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Orphaned transracial international ungrateful insurgent Class Bastard.

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Sep 18 '14

This exact moment in Charlie’s angels is so iconic in my life


This exact moment in Charlie’s angels is so iconic in my life

(Source: enemaroberts)

Aug 29 '14

REVIEW: Storm #1



Nice review of STORM #1. Second issue in a couple of weeks!



Released- 7/23/14

Writer- Greg Pak | Art- Victor Ibanez

Quick Verdict: Buy this now. Buy five copies. Give them to superhero-loving folks you love. 

Read More

I waited two weeks for my comic guy to catch up. Just sat down and read it. That was so quick. Loved seeing Storm in her humanitarian form free from X-men protocol or whatev. 

The presence of Creep, a vulnerable, brown Latina mutant is important. The fact that she brought up the intersection of being a mutant and marginalized (for other identities) is important. Though Creep seemed like she was talking about class privilege not so much race (considering she was addressing Storm). 

I’ll be looking forward to more. Shout out to greg-pak

(Source: )

Aug 28 '14



FEMINIST:  A person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes. 

i love her som uch i could cry

Aug 6 '14
May 30 '14


Grace Jones by Jean-Paul Goude


(Source: just-art)

Mar 25 '14


the most iconic scene in cinematic history

(Source: femburton)

Feb 1 '14
"I don’t like men whistling at women in the street, I think they deserve more respect… I like men to keep their distance from women, I like men to be stunned by an entrance. I like people to be afraid of the women I dress."
Alexander McQueen, Savage Beauty: A Tribute (via mendingending)
Jan 30 '14


Take everything you know and imagine about Freddie Mercury: the iconic British rock star, the philandering partier, the serial maker of testosteroned-anthems, and flip it around to something less familiar: Farrokh Bulsara, a demure, bucktoothed Indian boy in a Bombay boarding school, listening to Lata Mangeshkar, playing cricket.

Curiously enough, the one thing Freddie Mercury was never asked, nor spoke openly about, was his Indianness. […] There were no Indian rock stars in England, sure. But there were also no Indian rock stars in India. Or Tanzania.  Let alone gay, Indian, Parsi, third-culture-kid rock stars in either India, England, or Tanzania.

Freddie could not refer to any identity or trajectory other than his own. It is clear from interviews with his family and friends that he was not self-hating, not the type to try hard to be “white-washed.” His silence or dismissal about his cultural background—and one so formative and dramatically different than British life at that—can be interpreted as a political and social symptom of his time:

Freddie lived in the same Britain that has given the world its Victorian feelings about desire, sex and gender. Perhaps he rejected British Victorian taste at the same time he rejected his Indian Africaness. Even American liberal Lester Bangs was made uncomfortable by Mercury’s bare chest. What we call ‘queer’ now with feelings of empowerment, then, was still scary and threatening even on the music scene. Did he consider himself British? Or like Bowie who came after, an alien altogether?

[…] But this is the Freddie we all know: Take, for example, September 1978—his prime. He was handsome, with an angular though slightly bovine jaw, and vaguely ethnic features. Even as someone unfortunate enough to have never witnessed his performative tenacity in real life, the visual archives of Freddie Mercury make certain things apparent: he was magical, soft-spoken, and—to complicate and contribute to his paradoxical bustle—clear that he was the toughest, coolest queen the world had ever seen, whose work, as effeminate and genderbending as it was, is still considered pretty manly today. V.S. Naipaul once said: “write every book as though it is your last.” Freddie, with vatic intuition, took a page out of that book, and sang every song with the same sentiment. It is universally agreed upon—I think—that it is seldom one finds artists who exalt both abandon and irony as debonairly as he.

Despite the fact that he seemed to dismiss categories, reject a slew of social norms, he was ironically, a creature of caricature, of extremity, and high-Victorian causticity: “There’s no half measures with me,” Freddie said in one of his last interviews, unintentionally referencing an apt musical notation. From the dramatic flippancy of his costumes, to his 8-octave baritone perusing vocal extremes with relative abandon, to the fact that he—without doubt, and to the agreement of nearly everyone who lived in his era—defined what it meant to “party like a rock star, “  Freddie was not one for subtlety when it came to his artistic tastes.

And it is also possible that Freddie was not “stuck” in multiple worlds—though he was rejected from most— but liberated. And maybe he had the right idea about  culture—that he was not Indian, Zoroastrian, British, or Zanzibarian—but quite simply, he was all that became of his passion: just rock ‘n’ roll.
Jan 27 '14
Dec 9 '13

"I try to write & sing songs that we as women need to hear. I know sometimes it’s hard to realize how amazing we are. I’m very happy to be able to do that for women around the world."

(Source: serfborts)