her decision, because two of her brothers were already risking their lives in the YPG.

But Serekaniye was unmoved. “We’ve been pushed outside of our land, so now we should go and defend our land,” she says. “Before, I was not thinking like this. But now I have a purpose – and a target.”

Serekaniye is one of approximately 1,000 women across Syria to have enlisted in the militia in the past two years. Many joined in anger over Turkey’s incursions, but ended up staying.

“In discussions [growing up], it was always, ‘if something happens, a man will solve it, not a woman’,” says Serekaniye. “Now women can fight and protect her society . This, I like.”

According to the YPG, a surge in recruitment has also been aided by growing pushback against and awareness of entrenched gender inequality and violence over recent years. In 2019 the Kurds’ Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria passed a series of laws to protect women, including banning polygamy, child marriages, forced marriages and so-called “honour” killings, although many of these practices continue. About a third of Asayish officers in the Kurdish security services in the region are now women and 40% female representation is required in the autonomous government. A village of only women, where female residents can live safe from violence, was built, evacuated after nearby bombings, and resettled again.

Yet evidence of the widespread violence that women continue to face is abundant at the local Mala Jin, or “women’s house”, which provide a refuge and also a form of local arbitration for women in need across Syria. Since 2014, 69 of these houses have opened, with staff helping any woman or man who come in with problems they’re facing including issues of domestic violence, sexual harassment and rape, and so-called “honour” crimes, often liaising with local courts and the female units of the Asayish intelligence agency to solve cases.

On a sun-scorched day in May, three distraught women arrive in quick succession at a Mala Jin centre in the north-eastern city of Qamishli. The first woman, who wears a heavy green abaya, tells staff that her husband has barely come home since she’s given birth. The second woman arrives with her husband in tow, demanding a divorce; her long ponytail and hands shake as she describes how he’d once beaten her until she had to get an abortion.

The third woman shuffles in pale-faced and in a loose dress, with rags wrapped around her hands. Her skin is raw pink and black from burns that cover much of her face and body. The woman describes to staff how her husband has beaten her for years and threatened to kill a member of her family if she left him. After he poured paraffin on her one day, she says, she fled his house; he then hired men to kill her brother. After her brother’s murder, she set herself on fire. “I got tired,” she says.

The Mala Jin staff, all women, tut in disapproval as she speaks. They carefully write down the details of her account, tell her they need to take photographs, and explain they plan to send the documents to the court to help secure his arrest. The woman nods then lies down on a couch in exhaustion.

Behia Murad, the director of the Qamishli Mala Jin, an older, kind-eyed woman in a pink hijab, says the Mala Jin centres have handled thousands of cases since they started, and, though both men and women come in with complaints, “always the woman is the victim”.

A growing number of women visit the Mala Jin centres. Staff say that this doesn’t represent increased violence against women in the region, but that more women are demanding equality and justice.

The YPJ is very aware of this shift and its potential as a recruitment tool. “Our aim is not to just have her hold her gun, but to be aware,” says Newroz Ahmed, general commander of the YPJ.

For Serekaniye it was not just that she got to fight, it was also the way of life the YPJ seemed to offer. Instead of working in the fields, or getting married and having children, women who join the YPJ talk about women’s rights while training to use a rocket-​propelled grenade. They are discouraged, though not banned, from using phones or dating and instead are told that comradeship with other women is now the focus of their day to day lives.

Commander Ahmed, soft-spoken but with an imposing stare, estimates the female militia’s current size is about 5,000. This is the same size the YPJ was at the height of its battle against Isis in 2014 (though the media have previously reported an inflated number). If the YPJ’s continued strength is any indication, she adds, the Kurdish-led experiment is still blooming.

The number remains high despite the fact that the YPJ has lost hundreds, if not more, of its members in battle and no longer accepts married women (the pressure to both fight and raise a family is too intense, Ahmed says). The YPJ also claim it no longer accepts women under 18 after intense pressure from the UN and human rights groups to stop the use of child soldiers; although many of the women I met had joined below that age, though years ago.

Driving through north-east Syria, it is no wonder that so many women continue to join, given the ubiquitous images of smiling female shahids, or martyrs. Fallen female fighters are commemorated on colourful billboards or with statues standing proudly at roundabouts. Sprawling cemeteries are filled with shahids, lush plants and roses growing from their graves.

The fight against Turkey is one reason to maintain the YPJ, says Ahmed, who spoke from a military base in al-Hasakah, the north-east governorate where US troops returned after Joe Biden was elected. She claims that gender equality is the other. “We continue to see a lot of breaches [of law] and violations against women” in the region, she says. “We still have the battle against the mentality, and this is even harder than the military one.”

Tal Tamr, the YPJ base where Serekaniye is stationed, is a historically Christian and somewhat sleepy town. Bedouins herd sheep through fields, children walk arm-in-arm through village lanes, and slow, gathering dust storms are a regular afternoon occurrence. Yet Kurdish, US and Russian interests are all present here. Sosin Birhat, Serekaniye’s commander, says that before 2019 the YPJ base in Tal Tamr was tiny; now, with more women joining, she describes it as a full regiment.

The base is a one-storey, tan-coloured stucco building once occupied by the Syrian regime. The women grow flowers and vegetables in the rugged land at the back. They do not have a signal for their phones or power to use a fan, even in the sweltering heat, so they pass the time on their days off, away from the frontline, having water fights, chain smoking and drinking sugary coffee and tea.

Yet battle is always on their minds. Viyan Rojava, a more seasoned fighter than Serekaniye, talks of taking back Afrin. In March 2018, Turkey and the Free Syrian Army rebels it backed, launched Operation Olive Branch to capture the north-eastern district beloved for its fields of olive trees.

Since the Turkish occupation of Afrin, tens of thousands of people have been displaced – Rojava’s family among them – and more than 135 women remain missing, according to media reports and human rights groups. “If these people come here, they will do the same to us,” says Rojava, as other female fighters nod in agreement. “We will not accept that, so we will hold our weapons and stand against them.”

Serekaniye listens intently as Rojava speaks. In the five months since she joined the YPJ, Serekaniye has transformed. During military training in January, she broke a leg trying to scale a wall; now, she can easily handle her gun.

As Rojava speaks, the walkie-talkie sitting beside her crackles. The women at the base were being called to the frontline, not far from Ras al-Ayn. There is little active fighting these days, yet they maintain their positions in case of a surprise attack. Serekaniye dons her flak jacket, grabs her Kalashnikov and a belt of bullets. Then she gets into an SUV headed north, and speeds away.

By Elizabeth Flock. Additional reporting by Kamiran Sadoun and Solin Mohamed Amin. 

[saturnsummer]

i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 1: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

A Bite to Remember | @darmysasagiri

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1104 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Alpha, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Mating Bites, One Night Stands Summary: Alphas can't mate Alphas, everyone knows this, or do they?

Oblivious Mates | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1984 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Dean Winchester,Knotting,Mating Cycles/In Heat,Heat Sex,Rut Sex,A/B/O,Friends With Benefits,Consensual Somnophilia,Mating Bites,Misunderstandings,Lack of Communication,Fuckbuddies,Spooning,Cuddling & Snuggling,Naked Cuddling,True Mates,Scenting Summary: Dean and Cas have been heat/rut fuck buddies for a while now, but Dean's starting to get second thoughts. His feelings evolved a long time ago but now he's feeling guilty about holding Castiel back from finding his true mate.

Sun Warmed | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2586 Main Tags/Warnings: alpha Cas, omega Dean, first meeting, house-sitting, a bit of voyeurism Summary: Dean is a little bitter, but only in the safety and privacy of his own head, and definitely never around his brother and his new sister-in-law. Because those two really do deserve all the happiness in the world. And just because Dean wishes for a little happiness for himself, he will not ruin their bliss. The thing that’s a little hard on Dean, lately, is that during the past few months, Sam and Eileen’s new house somehow started to feel more like home than his own apartment does. He’s not even over that much, but he feels so safe and good and happy, here. It’s a space he feels like himself in, and it’s not really the company, it feels more like the energy around their house, the amazing smell seemingly haunting Dean when he drives back home and slowly loses it. He’s not sure which flowers Eileen planted that smell this way, but he’s been meaning to ask her for months. Currently, Sam and Eileen are in Hawaii for their honeymoon and Dean gets daily selfie updates while he house-sits for them. And somehow, during all of that and while accidentally flashing a guy, he figures out where that amazing smell comes from.

Essential Services | @Imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3444 Main Tags/Warnings: Roommates, omegaverse, explicit sex, top Cas/bottom Dean, alpha Cas, Omega Dean, mating bites, quarantine, pandemic, heat/rut sex Summary: Cas has been sent home to work as an unessential service. When he arrives, he realizes his roommate Dean clearly wasn't expect him to arrive. What happens when they finally give in to each other?

Kiss Me, Kill Me | @saltnhalo

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4668 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Assassin Castiel (Supernatural), Guard Dean Winchester, Assassin Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, True Mates, Scenting, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Murder Husbands Summary: Seasoned hitman Castiel Novak is just looking to take out his target and get paid, but should've accounted for the fact that he may not be the only assassin at tonight's party... Cue the mysterious, green-eyed man who is more of a match for Castiel than anyone he's ever met.

Up On The Rooftop Greenhouse | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5017 Main Tags/Warnings: alpha!michael, omega!dean, Beta!Castiel, Arranged Marriage, truemates, defying truemates, fighting destiny, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Kisses, Wedding ceremonies, pack houses, mentions of potential abuse of power Summary: Michael Shurley is Dean Winchester's true mate. Except, Dean has been in love and dating the Winchester house gardener, Castiel Novak, for nearly three years and Dean doesn't want that to stop. He needs to find a way out of the impending wedding before it's too late, especially when Michael shows his true colours.

A Strange Place To Find Love | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6159 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Heats, ruts. Knotting. Happy Ending Summary: The Alpha/omega Rut/heat Center was the brainchild of a ‘more progressive, more caring’ government. In reality, it was just a way to stop Alphas from jumping unmated omegas when they were in rut, and to stop unmated omegas from getting knocked up during a heat by some Alpha they picked up, then having to go on welfare because the Alpha wouldn’t pay pup support. Dean Winchester worked for the center as a willing omega. Castiel Novak decided to give it a try.

Steel and Whiskey | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6207 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Mafia AU, Mobster Castiel, Mobster Dean Winchester, Mistaken Identity, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Knotting, First Meetings, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: When Castiel agrees to meet with the leader of the Winchester pack in the heart of his territory, he does not find the alpha he’s expecting. Instead, he meets an omega in Dean Winchester’s apartment with stunning green eyes and an alluring air of danger. Someone should have warned Castiel that the Winchester leader is not an alpha.

Just Here For A Good Night | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6646 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fraternities & Sororities, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Team Dean's Red Ass, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom Castiel, Fluff, Frat Boy Castiel Summary: In which Dean is looking to get laid at an Alpha Phi Alpha party, and sets his sights on Castiel, who's just trying to make sure that nothing bad happens on his watch.

Are You Real, Dean Winchester? | Maleyah (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7447 Main Tags/Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements (not between Dean and Cas), Mental Health Issues, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel, Mating Bond, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Medication, Near overdose, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hallucinations Summary: Castiel struggles to survive in a world that was never right for him to begin with. So far, he has always survived his turbulent mind... because despite everything, his broken brain, his loneliness, the never-ending struggle, he's a fighter. One night, exceptionally reckless, borderline overdosed on his meds, he wanders the streets, foregoing his self-preservation. Hoping for the end, almost finding it, unless his brain is throwing him for a loop again. ... Only to be found by Dean Winchester.

Did you get my reference? (WIP) | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8918 Main Tags/Warnings: Top dean w/ bottom castiel, explicit Summary: Take Dean, most handsome CEO with very pretty face and just your typical successful Alpha who owns his own company at the age of 30. But despite popular belief, Dean has one problem he needs to solve before an international conference: he hates the smell of unmated Omegas. Come Castiel, a clumsy word-class geek literature major who appeared in front of Dean in the middle of a raging river. His scent drives Dean's instinct to bite, plus he gets rid of all other scents in the air. Now Dean only has to convince him to be his plus one. Which means having a talking encyclopedia who trips in its own legs. How can Dean protect his high-wired True Mate from other Alphas and himself?

It's A Hard Knot Life | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10874 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel, Punk Castiel, Rape, Tattoos. Knotting Summary: Dean walked up the counter and his nose was filled with the scent of peticior and sandalwood. He took a deep breath. The guy never looked up. Dean cleared his throat. Nothing. He rapped his knuckles on the counter. The guy didn’t look up, but he said, in a gravelly voice that gave Dean shivers, “Yeah?” “I was wondering if you had the latest CD by St Paul and the Broken Bones?” The guy looked up and Dean found himself looking into eyes so blue, he didn’t have a name for the color. The black eyeliner just accentuated their color. “We have a system here for finding things. It’s called alphabetically, you may have heard of it? That means the S’s are right between the R’s and the T’s.” Then he went right back to reading his book.

Black Rose Tattoo | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10989 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Tattoo Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor. Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, Pups, Dean is demisexual Summary: Dean heard the motorcycle before he saw it. He looked out the big front window of his shop, and waited until the cycle appeared. He watched the Alpha pull to the curb, stop the bike, get off and take off his helmet. He’d watched the same scene every day since he’d opened the flower shop next to the tattoo parlor. The Alpha shook his perpetually messy hair and walked to open his shop, out of Dean’s view. Dean sighed and went back to work.

Palaces of Rome (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11291 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester/Alpha Gabriel, Alpha/Alpha pairing, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Gabriel Summary: Despite his size and his father's expectations, Dean presented as an omega. Infertile, male omegas have no rights in Rome, so John arranges to sell him to the son of the Emperor in an attempt to provide his alpha son, Sam, a better life. Sam joins the army under General Gabriel's expert tutelage, swearing to become a warrior famous enough to buy his brother back. Dean accepts his place in the prince's harem, but he's about to stumble upon the biggest secret in Rome, one that has kept hundreds of thousands of male omegas enslaved for almost eight hundred years. The secret will either push Rome into an age of peace and prosperity or it will shatter one of the greatest empires in the ancient world.

Something Dark | kradarua (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16466 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, Rough Sex, Rimming, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Thief Dean Winchester, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Castiel, Dark Sam Winchester, Dark Charlie Bradbury, Possessive Dean Winchester, Illegal Activities, Torture, Sexual Slavery, Murder Husbands, Killer Castiel, Killer Dean Winchester, Top Dean/Bottom Castiel Summary: Castiel looked even wilder in person. Dean let his eyes roam over his (now fully clothed) form, smiling appreciatively. He inhaled deeply, curious to find no real trace of a scent. “He’s on scent blockers,” the employee explained. ""Running this auction is involved enough without having to settle claim disputes if an omega’s scent triggers some alpha’s rut.” That suited him fine; both he and Sam were on scent blockers most of the time and he’d planned on requiring that Castiel stay on them too. It helped with anonymity. “Thank you,” he said, “That will be all.” The employee gave a small bow and left to service the other high bidders. “Well, Cas,” Dean said cheerily, “Let’s go home.”

Porn and Peonies | @navajlovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20865 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe Alpha/Omega, Porn Star Dean Winchester, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg, Mating, Switching Summary: When Cas accidentally meets his favorite porn star, Dean Smith, he's thrilled. He never expects what comes next with Dean Winchester, Alpha to his omega.

Mulanatural (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 33385 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Beta Adam Milligan, Mulan (Disney) Summary: Dean Winchester is possibly the worst omega in his town; he's too big, too strong, and way too dominant. When the Matchmaker rejects his suit for a mate and the Huns invade China, he has to pretend to be an alpha to save his brother's life, but he may well lose his own in the process. Worse, he may dishonor his whole family.

A Symphony of Flavors | @wargurl83

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 43223 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chefs, Minor Character Death (offscreen) - Freeform, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Verse, thar be smut here, Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: Master Chef Castiel Novak likes his life ordered. Controlled. Sensible. He's an Alpha with no mate and no hope of finding one. His life is turned upside down with the death of his sister and taking guardianship of his nine-year-old niece, Claire. Add to that, there's a new sous chef taking up space in his very orderly kitchen with his loud music and brash attitude, and for some reason Castiel just can't take his eyes off him. Dean Winchester loves to cook, love his mom, and loves kids. His goal has been to work with Chef Novak for as long as he's been in Kansas City. What he wasn’t prepared for was an Alpha all of his own…

The Nuances of Pack Politics (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 72679 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, ,Alpha Sam Winchester, Omega Gabriel Summary: Castiel and Gabriel Novak are having a hard time fitting into their new school, constantly harassed by older alphas now that they have lost the familiar protection of their own brothers. The Pack, a group that claims to welcome and protect omegas at their high school, may offer them a chance to change all of that, as long as they can get in.

Grown-Ups Making Grown-Up Choices | @carrieosity

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 81039 Main Tags/Warnings: Humor and Fluff, Pining, Self-improvement, Self-worth issues, Comedy, Awkward Flirting, Mating, Sexual Harassment, Threatened Non-Con (brief), Healthy Relationships Summary: Dean is a grown-ass man - he can take perfectly good care of himself, thank you very much. Except that sometimes the easier or more fun choices aren't always the right or best ones, and, all right, maybe thinking ahead and working the long game isn't his strongest suit. It's fine! He's fine. When he meets Castiel, he realizes that flying by the seat of his pants may not be the best way to attract the super-serious (gorgeous, funny, genius) Alpha. Dean's shrink has been telling him he needs to start making ""grown-up choices,"" and if that's what he has to think about in order to make Cas fall for him, then he'll give it a whirl.

Celestial War (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 151571 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Dean/Omega Castiel, Alpha Sam/Omega Gabriel, Alpha Crowley/Omega Balthazar, Mating Cycles/In Heat Summary: The three tribes--Celestial, Wilderness, and Spellbound--have been at an uneasy stalemate for generations, but a prophecy about four omegas could bring about a full-scale war that will destroy them all.

don't care where you've been (WIP) | @thanks-tacos

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 240842 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Dean, Alpha Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Past Rape/Non-con, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Arranged Marriage, Abused Dean Winchester, Caring Castiel, Happy Ending, full tag list in the fic Summary: Dean's life is finally changing. After years of enduring Alastair's abuse, the alpha dies and Dean's married off to the next alpha the system pairs him with - Castiel. The man is strange and distant, but not exactly bad, and Dean's determined to be on his best behavior and not mess up the chance he was given. Soon enough, though, he fucks up anyway and has to call the alpha for help. Castiel's lived his entire life without an omega by his side, and he was fine with that. He doesn't know how to proceed once he's suddenly married to a beautiful man who's obviously been through a lot. Omegas were always a confusing subject to him, so he tries not to interfere much - neither of them is there by their choice. But when Dean calls for help, he understands he's going to have to set some things straight and engage more.

[sweetescapeartist]

THE BLACK COMMUNITY & HOMOSEXUALITY

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING (possibly only if you take what I say out of contexts and you aren't trying to know or understand historical events.)

Many people wonder why the black community has a problem with homosexuality. If you do some research, you'll find the answer.

During and after slavery, black men were often brutally beaten & raped to break our will & further subjugate us. There was the fear of being horrifically murdered, brutalized, buck broken (look that one up), & fear of being cannibalized by the slave owners. (It's real... Look it up.)

Even after slavery, the law was still against us. We were still killed and raped; both men, women and even children. Black men who were imprisoned were often forced to perform oral sex to prison gaurds & raped by them, or else there would be serious consequences. Some of these acts still continue today "secretly" & are swept under the rug.

Such acts of violence aren't often spoken about. These crimes have left mental scars on the black community and reminds us of subjugation. To have another man dominate you is a reminder of the suffering. The dislike for homosexual acts stems from the historical acts of physical, mental, & spiritual torture. This is one of the wrongs that has been constantly hidden from most if America and the world.

Why is it hidden? Why do ppl not want to talk about this? Is it guilt or pain of the past? Is it admittion of more cruel actions throughout history? How is it possible to fix anything if history is ignored?

And I won't even get into all the messed up things. This is a bit of a tangent, but here are a few:

How the government has constantly been involved in attempts to destroy black men and families

The government has destroyed black owned businesses

The government has aided in assassinating black leaders

The inhumane testing done on black infants

The vilification of the black man and making the black woman see him as weak and worthless

Teaching us self-hate to be accepted

Influencing us to hating each other because one is lighter skinned or darker skinned than the other

Contracts the government made with black America that still haven't been followed through

How America has influenced African Americans to hate African culture by lying or attacking us for wearing certain clothing or natural African hairstyles

Redlining

I have to know my own history. We are taught everyone else's history in schools but not the truth about black history which is American history. So why is America hiding part of it's history? Maybe that's a question for another time or something you can research for yourself. But I have to know my own history because knowledge is power. Knowing the truth gives me peace of mind even if I can't change how the world views & treats dark skinned people. And many, many people are under mental subjugation (advertisement, politics, sexist ideals, colourism, ect. Not just racial).

Those who don't know history or cannot remember the past are destined to repeat it.

I do not want heinous acts of humanity repeated. To move forward, much of history needs to be revealed and made easy to access. True history needs to be taught to us so we can understand, empathise, & sympathetize with each other. Hiding things leads to mistrust, fear, & hatred. And how do you control people and retain power? Through mistrust, fear, & hatred.

So if you ever wondered why the black community has issues with homosexuality, it's because of violent historical mistreatment.

(That's enough of a history lesson for now. I'll get back to talking about & drawing Dragon Ball stuff.)

Also, notice I said "homosexuality" & "homosexual acts." I didn't say anything about the ppl. It was just the action that most of the black community disagrees with. So don't get the wrong idea or try to twist my words. I'm just giving knowledge and insight. Vilifying me or my words of insight reveals your true colours.

[marjanefan]

The Devil of Christmas and the 1970s. A Dark Nostalgia

’The Devil of Christmas’ is much respected among fans of the show ‘Inside No.9’for being an affectionate pastiche of a certain sort of 1970’s television show, a meticulous recreation of how these shows were filmed , and for a particularly dark pay off. Pemberton and Shearsmith grew up watching the type of shows it pastiches and the episode makes their affection for them clear . They credit shows such as ‘Armchair theatre’, ‘ Beasts’ and especially ‘ Tales of the unexpected’ with inspiring them to work in the anthology format. The episode manages to be a knowing and humorous tribute to these shows. But it also subtly passes comment on the attitudes of the programmes and those who made them.

The episode is directed by Graham Harper, who in a long TV career has directed episodes of both ‘classic’ and ‘new’ Dr. Who. Derek Jacobi (who voices Dennis Fulcher) and Rula Lenska who appears as Celia /Nancy both worked extensively on television during this period. Adam Tandy, the show’s producer had worked as a child actor during this period and he discussed his experiences in the audio commentary with Pemberton and Shearsmith. So this would have been a nostalgic experience for quite a few people involved in the making of the episode (apparently the crew also enjoyed dressing up in 70s styles for the closing scenes).

This review will contain extensive spoilers so only continue if you have watched the episode

Nostaliga for the past is always a two edged thing.. We risk overlooking the problematic aspects of periods such as the 1970s when we look back too cosily. The show 'Life on Mars' took apart the culture of sexism, racism and toxic masiculinty of the 1970s as portrayed in shows as 'The Sweeney' while making us cheer the politically incorrect antics of Gene Hunt. This blog post does an excellent job (far better than I can) of illustrating how the ostensible story we are watching in ‘The Devil of Christmas’ comments on the casual misogyny of 1970’s television drama. It also makes an important observation about how Dennis Fulcher’s attitude toward the violence inflicted on the female star of the episode can be shown to fit in what we have learnt in recent years about the abuse of young women within the television industry of this time.

https://dodoswords.wordpress.com/2017/01/05/inside-no-9-review-series-three-the-devil-of-christmas/

In the commentary on this episode Pemberton and Shearsmith commented on the fact that the type of television programs ‘The Devil of Christmas’ pastiches regularly used the trope of a wife/husband deliberately brining about the mental collapse of their spouse or driving them to their deaths. It is interesting that this particular trope became popular during this period of societal change. Women would make greater use of liberalised divorce laws and begin to assert their right to pursue professional careers. The trope spoke to men’s anxieties about women becoming more assertive and empowered. It is worth noting the 1970s television series Derek Jacobi is most associated with ‘I, Claudius’ had several scheming unfaithful female characters, most of whom were young and attractive, who often met nasty ends, rather like ‘Kathy’ does in this episode . It’s problematic portrayal of women has been a subject of academic discussion.

‘Kathy’ is set up as a bad woman. She is a disloyal wife and stepmother. She is shown to be a gold digger who deliberately causes the death of her husband and who hates her young stepson. She is also unfaithful and is unashamed about carrying another man’s child. The audience of ‘The Devil of Christmas’ would obviously approve of and enjoy her eventual punishment. But Penny, an innocent young actress, suffers for Kathy’s ‘crimes’.

Elizabeth, Julian’ first wife is set up as the ‘good’ wife . Tellingly she is already dead (in misogyny the best sort of woman). Celia, Julian’s mother is suspicious of Kathy’s intentions and tries to warn Julian to no avail. The two women of the piece must be in conflict with each other as no solidarity or sympathy must be allowed between women. Dennis Fulcher expresses his frustration that Nancy, the actress who played Celia would not wear glasses (arguing they were not right for the character) meaning she more than once missed her mark. While Dennis is somewhat dismissive of Nancy , it is worth considering she wanted to appear glamorous as Celia and refused to wear glasses because she was afraid that being older woman and no longer physically attractive would have a detrimental effect on her career. (I wonder what memories of being a young actress in this period must have brought up for Rula Lenska)

Dennis comments on his commentary that he has ‘Kathy’ be pregnant as it would ‘tee up the ending if you sensed there was something inside Kathy making it more poignant’. This speaks to both men’s fear and envy of women’s reproductive capacity (and their desire to control it). Penny is also dressed in white for the final scenes, ironically the colour of supposed innocence given ‘Kathy’ s actions. This heightens the impact of her appearance as a sacrificial victim in the final seconds.

For me personally one the most shocking moments in the episode is when Julian hits Kathy. The audience can see that the hit is filmed is such a way that Brian (who plays Julian) does not actually hit Penny (who plays Kathy). The moment is plays into the pastiche of 1970s television as we can see that it is obviously fake. But the casual act of domestic violence shows how it was written off and normalised in this period (not that things are much better today). It is also shocking coming from a character like Julian who is otherwise portrayed sympathetically. It also happens in front of a child (both in the story and filming). Dennis also directs Brian to play the moment more angrily.

Of course the horrific conclusion of the episode with its very real violence and Penny’s absolute terror as she realises her fate. She actually cries ‘Dennis’ in her final seconds pleading with him to save her. The over the top acting of the rest of the episode is suddenly horribly recontextualised. The very artifice of episode stands in stark contrast and almost as a mockery beside this final act of violence. The pride Dennis takes in this particular moment and Penny’s ‘genuine fear’ is truly blood chilling. As WeeLin noted in her analysis of the episode what does it say about Dennis’ exposure to and involvement in ’Snuff’ that he says ‘In it’s defence, it was one of the better ones’ (it is also hinted this may not have been the only ‘snuff’ film he directed). He cannot bring himself to watch Penny’s murder, refusing to accept his role in enabling it, and moans ‘ but If only I’d got Gummidge’ more concerned about his career than the brutal killing of a young woman.

There is another narrative from the 1970s. This was the period of second wave feminism and the women’s liberation movement. Feminists set up rape crisis lines and women’s shelters and highlighted the issue of violence against women and girls. They also critiqued the way women were portrayed in the media. They helped critique and call out the attitudes toward women that ‘The Devil of Christmas’ lampoons.

It is worth looking briefly at how second wave feminists reacted to the film ‘Snuff’ itself. The original film ‘Snuff’ was a grindhouse film that was released in early 1976 (about a year before ‘The Devil of Christmas ‘was set). The female lead character Terry London (who apparently gets killed at the end) was pregnant like Kathy in ‘The Devil of Christmas’. It also ends with the crew apparently killing the female lead. (information from the Wikipedia page for the film). While it was very obviously a hoax it caused a considerable amount of controversy. Andrea Dworkin and other feminists would lead protests against it in New York and it would lead to the formation of the group ‘Women against violence against women’. The supposed existence of ‘snuff’ films would be brought up feminists like Dworkin in their campaign against pornography over the next few years.

Mary Daly in her book ‘Gyn/Ecology’ discusses the original film ‘ Snuff’ and discusses the men who enjoyed films like it. She states ‘This type of entertainment is enjoyed by judges, physicians, police, physicians, and other professionals today in the line of ‘duty’, when women who have been victimised (rape victims, for example ) come under their power ‘ [Mary Daly Gyn /Ecology, Woman’s Press, 1979]. Daly points out that not just that the most respected and powerful men in society enjoy these types of portrayals of violence against women but it informs their treatment of the vulnerable women in their power. Daly links the attitudes of these men toward women to the misogyny of the male witch finders of the past in the following paragraph. So there is an argument to link the way ‘The Devil of Christmas’ examines and subtly calls out the misogyny of its time to the way ‘The Trial of Elizabeth Gage’ examines the misogyny that underlay the seventeenth century witch trials .

While Dworkin, Daly and others have been mocked and decried for their apparent gullibility in believing in the existence of snuff as a genre, this loses sight of a wider point. They were correct in pinpointing the misogynistic attitudes that underlay the original ‘Snuff’ film and films that came in its wake. They were also correct in their calling out of the mistreatment of women in the adult entertainment industry, which was rapidly growing in the 1970s. But as we have discovered with the #metoo movement and the Weinstein scandal the entertainment industry has been rife with male abusers.

Dennis expresses casual surprise that this dark piece from his past eventually surfaced, almost as if being involved in a woman’s murder was a minor thing in his life. Many of the men who were investigated by investigations such as Operation Yewtree obviously did not expect to be called to account for their crimes. We have only in recent years started to look honestly at the abuses of this period. With that we have had to evalate the media of this period to. It may have taken almost forty years but Dennis Fulcher is finally made to account for his role in Penny’s murder. His is not the final voice we hear in the episode but the detective investigating him.

[bisexualnamjoonie]

Okay but now I’m super interested in an infodump about the French prison system??

oh wow okay so hmm it's probs gonna be a bit messy but here we go:

- france is one of the European country with the most overcrowded prisons with an average of 113 inmates for 100 spots overall.

- those statistics don't reflect the large disparities between the different prisons bc only one type is affected by the issue (more on that later).

- 30% of inmates are here preventively. they haven't been judged yet and are therefore presumed innocent but are still incarcerated for security. according to french law it's supposed to be a last resort but in reality it's quasi systematic.

- there are three main types of prisons :

-> "maisons d'arrêt" or MA (arrest houses) : this is the only type of prisons where you can have overpopulation. basically ppl who are incarcerated in maisons d'arrêts are people who have not been condemned yet ("prévenus") and who are placed in prison as a preventive measure by the judge and ppl who have been condemned for a "short sentence" (usually under 2 years). for women and underage men it's a bit different as they represent less that 5% of the carceral population ;

-> "centres de détention" or CD (detention centers) for ppl who have been condemned for "long sentences" (from 2 years-ish to perpetuity) ;

-> "maisons centrales" or MC (central houses) for condemned people who are deemed extremely dangerous, either bc they're violent in detention or were condemned for terrorism or organised murder or something ;

-> a "centre pénitentiaire" (penitentiary centre) is a prison where at least two different types of prisons coexist (MA and CD for example).

- maisons d'arrêts are the only type of prisons that is affected by overpopulation. maisons centrales and centres de détention are legally binded by a numerus clausus (a theoretical number when max capacity is reached) they can't go above. that is not the case for maisons d'arrêts. because of overcrowdness, people who've just been condemned have to wait for a spot in a CD or MC and so they get stuck in MA waiting for a transfer, meanwhile more people keep coming in. some MA (Tours for example, if I remember correctly) have a population of 200%, meaning there are twice as many detainees as the prison can keep. overall, MA's population is around 160% of their theoretical capacity.

- you can incur a sentence for robbery that is as long as for premeditated murder or rape and sexual assault on children aged 15 and less. basically robbing a bank and counterfeit is punished harder than rape and incest (mostly bc the judiciary and prison system protects straight white men lmao).

- french law imposed mandatory individual cells back in 1875. this law has never been respected since then and moratorium that keep pushing back the application of the law have been repeatedly voted to this day. in MA there can be up to 3 ppl in a cell meant for 1 or 2, with one of them usually sleeping on a mattress on the ground.

- french detainees have the right to vote on paper even though in practice voting from prison is nearly impossible.

- cellphones are technically forbidden in cells but traffic is super important and it's a "secret de polichinelle" (meaning everyone knows, including the penitentiary) that almost every inmate has a cellphone in their cell.

- inmates wear their own clothes, they're just not allowed to wear blue/dark blue and combat boots bc it's the colour of the prison's guards uniform or anything with camouflage.

- in a few CD and MC are what are called UVF (family life unit): basically, if they get the authorisation from the prison's director, inmates can spend up to 72 hours in a small, furnished apartment inside the detention centre with their family. it's really hard to obtain though and most prisons don't have them.

- there are now phone cabins in the cells in the majority of prisons. it's been at the centre of the modernisation of prisons for the past two years and it's almost done.

- parlours are held in individual rooms, not big rooms like you see in US movies.

- in the Nouméa prison (Nouvelle-Calédonie), inmates sleep in containers. yep, that's right. containers. it's one of the worst french prison, even if in general all of them are in pretty bad shape. Fresnes (near Paris) is insanely famous for its awful "cours de promenade" (look it up on Google pictures!), its rats, cockroaches and bed bugs. we love it here ✌🏼

- inmates communicate with each other and give stuff to each other through what they call "yoyos". I can't really explain what it is. type yoyos prisons in Google picture and see for yourself.

- la maison d'arrêt de Fleury-Mérogis (where I work) is the biggest penitentiary centre of all of Europe, with a theoretical capacity of around 2600 inmates. it's downright insane, let me tell you. weirdly enough it's one of the less dysfunctional MA 🤔

I'm gonna stop there cause I need to go to bed, but there are still so many things to say haha, especially on abolitionist theories as well!

[mahvaladara]

Shah Talks - Simblr, George Floyd, Racism and Accountability

Non of you need to know, from a white person, why racism is bad and why reverse racism doesn’t exist and why you need to be held accountable for your actions. We all know that, but it seems some people still think there’s no racism.

Racism is a problem.

Long talk ahead.

Now, racism is not a problem of “late”. Racism has always been a problem. 

Police has been killing black men and women for decades, people have been saying racist remarks for decades, people have had racist behaviours for decades. 

It is not a problem of late, every few weeks someone is being called out on simblr, SIMBLR, a Sims tumblr community, for being racist. And you’d think there’s nothing about sims to do with race, but there is! 

In a game you can literally make purple vampire alien dragons if you have the right mods, a world with no sims of colour is a red flag.

The latest problem in the simblr community was related to racism.

I don’t know both sides of the story, so I will take a neutral stance. But I do agree it is fair for people, for the followers of our stories to see more diversity expressed in them, to see their own ethnicities and groups portrayed respectfully in stories and not just as caricatures or token.

It’s like Tolkien saying there are no black people in his world because it’s a fantasy world. So basically, you created your own world, with talking trees, and you decided it didn’t need black people, just caucasian people of tall, dwarven, normal and hobbit sizes. So four different species of white people, but not black people, or people with different skin colours and ethnicities, just a bunch of different white people who are very tall and can have blond or white hair depending.

So basically racist.

I mean, if it was Avatar and you decided to say my world has no black people and no white people either because it’s a fantasy world where it’s inhabitants are all tall, lanky blue apes and not humans. Cool, makes sense. Not human.

But if you create a world with humans, and don’t give humans any different skin colours (as if the sun and tans and melanin and evolution don’t make part of humans) because it’s a fantasy world? I’m sorry, but it’s not because magic means the sun doesn’t hate us, it’s because you’re a racist who doesn’t like black people so don’t want them represented in your media or world.

The person of colour does not have the duty to educate them about it, but I think it should stand as a way for the person that was called out to look well at what they have done and how to fix it. 

Give them a chance to better themselves. But if they don’t improve, call them out. Don’t let it go!

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

And for the person called out? It is a chance to grow, instead of running away.

Because you know what? I was a teen once, and I was young and ignorant once, and we grow, we learn and we evolve. It is up to you to know if you wish to grow or remain in the dark ages.

This just to show, racism is transversal to every topic, every community and every platform. And it’s not an issue of late.

What’s really happening is that people, namely white racist assholes, don’t like how vocal people have become towards racism and towards stopping it. And it’s letting some people (racists) very uncomfortable.

And that is good! We should not stand for racism. We should not let people get away with racism. And people should be very vocal about it. We should make them very uncomfortable!

It’s 2020, nothing justifies four types of jokes: racist jokes, homophobic jokes, sexists joke and rape jokes.

(If we’re lucky and Covid teaches us anything to mankind, by 4040 we can also outlaw blond jokes).

On twitter, facebook, reddit and even here, on tumblr I have been following actively the news. I am a supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement, so I have been watching what happened to George Floyd and the riots and this terrible, terrible tragedy. It has actually crossed international waters.

Not kidding.

Like today at work, this french kid who practices Taekwondo with me shared the “I can’t breath” poem and I am like: Oh my dragons! Make this shit be heard! Yes! Cross sea boundaries. Black lives matter!!" And of course, there was that white dick commenting on it, being a racist asshole.

(I have actually learned something from tumblr. I don’t block anyone on tumblr, I like to give them a chance here to redeem themselves, but I have certainly started blocking people on Facebook. So many racists, everywhere... So many idiots...)

And today the internet has brought something very dangerous for racists.

And that is ACCOUNTABILITY!

You no longer can be a closet racist, or just racist with your friends, or a joke racist. Basically RACIST, because people will find out and call you out. It’s not cool to do racist jokes anymore.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

(Reminds me when Borat came out and those two kids who made sexist remarks on film without knowing got a fine. I hope they learnt from this experience, grew up and are now better people - they probably didn’t, they’re probably still sexist dicks).

Nowadays if you’re racist online expect to be fucking crucified.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

Now they no longer can be racist pricks because the world won’t find it as funny as their racist prick friends do. 

Boohoo.

White girl tears.

(I never got this term. My tears are usually of pure unfiltered rage, pretty sure you can light them up on fire).

Now, on simblr I have tried to stay out of “drama”, as people sometimes like to call it, but a man’s death, an innocent’s man’s murder is not drama you stay out of! The abuse of authority that causes the suffocation and murder of a man is not something you should choose to stay out off.

I let my privilege speak for me. 

I am caucasian. Fate decided I should be white (tan easily and get vitiligo. Because fuck you, you get localized sunburns for the rest of your life). And as a white and furthermore european person I will never experience racism. I will experience other things, such as sexism, queerphobia or ableism, BUT racism is something I will never experience.

Because of this I have the privilige to chose not to comment on it. But this is what is wrong, choosing not to comment on an issue just because it doesn’t affect you is a problem!

By being quiet you are being compliant and an accomplice of problem displayed. It’s like if you just saw someone be bullied and you decided to be quiet instead of warning the teachers!

You just helped that bully ruin another kid’s day!

The same way, if you stay quiet, just allowed a murderer to get away with killing another black man.

Because truth is, this affects us all. 

This affects PEOPLE! This is what humanity is! People, white’s, blacks, reds, yellows, greens, grays, pinks, blues and purples, bieges and browns. But Caucasians are safe, everyone else is in danger, with black people being the ones more affected by this!

The great problem is this, racists, white people, somehow have divided humanity in two. Whites, and People of colour.

(I’m not even going to throw religion into the mix because Akatosh knows that’s one can of worms not even Namira will willingly open!)

It may be the result of decades of racial societal segregation and even continental division that has lead us all to think in an “us-them” mentality, but it is time to stop this. 

This is dangerous, for we should not stand idly while people are being abused, opressed, persecuted, having their rights stripped or their lives violated just because some trigger happy asshole thinks he deserves to be alive more because he gets to look like a lobster if he tans too long.

(Racism is white people being jealous at the fact the sun hates us *shrugs*. Just saying.)

And the anger white people, racists, feel when called out is ebcause they don’t want to be held accountable for being dicks to “the others”. 

“But he is great man. It’s just black people he doesn’t like.”

If you’re shity to people just because they have more melanin than you, you’re not “a great man”, you’re a racist prick.

White people, RACISTS, hate being held accountable for being racists, they hate being called out by the outrage of people rightfully have against them. 

And what does a racist do when he’s held accountable for his behaviour? 

Cue in:

“Well” Reverse Racism exists too!”

No. It doesn’t!

Let’s talk about George Floyd.

Now, I’m not going to speak on the why and how it happened. There are literally videos on it. 

But, as someone who practices martial arts, who is trained by a cop I have been thinking. 

If you are a person and you have the strength to immobilize an adult man and hold him crushed by the neck with your knee under you, you clearly have the strength necessary to easily handcuff and throw this same man in the back of police car without the need to FLAT OUT MURDER HIM. Because this is what happened, MURDER. 

A police officer killed a man just because. 

Homicide!

Now, I am not going to talk about the allegations or the accusations that lead to this event, because they don’t matter. They don’t change the fact that a police officer, a man whose duty is to protect the public and uphold the law, killed by choking, an already handcuffed and immobilized unarmed man, to death. 

Now, in the comments on the whole tragedy, there were comments about him resisting arrest officer fearing for his life. Now, I am sorry, but if you’re that strong, strong enough to hold an adult man crushed and struggling under you, your life? It’s not in danger!

Even if he resisted arrest, again, they immobilized him, handcuffed him, from there on, the police officer’s actions are unjustified. It is disgusting what the officer did. Murder happened on that day.

My Taekwondo master, a police officer, is a skinny man, and slightly taller than me. Which isn’t much because I’m like probably 5′4 in the USA metric system. The man’s a hobbit, and I have seen that hobbit of a man throw and immobilize a man twice his size and weight like he was a ragdoll in seconds!

So don’t tell me that cop had to do that, because that is bullshit. 

George was not carrying weapons, he was not resisting. All he wanted was to breath and live and he wasn’t allowed either. George was murdered.

That cop was neither alone or in danger. That cop acted on whatever delusions of power and justified racism and killed a man just because he could and he knew there wouldn’t be any accountability.

Normaly. But we have the internet. And the internet tell us it’s not the first time this cop abuses his authority.

But!

Because there’s always a butt.

Somewhere along the line appears the comment: “You white people are the ones that are dangerous to us.”

Wait, that’s not the but. That’s actually true.

I think that if that white Karen in that NY park taught us anything is that that comment is 100% true. White people hold the power to harm people of colour with just a phone call. And that is very dangerous and very scary for any black man or woman, to any person of colour, to anyone who doesn’t appear “white”. 

Because this again takes us to that divide, where these people, these heartless racist assholes see “The White (TM)” and “The Others(TM)” as two different things. "The White” don’t see “the others” as people, so they don’t see the harm in their actions and they don’t think they should be held accountable because they’re not really harming “people”, in their twisted mindset. So when you yell “you’re racist” you’re suddenly calling out their behaviour and holding them accountable for it and telling them “this isn’t okay!”.

Now, comment section. Facebook comment, section, twitter comment threads are where the gold is. There is where you find the people to block. Where you find the racists, the ignoramous and the idiots. And, as a therapist, I love reading them.

And there it was. The ugly can of worms, thrown straight as an answer to the above comment. The dreaded monster - “Reverse racism”.

“*annoying Karen voice* You can't say that! That’s reverse racism.” Followed by the obvious slew of not all white people are like that.

And you’re right, not all white people want to harm black people or people of any other ethnicity. But that doesn’t change the fact that they are dangerous still because they will always have the racial upperhand. 

But saying “all white people are evil” is not reverse racism. It is discrimination, though that sounds more like a joke, but definitely not racism. If there’s two black men walking down the street and they step to the other side upon seeing my white ass, they are not racist, they may be discriminative by thinking I may pose a danger to them, but they certainly aren’t “reverse racists”.

If a white person, a person in a position of power, a person from a specific ethnic group known for oppressing other ethnicities, were to say “Black people are good only for basketball”, that’d be racist. 

If a black person was to say “All white people want slaves”, it would be prejudice.

Racism is discrimination or prejudices based on beliefs imposed, unwillingly, in minority groups of another race by the oppressing or majority race. All prejudices have been imposed, mocked, caricatured and created by white people and placed on people of colour and other ethnicities. Every single racial prejudice was created by a white person. “Latinos are drug lords, blacks are thugs, asians are cheap, jews are greedy.” And so on, so on, so on.

Prejudices in white people however, are born from cultural differences and NOT race, and are usually created by other white people. These prejudices have no weight, whatsoever in the wellbeing or opportunities white people have access to, while racist prejudices actively hinder the life of people colour and put them in danger.

Portuguese people who are caucasian have this cultural prejudice that we are always late, but if I go to a job offer at no point will this cultural prejudice hinder my chances to get a job.

It is this main difference that makes it so clear, there’s no reverse racism! There is discrimination, but not racism. 

Second thing is that most prejudices associated to white people can literally be applied to anyone, while racist ones instantly connect to one specific minority group.

Thirdly, often reasons of discrimination towards white people result of previous experiences, needs for self-preservation, or equalitarian policies of opportunities given to minorities harmed by racism.

One common complaint white people have against black people are towards scholarships given only to specific communities and minority groups, very common in USA. Though these scholarships can be considered discriminative in a positive way because it helps people less fortunate to have opportunities, they are not racist. For a matter of fact, these policies often exist to try and fix what racism and segregation have caused.

This doesn’t make it racist because it does not, in any way affect the ability for a white person to reach the exact same opportunities.

Again, it is only racist when a prejudice associated with your race affects your safety, your access to opportunities, the way people treat you or see you.

So it can’t be reverse racism because discrimination towards white people usually affects other people too and it’s rarely ever caused by their race alone.

And this can of worms is a long one.

And I have so much more to say, but this has gotten so long and way out of control I think I’ll end it here.

Bottom line.

Stop being a racist dick.

Be vocal when someone is acting wrong.

And Reverse Racism is bullshit.

Also sign the petitions to bring justice to George Floyd. This man has died, brutally murdered by an officer, no amount of justice will ever fix this, but making sure the officers that allowed this to happen will never have the power to do it to another black man, woman, person again should be the first step of bringing justice to his family.

And if I said anything here that was wrong or inaccurate, don’t hesitate to let me know.

This was Shah,

Stay safe, be vocal and don’t let wrongdoings slide away.

I’m done here.

[irisbelarionfade]

The Reparative Justice Solution to Equal Rights

By Fade “I Am X”

Having spent 16 years in the Washington State Prison I witnessed numerous atrocities in Spokane County Jail, Shelton and above all Monroe Corrections Complex and have finally put that behind me after graduating from a final stay at Airway Heights. I have contemplated the matter of equal justice for all people in the literal terms of blood sweat and tears having witnessed two violent rapes, one death of an elderly mentally handicapped gentlemen whose body I was made to walk over and countless other abuses large and small. Because of this I am uniquely qualified to tell you PRISON IS NOT THE SOLUTION! I believe the statistics back me up on this as even the most uninformed individual can watch the crime rates climb even as prisons are ever more populated. Make no mistake: Prisons are Corperate Politically Motivated Warehouses for Warehousing the Disadvantaged as Slaves NOT therapeutic rehabilitation centers. In prison it was everything I could do to maintain even a shred of nonviolent humanity in the face of the adversities laden upon me and my friends day in and day out...but what solution did I come up with to this horrible abuse? I think reperative justice instead of punitive justice will solve the problem and prevent minorities from being targeted through the following measures of law:

1) By selling off all the prison systems assets to the control of the taxpayers and instituting civil solutions to crimes under the mandate that all beings are INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY as constitutionally mandated and instead of violating the rights of guilty parties by turning them into slaves, holding any crime they are proven guilty of a moral and financial debt they can and will pay off in the community. Only the most egregiously violent and uncooperative people should even begin to be restrained and in so doing, we should show our true colors by treating them with as much human dignity as we can in doing so...because we are to be human Americans not incorporated bullies.

2) By De-Politicizing the Court System through an Anonymous Mandatory Double Blind Trial where only the facts are presented and the case made for assumed damages caused by the proposed crime TO the alleged victim. Black/White/Gay/Straight will NOT enter into a reperative Justice trial as they are not matters of criminal law but of noble human spirit and nature. They are in fact the opposite of crime as they represent the true uniqueness and virtue of a person and if anything would count to the moral fiber of any witness, plaintiff or defendant. These sacred things, our colour, who we love, what we believe, even how we choose to live our lives in this vein are testimonies FOR our value as a human being and to protect that fidelity all trial data should NOT be used to publically smear those traits or values (As in The Famous Jackson family who were basically publicly harassed and invaded by our entire institution and media in the 90s as a tragic example) and should only be made known if a guilty verdict is indeed in fact proven.

3) By actively hiring any police officers we the people democratically deem absolutely necessary BASED ON THESE UNIQUE AND NOBLE LIVING DIVERSITIES rather then in blatant exclusion to them. Doing this we affirm the beauty of all types of life forms of all colors, varieties and backgrounds not only as sacred, but as emblems of The True America we stand for as people. In do doing we affirm the office of law to be one of sacred trust as a representative of true Americans not of a domineering few who seek to rule us with an iron fist, choosing only necessary officers who are parts of our diversity, who are trained to work with the diverse communities they are entrusted with and above all are people beloved by our communities as good and compassionate leaders...not cruel bullies of a fascist order.

Some may argue crimes such as murder, rape and torture cannot be repaid and deserve an eye for an eye. Having spent many nights sleeping beside people convicted of these crimes, I frankly disagree. Any and all crimes can be atoned for by serving ones life sentence in noble service to the memory and value of the victim with the aim of preventing future victims from happening. Thus those few who do belong in detainment can learn to work off their debt to help protect, heal and serve those immortal wounds they caused and perhaps even earn a pardon for true and honest attrition.

[lo-lynx]

Intersectionality and violence in Män som hatar kvinnor/The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

TW: discussion about sexual violence and race-based hate crimes.

 In this text I’m going to analyse the Swedish movie Män som hatar kvinnor (2009), which is based on the novel with the same name. The English title of both the novel, and the American filmatisation is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but literal translation of the Swedish title would me “men who hate women”. Nonetheless, the movie (and novel) is about the journalist Mikael Blomkvist and the hacker Lisbeth Salander who gets involved with solving a 40-year-old mystery of a missing teenage girl. Like the Swedish title hints at sexism and violence towards women are important themes in the story, but as for instance Kimberlé Crenshaw (1991) argues, it is important to have an intersectional analysis of violence towards women. Therefore, I will in this text analyse how class and race interacts with gender when men hate women in Män som hatar kvinnor.

Firstly, over the course of the story we find out that Lisbeth’s father abused her mother during Lisbeth’s childhood. It’s also hinted at (and further explained in the later movies/novels) that this somehow is connected to the fact that Lisbeth still has a legal guardian even though she is in her twenties. Lisbeth is a very hard and tough person, she’s mostly dressed in punk, and generally break social codes by not being polite etc. She also doesn’t conform to heteronormativity, since she has sex with women as well as men, but this isn’t a focus of the movie. But her non-conformability to normative femininity does has negative consequences for her. Most significantly her legal guardian is apparently provoked by this, and when she asks him for money he uses his power over her to rape her. He later tells her that if she tells anyone he’ll get her locked up, since her “violent tendencies” are well known.

That Lisbeth’s femininity doesn’t fit into society’s middleclass femininity ideal can therefore be used against her. According to Skeggs (1997: 22) working class women often try to achieve respectability by mimicking this ideal femininity. By doing that working-class women can get more cultural capital, and thusly compensate for the economic and social capital that they lack. This can therefore improve their position in society. Since Lisbeth is under guardianship her social and economic capital is restricted, even though she has a well-paid work. That her non-normative femininity limits her life becomes very clear when it’s used as an argument for her having a legal guardian. However, it’s very interesting how she very clearly shows that she doesn’t conform to the femininity ideals of society. Lundström (2007: 171) writes that one strategy for girls/women who have a harder time of fitting into the (white) middleclass femininity ideal (in her study Swedish Latina girls) can be to instead perform a sort of “bad girl”-femininity. Lisbeth knows that the society she lives in won’t accept her, and therefore she fights back by being tough.

While it isn’t clear in this instalment of the series why Lisbeth has a legal guardian, it’s clear that her non-respectability is used as an argument against her. Something worth mentioning here is that historically Sweden have sterilised people, particularly women, that wasn’t deemed suitable to procreate (Hübinette & Lundström 2014). Women of colour and/or working-class women who didn’t conform to a respectable femininity was particularly targeted in this eugenics movement. While this is not the case anymore, the movie shows this continuous control of unrespectable working-class women by way of guardianship.

Another important exploration of violence and the structures it’s a part of is the Vanger family. The Vanger family is the owner of a big industrial company and is described by one character as “storkapitalet” (big capital/business). Henrik Vanger, the old patriarch of the family, employs Mikael for one last attempt to solve the disappearance of his niece Harriet in the 1960:ies. During the investigation one learns more of this (white) upper class family and realise just how right-wing (one family member calls the magazine Mikael works for a communist rag), sexist (they call Lisbeth for Mikael’s whore) and racist a lot of them are. The racist and Nazi part of it is what is most pronounced though. One learns that several family members used to be active Nazis, and still keeps Nazi memorabilia. As the plots and mystery unfolds one also learns that Gottfried Vanger, Harriet’s father, killed Jewish women in religious rituals during the 1940-1960:ies. It’s also revealed that him and Martin Vanger, Harriet’s brother, sexually abused Harriet, leading to her running away. In the end of the movie it’s revealed that Martin has continued to kill women. He claims that he didn’t have any racist motives like his father did, like he puts it:

That was dad’s project. He mixed his hobby with race and religion. And that was a mistake, there’s no reason to take risks by leaving bodies.

[my translation] (Män som hatar kvinnor 2009, 2 h 22 min)

Instead chooses women no one will look for; “whores, immigrants” [my translation] (Män som hatar kvinnor, 2009, 2 h 23 min). Throughout the movie Martin also tries to distance himself from the older members of his family by apologising for their prejudiced behaviour, and by living in a newly built house instead of an old fancy one.

The difference in Gottfried and Martin’s behaviour can be understood by using the framework presented by Hübinette and Lundström (2014). They argue that between 1905-1968 Sweden was in what they call “the white purity stage”, where the idea of white hegemony was very important and influential (Hübinette & Lundström 2014: 427-428). That which was considered Swedish, as well as the white race, was considered to be superior to other nations and races. The State Institute for Racial Biology was opened during this period (it existed from 1922 to 1968) and was very influential for the view of race during this era. During later periods of Swedish history, a picture of Sweden as an anti-racist and morally good country was instead created (Hübinette & Lundström 2014: 429). Because of this a norm of colour blindness was created, that is to say, a norm of not “seeing race” in Sweden. But racism is still very much present. Hübinette and Lundström (2014: 426) argues that this colour blindness keeps us from being able to see similarities between the racism in contemporary society and the historical racism. In my opinion one can claim that the way Gottfried and Martin are racist in are typical of their time. Gottfried was openly a Nazi and specifically killed Jewish women. Martin on the other hand claims that race isn’t important in his murders, but he still mainly kills immigrant women. The way Martin distances himself from the Nazis in his family’s past can be seen as an expression of Sweden’s view of race in since 1968.

One should also note that there is definitely a class aspect of Gottfried and Martin’s murder. Martin specifically targets women who are socially vulnerable, because it’s easier to get away with killing them. He then uses his own soundproof torture chamber and disposes of the bodies at sea using his own boat. His economic capital thusly makes it possible for him to cover up his crimes. He might have learned that from his father, who killed women while he was on business trips, and therefore was able to spread out his killings throughout the country.

In conclusion, despite of the title, Män som hatar kvinnor isn’t just about the impact of the patriarchy on violence toward women. Throughout the movie it is clear that class and race also have a large impact on the violence that is inflicted on the women in it. Lisbeth’s lack of social, cultural and economic capital limits her life, and her lack of respectability is used against her. The murders that Gottfried and Martin commit are racially charged, and simultaneous shows how race has been conceived of in Sweden during the last 100 years. In the end of the movie Lisbeth says that even though Martin might have learned this behaviour, that’s not an excuse, he’s just a fucker who hates women. I agree, but like the other fuckers who hate women in this movie, he’s also influenced by white hegemony and capitalism.

 References

Män som hatar kvinnor (2009). Director: Niels Arden Oplev. Sweden: Yellow Bird

Crenshaw, K. (1991) “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review 43 (6): 1241–1299.

Hübinette, T. & Lundström, C. (2014).  ”Three phases of hegemonic whiteness: understanding racial temporalities in Sweden”, Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 20 (6): 423-37.

Lundström, C. (2007). Svenska Latinas: Ras, klass och kön i svenskhetens geografi. Göteborg: Makadam.

Skeggs, B. (1997). Att bli respektabel: Konstruktioner av klass och kön. Göteborg: Daidalos.  [This is a Swedish translation of Skeggs’ book Formations of Class and Gender: Becoming Respectable]

[mimixis]

Towards the sun - Part 8: Guilty pleasure

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Word Count: 2256

Summary: Pia just wanted to go to work, but oh well, shit happens.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Her words caused a big stir.

Not only Sigurd reacted violently. His brothers and their men also shouted. Pia stood quietly holding Blaeja's wrist. She waited for them to calm down, ask her questions and stop insulting her. Blaeja seemed anxious and hid behind her. Pia was not surprised. A bunch of vicious Vikings could be terrifying. However, she didn't think that trusting her to defend them was a good idea.

“She is a Christian!” Ivar began.

“It's hardly your place to decide that,” Ubbe added.

"She's quite pretty," said Hvitserk who was hit in the back of his head by Ubbe.

“You saw it?” Bjorn asked sceptically.

“Why me?!” Sigurd growled.

Pia arranged the answers in their language in her mind first not wanting to make minor mistakes that could disturb their conversation. The silence between them lasted some time and Pia was hesitant to break it now. But she had no choice. You cannot say A without saying B.

“Yes, she is a Christian, but that doesn't mean you are better than her. So stop being an anti-Christian, Ivar. Ubbe, your brother made a lot of decisions for me, and you didn't utter a word, so do not behave so self-righteous. Yes, Hvitserk, she is pretty, but she's not for you. Bjorn, you don't have to believe me. I don't care," she turned away from them and spoke to Sigurd in a hushed voice. “Because you are the only one who will take care of her. Faced with the choice between you, Hvitserk and Ivar, it is quite obvious. She will give you sons thanks to whom your name, Sigurd Snake In The Eye, will remain. So please, listen to me.”

Pia heard someone strike their palms against one another. She glanced in the direction of the sound and saw Ivar. She stared at him in confusion, completely not understanding why he was clapping his hands.

"You've barely been able to say anything just a few minutes ago, and now you speak like this," he said in a mocking manner, leaning forward. "I wonder, what other talents you hide from us.”

Her heart throbbed. She didn't want to treat him terribly, but she didn't want to be treated poorly either. Part of her ached to apologize to him, she wanted to come back, but the other part remembered. Something drew her to him, something craved to be close to him. But Pia knew herself. She knew that in the long run, she required delicacy, not brutality, which Ivar emitted. Then why did she have tears in her eyes, when he looked at her like that?

She opened her mouth to say something unpleasant to hurt him, just as he hurt her, but the flutter of the wings interrupted her. A raven sat on her shoulder thrusting its claws into her shoulder, drawing blood. Pia hissed in pain, but she didn't chase away the bird. It gave her an idea. If they insisted on her association with Odin so much, she would give it to them.

“Am I not the Allfather's favourite? Perhaps, as a gift for such a long endurance with you all, he gave me the Allspeak?”

Ivar fell silent. He didn't have the correct answer, and Pia knew it. She looked at Sigurd again, thinking of communicating well with him.

“So what's your decision?”

Sigurd looked at her with astonishment and only nodded. Pia turned to Blaeja.

"You will become his wife." She pointed to Sigurd. “He'll take care of you.”

;:;

Pia sat with Blaeja all evening. In the end, she agreed to get married to Sigurd, though reluctantly. She was afraid of what was to come, but she kept her face still. From birth, she was prepared to become a wife of a nobleman. Sigurd was not civilized, but he was still a prince. Blaeja had no choice. Now, she would become his wife and she would take her revenge later.

The girl moved away from Pia. Where Pia goes, Blaeja goes. At the table, by the fire, next to Halfdan. Sigurd wanted to take her with him, but Blaeja cried, that it was not proper, that they could be together only on the wedding night. Pia looked at Halfdan, who sighed and whispered some pleas to his brother's ear. When he got the answer he wanted, he stood up and motioned to the girls, that they should follow him.

They came to the tent he shared with his brother. Halfdan said he would give up his bed to them and he would sleep with Harald. Pia thanked him and hid from the cold under the blankets. Blaeja joined her, and a moment later she was asleep, the adrenaline finally died down. Pia was looking at the girl's hair, the colour of ripe chestnuts, and pale skin. She was not attractive by conventional beauty standards, but she had innocence, that lured people to her. Blaeja was young, and Pia condemned her to live with a man she did not love. All this to survive.

Pia wanted to defend this purity because she had it for a short time. As long as she lives with Ragnar's sons, Blaeja will be safe. She'll take care of it. Pia closed her eyes, wanting to fall into Morpheus’ embrace, but no matter how much she tried to sleep, she could not. She slept all day, and it disturbed her biological rhythm. She was not even a bit sleepy. She was wide awake. As soon as she closed her eyes, she saw a man hanged on his lungs. She wanted to vomit, but she tried to swallow it somehow.

She turned to the side, and Blaeja immediately cuddled up into Pia when she felt the older woman moved away. Pia watched her for a moment, wondering how she could trust her so quickly. But Pia thought about her situation with Ivar and about Tanaruz, who also started to trust her immediately. Pia looked up, her eyes focused on the tent's rooftop. She could barely protect herself from life in here, and she wanted to shield two other girls. Tanaruz and Blaeja were similar. Both lost their parents, both were in an undesired situation. Tanaruz as the daughter of Helga, Blaeja as the future wife of Sigurd.

Yes, girls were similar, yet so different. Where Tanaruz was shutting down and weakening day by day, Blaeja appeared to be strong and tried to get everything she could from the circumstances Pia had set down. Pia wondered if Blaeja was so because of childishness and stubbornness, or maybe she defeated her inner demons. If she had any, of course. Pia didn't know what life Blaeja had before all of this so she could dismiss nothing, she shouldn't jump into conclusions. She did not want to see her as a princess who was protected from everything and everyone.

A few days ago, Pia was just a girl who lived her simple life. She attended university, went to work, and watched Netflix. She lived calmly, aware of wars and conflicts, aware of hunger and poverty. And although she knew about it, she lived on because it didn't concern her. She didn't witness the cruelty, she wasn't touched by war. She didn't stand in its epicentre, she didn't have to run away from it. She didn't watch others die, no one raped her, nobody forced her to kill someone.

Future had a lot of laws, but not everyone upholds it. Evil and death are everywhere and always, no matter what period it is. In her time, people are also tortured and murdered, but she cared about that only when she witnessed it. Only now did she appreciate her old life. Her mother who cared for her. Friends who had always been there for her. A job that allowed her to afford food. She had everything she needed, and she was unhappy. Here she had nothing, she was a stranger. She had no home, no family, no money. It was Ivar who took care of what was essential for her to live here.

“You cannot sleep?” she heard.

She turned her head towards Halfdan. He laid on his side, his eyes focused on her figure. Pia slowly, not wanting to disturb Blaeja's sleep, turned around so she could look at the man freely during the conversation. Candles have not been blown out yet, he was probably waiting for his brother to return. The orange light illuminated their faces so that both of them could see their faces accurately.

Pia could see every wrinkle on his face, she could see every line of his tattoo. His eyes were half-open, suggesting that he had either been asleep a moment ago or sleepy right now. He had his hair behind his ear. He looked so soft at that moment, that it cut her heart. If not for the distance separating them, Pia could imagine that they were lying in one bed, and like an old married couple, talking before sleep. But it was not like that, and she didn't want to let herself dream about a problem-free life because it will never be like that again.

Halfdan watched the woman lying in his bed as well. He would like to be there beside her instead of that Christian girl. He would like to embrace her, would like to kiss her, would like to touch her, would like to have her. His brother would laugh at him if he knew what he was thinking about. He would have laughed at him being trapped by a woman he barely knew when he mocked Harald's love. But his thoughts were safe so he could freely admire her freckles, her pink lips, her petite body. However, what he liked best about her were her eyes. Big, doe eyes with pupils of different shades of brown. The right pupil had the colour of the tree bark, and the left one was much brighter, its colour almost like gold.

She nodded.

"Too much has happened over the last twenty-four hours," she admitted. “And why are you still awake? You're probably tired after the battle.”

Halfdan blinked several times, trying not to fall asleep. He slid off the blanket so the cold would allow him to continue talking to Pia. He lifted himself up and leaned on his elbow. Pia threw off her fur and sat on the bed, her feet touching the cold ground. She should let him sleep, but she didn't want to be alone now when she knew he had not fallen asleep yet. Halfdan mimicked her position, then patted the empty spot next to him. He needed to have her close, to breathe her sweet aroma. When she raised her eyebrow up, he used the sleeping Blaeja as an excuse. He didn't want to wake her up, and the beds were on opposite sides of the tent.

Pia nodded and quickly swept from bed to bed. She sat cross-legged and wrapped one of the blankets around her. Halfdan looked at her with a smirk on his face, knowing he would remember to the end of his life how lovely she looked, running to him with her bare feet. Pia was studying him expecting an answer.

"That's true," he admitted. “Emotions after the battle, however, still didn't wear off.”

Pia stared at his face, reflecting on his words. She moved closer to him, feeling that maybe he also needed the closeness of another human being like she did.

“Do you... do you sometimes regret killing? Even if it's a battle, even if it's an enemy? Do you regret it?”

Halfdan knew much depended on his answer. He also knew what kind of answer Pia wanted, because he was aware of how much she was terrified of the sight of the bloody eagle. She was sensitive and delicate. She was a flower that he wanted to protect from strong winds and trampling. But lying was not an option. He wanted her to know what he was like.

"First battles are never easy," he began diplomatically. “You don't see them as humans anymore. You see them as targets, sacrifices. It becomes kill or be killed.”

Pia bit her lower lip. It didn't agree with her vision of the world, but she had to apply a cultural filter. That's how they were brought up, that's what their culture looked like. There was blood everywhere.

"I have never liked red," she whispered. Halfdan looked at her with puzzlement. She just waved her hand. “It doesn't matter. I will never be part of your society.”

“You will!” he shouted. Pia hushed him with an equally loud, shh, seeing Blaeja stir. After a moment, he repeated, his voice quiet. “You will. You only need time. You will learn to live among us.”

Pia sighed, then smiled genuinely. Halfdan, fascinated by how beautiful her face looked at that moment, put his hand to her cheek. Pia let him do it, aching to feel more warmth. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, and when she opened her eyes, Halfdan's lips were just centimetres away from hers. Pia did not know what to do. Would it be all right to get carried away or should she remain loyal to Ivar?

The decision was made for her.

“Pia! Pia!” shouted a familiar voice. Pia jumped from Halfdan to the proper distance. Hvitserk entered the tent. He was panting, his face was arranged into ugly fear. “You have to go with me... Ivar... he... he almost killed Sigurd.”

Fuck.

____________

@unicornbaby741 @caitsymichelle13 @mulders-xfile @jamierdr @ivarandersen

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged! :)

[tumbirus]

Good Evening, The criminal justice system in such tough times degenerates into rule by law.The law,that becomes an effective device in the hands of the Government fir the purposes of which hunt and this operates aganist the opponents of a regime, as a class ,in this scenario, if the court erroneously presumes that the nation's legal system is governer's by the principle of fuleof law,fallacies and unjust consequence are bound to occurred. In such a legal ambience, it will be equally fallacious to treat each case as isolated, as in reality ,it is not so.Climatic changes in a nation's constitutionalism are a hard reality which no court can ignore. Even in challenging times, constitutional court should be able to evolve a mechanism of its own to preserve the democratic fundation of the country by intervening in the incremental process of nation's "decibstitutionalisation ".Proffesar of law Rosalind Dixon in recent study says the "at least under certain conditions -of sufficient indipendance, political support and remedial power -courts can too play an important role in buttressing democratic process and commitments ",and this ,andccrodingly to her,"is the essence of responsive judicial reviw".The constitutional courts in Colombia and Brazil have developed tye new doctrine of "unconstitutional date of affairs ".This enables the Court to address structural deficits with a sence of realism and to pass effective orders even by deviating from procedural rigour ,with a view protect fundamental rights.This is ,in certain ways ,akin to thr practice of the Public Interest Litigation (PIL)in India and structural injunctions in this United States. Indian ,American and any country peopls are requst ,belive the true life ,mot making the public life violating activities ,crime ,unusal faith fighting ,religious ,human colour issues ,cheating ,public vote ,money ,belive vheating ,rape ,murder and more activities avoid one ,man kind joint one human community or society making to any country under ,politics ,party and leaders are public money cheater and this money under own securty and enjoying ones also ,same political leaders abuse humans media . (at Mumbai, Maharashtra) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf_8pmCLVWG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bravagente]

hello dear mod, thank you for everything you do. i have a question i apologise if it's heavier than the tone on this blog. recently a popular italian blogger said that race in italy is racist&was a product of il ventennio. i am french&i understand that we in europe don't like to say the word 'race', but i just want to understand how the construct of racism in italy, especially with all the far right/macerata from an italian persepective. I did read amara lakhous. thanks for everything you do!

Hi! Sorry for the late answer, it’s just such a complex matter to talk about and I’m not entirely sure I have the right perspective to handle it properly both as a white woman and as someone who lives in a city where that’s still relatively not diverse. Plus I study languages so I’m not really in the area - I basically really wanted to do right by this and I hope I will.

Disclaimer: it is true that in Italy the very concept of race, at least the way we know and use it in English is racist and a product of the ventennio. Whichever its etimology and original denotation, the word race (razza) has been very clearly connotated since Fascism: if you say men have razze, you’re implying some men have a pure, superior razza and some don’t. Nowadays in Italian dogs and horses have razze, not people. So, usually, if someone uses ‘race’ in italian as opposed to, say, ethnicity (etnia, colore), you’ll be quite sure they’re racist. It’s not that just because people don’t use the word they can’t be racist, but it does say something about how hard it is for us to cope with the American concept of race and the discourse that follows. The paradox is Americans are rightly very sensitive and careful about what they call race, when from our pov they’re just seeing it all from an inherently racist perspective: there are whites and then there are “people of colour”, all of them. Basically, a white race and then all those other races. Again, all of them. We can’t quite wrap our head around it, especially since we don’t really have a concept of, say, “brown” people. Come over in August, we’ll all be brown. We like a tan. It’s just beyond us.

Moving on to racism. It is possibly the most divisive thing in Italy right now and any conversation about it will escalate quickly because a) no one ever admits to being racist b) not everyone necessarily knows they are, if they are. Like everywhere else, it’s not always glaring. It’s not always a “racist slurs” kind of thing. There are subtle forms of it even here and not just in the alt right: I believe many liberals are actually as racist as one gets, they just don’t show because they never deal with people of colour in the first place. I once interviewed an otherwise pretty decent man who told me immigrants today don’t actually come here willing to work and therefore should be sent back home, another one praised a city he visited because he saw no blacks selling stuff there. I think it speaks volumes on how complex this thing is getting: you can deal with assholes who are 100% assholes. You can ignore them and decide they’re not worth your time and energy. But when they’re half-decent it’s just disheartening and makes you wonder where we’re going. Another reason conversations about racism often won’t end well is they slip into politics and fascism is far from over. Even though more-or-less openly fascist parties didn’t do well at the latest elections, the winners (League and the Five Stars) are firmly anti-immigration, making it about law and order as any Trump of the world would.

Having said this, race as we discussed it might be rooted in Fascism, but is the same true for racism? It is and it isn’t. There’s evidence that sub-saharian Africans were of always discriminated against. We had our own slave markets we don’t learn much of in schools, and while it’d buy and sell people of any race black Africans were definitely amongst them. There’s recently been a lot of discourse about how (in)accurate Still Star-Crossed was, with someone arguing that Alessandro de’ Medici was just an example of a class of black nobles. I’m afraid that’s not true. If I’m referencing to this particular period of time it’s because Renaissance is a personal interest of mine: The Ugly Renaissance will offer information about racism against dark-skinned Africans in 15th-16th century Italy. While light skinned Africans were considered as white as any European, sub-Saharans were thought to be strong and valuable workers, but also “uncivilized simpletons who could never hope to occupy a position of parity with the white majority”. That was a long time ago, sure, but it was bound to remain embedded in people’s mindset. And it did in ways we’d think were behind us by now.

Now, subtle forms of racism aside, there are many racists of the in-your-face, insulting type, more and worse than I ever thought possible growing up. They’ve actually probably always been there, it’s just now they have the Internet so they feel somehow validated and it’s made them unashamed to be openly hateful and ignorant with the support of the right.

However I have to stress that there many, many many more, non-racists. When fascists parade in our streets, anti fascist marches will follow. There’s always a firm reaction, it’s just decency doesn’t make any noise and rarely makes it to the headlines. Anyway I’ll give a few pieces of news  encapsulating the two souls of Italy:  

Refugee drowns in Venice as people film on their phones and do nothing

Teenager saves black child from getting hit by a train in Milan

Mein Kumpf-owning man shoots black immigrants on sight

Italians protest against racism

Refugee killed in Fermo after defending his wife from slurs

1500 in march to commemorate him

Black man shot to death in Florence

Italians join black people in march to commemorate him

So there’s the bright side I guess, we are genuinely engaged and young people who actually read books know we’re a country with very diverse genes, owing much of our language and culture and even food to “others”. This matters deeply to me because I think othering is the root of most, if not all, issues in our societies. This is a cultural problem first and foremost and I actually believe that. We often speak of inclusiveness or tolerance, but these are all patronizing concepts to me. Who the hell do I think I am to include or “tolerate” someone? No, I have to know in my heart of hearts that “others” aren’t to fear.

Anyway, racism is definitely an issue that exists and that’s getting worse. I’ve personally come to conclude racist behaviours in Italy are caused  and fueled by three broader factors that often inform one another.

Ideology is the most glaring: most racists are unapologetic fascists and racism is mounting and growing together with a wave of nostalgia for Mussolini’s party. A lot of fascists obviously never lived under the Duce in the first place, but they have a misguided perception of the ventennio as a time of justice and order where trains would run in time and so on. Something you’ll hear from time to time is that the duce “ha fatto anche cose buone” (also did good things). To these people, the presence of black people or muslims goes hand-in-hand with crimes and chaos: they’ll rape women! They steal and murder! They’re drug dealers! The fact that these things are sometimes true because eventually a rapist or killer or drug dealer will statistically have to be black is irrelevant: if caught off guard they’ll admit to believing every racist stereotype out there.

Xenophobia is more nuanced. The reason I don’t necessarily associate xenophobia with racism is that, until just a few years ago, the most feared foreigners in Italy were the very white Romanians and even Albanians before them. The media are also to blame for the way headlines were worded and they still tend to, often unwillingly, magnify the one crime someone black commits as opposed to those commited by Italians. The Macerata episode was most probably “inspired” by the killing of a young girl cut into pieces by at least one Nigerian immigrant. What do you now, since the news spread every Nigerian person has become a public enemy. Another huge media-related problem is they’ve created an unjustified alarm on the refugee emergency, treating it as if more people than in the past were arriving in our country (they weren’t) and as if the situation was completely out of control (it isn’t, although it’s not easy either). Crime is just one thing, though: people are afraid because our times are scary and dangerous, there are no jobs and the welfare is dying. They are hoping the government will help them and fearing that we’re too many for it to be sustainable. There’s a common misconception for which every immigrant in Italy is being hosted in a hotel and given 30 euros per day while unemployed Italians don’t have any money to buy food: while you can argue that the immigrant will only get 3 of those 30 euros, Italians still live this as if those resources are being spent on foreigners as opposed to themselves because scapegoating is a human, if wrong, thing. Clearly this is turning into a war of the underprivilegeds that will only result in diffidence and hatred, and the staggering misinformation about black people being all but enslaved in some areas of out country isn’t helping.

Conservativism, finally, is a branch of ideology but it’s not necessarily related to actual racism (though it can be). There are some who are entirely cool with people of other ethnicities as long as they “don’t bother” them. They’re too culturally lazy to accept anything different than what they knew as children, they fear Christmas will be cancelled and they don’t want, say, mosques, because they hardly know what they even are. They’re usually the same people who are annoyed by vegans: probably harmless, but they certainly don’t help.

Again I hope this helps. I really tried to be clear and truthful and not offend anybody.