How could I know you fit my body like a glove? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me.

I have time. Please, devour me.

Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima mon amour (via loveless-people)

(via lifeinpoetry)

We tend to believe that accusations of privilege imply we have it easy, which we resent because life is hard for nearly everyone. Of course we resent these accusations. Look at white men when they are accused of having privilege. They tend to be immediately defensive (and, at times, understandably so). They say, “It’s not my fault I am a white man,” or “I’m [insert other condition that discounts their privilege],” instead of simply accepting that, in this regard, yes, they benefit from certain privileges others do not. To have privilege in one or more areas does not mean you are wholly privileged. Surrendering to the acceptance of privilege is difficult, but it is really all that is expected. What I remind myself, regularly, is this: the acknowledgment of my privilege is not a denial of the ways I have been and am marginalized, the ways I have suffered.

Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist (via brutereason)

queen-of-love-and-beauty:

Men who can’t cook, clean, or even do their own laundry are not “cute” and “in need of a woman to care for them”. They are spoiled brats so dependent on gender roles that they never bothered to learn the minimal skills to take care of themselves.

(via pierced-fattie)