Aug. 26 11:55 am


mesut laughing at himself on the big screen


It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

Not all men.

I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

Not all men.

Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

Not all men.

Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

Not all men.

Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

“Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
“Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”

Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…

I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

Not all men.

Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

-Don’t ever talk to strange men
-Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
-Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger

I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

Not all men.

It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

I’m a 17 year old girl.
When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.

Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.


a piece i wrote for an english assignment about my personal experiences with rape culture, in particular with the saying “not all men” which i know has been makin a lot of controversy on the internet recently! idk just wanted to share (via trueho)

There is a story behind these mugs


There is a story behind these mugs



Its amazing what you can accomplish when you don’t want to write an essay 


You are a hero among procrastinators 


Look, I’m glad ‘12 Years [A Slave]’ got made and it’s wonderful that people are seeing it and there is another view of what happened in America. But I’m not real sure why Steve McQueen wanted to tackle that particular sort of thing.

[‘Fruitvale Station’] explains things like the shooting of Trayvon Martin, the problems with stop and search, and is just more poignant. America is much more willing to acknowledge what happened in the past: ‘We freed the slaves! It’s all good!’ But to say: ‘We are still unnecessarily killing black men’ – let’s have a conversation about that.


Samuel L. Jackson


(via dehaans)


when you see a hot guy in public and you’re like


A message from Anonymous
A reply from bewbin

I don’t deserve this kind of disrespect at 7:43 in the am

Sometimes miracles do happen.


Stalls are obviously a great thing. People can come and ask questions, collect Yes merchandise or aggressively abuse us.

But when you actually get a chance to reply to anyone being aggressive it tends to be in vain. Except for today.

"Salmond is going to plunge us into debt and the EU will reject us but that’s okay because I hate the EU and all these immigrants will pour in and businesses will suffer and we won’t get the currency and the Scottish people will be forced into the ground."

She also ranted about how poorly the NHS was run and how we needed less people at the top and more nurses on the ground.

After dealing with all of these points individually for a solid 20 minutes. I asked her what she would want to see from an independent Scotland. I emphasised that we are net contributors to the UK and how we pay more in.

To my amazement she seemed like a different person. She started talking about how she hates hearing some English people say how they give us all the money. She said that with that money we could invest in our town centres. She asked me how we could bring jobs in and I told her about having control over corporation tax and how we can increase and decrease that depending on the level of employment.

"I disagree with nuclear weapons."

A striking factor for anyone who is voting. I told her about scottishcnd supporting independence. She wasn’t aware that Scottish taxes go towards the nuclear missiles maintenance and I talked to her about the prospects of spending those taxes on the likes of the NHS and education.

"I better watch myself you are beginning to talk sense."

I spoke about the Barnett Formula and explained that while the Scottish government had operational control of the NHS we don’t have any financial control and could only work with the budget given to us. I spoke to her about the OECD and how Scotland would be a wealthy nation (top 20 in the world). I showed her the value of our industries without oil and has reserves. And then came the greatest part of the conversation.

"Thanks son, can I sign the declaration and can I get a wee badge?"

We are going to win.

just watched my crush’s ice-bucket challenge

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