Sobbing And Crying At The Woman Who Stole A Meth Addicted Kitten From Her Dealer And Then She And The

sobbing and crying at the woman who stole a meth addicted kitten from her dealer and then she and the kitten got clean together

cannot stop thinking about how good the fabrication of consent in squid game was… like yeah, the participants consent! over and over, from agreeing to the slapping game to ringing up the number of their own accord to meeting at the location to signing a separate sheet once more upon arrival… they can even disband the game if the majority decrees it. but this is all performative. because of course they’ll agree - of course they’ll come back.

the second episode is even all about addressing this ‘consent’, and that potential audience superiority: “so why don’t they just leave???? if they can??? why did they even do all this to start with?? it’s so extreme, to do all that just for money, i would never”

because, the show says, look at what they’re returning to. look at the life that’s offered as their alternative. debt up to their ears, money-brokers beating them up, poverty at its worst. do you see? do you see how yeah, joining that game is optional, but it’s optional in the sense of choosing to be stabbed or shot: theres consent, but not actual desire. that theres agreement, but under exploitation. there’s a reason only poor people are chosen to compete and it’s so obvious but i fucking love how the show handles it and addresses any audience superiority anyway

"Stop this gender war, it's useless, women are just as bad as men!"

Are we? Really? When they have never stopped attacking us? When they're the ones who are violent? When they're the ones committing crimes?

*video of woman lightly batting her bf's arm, either playful or mildly annoyed*

every fucking comment: equal rights equal lefts! i mean, she hit first so i don't have to hold back. ha women wanna play but this is the 21st century and feminism means i could hospitalize her for this. oh what, you don't like equality anymore?

She was called Phillis, because that was the name of the ship that brought her, and Wheatley, which was the name of the merchant who bought her. She was born in Senegal.

In Boston, the slave traders put her up for sale: “She's 7 years old! She will be a good mare!”

At thirteen, she was already writing poems in a language that was not her own. No one believed that she was the author. At the age of twenty, Phillis was questioned by a court of eighteen enlightened men in robes and wigs.

She had to recite passages from Virgil and Milton and some verses from the Bible, and she also had to vow that the poems she had composed were not copied. From a chair, she underwent her lengthy examination, until the court approved her: she was a woman, she was Black, she was enslaved, but she was a poet.

Phillis Wheatley was the first African-American writer to publish a book in the United States.

✍🏾: Black History Studies