radfemnacho - Tumblr blog

[radfemnacho]

Butch wearing a dress. Does this count as crossdressing.

[radfemnacho]

[radfemnacho]

Can we stop with the type of feminism that tells women aspects of their bodies are “beautiful flaws” and start teaching them that it’s their natural female body?

Calling it a “beautiful flaw” “gorgeous imperfection” sounds nice until you realize it’s still something viewed as “wrong” with your body. A flaw is a mistake, something not intended. That bit of fat on your lower lower belly isn’t an “imperfection,” it’s protection for your uterus. Your cellulite isn’t a “flaw” it’s a secondary sex characteristic. Your body hair isn’t unhygienic or gross it’s natural, and your pubic hair not only helps prevent STIs better, but also yeast infections.

Stop calling a natural female body flawed. It’s not fucking flawed.

[radfemnacho]

There are other women like you. There are other women who think the way you think, who feel the way you feel, who act the way you act. There always have been and there always will be. Womanhood isn’t whatever shallow archetype the world has tried to convince you that it is. It’s going to be okay.

[radfemnacho]

everyone loves to talk about how harming animals at a young age is a correlation amongst serial killers but nobody wants to talk about how most serial killers are consumers of violent pornography, have hard “kinks” and fetishes, and typically start off abusing and raping women. hatred of women is just as much a link between murderers as animal cruelty, but acknowledging this also means coming to terms with the reality that every single man is one step away from becoming the next ted bundy.

[radfemnacho]

[radfemnacho]

Not me watching a Criminal Minds episode when a murderer referred to his victims as “bleeders” and the agents immediately say it’s dehumanizing and misogynistic because they know he was talking about menstruation… can we please go back to this common sense and stop coming up with insane ways to refer to women

[radfemnacho]

discovering radical feminism has made me fall in love with being a woman again. a common smear campaign against the movement is that we only "trauma bond" and believe womanhood is only suffering etc etc but literally no other group of people has made me feel comfortable with my body, proud of my natural skin and unashamed of being a woman.

[radfemnacho]

Men really claim to be the more emotionally repressed sex while beating women and children and physically assaulting each other over petty squabbles and putting holes in the drywall and screaming obscenities at strangers and lighting a city on fire when their favorite sports teams wins or loses and shooting up schools and workplaces and raping women and children. They claim that these are just symptoms of how emotionally stifled they are and then claim women’s rampant eating disorders, self harm, suicide attempts etc are a sign we’re emotionally liberated and free to express our feelings in a safe and respectful environment. What level of delusional narcissist do you have to be on to come up with that?

[radfemnacho]

The right: hey we’re gonna take all women’s rights away <3

The left: there is no such thing as a “woman”...

[radfemnacho]

Trigger warning: rape, sexual assault

When I was six years old, I gave my first bl*wjob. “It’s a game”, said He. “Don’t you want to play?” It was too big, and I threw up on him. He said I’d do better the next time.

When I was seven years old, I watched a group of fellow second graders cheer as a boy in my class tried to kiss me. He hugged me from behind, giggling all the while. I threw sand in his eyes, and was sent to the Principal.

When I was eight years old, I had an elderly teacher ask me to stay behind in class. He carried me on his shoulders, and called me pretty. “Teacher’s Pet!” my friends declared, the envy visible on their faces. They ignored me at lunch that day.

When I was nine years old, an older girl on the school bus would ask me to lift my skirt up for her. She was pretty and kind, and told me that I could only be her friend if I did what she said. I wanted to be her friend.

When I was ten years old, a relative demanded that he get a kiss on the cheek every time we met. He was large and loud, and I proceeded to hide under my bed whenever I learnt that he was visiting. I was known as a rude child.

When I was eleven, my auto-man told me that we would only leave if I gave him a hug every day. He smelled like cheap soap and cigarettes.

When I was twelve years old, I watched as a man on the street touched my mother’s breast as he passed us. She slapped him amidst the shouts of onlookers telling her to calm down. She didn’t calm down.

When I was thirteen years old, I exited a restaurant only to see a man visibly masturbating as he walked towards me. As he passed, he winked lasciviously. My friends and I shifted our gazes down, aghast.

When I was fourteen, a young man in an expensive car followed me home as I walked back from an evening class. I ignored his offer to give me a ride, and I panicked when he got out, only to buy me a box of chocolate that I refused. He parked at the end of my road, and didn’t go away for an hour. “It turns me on to see you so scared.”

When I was fifteen, I was groped on a bus. It was with a heart full of shame that I confided in a friend, only to be met with his anger and disappointment that I had not shouted at the molester at the time when it happened. My soft protests of being afraid and alone were drowned out as he berated my inaction. To him, my passiveness and silence were the reasons why things like this continue to happen. He did not wait for my response.

When I was sixteen, I discovered that Facebook had a section of inbox messages named ‘others’, which contained those mails received from strangers, automatically stored as spam. Curious, I opened it to find numerous messages from men I had never seen before. I was propositioned, called sexy, asked for nudes, and insulted. Delete message.

When I was seventeen, I called for help as a drunken man tried to sexually harass me in a crowded street. The people around me seemed to walk by quicker.

At eighteen, I was told that sexism doesn’t exist in modern society. I was told that harassment couldn’t be as bad as us women make it out to be. That I should watch what I wear. Never mind you were six, never mind you were wearing pink pajamas. That I should be louder. But not too loud, a lady must be polite. That I should always ask for help. But stop overreacting, there’s a difference. That I should stay in at night, because it isn’t safe. You can’t get harassed in broad daylight. That I should always travel with no less than two boys with me. You need to be protected.

That it can’t be that hard to be a girl.

I am now nineteen years old. I am now tired.

By Anonymous Artwork by Mayka

[radfemnacho]

I’m about 90% sure the economy is never gonna “improve” 

this is capitalism in it’s final form

this is it honey 

[radfemnacho]

The woman who eschews femininity, who is content with her natural shape and size and smell, who is impatient with the lengthy rituals of femininity, is condemned by both sexes. To women, she is an uncomfortable reminder of the extent to which they have abandoned themselves to the demands of men. To men, she is a threatening warning that their domination is not total and that women still have the power to regain themselves. 

- Anne Summers, Damned Whores and God’s Police

[radfemnacho]

I can’t believe a bunch of men were like “actually, women have it easier when it comes to mental health because everyone already assumes you are weak, irrational, crazy, and stupid 🥺” and a significant amount of feminists were like oh shit good point

[radfemnacho]

stop having casual sex with men

[radfemnacho]

y’all clowns saying “queer is reclaimed, it’s not a slur anymore, and no one hears it used to be degrading these days blah blah blah”

but looks like queer is, uh, still the

most

used

anti-gay slur when organizing hate speech in just online communities 

[radfemnacho]