This person here decided it would be a really awesome idea to light a flare in a moshpit leaving a girl severely burnt and disfigured. He has not come forward and police are still trying to find him. Share this photo around, if you recognize him please tweet AJ from Soundwave @iamnotshouting and/or contact the Sydney police immediately.
I want every single one of you to reblog this. I don’t care if you live in America, Japan, Malaysia or England I bet you have Australian followers. Please reblog it. We want to find the fucker who hurt this girl.
There comes a point for every POC, after you have “awakened” to the virulent and systematic nature of your own oppression and that of others, after which your life simply will never be the same. Everything from your life beforehand is called into question—things you said and did, the words and lessons of your parents, and BS societal motifs like the “American Dream” and America being “the land of opportunity” as well. All of these things are suddenly cast in doubt because you just didn’t get it then, and hindsight truly is 20/20.
At this point, too, even the friendships you made during that time require reexamination. “Best” friends you had from beforehand are suddenly evaluated on whether or not they actually get these issues or not.
And then there comes a scary point when you realize that the vast majority of them actually do not.
And as you continue to peer backward, a haunting realization slowly creeps up your back, telling you that those friendships can and will never be the same. The closeness you shared so deeply will be swapped for distance. The support and love you had nurtured over years will slowly turn to ambivalence. Those friendships will not be what they once were in light of your awakening, and as painful as your awakening has already been, it will now also require you to leave behind many of your close friends as well.
As if the pain of oppression wasn’t hard enough already.
But at the same time as you are realizing all of these things, you know that having your awakening was still arguably the most important moment in your life. You know that you’re starting to understand these issues, and how they fit in your life and that of others both like and unlike you. You know that you are standing on the side of justice and up against what is just fundamentally wrong and unjust in the world. And you know that your conviction and love for doing good will be able to carry you through that painful transition at the end of the day, as you slowly find a new community of people who actually do get it and care about these issues as much as people should.
Holy shit you explained this perfectly.
“Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it’s personal. And the world won’t end.
And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And you will lose some friends and lovers, and realize you don’t miss them. And new ones will find you and cherish you. And you will still flirt and paint your nails, dress up and party, because, as I think Emma Goldman said, “If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.” And at last you’ll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.”
wow this perfectly articulates what i am experiencing.
I’ve never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.
I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.
I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.
i’m sad. someone talk to me please?
Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.