tygenco:

missveryvery:

misspiratesavvy:

Harbor Police arrested a 29-year-old man early Sunday morning, July 27th in a hotel at 333 West Harbor Drive. He was booked into San Diego County Jail at 11:20 am on charges of sexual contact with a minor and contributing to the delinquency of minor. The victim, a juvenile female, was transported to a hospital for evaluation and treatment. The Harbor Police Investigations Unit is handling the incident. This investigation is ongoing.

HE HAS BEEN ARRESTED.

For those who don’t know what has been happening,

According to the girl’s mother, her injuries are severe, and indicate a vicious beating. Here is the account of what occurred from Tumblr:

IF YOU WENT TO SAN DIEGO COMIC CON OR KNOW ANYONE WHO HAS, PLEASE READ.

One of my dearest friends was found on the side of the road, unconscious and bloody. She was wearing this cosplay on the day it happened. She was last seen with friends when she ran off after a disagreement. Please, please, please, if you have ANY information or saw her anywhere, contact her mother. The full information is down below. This isn’t okay and it’s sickening to know that this happened at a place people truly can enjoy themselves. Please spread the word.

”I just received a call from the San Diego Police Department and my daughter REDACTED aka REDACTED was found on the side of the road covered in blood with no ID unconscious. They are unsure what happened to her. My husband is on his way to the police station and then the hospital. If you have any information on what happened to her please send me a facebook message or call me at REDACTED. Thank you in advance”. -REDACTED

Remember when SDCC said they didn’t want to make their anti-harassment policy clear because it would make it seem like there was a problem? (more)

well too fucking bad, now it REALLY looks like you have a problem, you fucks.

Let’s just keep this circulating, shall we? Because this is not okay on any level.

did-you-kno:


According to Switzerland’s law, social animals like guinea pigs must have a buddy with them.  Owning only one is considered animal abuse and is illegal.
Source

did-you-kno:

According to Switzerland’s law, social animals like guinea pigs must have a buddy with them.  Owning only one is considered animal abuse and is illegal.

Source

thepoliticalfreakshow:

The Transgender Crucible: Rolling Stone’s Article on Trans Former Inmate CeCe McDonald [TW: Descriptions of Transmisogyny, Transphobia, & Anti-Trans Violence]
A dozen eggs, bacon, maybe some biscuits: CeCe McDonald had a modest shopping list in mind, just a few things for breakfast the next day. It was midnight, the ideal time for a supermarket run. Wearing a lavender My Little Pony T-shirt and denim cutoffs, CeCe grabbed her purse for the short walk to the 24-hour Cub Foods. She preferred shopping at night, when the darkened streets provided some relief from the stares, whispers and insults she encountered daily as a transgender woman. CeCe, 23, had grown accustomed to snickers and double takes – and was practiced in talking back to strangers who’d announce, “That’s a man!” But such encounters were tiring; some days a lady just wanted to buy her groceries in peace.
And so it was that on a warm Saturday night in June 2011, CeCe and four friends, all African-Americans in their twenties, found themselves strolling the tree-lined streets of her quiet working-class Long­fellow neighborhood in Minneapolis, toward a commercial strip. Leading the way was CeCe’s roommate Latavia Taylor and two purse-carrying gay men – CeCe’s makeshift family, whom she called “cousin” and “brothers” – with CeCe, a fashion student at a local community college, and her lanky boyfriend trailing behind. They were passing the Schooner Tavern when they heard the jeering.
"Faggots."
Gathered outside the dive bar were a handful of cigarette-smoking white people, looking like an aging biker gang in their T-shirts, jeans and bandannas, motorcycles parked nearby. Hurling the insults were 47-year-old Dean Schmitz, in a white button-down and thick silver chain, and his 40-year-old ex-girlfriend Molly Flaherty, clad in black, drink in hand. “Look at that boy dressed as a girl, tucking his dick in!” hooted Schmitz, clutching two beer bottles freshly fetched from his Blazer, as CeCe and her friends slowed to a stop. “You niggers need to go back to Africa!”
Chrishaun “CeCe” McDonald stepped in front of her friends, a familiar auto­pilot kicking in, shunting fury and fear to a distant place while her mouth went into motion. “Excuse me. We are people, and you need to respect us,” CeCe began in her lisping delivery, one acrylic-nailed finger in the air, her curtain of orange micro­braids swaying. With her caramel skin, angled jaw and square chin, friends called her “CeCe” for her resemblance to the singer Ciara; even her antagonist Flaherty would later describe CeCe as “really pretty.” “We’re just trying to walk to the store,” CeCe continued, raising her voice over the blare of Schmitz and Flaherty’s free-associating invective: “bitches with dicks,” “faggot-lovers,” “niggers,” “rapists.” The commotion was drawing more patrons out of the bar – including a six-foot-eight, 310-pound biker in leather chaps – and CeCe’s boyfriend, Larry Thomas, nervously called to Schmitz, “Enjoy your night, man – just leave us alone.” CeCe and her friends turned to go. Then Flaherty glanced at Schmitz and laughed.
"I’ll take all of you bitches on!" Flaherty hollered, and smashed CeCe in the side of her face with a glass tumbler.
Just like that, a mundane walk to the store turned into a street brawl, in a near-farcical clash of stereotypes. Pandemonium erupted as CeCe and Flaherty seized each other by the hair; the bikers swung fists and hurled beer bottles, hollering “beat that faggot ass!”; and CeCe’s friends flailed purses and cracked their studded belts as whips. When the two sides separated, panting and disoriented, Flaherty was curled up amid the broken glass screaming, mistakenly, that she’d been knifed, and CeCe stood over her, her T-shirt drenched with her own blood. Touching her cheek, CeCe felt a shock of pain as her finger entered the open wound where Flaherty’s glass had punctured her salivary gland. Purse still over her shoulder, CeCe fast-walked from the scene. She’d made it more than a half-block away when she heard her friends calling, “Watch your back!”
Transwomen and Danger: More Tales From the Front Lines 
CeCe whirled around to see Schmitz heading toward her: walking, then running, his face a twist of wild, unrestrained hatred. CeCe felt terror burst out from that remote place where she normally locked it away. She didn’t know that Schmitz’s veins were pounding with cocaine and meth. She didn’t know of his lengthy rap sheet, including convictions for assault. Nor did she know that under Schmitz’s shirt, inked across his solar plexus, was a four-inch swastika tattoo. All CeCe needed to see was the look on his face to know her worst fears were coming true: Her young life was about to end as a grim statistic, the victim of a hate crime.
"Come here, bitch!" Schmitz roared as he closed in. CeCe pedaled backward, blood dripping from her slashed face.
"Didn’t y’all get enough?" CeCe asked, defiant and afraid, while her hand fished into her large handbag for anything to protect herself. Her fingers closed on a pair of black-handled fabric scissors she used for school. She held them up high as a warning, their five-inch blades glinting in the parking-lot floodlights. Schmitz stopped an arm’s length away, raising clenched fists and shuffling his feet in a boxing stance. His eyes were terrible with rage.
"Bitch, you gonna stab me?" he shouted. They squared off for a tense moment: the furious white guy, amped up on meth, Nazi tattoo across his belly; the terrified black trans woman with a cartoon pony on her T-shirt; the scissors between them. CeCe saw Schmitz lunge toward her and braced herself for impact. Their bodies collided, then separated. He was still looking at her.
"Bitch – you stabbed me!"
"Yes, I did," CeCe announced, even as she wondered if that could possibly be true; in the adrenaline of the moment, she’d felt nothing. Scanning Schmitz over, she saw no sign of injury – though in fact he’d sustained a wound so grisly that CeCe would later recall to police that the button-down shirt Schmitz wore that night was not white but "mainly red. Like one of them Hawaiian shirts." CeCe waited until he turned to rejoin his crowd. Then she and Thomas ran arm in arm down the block toward the nearly empty Cub Foods parking lot, where they waited for police to arrive.
They didn’t see the scene unfolding behind them: how Schmitz took a few faltering steps, uttered, “I’m bleeding,” then lifted his shirt to unleash a geyser of blood. CeCe had stabbed him in the chest, burying the blade almost three and a half inches deep, slicing his heart. Blood sprayed the road as Schmitz staggered, collapsed and, amid his friends’ screams, died. When CeCe and Thomas waved down a police car minutes later, she was promptly handcuffed and arrested.
To continue reading the article, click here.
Source: Sabrina Rubin Erdely for Rolling Stone

thepoliticalfreakshow:

The Transgender Crucible: Rolling Stone’s Article on Trans Former Inmate CeCe McDonald [TW: Descriptions of Transmisogyny, Transphobia, & Anti-Trans Violence]

A dozen eggs, bacon, maybe some biscuits: CeCe McDonald had a modest shopping list in mind, just a few things for breakfast the next day. It was midnight, the ideal time for a supermarket run. Wearing a lavender My Little Pony T-shirt and denim cutoffs, CeCe grabbed her purse for the short walk to the 24-hour Cub Foods. She preferred shopping at night, when the darkened streets provided some relief from the stares, whispers and insults she encountered daily as a transgender woman. CeCe, 23, had grown accustomed to snickers and double takes – and was practiced in talking back to strangers who’d announce, “That’s a man!” But such encounters were tiring; some days a lady just wanted to buy her groceries in peace.

And so it was that on a warm Saturday night in June 2011, CeCe and four friends, all African-Americans in their twenties, found themselves strolling the tree-lined streets of her quiet working-class Long­fellow neighborhood in Minneapolis, toward a commercial strip. Leading the way was CeCe’s roommate Latavia Taylor and two purse-carrying gay men – CeCe’s makeshift family, whom she called “cousin” and “brothers” – with CeCe, a fashion student at a local community college, and her lanky boyfriend trailing behind. They were passing the Schooner Tavern when they heard the jeering.

"Faggots."

Gathered outside the dive bar were a handful of cigarette-smoking white people, looking like an aging biker gang in their T-shirts, jeans and bandannas, motorcycles parked nearby. Hurling the insults were 47-year-old Dean Schmitz, in a white button-down and thick silver chain, and his 40-year-old ex-girlfriend Molly Flaherty, clad in black, drink in hand. “Look at that boy dressed as a girl, tucking his dick in!” hooted Schmitz, clutching two beer bottles freshly fetched from his Blazer, as CeCe and her friends slowed to a stop. “You niggers need to go back to Africa!”

Chrishaun “CeCe” McDonald stepped in front of her friends, a familiar auto­pilot kicking in, shunting fury and fear to a distant place while her mouth went into motion. “Excuse me. We are people, and you need to respect us,” CeCe began in her lisping delivery, one acrylic-nailed finger in the air, her curtain of orange micro­braids swaying. With her caramel skin, angled jaw and square chin, friends called her “CeCe” for her resemblance to the singer Ciara; even her antagonist Flaherty would later describe CeCe as “really pretty.” “We’re just trying to walk to the store,” CeCe continued, raising her voice over the blare of Schmitz and Flaherty’s free-associating invective: “bitches with dicks,” “faggot-lovers,” “niggers,” “rapists.” The commotion was drawing more patrons out of the bar – including a six-foot-eight, 310-pound biker in leather chaps – and CeCe’s boyfriend, Larry Thomas, nervously called to Schmitz, “Enjoy your night, man – just leave us alone.” CeCe and her friends turned to go. Then Flaherty glanced at Schmitz and laughed.

"I’ll take all of you bitches on!" Flaherty hollered, and smashed CeCe in the side of her face with a glass tumbler.

Just like that, a mundane walk to the store turned into a street brawl, in a near-farcical clash of stereotypes. Pandemonium erupted as CeCe and Flaherty seized each other by the hair; the bikers swung fists and hurled beer bottles, hollering “beat that faggot ass!”; and CeCe’s friends flailed purses and cracked their studded belts as whips. When the two sides separated, panting and disoriented, Flaherty was curled up amid the broken glass screaming, mistakenly, that she’d been knifed, and CeCe stood over her, her T-shirt drenched with her own blood. Touching her cheek, CeCe felt a shock of pain as her finger entered the open wound where Flaherty’s glass had punctured her salivary gland. Purse still over her shoulder, CeCe fast-walked from the scene. She’d made it more than a half-block away when she heard her friends calling, “Watch your back!”

Transwomen and Danger: More Tales From the Front Lines 

CeCe whirled around to see Schmitz heading toward her: walking, then running, his face a twist of wild, unrestrained hatred. CeCe felt terror burst out from that remote place where she normally locked it away. She didn’t know that Schmitz’s veins were pounding with cocaine and meth. She didn’t know of his lengthy rap sheet, including convictions for assault. Nor did she know that under Schmitz’s shirt, inked across his solar plexus, was a four-inch swastika tattoo. All CeCe needed to see was the look on his face to know her worst fears were coming true: Her young life was about to end as a grim statistic, the victim of a hate crime.

"Come here, bitch!" Schmitz roared as he closed in. CeCe pedaled backward, blood dripping from her slashed face.

"Didn’t y’all get enough?" CeCe asked, defiant and afraid, while her hand fished into her large handbag for anything to protect herself. Her fingers closed on a pair of black-handled fabric scissors she used for school. She held them up high as a warning, their five-inch blades glinting in the parking-lot floodlights. Schmitz stopped an arm’s length away, raising clenched fists and shuffling his feet in a boxing stance. His eyes were terrible with rage.

"Bitch, you gonna stab me?" he shouted. They squared off for a tense moment: the furious white guy, amped up on meth, Nazi tattoo across his belly; the terrified black trans woman with a cartoon pony on her T-shirt; the scissors between them. CeCe saw Schmitz lunge toward her and braced herself for impact. Their bodies collided, then separated. He was still looking at her.

"Bitch – you stabbed me!"

"Yes, I did," CeCe announced, even as she wondered if that could possibly be true; in the adrenaline of the moment, she’d felt nothing. Scanning Schmitz over, she saw no sign of injury – though in fact he’d sustained a wound so grisly that CeCe would later recall to police that the button-down shirt Schmitz wore that night was not white but "mainly red. Like one of them Hawaiian shirts." CeCe waited until he turned to rejoin his crowd. Then she and Thomas ran arm in arm down the block toward the nearly empty Cub Foods parking lot, where they waited for police to arrive.

They didn’t see the scene unfolding behind them: how Schmitz took a few faltering steps, uttered, “I’m bleeding,” then lifted his shirt to unleash a geyser of blood. CeCe had stabbed him in the chest, burying the blade almost three and a half inches deep, slicing his heart. Blood sprayed the road as Schmitz staggered, collapsed and, amid his friends’ screams, died. When CeCe and Thomas waved down a police car minutes later, she was promptly handcuffed and arrested.

To continue reading the article, click here.

Source: Sabrina Rubin Erdely for Rolling Stone

leanin:

What would have once sounded like a “far-fetched feminist fantasy” – women forming the majority of a parliament – is a reality in Rwanda.
In fact, women are making gains throughout Africa, but these achievements have been met with a loud silence from the western feminist movement. 
African women are blazing a feminist trail - why don’t we hear their voices? (The Guardian) 

leanin:

What would have once sounded like a “far-fetched feminist fantasy” – women forming the majority of a parliament – is a reality in Rwanda.

In fact, women are making gains throughout Africa, but these achievements have been met with a loud silence from the western feminist movement. 

African women are blazing a feminist trail - why don’t we hear their voices? (The Guardian) 

monosexuals:

What he says: how do u know when lesbian sex is over???

What he means: I’ve never given a woman an orgasm ever in my life

prouvaireish:

ready for that southern family reunion

skyphoi:

image

queerheretic:

brispeak:

huffingtonpost:

THESE 16 DOGS ARE HEROES. THEY ARE ALSO PIT BULLS.

Virtually every dog relishes a loving scratch behind the ears and some sweet, vocal praise. But dogs identified as pit bulls get a bad reputation and a lot less love.

Try not to cry as you read the full stories behind these heroic pit bulls here. 

Love that someone made this.

There was a time they use to be called Nanny dogs because families left them watching over their young kids while they went to work the fields, from what i’ve read. It’s only recently that people have started seeing them as monsters.

coffeeandcheesecake:

thereichenbachfinn:

remember that time in high school musical 2 when Troy got all jealous because Gabriella started hanging out with Ryan and he thought Ryan was moving in on her

and it was like

image

really troy

image

really 

image

really

yeah if Troy had just taken a look at what was actually going on

image

he would have seen

image

who Ryan was actually interested in

image

THEY ARE WEARING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES

mako-symptoms:

magic-murder-bag:

holy crap this is real

my love for her has sky rocket

mako-symptoms:

magic-murder-bag:

holy crap this is real

my love for her has sky rocket

vegan-vulcan:

I’m really really really really really glad that a whole bunch of dudes accidentally gave us really detailed instruction manuals for how to repel misogynists

Life is a fucking nightmare

stfuprolifers:

the-elderscrolls:

Polish doctor that refused to perform abortion named a “hero”
Dr Bogdan Chazan was visited by an expecting mother (32 weeks into pregnancy), who already had 5 miscarriages before and was worried about her health. It turned out that the fetus had hydrocephalus, undeveloped brain and was missing many bones from its skull. The Doctor refused to perform an abortion and didn’t send the woman to another hospital which could do so (according to polish law, if a doctor doesn’t want to perform an abortion, he has to choose another hospital which will agree to do so). Chazan was named a “local hero” and “true warrior of Jesus in the name of life of the unborn” by many polish politicians and catholic activists. He used conscience clause as an excuse for his actions.
The woman gave birth to the child through a C-section. She and her husband spent 10 painful days watching their deformed child die a horrible death. When she finally decided to speak out, she said:
“During these 10 days, no priest, no pro life activist or even dr Chazan came to see the child, to ask if they can help. It was really hard to look at our child. We knew what was coming, but it was still very hard to cope with”
Congratulations, pro-lifers - another “life” saved, another “happy” child and “happy” family. 

Reblogging again because this is the “good” that anti-choicers do in this world.
Forsake actual people for their oppressive beliefs.
And in the end, did they even really care about the fetus or the family?
Nope.

stfuprolifers:

the-elderscrolls:

Polish doctor that refused to perform abortion named a “hero”

Dr Bogdan Chazan was visited by an expecting mother (32 weeks into pregnancy), who already had 5 miscarriages before and was worried about her health. It turned out that the fetus had hydrocephalus, undeveloped brain and was missing many bones from its skull. The Doctor refused to perform an abortion and didn’t send the woman to another hospital which could do so (according to polish law, if a doctor doesn’t want to perform an abortion, he has to choose another hospital which will agree to do so). Chazan was named a “local hero” and “true warrior of Jesus in the name of life of the unborn” by many polish politicians and catholic activists. He used conscience clause as an excuse for his actions.

The woman gave birth to the child through a C-section. She and her husband spent 10 painful days watching their deformed child die a horrible death. When she finally decided to speak out, she said:

During these 10 days, no priest, no pro life activist or even dr Chazan came to see the child, to ask if they can help. It was really hard to look at our child. We knew what was coming, but it was still very hard to cope with

Congratulations, pro-lifers - another “life” saved, another “happy” child and “happy” family. 

Reblogging again because this is the “good” that anti-choicers do in this world.

Forsake actual people for their oppressive beliefs.

And in the end, did they even really care about the fetus or the family?

Nope.