I revisit this video often and wonder: How successful was I in creating a dichotomy between the hell breaking loose outside the house and a healing atmosphere of fun for the children inside? However, my family members evacuated to dangerous nylon tents and makeshift shelters this time where the outside and the inside are hellish and dangerous. All I can hope for now is to bring them to safety in Egypt because I can not begin to imagine my life without them.
I would rather die before they do. Please consider donating and sharing my story to help them survive.
Got unfinished business, ain't we? Cases to solve, ghosts to help out 🔎
OG: https://earthliberationstudio.com/shop/reclaim-revolutionary-queerness/ !!!!!
gay 70s copaganda thesis is actually about the inherent homoeroticism of the western genre and the cultural image of the male cowboy it borrows from. or as Susan Sarandon once put it, "They got their guns out because they couldn't get their dicks out"
obsessed with how much time Trapper spends staring dead into Hawkeye's eyes in private to avoid doing anything Incriminatingly Homosexual and then gives him a full-on cock check in the extremely public mess tent
award-winning palestinian children's illustrator baraa awoor writes:
"what use is it to be an illustrator of children's books when the world has sentenced the children of your country to the death penalty, to vanish, to genocide?"
some of baraa's illustrations:
this is an illustration for youssef, whose mother is remembered running desperately into the hospital asking if anyone had seen a "small white boy with beautiful curly hair, his name is youssef," a description which was remembered by millions when she finally identified his body:
this illustration is for young omar, who was hugging his little brother and teaching him how to repeat the shahada after him (a prayer spoken by muslims before their death) as he lay on his hospital bed:
"we want a new year that doesn't kill us or our children, we want it a year without blood, without screaming, without pain, we want a new attempt to get our lives back, or something that resembled our life, even if life is a lie we still cling to it, return life to us—a new year's card unlike any other year:"
I don't have the patience to write a post now. In fact I don't know what the fuck I should write after nineteen months of genocide. Everyday, these past few days I have been reading that "Israel" is bombing and killing more and more people- that they are targeting ambulances and children. My friends in Gaza are so scared. I feel helpless and I am disgusted by it, because wtf am I feeling helpless about, when I am not facing the bombs and I am not starving in this summer heat?
Last night I was talking to Siraj Abudayeh. Siraj is not doing well- he is sad and he feels hopeless and this is someone whom in the short time I have known, has always chosen to be optimistic about the future where he along with his community, rebuilds Gaza. But right now he cannot think of any of it, and this is because the free world, the international order, everything has proven itself to be nothing but a lie. Last night we didn't talk about the future, we didn't talk about the campaign. Instead Siraj has urged everyone to pray for Gaza. So I want you to keep Siraj in your thoughts, pray for him and his family's safety. And I also want you all to believe that Siraj will one day see a Free Palestine. That the funds he is collecting would go into rebuilding his life. So please donate. And boost. Don't let this fundraiser lag behind.
“Award,” Ray Durem (black poet, activist, and member of the Communist Party), in Dudley Randall’s “The Black Poets”
A Gold Watch to the FBI Man who has followed me for 25 years.
you can get off this ride whenever you want