So students at my university have been fighting the administration to include ethnic studies as part of a requirement for a diversity course we need to take in order to graduate.
This includes Pan-African, Chican@, and Asian American studies.
An anonymous group plastered this garbage all over campus. You can tell they’re white.
No one complains about taking a history class because they know it’s required.
But teach anything besides white history in the US and all hell breaks loose.
This pissed me off so much and I attended to senate protest yesterday and the council (who were predominantly white, and my school’s student population is mostly PoC) were pressured to vote for the motion to make ethnic studies a diversity requirement.
HELL FUCKING YES.
YOU WHITE PEOPLE WILL LEARN ABOUT OTHER HISTORY NOT SOMETHING FROM YOUR WHITE-WASHED HISTORY TEXTBOOKS.
Go home and cry and use this fuckwad of a flyer as your tissue to wipe away your white tears.
I certainly hope they will cover the long history of slavery, human sacrifice, cannibalism, war, religious persecution, sexism, racism and discrimination in these cultures. I’d hate to think POC’s history would be “white-washed”
MOVES TO A WHITE COUNTRY
COMPLAINS ABOUT “YOU WHITE PEOPLE”
IF YOU WANT CHICANO HISTORY YOU CAN MOVE TO SOUTH AMERICA, IF YOU WANT ASIAN HISTORY YOU CAN MOVE TO ASIA, BUT YOU WON’T
Corgi pup a little to excited about shopping
This is the sound of my childhood
as a white person i apologize
As a black person, I say that you don’t need to apologize.
You should not be held accountable for what your ancestors did. They did bad things to people, but you didn’t. You also shouldn’t feel as though you aren’t allowed to have problems. Just because society leans toward favouring white people, doesn’t mean your life is perfect and stress free.
You don’t need to feel bad for being born the race you are. No one should
A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.
Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)
When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.
Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.
Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.
Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.
Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.
me: im going to fucking stab you
straight white boy: haha then what? ;)
This is so cool. You normally only see lightning for a split second and it’s gone, but since this is looped, we see the beauty over and over
Fuck yeah to the kids who feel like they’re dying inside but still gather up the strength to roll out of bed, get dressed, and leave the house. You are strong and beautiful and worth so much more than you know.