yourpersonalcheerleader

eboshawtyy:

ivoryathena:

Badass women of the future:

  1. Malavath Poorna, the youngest person ever to reach Mount Everest’s summit at the age of 13 years, 11 months
  2. Ann Makosinksi, Canadian inventor of a flashlight powered strictly by body heat at age 16

  3. Mo’Ne Davis, first girl to throw a Little League World Series shutout in history, with fastballs reaching speeds of up to 70mph, at age 13

  4. Alia Sabur, youngest university professor in the world, appointed to Konkuk University in South Korea at age 18

  5. Asia Newson, owning and operating a candle sales business alongside her father, is Detroit’s youngest entrepreneur at age 10

Wow I’ve never even heard of these phenomenal ladies and that makes me sad!

sans-nuage
thepeoplesrecord:

Remembering Zoraida: Why we must build an anti-imperialist, multi-issue immigrants rights movement August 28, 2014
Zoraida Reyes was a trans woman and immigrant rights movement builder, working to weave transgender struggle and queer liberation into immigrant rights spaces. Zoraida was murdered, her body dumped in a parking-lot at a fast-food restaurant on June 12, 2014. The police have called her death “suspicious,” but have yet to declare it murder. Zoraida was my friend. She taught me to have dignity in my queer and migrant identities. Losing her is a tragedy and I want my entire community to fully feel the impact of her death, her murder, her struggle, her legacy.
Her friends and family are calling for justice. This is the kind of of loss that should have us all uprising! So many transmigrants and Trans women of color have been hurt and murdered in the last few months, a trend that, over the years, has started to look like genocide. We need to build communities and movements where the lives of our undocumented trans sisters and trans sisters of color are no longer under threat and treated as disposable.
I met Zoraida in college at the University of California, Santa Barbara, where we were involved in some of the same student organizations. We quickly built a friendship around our undocumented, queer experiences. During that time, she began her transition and hormone therapy and needed a social support system for transitioning that didn’t exist at white, heteronormative, affluent UCSB.
Zoraida joined an undocumented student group I was in that focused on campaigning for the DREAM Act and institutional support for undocumented students. We thought the organization was a safer space, so I asked that it also provide opportunities for those of us who were queer to have emotional support. The president of the group responded that if we wanted a support group that talked about “gay issues,” we needed something separate because most people could not relate to our experience. But it was important to me that we had an intersectional space, where the material and social needs of Undocu-queer and trans folks were a critical part of our fight.
Weeks later, at the same space, a very harsh, transphobic comment was made. Zoraida and I stormed out the room, never to return. Back then, I felt self-righteous for walking away with her from a space that was just being built and already reproducing homophobia and transphobia. But, I wished I stayed to challenge that reproduction of oppression, which targeted me as a cis queer woman and her as Trans, and fought for a place of leadership for queer and transmigrants. Today, we are still building spaces that address queer and trans issues in the immigrant rights movement.
On May 27, 2014, queer and trans undocumented and documented migrants carried out a civil disobedience in front of the Orange County immigration detention center. Transmigrants with and without papers put their bodies on the line despite the threat of state brutality. Zoraida was there. I had lost touch with her after college, but I recognized her on the live-stream sitting locked-arm with other migrants and barricading the street in civil disobedience. They made a bad ass intervention by highlighting, like never before, the atrocities trans women experience in detention centers. These atrocities have resulted in torture and death. At a rally earlier this year, she was recorded saying, “As Trans women, our bodies are political.” Her body and her visibility in the movement was highly political, highly counter-hegemonic.
I attended Zoraida’s wake in Santa Ana and over 100 people were there, especially from the local latino, queer and trans latino community—which truly speaks to her very unique legacy. We mourned and held each other with the terrible understanding that a lot of people in that space could be the next victim of this atrocious racist, xenophobic, homophobic, transphobic empire that continues to take lives, especially the lives of trans women. We had a moment to love and be gentle with each other, a moment in which many of us promised her that we would not rest until these horrendous murders stop. More than simply finding the party responsible for her death, this means addressing the deep poverty and lack of resources transmigrants face today.
On June 20th, at a presentation by Guatemalan lesbian feminist organizer, Sandra Moran, a member of the San Francisco Transgender, Gender-variant, Intersex Justice Project spoke about the conditions at the county jail for Trans folks of color and how they are addressing them. One of our members at Causa Justa shared that he felt honored to be hearing about this campaign from a trans leader, that, as a migrant cisgendered man who identified as heterosexual, it was important to hear and understand where he was needed and how to stand in solidarity. Since then, he has asked for dialogue that integrates responding to the conditions queer and trans folks experience around criminalization and deportation in our campaign work and demands.
In order to focus our demands in a way that centers the needs of our sisters most disenfranchised by this patriarchal, capitalist, cissexist empire; we need to reject assimilationist, meritocracy propaganda that was used back then, and still today, in the undocumented student circles that support DREAM Act legislations. It would mean getting sharper on our analysis and resistance of capitalism, imperialism, and all the ways those systems criminalize our survival and profit from the hyper exploitation of our communities.
It is our duty to build an immigrant rights movement that is intersectional. We must build so that the livelihood, leadership and power of transmigrants are at the center of our demands for dignity, liberation, and social and economic equality. We need to fight, not just for the murders of our friends to be resolved. We need to fight for all of us to have real access to a job without discrimination, to medical attention, to a community free of trans and homophobic violence. We do not live in a safe haven for transmigrants; we live inside the belly of a beast that promotes capitalist-heteropatriarchy all over the world. We must focus our attention to the voices of transmigrants to understand their conditions, to include their struggle in solidarity and to fight with them in unity. We must build a movement with a program of demands that rejects meritocracy and all the ways capitalism profits from our suffering, a program that centers all of us migrants surviving and thriving. ¡Zoraida Reyes vive, La lucha sigue!
Source

thepeoplesrecord:

Remembering Zoraida: Why we must build an anti-imperialist, multi-issue immigrants rights movement 
August 28, 2014

Zoraida Reyes was a trans woman and immigrant rights movement builder, working to weave transgender struggle and queer liberation into immigrant rights spaces. Zoraida was murdered, her body dumped in a parking-lot at a fast-food restaurant on June 12, 2014. The police have called her death “suspicious,” but have yet to declare it murder. Zoraida was my friend. She taught me to have dignity in my queer and migrant identities. Losing her is a tragedy and I want my entire community to fully feel the impact of her death, her murder, her struggle, her legacy.

Her friends and family are calling for justice. This is the kind of of loss that should have us all uprising! So many transmigrants and Trans women of color have been hurt and murdered in the last few months, a trend that, over the years, has started to look like genocide. We need to build communities and movements where the lives of our undocumented trans sisters and trans sisters of color are no longer under threat and treated as disposable.

I met Zoraida in college at the University of California, Santa Barbara, where we were involved in some of the same student organizations. We quickly built a friendship around our undocumented, queer experiences. During that time, she began her transition and hormone therapy and needed a social support system for transitioning that didn’t exist at white, heteronormative, affluent UCSB.

Zoraida joined an undocumented student group I was in that focused on campaigning for the DREAM Act and institutional support for undocumented students. We thought the organization was a safer space, so I asked that it also provide opportunities for those of us who were queer to have emotional support. The president of the group responded that if we wanted a support group that talked about “gay issues,” we needed something separate because most people could not relate to our experience. But it was important to me that we had an intersectional space, where the material and social needs of Undocu-queer and trans folks were a critical part of our fight.

Weeks later, at the same space, a very harsh, transphobic comment was made. Zoraida and I stormed out the room, never to return. Back then, I felt self-righteous for walking away with her from a space that was just being built and already reproducing homophobia and transphobia. But, I wished I stayed to challenge that reproduction of oppression, which targeted me as a cis queer woman and her as Trans, and fought for a place of leadership for queer and transmigrants. Today, we are still building spaces that address queer and trans issues in the immigrant rights movement.

On May 27, 2014, queer and trans undocumented and documented migrants carried out a civil disobedience in front of the Orange County immigration detention center. Transmigrants with and without papers put their bodies on the line despite the threat of state brutality. Zoraida was there. I had lost touch with her after college, but I recognized her on the live-stream sitting locked-arm with other migrants and barricading the street in civil disobedience. They made a bad ass intervention by highlighting, like never before, the atrocities trans women experience in detention centers. These atrocities have resulted in torture and death. At a rally earlier this year, she was recorded saying, “As Trans women, our bodies are political.” Her body and her visibility in the movement was highly political, highly counter-hegemonic.

I attended Zoraida’s wake in Santa Ana and over 100 people were there, especially from the local latino, queer and trans latino community—which truly speaks to her very unique legacy. We mourned and held each other with the terrible understanding that a lot of people in that space could be the next victim of this atrocious racist, xenophobic, homophobic, transphobic empire that continues to take lives, especially the lives of trans women. We had a moment to love and be gentle with each other, a moment in which many of us promised her that we would not rest until these horrendous murders stop. More than simply finding the party responsible for her death, this means addressing the deep poverty and lack of resources transmigrants face today.

On June 20th, at a presentation by Guatemalan lesbian feminist organizer, Sandra Moran, a member of the San Francisco Transgender, Gender-variant, Intersex Justice Project spoke about the conditions at the county jail for Trans folks of color and how they are addressing them. One of our members at Causa Justa shared that he felt honored to be hearing about this campaign from a trans leader, that, as a migrant cisgendered man who identified as heterosexual, it was important to hear and understand where he was needed and how to stand in solidarity. Since then, he has asked for dialogue that integrates responding to the conditions queer and trans folks experience around criminalization and deportation in our campaign work and demands.

In order to focus our demands in a way that centers the needs of our sisters most disenfranchised by this patriarchal, capitalist, cissexist empire; we need to reject assimilationist, meritocracy propaganda that was used back then, and still today, in the undocumented student circles that support DREAM Act legislations. It would mean getting sharper on our analysis and resistance of capitalism, imperialism, and all the ways those systems criminalize our survival and profit from the hyper exploitation of our communities.

It is our duty to build an immigrant rights movement that is intersectional. We must build so that the livelihood, leadership and power of transmigrants are at the center of our demands for dignity, liberation, and social and economic equality. We need to fight, not just for the murders of our friends to be resolved. We need to fight for all of us to have real access to a job without discrimination, to medical attention, to a community free of trans and homophobic violence. We do not live in a safe haven for transmigrants; we live inside the belly of a beast that promotes capitalist-heteropatriarchy all over the world. We must focus our attention to the voices of transmigrants to understand their conditions, to include their struggle in solidarity and to fight with them in unity. We must build a movement with a program of demands that rejects meritocracy and all the ways capitalism profits from our suffering, a program that centers all of us migrants surviving and thriving. ¡Zoraida Reyes vive, La lucha sigue!

Source

afro-dominicano

jcoleknowsbest:

likehercoffee:

theblacksophisticate:

I am SO goddamned tired of this shit. 

damn, they won’t let up. we can’t run and we can’t surrender. what do they expect us to do? they killed this woman over what some merchandise? you let out on some garments what twisted universe do you gotta come from when a overtime punching rent-a-cop even bothers to chase and then pull a gun? smh rip because there is nothing but war on this side of the final curtain.

I cannot.. I can’t….

afrofuturistaffair
breakthecitysky:

Mamie (Peanut) Johnson, the only female pitcher in the history of the Negro Leagues, watches Mo’ne Davis hurl shutout in opener of Little League World Series Johnson couldn’t miss seeing the debut of a kid who is believed to be the first African-American girl to play in the 75 years of youth baseball’s most storied tournament.Let’s hear it for happy tears.

breakthecitysky:

Mamie (Peanut) Johnson, the only female pitcher in the history of the Negro Leagues, watches Mo’ne Davis hurl shutout in opener of Little League World Series

Johnson couldn’t miss seeing the debut of a kid who is believed to be the first African-American girl to play in the 75 years of youth baseball’s most storied tournament.

Let’s hear it for happy tears.

dynastylnoire

vivaillajams:

http://www.gofundme.com/JamillaOkuboParsoTuition

Hello,

My name is Jamilla Okubo. I am an Kenyan-American artist from Washington, D.C. Currently residing in New York City attending Parsons the New School for Design. I am currently a rising senior at Parsons studying Integrated Fashion Design (undergraduate), with a background in Fine Arts, and a focus on textiles and fashion design. 

I have been attending Parsons for three years now and I am getting ready to graduate this year as well as complete my senior thesis. I am currently $72,000 in debt to Parsons the New School for Design. For the past three years my mother has assisted me by  paying the remainder of my tuition with the Parent Plus Loan. My mother has borrowed $43,000 of the Direct Parent Plus loan. I still owe $12,000 for my last (senior) year at Parsons and mother and I can no longer take out Direct Plus Loans. 

I hope to be that minority student of color at Parsons, who represents the school, and inspires my younger siblings, and other minority/low-income students globally, to have the ambition and drive that I have, and not let financial issues get in the way of it.

I need $10, 787 to pay for the rest of my tuition for my last year at Parsons.

USAGE OF FUNDS:

-Tuition: $10,787
-School Supplies (Fabric, muslin, pattern paper, designing tools, paint, canvases, lab fees, books, fieldtrip fees)

ABOUT ME & MY PURPOSE AS AN ARTIST:

 As a multidisciplinary artist I am able to combine my skills and knowledge to create and express myself. My artwork mainly focuses on people of the Diaspora (people of color), whom I consider my community. I use my artistic disciplines as tools to challenge myself in ways to give back to my community, educate, and empower them as well as the rest of the world.

It is my duty to remind people of color that we have such a rich culture, and that we should love ourselves and one another. I create artwork for my community, because I believe that my purpose as an artist of color is to empower and educate my community.

My artistic discipline connects me to my community by allowing me to create artwork that my community is able to enjoy, embrace, and share with others. I not only create my artwork for myself, but what I express through the medium that I use, is a story that many in my community can relate to. When it comes to creating, I strongly believe in the fact that, 

“Black art controls the “Negro’s” reality, negates negative influences, and creates positive images,”

A quote by Sonia Sanchez. As an artist of color coming from a low-income, single-mother household background, I am able to speak for many in my community from both my experiences growing up as well as express the beauty and hardships of my community’s culture and history. Being able to paint allows me to create for myself but also allows my work to connect to so many from my community. That is the beauty of being an artist, being able to express shared feelings and experiences with your community, where they can also can all take something from what you create.
There is so much to learn, and from that form of inspiration and influence, I create.

RECENT INTERVIEWS:

OkayAfrica:  http://www.okayafrica.com/news/jamilla-okubo-textiles-paintings/#slide1

AADAT:  www.aadatart.com/interview-jamilla-okubo-on-her-cultural-background-creative-inspirations-and-favourite-things/

Portfolio Website www.jamillaokubo.com
Shop my art prints here: http://aadatart.com/product-category/art-prints/jamilla-okubo/

SPREAD THE WORD TUMBLR FAMILY! I LOVE YALL!

*SIGNAL BOOST THIS PLEASEEEEE*  

southrnbird
fierceforblackwomen:

To raise awareness about the 80% of black women who suffer from fibroids, we’d love for you to upload selfies and other photos of yourself in a white dress in the comments section. And wear a white dress TOMORROW, Thursday, July 10, in commemoration of Fibroids Awareness Month — first in Georgia and eventually nationwide. In our 3-part series on fibroids, check out organizations fighting fibroids and read why Tanika Gray Valbrun founded The White Dress Project: We CAN Wear White: #FightFibroids #WeCanWearWhite #FierceHealth

fierceforblackwomen:

To raise awareness about the 80% of black women who suffer from fibroids, we’d love for you to upload selfies and other photos of yourself in a white dress in the comments section. And wear a white dress TOMORROW, Thursday, July 10, in commemoration of Fibroids Awareness Month — first in Georgia and eventually nationwide. In our 3-part series on fibroids, check out organizations fighting fibroids and read why Tanika Gray Valbrun founded The White Dress Project: We CAN Wear White: #FightFibroids #WeCanWearWhite #FierceHealth

fuckyeahjennellujima

Because when I was 13 years old, I was sent home for my tank top straps being a little too thin, but a boy could wear a Cool Story babe, Go Make Me A Sandwich shirt and not be looked at twice.

Because when I was 17 and I told a guy “No” and the next day the word tease was painted on my locker.

Because when I was 18 and just wanted to be friends, I was a bitch.

Because I feel the need to say “I have a boyfriend” instead of “No” because guys respect other men more than they would ever respect me.

Because society screams “don’t get raped” instead of “don’t rape”

Because I am scared to walk alone at 10 PM

Because being beautiful is the most important thing I’ll ever do.

Because when I wear my favorite skirt “I’m asking for it”

Because the song Blurred Lines exists

Because no means no no matter how you fucking spin it

Because a girl was drugged and raped with a beer bottle, and the boys who did it are out on bail.

Because I owe you nothing

Because pepper spray is a gift I receive yearly.

Because I am asked if I have a boyfriend more than I am asked about my mental health

Because my clothes say more about my consent then my mouth does.

Because the wage gap exists

Because “not all men are like that” is said way too often

ENOUGH ARE

Because I feel the need to say “I’m not a feminist but…”

Because I’m writing this fucking piece

When you ask why I’m angry? (via brennanat)

👏

(via fuckyeahjennellujima)
knowledgeequalsblackpower

hugewiener:

whitecolonialism:

Images of the Border Crisis in the United States.
AATTP

An estimated 52,000 unaccompanied children have entered the United States from Central America since October. President Barack Obama has asked Congress for $3.7B to improve security along the border, provide better housing for the undocumented immigrants while in custody and to speed up the deportation process. 

Despite the horrible conditions these children are attempting to escape, conditions that include extreme poverty and violence, the White House has said that “they expect most will ultimately be repatriated,” despite the fact that about 60% of children coming over from Central America are eligible for some kind of humanitarian protection, according to a report from the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees.

While the problem before us must be handled immediately, it cannot be addressed without first examining it’s root causes. While our American elected officials and media would like to make us all believe that this issue is unrelated to American behavior and that it is simply the result of the inability of Central American countries such as El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras to protect their borders and reduce through policing their crime the truth is quite the opposite. This immigration issue that the United States is currently facing is the result of American economic and military intervention in Central America.

For decades the United States has toppled governments in Central America, fueled civil wars and most recently has escalated the War on Drugs within countries in Central America. The connection between the United States foreign policy and it’s current immigration problem cannot be ignored, every action has an effect and due to the actions taken by the United States in the past, we today see families from all over Central America attempt to flee the violence that the United States was instrumental in creating.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sans-nuage

gradientlair:

The Violence That Black Trans Women Face

[content warning: transmisogynoir] Tiffany Edwards, 28 years old, is a Black trans woman who was shot to death in Ohio. Cemia “Ci Ci” Dove, 20 years old, is Black trans woman who was stabbed to death and her body was further brutalized in Ohio. Mia Henderson, 26 years old, is a Black trans woman who was killed and her body experienced “severe trauma” in Maryland. Brittany-Nicole Kidd-Stergis, 22 years old, is a Black trans woman who was shot to death in Ohio.

They are just a (recent) sampling of the young Black trans women who face astronomical rates (such that most homicides among LGBTQ people are of trans women of colour, particularly Black trans women) of violence and homicide because of anti-Blackness, racism, sexism, misogyny, misogynoir, colourism, classism/economic violence, for some, misogynoir specific to sex work, and transmisogyny in general. There are so many intersecting oppressions and one that is regularly eclipsed when violence on Black trans women is discussed is anti-Blackness itself, which alludes to the ways in which the socially acceptable hatred and oppression of Black women in general amplifies for Black trans women. Even in death, as anti-Blackness never allows death to be the final act for Black people, these women are misgendered and immediately associated with crime, versus their gender and humanity honored and their lives respected. Blackness alone, let alone their other intersecting oppressions guarantees that the latter is unlikely.

Whenever street harassment, domestic violence, sexual assault, police harassment, police brutality, extrajudicial violence/execution and State violence are discussed, Black trans women’s experiences have to be included. Whether the violence is intraracial (re: what Laverne Cox explained about this, not as arbitrary Black pathology but inherently occurring because of the impact of anti-Blackness, White supremacy and more on gender for Black people), interracial (as some violence occurs to Black trans women just for existing, as with CeCe McDonald, while some is related to transmisogynoir and sex work), extrajudicial or State violence (such as the consistent willful violence from the police as in what Monica Jones experienced, healthcare and legal systems), Black trans women’s experiences have to be included. (And there’s much to be said about the impact of oppression on Black trans women and mental health since almost 50% Black trans people, in general, have attempted suicide.)

Information on violence against Black trans women and structural factors that contribute to this (some includes other LGBTQIA populations):

Devastating to regularly encounter these stories. This is also violence on Black people. Tiffany’s, Cemia’s, Mia’s and Brittany’s lives mattered. Black trans women matter.

clutchmag

Hair Politics: Military Says Black Women Can Have Braids & Twists

clutchmag:

Hair Politics: Military Says Black Women Can Have Braids & Twists

HAIR-web-master675

Earlier this year, Black female soldiers were upset after the military rolled out new regulations many said were discriminating against women with natural hair. The Army outlawed two-strand twists, locs, braids that are thicker than a quarter of an inch in diameter, and other styles black women love to wear.

Army spokesman Paul Prince said, ” “Many hairstyles are acceptable, as long as they are…

View On WordPress

nprglobalhealth
nprglobalhealth:

Reporter’s Notebook: A Not-So-Grand Tour Of Ethiopia’s Top Hospital
When you sign up for a reporting fellowship to learn about the health of newborns in Ethiopia, you expect things to be a little different from what you’re used to in the U.S. To be perfectly honest, a little worse. But Ethiopia actually surprised me, even before I took off.
I did my research, and it turns out that Ethiopia’s health care system is getting better — significantly better. It’s meeting international goals, winning awards from the United States and, more important, babies are living longer and fewer mothers are dying in childbirth.
This is great news. Maybe Ethiopia would be better than I expected. I got some shots in the arm, popped a few anti-malaria pills and hoped for the best.
It was worse. Now, to be fair, all those things I said before are true. More babies are living through childbirth. Infant mortality has decreased by 39 percent in the past 15 years. But one in every 17 Ethiopian children still dies before turning 1, and one in every 11 children dies before age 5. There’s a ways to go.
Once I arrived, it took me awhile to figure out what was actually happening with Ethiopia’s health care. I was more involved in recovering from the jet lag that woke me up at 1 a.m. every day and avoiding mosquitoes like the plague. I was honestly a little mosquito obsessive. I covered myself and each of my belongings with every repellent known to man: cream, spray, patches, bracelets, small mechanized devices. I needed all the help I could get — the little critters are hopelessly attracted to me.
Because I was having some trouble breaking out of my self-obsessed bubble, Ethiopian health care didn’t seem too bad at first. We heard from Save the Children about all the improvements the country had made. We visited a private maternity/abortion clinic whose “waiting room” was a bunch of plastic chairs set up under a tarp outside.
Continue reading.
Photo: Family members sit in the waiting room for the neonatal unit at Black Lion hospital.(Amy Walters/NPR)

nprglobalhealth:

Reporter’s Notebook: A Not-So-Grand Tour Of Ethiopia’s Top Hospital

When you sign up for a reporting fellowship to learn about the health of newborns in Ethiopia, you expect things to be a little different from what you’re used to in the U.S. To be perfectly honest, a little worse. But Ethiopia actually surprised me, even before I took off.

I did my research, and it turns out that Ethiopia’s health care system is getting better — significantly better. It’s meeting international goals, winning awards from the United States and, more important, babies are living longer and fewer mothers are dying in childbirth.

This is great news. Maybe Ethiopia would be better than I expected. I got some shots in the arm, popped a few anti-malaria pills and hoped for the best.

It was worse. Now, to be fair, all those things I said before are true. More babies are living through childbirth. Infant mortality has decreased by 39 percent in the past 15 years. But one in every 17 Ethiopian children still dies before turning 1, and one in every 11 children dies before age 5. There’s a ways to go.

Once I arrived, it took me awhile to figure out what was actually happening with Ethiopia’s health care. I was more involved in recovering from the jet lag that woke me up at 1 a.m. every day and avoiding mosquitoes like the plague. I was honestly a little mosquito obsessive. I covered myself and each of my belongings with every repellent known to man: cream, spray, patches, bracelets, small mechanized devices. I needed all the help I could get — the little critters are hopelessly attracted to me.

Because I was having some trouble breaking out of my self-obsessed bubble, Ethiopian health care didn’t seem too bad at first. We heard from Save the Children about all the improvements the country had made. We visited a private maternity/abortion clinic whose “waiting room” was a bunch of plastic chairs set up under a tarp outside.

Continue reading.

Photo: Family members sit in the waiting room for the neonatal unit at Black Lion hospital.(Amy Walters/NPR)