#yes yes this so very much #it’s easy to be an asshole in a world full of assholes #especially when you have/had a shit life and have/had some nasty shit happened to you #but to still be kind #not to waver #to stay who you are #is a very hard thing to do #it’s easy to love #and it’s easy to hate #but it takes strength to be gentle and kind #and this is why every single superhero in the marvel universe looks up to steve #clint said it himself #steve brings out the best out of people #when you’re around steve you want to do what’s right because of the sheer power of steve’s goodness #oh god #steve i love you so much it actually pains me please send help
❝ Narnia! it’s all in the wardrobe just like I told you!
Sorry about not answering this one before, I only just saw it.
So, listen, I can’t say I’m the most eloquent or well-versed person in topics like this. I’m barely even smart enough to understand exactly what’s wrong. But I know it’s wrong.
We’re mexicans who live in México. Furthermore, both the candidate and I are light-skinned mexicans and that is a privilege, at least here up north and at my school. The candidates were asked to choose a theme for their candidature and I can’t say what happened there and what the hell was going through the school board’s mind but they both chose (and were allowed to) different cultures as a theme. And dude ngl, Angelica wasn’t any better (in fact, I could argue she was worse but that could be because she had more money to do stuff than María had).
And the things is, dude, Ancient Egypt might be gone but Egypt still stands. It’s a country, full of people. Different people. People we’ve never seen, people whose opinion of this was never asked, people who may not accept this at all because we are mexican and we don’t have anything to do with them at this point. Egypt may as well stopped existing after the last Pharaoh died if it were for her.
María didn’t try to research into the culture well enough and you could tell that by the things she hung up in our halls. It didn’t mean anything to her besides nice costumes for the dancing, a theme for her candidature, marketing to help her win this thing. It wasn’t appreciative because there was no appreciation of it. You can’t just use a culture, no matter how many years it’s been gone, as a tool for your entertainment and the masses. The fact that other people do it, even if they’ve been doing it for a long time now, doesn’t make it any better.
Listen, we can’t keep thinking that things like these are alright because other people do them. I don’t get a pass because I’m mexican. She doesn’t either. We can’t trample over people (and their cultures! that actually do matter to them, as opposed to the people who use them as a tool and despite what you may believe!) because we want pretty things in our room, or because we want to win something or whatever it is you want when using a culture like that. People matter, and what belongs to them, what is part of their identity, what matters for them, all of that is important.
I’m not saying “dude, stop everything and devote your life to these people YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW”. But do care. It’s not hard to care. Things like these, what my candidates did, only further that sick mentality on the majorities that a culture doesn’t matter, doesn’t exist, outside of what you know of it which is always stereotypes. And you know what? That actually hurts people, in México, that have to put up with the general attitude of mexicans that expect you to be something because you’re part of a group or because you’re not simply just “mexican”.
That’s why it matters.
She has the dream again that night.
In the dream, she is standing, with her brothers and her sister, on the edge of the battlefield. It is summer, and the grass is a peculiarly vivid shade of green: a wholesome green, like a cricket pitch or the welcoming slope of the South Downs as you make your way north from the coast. There are bodies on the grass. None of the bodies are human; she can see a centaur, its throat slit, on the grass near her. The horse half of it is a vivid chestnut. Its human skin is nut-brown from the sun. She finds herself staring at the horse’s penis, wondering about centaurs mating, imagines being kissed by that bearded face. Her eyes flick to the cut throat, and the sticky red-black pool that surrounds it, and she shivers.
Flies buzz about the corpses.
I thought I was supposed to be your stereotype gay best friend.
friendly reminder that george blagden had grape juice in his bottles for les mis
Mackie: "Last night I was, like, sitting around in a hotel and I was like, yo man, there’s a midnight screening and this is my first Marvel movie. I’mma go say what’s up to the people. So I grab a cab and shoot to 42nd Street, I walk in and I’m like what up, dog?”
Fallon: "Did people freak out?!”