For those who “don’t see color”

Welcome to your alternate universe, where up is down and down is hate. It would be ignorant of me to not touch on the this particular subject, especially considering what’s happening in the United States. From “building a wall” to the immigration ban, it seems that the theme for 2017 is white power. Where Democracy once reigned, some countries like Greece or Hungary are now reveling in what they call “nationalism” but we all know it by its old name: fascism. It is now seen as freedom of expression to be outwardly hateful to other human beings based solely on the fact that some people cannot accept the fact that the landscape of the world is now changing. Welcome to 2017, where the need for a Martin Luther King or Gandhi has never felt more needed than now…

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The confusing musings of my sexual liberation

I’m fortunate enough to know several, strongly opinionated women, some of whom identify as feminists and some who don’t. But the one thing that they all have in common, is the mere fact that they all believe that women everywhere should have the right to do whatever they want and that right certainly extends to their vaginas. This might be a feminist rant or it might be enjoyable commentary on what sexual liberation means to the modern woman, or it just might be bullshit. Either way, you’re gonna hear my thoughts. Some of which will make sense, and the rest just might be filler (yeah, I know…but in my defense, writing ain’t easy). We’ve all seen the “Hoe is life” hashtag everywhere in the last few years. Women are living their best hoe life while yelling from the rooftops that it’s no longer a man’s prerogative to fuck everything that breathes. I know part of this statement might be a reductive way to describe men, but this isn’t a space centered around them so  FUCK’EM! But what does sexual liberation actually mean? How did we get from marital virgin to hoe is life in 3 generations?

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Addicted to swiping

There are 3 things that I know about myself: I am extremely stubborn, I make jokes about absolutely everything (Just ask my dead grandmother…relax, she honestly doesn’t mind) and I can easily become obsessed with something I truly like. And I’m talking like a decade-long fixation and not a passing fad. Can you guess what my latest compulsion is?? Swiping on a particular, popular dating app, and not just any ole’ swiping. Swiping left is the new petty. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t even read the profiles and look at the rest of their pictures, I just fucking swipe. I obviously I have specific rules for swiping like if there’s a cat in the first picture I see of you, you are dismissed. If there’s a big ass fish being hung from some sort of line, you are dismissed. If your first picture is of you in a group of 20 deep, you are dismissed. I’m addicted to the rush of mass rejection. What is it about rejection that makes us feel (well, those of us that are dead inside…) so goddamn powerful. And before you shake your head in disbelief, ask yourself why the whole world is on so many dating apps…

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The pursuit of my happiness…

I’ve neglected you. I don’t call, I don’t write but I’m back, just like that asshole you gave your number to 4 months ago. These last few months have been busy, amazing and scary all at once. I’ve changed. Kind of a big statement to make but this time off has shown me who I can be and what I’m made of. I’ve been resistant to my own evolution for a while now. And although there has been some growth in the last 3 years, it’s mostly been stagnant because of fear. I’m not one made or built for change, I know how that sounds and yes I am aware that one can live without constant change. But what scares me is the lack of control when those changes come into effect. I’m so scared of how change will affect me that I don’t always realize that it’s necessary. But it’s like I’m seeing many things and people for the first time ( I swear, I wanna slap myself for this cult-like sentence…). What happens when you finally realize that you’re the reason you’re unhappy? How can such a small revelation fuck your entire life up?

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Black while online dating…

So in a effort to be less antisocial than I’ve been, I decided to join other millennials in search for…well I’m not so sure what yet, but at the very least a warm body to come over once in a while and promptly leave just a quickly as he came (pun fully intended…yes, I’m gross but you already knew that…). With the internet making physical human interaction as so accessible,  we are living in world where more than half of your social circle is either on Tinder, Grinder, OK Cupid, Bumble and the ever, cringe-worthy POF ( I apologize to divorced soccer moms, weekend dads and sexy, single grandmas everywhere…but come on!). With all these tools at our disposal, it should more than easy to troll for your next victim. But as with everything related to the internet, Those dating sites are littered with thousands moronic assholes who can barely spell but can’t help let their inner misogynist/xenophobic/racists monologues in your inbox…What the fuck is a girl to do?!?!

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This is a man’s world…and not the James Brown kind

Welcome to 2016, where it’s a crime to be a woman and be proud of it. Welcome to age where being a woman is now hazardous to your physical safety. Probation is now the choice sentence for rapists and hell, it’s been a good year for rapists, black and white alike. You can now rape and go to college, and you can now rape and get $17.5 millions for your script. In short, no one is loosing this year, unless you happen to have a vagina and decide to be outspoken about your vagina. From Feminazi to Vagenda (First, off like the people coming up with this shit, should at least try a little harder with these names..), seemed like everyone with a pussy is on guard to either get physically attacked, threatened and pretty much dismissed unless, well, they have a penis (and not even a very big one at that…). And to hear it, some, equality is here so they don’t really know what we (feminists) are bitching about…

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That selfish bitch…

Can we be real with each other? What is it with guilt that drives people to recoil in the fetal position the minute they try to be a little more selfish? Can’t we put ourselves first? Men do it all the time (Penis firs though..) but as women we’re so constantly worried that people will see us as self-centered or acting in self-interest. We’re ready to prove them wrong even if it means that we’ll spend the next 30 years miserable, just so Mr. Smith and his dick can be happy…Is devotion really worth the mental anguish and the constant self-doubt?

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