Why climate deniers aren’t credible, in 0.17%
I checked out the source on this, and I think the researcher’s methods were valid. So this is something to consider.
And if you’re already a fervent believer in human-caused global climate change who thinks anyone who rejects it must be a paranoid conservative who’s been brainwashed since childhood, I invite you to consider whether you are also willing to yield to scientific consensus rather than your own political opinions when it comes to evolution, or, more likely, genetically modified organisms.
To those of you who think representation isn’t important, Lupita Nyong’o inspired a young black girl to not bleach her skin.
I repeat, Lupita Nyong’o inspired a young black girl to not bleach her skin.
Lupita received a letter from a young black girl that said she was about to buy Dencia’s Whitenicious cream to lighten her skin when Lupita appeared and saved her.
So, stop telling POC they should get over it when they’re being misrepresented.
Representation DOES matter. Seeing Lupita onscreen can save and bring hope to the lives of many young black girls.
Activists say the laws restricting women in the kingdom are not based in religious teachings.
Saudi women activists have petitioned the country’s consultative council to back a demand to curb the “absolute authority” of male guardians over women in the kingdom, a signatory has said.
Activist Aziza Yousef told AFP news agency on Sunday that “rights activists have petitioned the Shura (consultative) Council on the occasion of the International Women’s Day [on March 8] demanding an end to the absolute authority of men over women”.
They demanded “measures to protect [women’s] rights,” in their petition to the Shura Council, she said.
Saudi Arabia imposes a strict interpretation of Islamic law, forbidding women to work or travel without the authorisation of their male guardians.
It is also the only country in the world that bans women from driving, and a woman cannot obtain an identification card without the consent of her guardian.
Laws in the kingdom enforcing such restrictions on women “are not based on religious” teachings, said Yousef.
The petition, signed by 10 female activists, also calls for allowing women to drive.
Three female members of the Shura Council presented a recommendation that women be given the right to drive in October, but the male-dominated 150-member assembly blocked the proposal.
Women in Saudi must obtain permission from a male guardian to perform “certain surgeries” and to “leave the university campus during study hours,” she added.
She cited a recent case in which a pregnant student had to give birth on campus after a women-only university in Riyadh denied access to paramedics.
And a university student died in February after paramedics were prevented from entering her campus because they were not accompanied by a male guardian, a must according to the strict segregation rules in the Muslim kingdom.
The Shura Council is appointed by the king and advises the monarch on policy, but cannot legislate.
When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”
When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.
When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”
(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)
When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.
I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.
No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.
I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.
So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:
In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.”
Hey, remember that person you were following whose icon looked like this?
Well guess what. It’s still me.
black women come in literally every shape, color, and size
and so when a person says they aren’t attracted to black women
it’s not actually about being physically attracted to black women
it’s about an aversion to blackness
and just knowing a person is black is seen as repulsive
regardless of physical attractiveness