#American Society/Council of the Americas

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Justin Horowitz at MMFA:

Project 2025 advisory board members have attacked or outright called for the end of no-fault divorce, the option to dissolve a marriage without having to prove wrongdoing by a partner. Research highlighted by CNN found “no-fault divorce correlates with a reduction in female suicides and a reduction in intimate partner violence,” including “an 8 to 16% decrease in female suicides after states enacted no-fault divorce laws.” Project 2025 is backed by a nearly-900 page policy book called Mandate for Leadership, which extensively outlines potential approaches to governance for the next Republican administration, including replacing federal employees with extremists and Trump loyalists and attacking LGBTQ rights, abortion, and contraception. The Heritage Foundation’s proposals have a track record of success — the first Trump administration implemented 64% of Mandate’s policy recommendations. Project 2025 is also supported by a coalition of over 100 conservative organizations, many of which have spent years promoting critiques of no-fault divorce as “destructive” for society — or even blaming it for enabling a “culture of death.” According to a Media Matters review, at least 22 Project 2025 advisory board members have made similar comments targeting, restricting, or eliminating no-fault divorce. Additionally, MAGA and far-right media figures have pushed for the removal of no-fault divorce laws across the country, and several local Republican parties in Texas, Nebraska, and Louisiana have called for the dissolution of no-fault divorce in some capacity.

Project 2025 partner organizations, including the American Family Association, Concerned Women for America, Family Research Council, and The Heritage Foundation, have called for significant restrictions or an outright ban on no-fault divorce.

[snailkites]

Big news for bird names: American Ornithological Society to replace eponyms

AOS intends to change all offensive and eponymous (named after people) common names of birds in the USA and Canada.

Renaming these species will be done with involvement of the public and overseen by a new committee made up of ornithologists, social scientists, and communications and taxonomy experts.

AOS will work with the ornithological societies of Central and South America determine who in these regions will maintain stewardship of common English names.

AOS announcement: https://americanornithology.org/about/english-bird-names-project/american-ornithological-society-council-statement-on-english-bird-names

More information under the cut.

How do bird names work? Scientific names (binomials like Zonotrichia albicollis) are set by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature. These names are meant to be unique, unchanging, and universally recognized. Common names, on the other hand, are more fluid. The American Ornithological Society is the recognized authority on English-language common names for North American birds, published in their annual Checklist.

The larger context. Ornithologists name birds after people to commemorate those individuals, but this create problems. What do you do when a common name is racist, or when a bird is named after someone who, frankly, sucked? AOS has changed bird names for both of these reasons already.

In 2000 AOS changes the common name of Clangula hyemalis from a racist word for Native women to Long-tailed Duck (although at the time, they denied it was because of "political correctness")

2021: AOS changes the common name of Rhynchophanes mccownii from McCown's Longspur to Thick-billed Longspur. McCown was a Confederate. The push to rename this bird was a flashpoint in the #birdnames4birds movement.

Why not decide one-by-one? Sometimes it's obvious. For example, John James Audubon was a grave-robbing, slave-owning racist; birds such as Audubon's Oriole and Audubon's Shearwater are named after him. Although the National Audubon Society has voted to keep their name ("won't someone consider the branding"), many chapters have changed their names, e.g. the Chicaco Bird Alliance. Other individuals with birds named after them are less well-known or clear-cut in how much they did or did not suck. Removing all eponyms, rather than debating who sucks on a case-by-case basis, will cut down on the arguments.

How will this actually happen? It's not yet clear. Any free-for-all-poll might result in some Birdy McBirdFaces. No timeline either. But it sounds like this really is happening!

[flem17ng]

Vault Dweller's guide to perpetuating America:

Lucy Maclean x Fem!reader

Summary: Lucy is getting married and reader is forced to watch. but vault tech never planned for the inevitability of Sapphics…

Content: Fluff and angst, systematic homophobia, happy ending, no use of y/n

Authors note: Let me know if you want more of this or have any prompts to send it :)

Word count: 3.1K

Gay people were not a thing according to Vault Tech. They did not add to the breading pool, they did not fit into the nuclear future, they simply did not fit in the vault. Unlike sperm, cola, and corn, homosexuals did not play a key part in perpetuating the American dream. This was a good enough explanation for anyone willing to enquire (and enquire they had in the early years of Vault 33), but overall, as the years of confinement and isolation dragged on, and marriage for the sake of breading continued, homosexuality was quite simply... forgotten.

Rely on a schooling system created by greying, rich, white men to eradicate historical depictions of minorities. Education in the vaults was about the great west, cowboys, the splitting of the atom, the creation of the commonwealths, and the importance of capitalism; education was certainly not for understanding the distant Stonewall riots or the ancient tunes of "Freddy Mercury". heck! This was the new world! a once in a lifetime opportunity to reshape society! If Vault Tech could systematically remove a section of society that could not reproduce and thus could not recolonize the wasteland then they sure as hell would do just that.

Now let's be clear: Vault Tech loves and values all its customers! The fight against the Reds was the fight for American freedom, for the dream, for the nuclear family, for the blue, white, and red! America celebrates freedom for all! but even in the great year of 2077, scientists at Vault tech simply couldn't work in the variable of homosexuals into the Vault system. At least not into the control vaults. Systematic eradication is, by all means, easier than acceptance.

Vault 33! One vault in a triad with 31 and 32. A dedicated meritocracy built on the values of one's good deeds. Lucy Maclean prided herself on her merit and her ethics. She knew how to de-escalate a conflict, she knew how to stand up for her beliefs, and she knew the importance of kindness. She also knew her valuable role as a woman in the Vault 33 society.

As a woman, the daughter of the overseer, she would be a community leader, a history teacher, and maybe later in life, she would run for council. As a woman, she would also get married (preferably not to her cousin) and have little vault babies who would grow up, learn their own merit, and so on and so on. To say that Lucy was comfortable and fulfilled by this prediction of her life would be... a vast exaggeration.

Yes, she understood her importance as a potential mother! Yes, she loved and valued her community, her family, and her job. But something stopped her from becoming stagnant. Something about this perfect path she had been given just wasn't right for her. It grated at her relentlessly, a thorn in her side, a nagging hunch she couldn't shake. Surely it would change on the day of her wedding. She would meet her husband, kiss, make babies, have cake and everything would settle. The unease she felt would lessen and she would accept her designated role.

~

"I am so glad your marriage application was accepted! I just cannot wait for you to join us wives!" Steph squeaked, one hand cradling the ever-growing bump in her tummy while the other waved around to illustrate her excitement. Steph was the carbon copy of what Vault Tech stood for: she was a wife, a soon-to-be mother, smart and strong-willed. She was drop-dead gorgeous with well-maintained hygiene. when you thought of the "American dream" you thought of Stephanie Harper.

Lucy grinned back, fighting the urge to roll her eyes (eye rolling was rude and there were more effective ways to respectfully communicate your disdain).

"Oh golly! to think in a few short hours I’ll be on my way to furthering the vault's great aim!" She smiled for real this time because she knew her discomfort did not stem from contempt for motherhood.

"Oh, Lucy spare me the lewd details!" Steph giggled before winking.

"I know you don't mean that Steph. you and me both know you want as much detail as I can give." Lucy chuckled, picking at the canned tuna on her plate.

The dining area near the cornfield was particularly packed today; everyone wanted one last glimpse of Lucy Maclean before she was assigned to the ranks of wife. The stares and whispers were not unwelcome, however. They reminded her of the community that she was a part of the community she had been raised to help and to eventually add to.

"I hope he's handsome" Steph breathed, looking begrudgingly at her own husband who was standing awkwardly next to the Nuka-Cola machine with Chet. Lucy just swallowed hard and nodded. It was easier to think about the more fun parts of marriage than linger on the particulars of her mystery partner.

She was grateful for the marriage of course. It meant an excuse to cut things off with Chet who had been steadily grating on her nerves since she was 15 (he seemed to love her and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't begin to think of him like that in return. his warm body was truly his only perk.) It was also a milestone for her, a badge of honor to her community service. This is what vault tech wanted! This is what America wanted!

Lucy pushed back from her chair, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

"Lucy, are you ok? you look a little pale dear?" Betty called from the seat next to her father. At the sound of her voice, the vault dwellers looked up to find Lucy standing awkwardly by her table.

"Oh! Yes, quite alright thank you!" she shrugged, teeth glinting with faux charm. "I just... I just wanted to have a nap before it gets too chaotic." lying was wrong. You were taught that very young in Vault 33. Lucy pushed down the stab of guilt before turning on her heels towards her family's shared apartment.

~

You watched her stand up from her table with a start that made you furrow your eyebrows and look away quickly. You would never admit to anyone that you had been staring at her, but you knew you had been. She was easy to stare at! She was a figure of authority, in a sweet and slightly clumsy way. Your excuse, should anyone catch you, was simply that you admired her can-do spirit! (that wasn't a lie though you couldn't label it as the truth either).

The other part of the truth was that you had been staring at her like a lost puppy since her marriage arrangement was announced. You and Lucy's friendship was... complicated. You had grown up together (as all vault children did), and your families were close (but not related as a "fun class DNA test" had proved during your school years). things got rocky as you got older though: Lucy was outgoing, confident, and stunning. All together just all the things you wished you were. That is, not to say you weren't pretty! In fact, you had received a few proposals in the past year (mostly from an anonymous admirer you knew was Davey, and a couple from Chet after he realized things with Lucy wouldn't work out). You and Lucy where still close, and to her, probably as uncomplicated at a friendship could get!

The complication was simply that to you it had become increasingly obvious that you were desperately in love with her.

You had noticed it first when you were about 14. Lucy was stunning, having never suffered the "awkward teenager" phase of adolescence, and was quickly discovering her hypnotic power over Chet. You weren't jealous of course! at least... not at first. But then it was more than Lucy's teasing flirtation: it was kissing, it was spending time with him more than usual. Suddenly you were jealous. Jealous in a way that couldn't be explained by the "Vault-Tech: Guild to female friendships" or "Vault-Tech: female adolescence in the Vault" or even by your mother's trusty copy of "surviving the teenage years: a manual sponsored by General atomics."

It got worse when you turned 17. Sex Education was vitally important in Vault education. it prevented the spread of disease, enabled knowledgeable future mothers and fathers, and fostered respect and dignity between men and women. It was in one of these detailed lessons that you caught yourself watching Lucy's expression: laughing at times, cringing at the birth diagrams, blushing at parts with a quick side eye to you. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks as your eyes fluttered to her lips and lingered there for a moment too long. It hit you again at 18 during your "prom" when Lucy danced with you slowly as the light from the 2.5D Telesonic projector scattered across her cheekbones and lit up her doe-eyes. you remember almost pushing her away from the force of it. The force of the feeling, the emotion, the unholy urge to press your lips to hers that caught you like a punch.

That night you had curled in a ball and prayed. you did not know who "god" was, but you'd heard about him in class before. You prayed to him to make you a boy, to change your emotions, to make things make sense again. Your mother had stroked your hair, not truly understanding your grief but accepting it and holding it for you like only a mother can.

In your world of perfect underground utopia, the truest sorrow you had ever felt was the realization that you loved Lucy Maclean.

~

It took you a split second to stand up and follow Lucy out of the atrium. A second in which your mind reeled and hesitated sickeningly before you shut it up. Lucy was your friend, and she needed you now. Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you took the familiar path along the "street" toward Lucy's home. The door was only just sliding shut as you reached it and you rushed to duck under.

Lucy was where you expected her to be: knees to her chest, curled up on the sofa. Her hands were clenched in front of her, and her eyes were set at some point just beyond the "radiation king" television set that was blasting its usual nature documentary. She didn't look up as you entered, but the slight dip in her shoulders told you that she knew you were there.

"Lucy?" you called quietly, kneeling on the rug near her. she turned to you slowly and smiled politely as she was raised to.

"hey" she muttered, clearly trying to keep her tone cheerful.

you fixed her a look before sitting softly next to her on the sofa. She remained in her tight ball.

"pre-wedding nerves?" you asked, ignoring the lump that formed just next to your heart at the thought of Lucy's marriage. You watched her expression for confirmation, but it never came. Instead, she furrowed her brows and looked back at the nothing behind the TV.

"I'm sure everyone gets nervous before their wedding Lucy. Steph could tell you a million stories of her 'pre-wedding wobbles'" you chuckled, remembering Stephs wedding day not long ago.

"Its... it's not that." Lucy finally responded, tightening her grip around her legs.

"Then wha-"

"What if I don't want this... Like I thought I did" she blurted, the words mushing together as she fought to get them out of her mouth. You pursed your lips, desperate for her to continue. After a moment of silence, she started again, quieter and more measured.

"I feel so... Wrong. and I don't know-" she cut herself off, swallowed, and began again, "I don't want what Steph has anymore." 

"What? the wedding? I'm sure your father would agree to a smaller celebration if you told him! I think he just likes to make a fuss of you."

Lucy shook her head. Finally, she let her legs fall away from her chest as she turned to face you with a dramatic sigh.

"I've always been so certain. and now... well I am certain but just not of the things I should be." She shut her eyes, needing to get away from your face for a moment. The lessons flashed in front of her eyes in quick succession: reclamation day, the purpose of the vaults, reproduction, male anatomy, romance, how to be a wife, the American dream. It flashed and flashed and then sank into her gut like an over-set Jello cake. 

You watched her face shift from carefully masked to strangely tortured and back again before she opened her eyes once more. how you missed those eyes in that moment you couldn't see them.

She reached forward and held your hand, her finders dusting over yours curiously as if she was handling some strange new specimen. she'd held your hand before, countless times in the 20 years you'd known each other; and yet her fingers felt tentative in a way they hadn't before.

"Lucy... it's ok to be scared, it's ok to feel unsure. heck, you know I spend most of my time feeling unsure." you cast her a weak smile, "I know you, and I know you will be an amazing bride to whoever you marry. You'll be a perfect wife; you’ll be an amazing mother and one day I know you'll make an amazing overseer as well. And Lucy? even if it feels hard, you know I'll always be here." You had long ago settled into your role of best friend, nothing more. You would be there, and you would love her (in a way approved by social expectations).

Lucy stayed quiet for a long time, still slowly tracing over your fingers with her own. It had clocked for her the moment you had entered the room after her dramatic exit from the atrium. she wasn't unsure, she wasn't uncertain. I fact, she felt as though she had never been more certain in her whole life.

Maybe it had started when she was 12, when you had helped her take her first ever stimpack: holding the needle steady, wiping her eyes with your own hand and giving her a little Vault-Boy band-aid to cover the little hole. 

Maybe it had started when she was 15 and getting a steady stream of attention from boys (mostly Chet) and could only watch your disdained reaction to her suitors. Even then she had a hunch that she cared more about your opinion on her "boyfriends" than the boys themselves.

Maybe it was when she was 18, pulling you through a maintenance tunnel by your hand with a high-pitched giggle and a determination to find a good meeting place for when you no longer had school to attend. She remembers your initial reluctance, followed by rebellious cheek that pushed you both further into the guts of the vault than you had planned on. She remembers the oil that had got on your face that she insisted on wiping away herself.

She tore her eyes away from your hands and stared at you with all the intensity and authority that the overseer’s daughter should possess.

"I’m not scared. and golly I feel about as far from unsure as a girl can be." her hands tightened around yours. "This vault... we are told what we do and what we feel. heck, they even tell us who we should marry! Maybe I'm being silly but that doesn't fit into the 'American dream' they are always yammering on about!" her voice rose had she got more passionate. you watched her with a mix of shock and awe (an emotion you often felt yourself feeling when you were around her)

"I've always nodded along to what they've told us! who am I to doubt the rules?" she continued, her eyes never leaving yours, "but this marriage... I don't want that!" she concluded with a huff, finally blinking and pursing her lips as if she'd suddenly gotten shy.

It was your turn to reach out to her now, freeing one of your hands from her grip and placing it softly on her shoulder. you put on a calm expression, but your heart betrayed you: beating rapidly as if trying to escape its spot behind your ribs.

"What is it you want if not the marriage?" you whispered, feeling the moments fragility.

a beat.

Lucy sighed, stealing herself. her eyes were no longer full of angry passion, but rather softer, watery. her expression seemed to mirror the way you knew you were looking at her.

"I think- no, I know... Gosh, I want you so badly" she breathed. 

Another war could have started and ended, and you wouldn't have noticed. The air stilled despite the constant circulation of the vents and the clock on the wall must have stopped ticking. Silence, a long silence that must have only spanned a fraction of a second.

Her words, like the flash of light as a fission reaction begins, followed by a lull followed by...

You launched forward before Lucy could hesitate, before you could leave her hanging, before she could dare think that you didn't want her back. her lips touched yours and it reminded you of the desperate prayers you used to send to the man called "god" (you thanked him now that he never changed you). There were no fireworks like the books said, no large, forced explosion, no splitting of an atom. Instead, it felt... inevitable, like the slow decay of an element, like aging gracefully, like coming home.

Her lips slotted against yours perfectly, softly and she gasped as she kissed you back. you kissed not for the purpose of "perpetuating America" or building the next generation of vault dwellers, but simply because you wanted to. 

She pulled back after a while, bleary eyes and pink-cheeked with a grin that made your heart grow.

"I did... know we could..." she let out before laughing, one hand covering her mouth while the other found its way to the side of your face where it lingered. You laughed too, sides splitting and eyes watering.

"Who the hell cares" you spluttered between laughs, leaning into Lucys hand.

"If it wasn't clear... I want you to. in a um... kissing way"

"Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed" she drawled playfully, "well then... I think we have a wedding to wreck."

"What will you tell them?"

She shrugged and scooched a little closer. "That's a future Lucy problem. Current Lucy is preoccupied..." She smiled at you in a manner that was really more of a smirk.

You had barely enough time to squeak out a rather excited "Okey Dokey" before it was her turn to shut you up with a kiss.

[calummss]

Him & I | Kai Anderson

masterlist

summary: you came to kai like you were an angel sent from god. he finally met his match. you wanted to get revenge and he cleared the path

pairing: fem! reader x kai anderson

words: 2.9k

a/n: kai is everything i despise in a man yet i cannot stop thinking about him. fuck my rights i’ll make you a manwhich like the woman i’m supposed to be NOT PROOFREAD TBH

Gluttony is a sin. So is sloth. Eating an entire bag of chips was not healthy. Sitting on the couch from dawn to dusk, only getting up to relieve yourself, was not good. But who listens to God these days anyways.

knock knock

‘Be right there!’ You yelled, hoping whomever was at the door could hear you and would wait until you had mentally prepared yourself to get up from your nest. You pressed pause of Golden Girls, placed your bag of gluttony on the table and brushed the remaining crumbs on your finger on your back thigh. Thankfully you showered this morning so whomever you greeted wouldn’t be welcomed with the smell of your tiredness. It was just one of those days where doing nothing was the most satisfying for the soul. Keeping the ripples of the sea of stress at bay, hoping that the storm wouldn’t take over.

Through the small peephole of the front door you saw an unfamiliar man with kool aid blue hair in a suit who was swaying his body as he waited to face the owner. ‘Jesus christ,’ you cursed under your breath, letting your hand slide over your face. Not Jehovah witnesses again. You had told them to not come back but when life serves no purpose we mainly cling to the unimportant aspects of life and let small parts become our worst traits.

You opened the door, dropping your droopy expression and replacing it with a hostile smile. Kindness: America’s number one trait making it an aggravating society.

‘Hi,’ you grinned at him, ‘not interested.’

The man blinked at you, wrinkles on his forehead reminding you of the ripples in your soul as he breathed out a laugh. ‘You don’t even know what I was going to say, Ma’am.’

‘Call it my gift.’

‘You must think I’m in some kind of cult,’ he smiled, ‘I can assure you I’m not. My name is Kai Anderson and I was hoping I could talk to you about my plans for this town so I might be able to persuade you into voting for me to become a member of the town council.’

‘Oh.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘I suppose…’ You were unsure but the thought of your pepper spray in the kitchen drawer made you feel safer, in case anything went wrong, so you resorted back to the smile you first gave him. ‘Of course. Come in…?’

‘Kai Anderson.’

‘Right, Kai. Can I call you Kai? I’m Y/n Blythe. You can call me Y/n. Oh my I am rambling,’

Kai came in as you stepped aside to open up the door for him. He kindly took off his shoes. A rule you had but hadn’t seen most Americans do. You looked back at him as you started to head to the kitchen to make sure you wouldn’t lose him. You immediately opened up the cupboard to grab a mug.

‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee would be nice. Black please and thank you.’

‘No problem,’

‘I have to say,’ he placed his folded hands on top of the counter as he watched you get his coffee ready. ‘You are the first person in this neighbourhood to invite me in and to welcome me so kindly.’

You watched him as you grabbed another mug to make yourself a drink too.

‘Most think my ideas are too radical. Too oppressive. Too different. These people preach about change every day but when I give them a chance to vote for change they ignore me.It’s like these people get off on living in his prison courtyard they’ve created.’

‘So what are your goals, Kai?’ You took a sip of your piping hot drink after handing him his own. ‘To strengthen this town’s safety? God forbid this cluster of people need to be…polished.’

Kai’s face somewhat softened. ‘That’s exactly what I said…’

So when Kai talked about his idea you listened. To every word, to every detail. Kai was going to make this town safe again. And for some reason you couldn’t explain, you believed him. Every single word he said to you in the confidence of your own house, you believed.

‘By the hope you don’t mind me saying this but you are so beautiful and I would hate myself for not asking but am I able to take you out to a café this week ‘ He asked, his hazel eyes burning into your soul, making those ripples turn flat as he gazed at you like a had witnessed a deer in the wild. ‘I just, you’re really beautiful and kind and your beliefs about this town have drawn me to you,’ Kai had gaped at you the moment you had opened the door to him. Eyes shining in the sunlight; you looked like an angel. Perhaps an angel God had sent him to. Like he was supposed to find you. For him to find his own angel.

When you went on that date with Kai, it had turned into three more the following two weeks. He mentioned that he had a group of friends that are helping him with the campaign and the more he revealed about it, the closer you got to the truth, at least that is what you thought. It sounded like a cult whenever he rambled on about anything that involved these ‘friends’ and whether or not it was true, it was something you wanted to find out. It took Kai persistent asking and a little push to allow you to ultimately bring you to his house where for some reason you felt weirdly comfortable. The friends or members you came to know were Winter, his sister, Beverly, Ivy, Gary, Samuel, Meadow and Tex, who had been tending to Kai like servants since you had entered his house which instantly confirmed your suspicions. But it didn’t scare you away. A man able to convince the partly smart people had to confirm some sort of high intelligence and if Kai wanted to make you part of his team or not, in your heart you had already made up your mind: you wanted to join. What did you have left to lose? A life? Family? Job? Perhaps.But when does another opportunity like this present itself. To become infatuated with a dangerously powerful man? Never. Maybe you could change him if you truly wanted to but right now, he was perfect. You would become his angel and he’d be your cult leader.

‘Kai,’ you said as you all gathered across the couches, some of their heads tuning your way. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course, Y/n. Anything,’

‘Are you guys behind the murders that have been happening?’

Now every head turned your way. You could hear the outside wind blowing through the trees, uneven breaths as you uttered your question. Why was it so shocking? They were the murderers. You knew it and sooner or later someone else would’ve found out.

‘It’s fine if you are. You don’t have to deny it.’ You saidly, letting out a small chuckle. ‘I saw a clown costume stashed on the couch and I saw one of them go into Chang's house.’

You saw Meadow stare at the ground. Must’ve been her. Kai looked back at the costume you had nudged your eyes at and confirmed it was Meadows when he gave her a cold stare she didn’t notice.

‘Why?’ Kai turned his head back to look at you with a weirdly twisted smile that made your stomach churn. ‘Do you like that we kill people? Does that excite you?’

‘Honestly I like it and yes. I mean I was attracted to you before but now I really fucking like you,’

His eyebrows softened as you said your words.

‘Can I come and watch a killing?’

Kai had given the others a look to which they all started moving towards the stairs, further confirming the authority he had over them. In a matter of seconds the basement was empty and his presence within the walls grew dramatically. Like smoke he expanded into every crevice of the room, hovering over you like poisonous gas that crept into every cell of your body. Watching your every move like he was a deity. ‘You want to watch a killing?’

‘Yes.’ You replied.

‘What if you were to pick out the person to be killed?’

‘I think I’d like that even more,’ you could feel a tinge of warmth collect on the apples of your cheeks, avoiding eye contact as Kai’s eyes held the most sinful stare you had seen.

‘Who?’

You looked up from between your eyebrows, ‘My ex-boyfriend,’ you started already seeing Kai’s nostrils flare with jealousy. ‘Cheated on me when I gave him nothing but the woman I thought he deserved. Now he deserves to die.’

Kai came awfully close, a chill taking over your body as he placed his large hands on your arms with a firm grip. Tighter than normal; possessive, like a hunter holding its fragile prey. ‘Tonight. Meet us here at 11pm and I swear you will get your revenge, little angel.’ Lust protruded between your frames, like hot heavy steam that fogged up your glasses if you go too close, but went back when you stepped back trying to calm your nerves. Like a priest in a confessional booth he made you nervous. Like he could see into the most intimate parts of your soul; feel you; see you like no one could. The way his voice penetrated your ears telling you what to do. Siren-like commands that you had complete control over yet wanted to treat him like your leader.

Later that evening when you returned back to Kai’s house, you saw everyone dressed in the clown costumes you had seen entering and exiting the Chang’s house only now there were less red stains than before. Meadow lifted up a black trash back with a fading smile. ‘Kai only gave me a few hours' notice. Hope it fits.’ You opened the bag to find a sort of skirt and top with pink and black stripes with a mask that reminded you of a scarier version of a childhood clown you had once encountered at an amusement park where you momentarily got separated from your parents leaving you terrified and vulnerable. Getting changed went by quick and by them time you had gotten into your new outfit, Winter hd already started the van so that as soon as you entered the back of the vehicle, Winter started driving down similar streets you took whilst dating the boy who was in for a sweet treat tonight. Kai kept eyeing you the entire time. Maybe he tried to find a momentary weakness; a flinch of regret, anything he deemed not worthy, but he never found an ounce of repression, only the focus of a woman who knew exactly what and how she was going to do it. The walk to your ex’s house was filled with a relaxing quietness. The calm before the adrenaline would rush through your veins ready to lift you to the clouds as you took in the feeling of satisfaction. The lights were on in his bedroom, the room you had found him in inches deep in the girl you had thought to be your friend at the time. The door creaked almost too loud as Samuel pried open the door with a bolt, waving the rest of the group towards him as he checked the inside of the kitchen. Samuel let you lead the way with the floor plans ingrained into your mind as you had the others on your trail awaiting you to let them know when you stood outside his door. Marshall—said ex-boyfriend was blasting old rap music so you knew he was showering. He said the shower provided him with the need to rap and listen to old hip hop. One of his quirks you had learned to love but now loathed. With the song changing to Eminem’s discography, the music you sang together later to find him fucking her to Evil Seed brought up a fire in your stomach ready to unleash. Kai came up behind you and placed his hand on your shoulder telling you to go in. Feeling a bump of confidence, you opened the door and walked across his room to where his bathroom door stood shut. You decided to not wear the mask Meadow had given you to let Marshall feel calm before real intentions were laid before him.

You opened the door, Marshall’s shower steam covering his body behind the glass, eyes shut, mouth moving to the songs. You walked over slowly, yet he never noticed anything until you had said Hello, inches away from him. Marshall jumped back almost losing balance, wide eyes and raised eyebrows relaxing when he realised it was you, a faint chuckled escaping him as he reached for the music box to turn down the music.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked nicely, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

‘I missed you.’

‘You left me.’

‘I know. I think it was a mistake.’

He didn’t answer.

‘I wasn’t good enough and should’ve been better so that you wouldn’t have to look for the missing part of me in other women. My fault for not being good enough.’

‘You really want to get back together?’

‘Yes,’ you came closer, reaching for his cock to palm him. He lifted his head, lip quivering as he fought to keep his eyes open. He lowered his head to say something by the way he had opened his mouth but when he opened his eyes again, his knotted eyebrows staring past you had made you aware that the others must’ve been behind you by now.

‘Who are they?’

‘My friends.’ You continued to pump his cock, giving you complete control over him with a single motion. You could feel Kai’s eyes slicing into your back but it didn’t matter. You weren’t enjoying stroking his cock because you wanted him, all you needed was control and for a man irresistible to a handjob it was the perfect weapon to be used. ‘They’re here to help me.’

‘With what?’

‘To kill you.’

‘What.’

‘You hurt me, Marshall. You tossed me aside and fucked another woman. You broke my heart.’ Your grip tightened around him, the pressure inching him closer to coming. ‘Now I have to do the same. To move on.’

‘What—What the fuck are you on about, Y/n.’ He tried to push you away but you pulled him closer with a tug. ‘Get out.’

‘No.’

‘Leave or I’ll call the fucking cops.’

‘Fine,’ you said. ‘Can I take what’s mine at least?’ You stared past the others into the old room you were sure still had a few of your items you had forgotten about.

‘Sure but after I want you to fucking leave.’

‘Okay.’ You smiled.

A low-pitched scream filled the bathroom door as you stared at Marshall whose eyes rolled into the back of his head, hand flying to his front only to find his cock in your hands, red dripping from both of you as you threw it over your shoulder. ‘I’ll take the rest of you with me.’

After you had gotten your revenge on Marshall, you stood around him in a circle, covered in blood splatters and sweat pearls.

‘That was the most beautiful thing I have ever done and seen.’ You breathed, catching your breath as you stared at the bloody sight.

Kai stared at you with heart eyes. He could’ve gotten down on one knee that second and asked you to marry him but the thought of you palming Marshall less than twenty minutes ago had made his eyes go dark, a wave of anger and jealousy consuming him entirely as he stormed off downstairs. You immediately followed him to see him slide off his clown head, baby hairs sticking to his temples, nostrils flaring like they had before at his home. He was angry.

‘Why did you do that?’ He growled.

‘I did it because Marshall cannot say or do anything when his cock feels good. I wanted to control him one last time. Why? Did it make you jealous?’

‘Yes it fucking did?’ He bellowed, spit coming from his mouth as he strutt towards you, pushing you into the wall, his hand around your throat as he came dangerously close. ‘You tell me you basically like me and then touch another man’s cock. Are you a whore? Why did you do it!’

‘Would it make you feel better if I touched you now?’

‘Don’t play with me.’ He snarled, his grip on your throat now so tight you could feel the air thinning. ‘You’re mine.’

‘I know.’

‘Say it!’

‘I’m yours.’

‘And don’t you forget it.’ He pulled you to his lips by your throat, releasing the pressure that had bound you to half breaths.

He was your leader and you were his angel. In the end it was him and you. Only a love that you could understand and that was fine because you didn’t want to share any part of him anyway.

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Dr. Bernard A. Harris, Jr. became the first African American astronaut to take a spacewalk on this date February 9, 1995.

Harris, Jr. was the Payload Commander on STS-63 (February 2-11, 1995)—the first flight of a joint space program.

Special Honors: 1996 Honorary Doctorate of Science, Morehouse School of Medicine. Medal of Excellence, Golden State Minority Foundation 1996. NASA Award of Merit 1996. NASA Equal Opportunity Medal 1996. NASA Outstanding Leadership Medal 1996. The Challenger Award, The Ronald E. McNair Foundation 1996. Award of Achievement, The Association of Black Cardiologists 1996. Space Act Tech Brief Award 1995. Alpha Omega Alpha Medical Honor Society, Zeta of Texas Chapter 1995. Election of Fellowship in the American College of Physicians 1994. Distinguished Alumnus, The University of Houston Alumni Organization 1994. Distinguished Scientist of the Year, ARCS Foundation, Inc., 1994. Life Membership, Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity. NASA Space Flight Medals 1993, 1995. NASA Outstanding Performance Rating 1993. JSC Group Achievement Award 1993. Physician of the Year, National Technical Association, 1993. Achiever of the Year, National Technical Association, 1993. American Astronautical Society Melbourne W. Boynton Award for Outstanding Contribution to Space Medicine 1993. Achievement Award, Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity 1993. Who’s Who Among Rising Young Americans Citation 1992. Certificate of Merit, Governor of Texas 1990. City of San Antonio Citation for Achievement 1990. NASA Sustained Superior Performance Award 1989. NASA Outstanding Performance Rating 1988. NASA Sustained Superior Performance Award 1988, 1989. National Research Council Fellowship 1986, 1987. Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society 1985. Outstanding Young Men of America 1984. University of Houston Achievement Award 1978. Achievement Award 1978.

CARTER™️ Magazine

[rabbitcruiser]

National Bison Day 

You see them everywhere — on coins, on sports team logos, and a couple of state flags. No, we’re not talking about the bald eagle. This honor is reserved for North American bison. On National Bison Day, November 2, an annual event that falls on the first Saturday in November, all Americans should reflect on the impact bison have as a part of our environmental and cultural heritage. Bison are especially revered by Native people — central to their survival as both food and spiritual inspiration.

National Bison Day timeline

1900s ​Bison herds severely reduced due to excessive hunting and abuses

Hunting dramatically reduced the population ��� leaving a mere 700 in private herds; even Yellowstone was left with only 23 bison by 1902.

1992 ​​Native American tribes formed new group to share resources and help bison

The InterTribal Indian Council formed not only to return bison to tribal lands,  but also to create culturally-sensitive educational programs and provide both technical resources and help to 56 tribes.

​1997 Groups signed Bison Memorandum of Understanding

​The  first conservation agreement between an environmental organization and a diverse collective of Native American tribes agreed to combine efforts to return wild bison to tribal land.

​2012 ​The U.S. Senate passed first National Bison Day Resolution

The Senate passed its first resolution honoring National Bison Day, which was also supported by various tribal groups and  the Wildlife Conservation Society.

How to Observe National Bison Day

Sign a petition

Visit a national park

Wear your National Bison Day T-shirt

Stand in support of returning wild bison to their original tribal lands on thousands of acres of Native American reservations. Collaborations among certain groups are working to remind Americans about the important role bison play in the lives of native peoples. Bison are considered sacred and they are even featured in certain tribal creation stories. Bison have also been a source of food and clothing — providing hides for tents, robes, shoes, and tools so that people could survive in harsh climates.

You may not be able to get to a large national park like Yellowstone, but there are a vast number of smaller parks from which to choose. Imagine what it must have been like to see thousands of bison freely roaming the plains. Give your children a chance to experience the wonder of our latest national icon — the bison.

Many groups use this day to raise funds in support of bison. It won’t be hard to find a T-shirt showing your love of bison. Wear it proudly because it’s for a great, patriotic cause.

5 Reasons We Love Our Bison

​Watch that tail

​They've got skills

​They're oldies but goodies

​Throw a stone — hit a bison

Bison as symbols

​If a bison’s tail is hanging down and moves naturally from side to side, the animal is relaxed. But when the tail stands straight up, it's a signal the bison is getting ready to charge.

​Given their size as the largest mammals in North America, bison are surprisingly agile with an ability to  swim well, jump up to six feet, and run between 35 and 40 mph.

Bison have always roamed in Yellowstone National Park as evidenced by prehistoric fossils found in modern times.

​Herds of bison can be found in all 50 states.

​The American bison is not only the country's official mammal; the bison is also the state mammal of Wyoming, Oklahoma, and Kansas.

Why National Bison Day is Important

It's our national mammal

They're different from buffalo

They were almost extinct

President Obama, with the support of a broad coalition of Native American tribes, wildlife support groups, and concerned members of the Senate, signed a 2015  law making the proud and majestic bison our  national mammal. This law helps to protect bison from extinction and encourages a return back to their native tribal lands.

We know you have been wondering about this so we're going to set you straight. Bison and buffalo are not the same.  Bison are native to North and South America and Europe, while the traditional home of the buffalo is in Africa and Asia. At the height of their magnificence, there were between 30 and 60 million bison in the New World circa the 16th century. Today, there are currently half a million bison roaming happily across North America.     .

Native peoples once lived their lives around the vast herds of bison that swirled around areas of the west and northwest, the central plains, and the southeastern U.S. Once pioneers started their westward trek, both the Native American tribes and the bison herds were seen as obstacles to progress. As the native peoples were systematically forced off their lands by either poachers or fake government treaties, the bison herds began to disappear; by the early part of last century, bison were on the way to extinction. Today, through the collective efforts of Indian tribes, wildlife associations, the national park system and others, bison have re-emerged as a protected species.

Source

[kemetic-dreams]

The Invention of Hispanics: What It Says About the Politics of Race

America’s surging politics of victimhood and identitarian division did not emerge organically or inevitably, as many believe. Nor are these practices the result of irrepressible demands by minorities for recognition, or for redress of past wrongs, as we are constantly told. Those explanations are myths, spread by the activists, intellectuals, and philanthropists who set out deliberately, beginning at mid-century, to redefine our country. Their goal was mass mobilization for political ends, and one of their earliest targets was the Mexican-American community.

These activists strived purposefully to turn Americans of this community (who mostly resided in the Southwestern states) against their countrymen, teaching them first to see themselves as a racial minority and then to think of themselves as the core of a pan-ethnic victim group of “Hispanics”—a fabricated term with no basis in ethnicity, culture, or race.

This transformation took effort—because many Mexican Americans had traditionally seen themselves as white. When the 1930 Census classified “Mexican American” as a race, leaders of the community protested vehemently and had the classification changed back to white in the very next census. The most prominent Mexican-American organization at the time—the patriotic, pro-assimilationist League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC)—complained that declassifying Mexicans as white had been an attempt to “discriminate between the Mexicans themselves and other members of the white race, when in truth and fact we are not only a part and parcel but as well the sum and substance of the white race.”

Tracing their ancestry in part to the Spanish who conquered South and Central America, they regarded themselves as offshoots of white Europeans.

Such views may surprise readers today, but this was the way many Mexican Americans saw their race until mid-century. They had the law on their side: a federal district court ruled in In Re Ricardo Rodríguez (1896) that Mexican Americans were to be considered white for the purposes of citizenship concerns. And so as late as 1947, the judge in another federal case (Mendez v. Westminster) ruled that segregating Mexican-American students in remedial schools in Orange County was unconstitutional because it represented social disadvantage, not racial discrimination.

At that time Mexican Americans were as white before the law as they were in their own estimation.

The process would only work if Mexican Americans “accepted a disadvantaged minority status,” as sociologist G. Cristina Mora of U.C. Berkeley put it in her study, Making Hispanics (2014). But Mexican Americans themselves left no doubt that they did not feel like members of a collectively oppressed minority at all. As Skerry noted, “[the] race idea is somewhat at odds with the experience of Mexican Americans, over half of whom designate themselves racially as white.” Even in the early 1970s, according to Mora, many Mexican-American leaders retained the view that “persons of Latin American descent were quite diverse and would eventually assimilate and identify as white.” And yet “Spanish/Hispanic/Latino” is now a well-established ethnic category in the U.S. Census, and many who select it have been taught to see themselves as a victmized underclass. How did this happen?

In other words, a distinctive set of beliefs, customs, and habits supported the American political system. If the Cajun, the Dutch, the Spanish—and the Mexicans—were to be allowed into the councils of government, they would have to adopt these mores and abandon some of their own. It is hard to argue that this formula has failed. Writing in 2004, political scientist Samuel Huntington reminded us that

“Millions of immigrants and their children achieved wealth, power, and status in American society precisely because they assimilated themselves into the prevailing culture.”

Indeed, merely calling Mexican-Americans a ‘minority’ and implying that the population is the victim of prejudice and discrimination has caused irritation among many who prefer to believe themselves indistinguishable [from] white Americans…. [T]here are light-skinned Mexican-Americans who have never experienced the faintest…discrimination in public facilities, and many with ambiguous surnames have also escaped the experiences of the more conspicuous members of the group.”

Even worse, there was also “the inescapable fact that��even comparatively dark-skinned Mexicans…could get service even in the most discriminatory parts of Texas,” according to the report. These experiences, so different from those of Africans in the South or even parts of the North, had produced

a long and bitter controversy among middle-class Mexican Americans about defining the ethnic group as disadvantaged by any other criterion than individual failures. The recurring evidence that well-groomed and well-spoken Mexican Americans can receive normal treatment has continuously undermined either group or individual definition of the situation as one entailing discrimination.

It is incumbent on us to pause and note exactly what these UCLA researchers were bemoaning. Their own survey was revealing that Mexican-Americans’ lived experiences did not square with their being passive victims of invidious, structural discrimination, much less racial animus. They owned their own failures, which—their experience told them—were remediable through individual conduct, not mass mobilization. Their touchstones were individualism, personal responsibility, family, solidarity, and independence—all cherished by most Americans at the time, but anathema to the activists.

The study openly admitted that reclassification as a collective entity serves the “purposes of enabling one to see the group’s problems in the perspective of the problems of other groups.” The aim was to show “that Mexican Americans share with Negroes the disadvantages of poverty, economic insecurity and discrimination.” The same thing, however, could have been said in the late 1960s of the Scots-Irish in Appalachia or Italian Americans in the Bronx. But these experiences were not on the same level as the crushing and legal discrimination that African Americans had faced on a daily basis. That is why the survey respondents emphasized “the distinctiveness of Mexican Americans” from Africans and “the difference in the problems faced by the two groups.” The UCLA researchers came out pessimistic: Mexican Americans were “not yet easy to merge with the other large minorities in political coalition.”

Thereafter, militants from La Raza, MALDEF, and other organizations put pressure on the Census Bureau to create a Hispanic identity for the 1980 Census—in order, as Mora puts it, “to persuade them to classify ‘Hispanics’ as distinct from whites.”

The Hispanic category was a Frankenstein’s monster, an amalgam of disparate ethnic groups with precious little in common.

The 1970 Census had included an option to indicate that the respondent was “Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Central or South American, [or] Other Spanish.” But re-categorizing Mexican Americans and lumping them in with other residents of Latin American descent under a “Hispanic American” umbrella was a necessary move, Mora writes, because “this would best convey their national minority group status.”

The law states that “a large number of Americans of Spanish origin or descent suffer from racial, social, economic, and political discrimination and are denied the basic opportunities that they deserve as American citizens.” The very thing that defined Hispanics was victimhood.

IT IS SHOWN THAT THE HUMAN CATEGORY "WHITE" WAS BUILT UPON THE IDEA OF THAT BRITISH AS WHITE, CHRISTIAN, OF THEIR ESSENCE FREE,AND DESERVING OF RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES FROM WHICH THOSE INSUFFICIENTLY BRITISH -LIKE COULD BE DENIED. JACQUELINE BATTALORA "BIRTH OF A WHITE NATION.

[kny111]

Mayor Eric Adams’ administration is promoting reparations in a bid to curb health and wealth disparities of black New Yorkers — but the effort is being met with accusations that it’s “sowing racial divisiveness,” The Post has learned.

The proposal for federal reparations is spelled out in a bombshell report from the city’s Department of Health and the Federal Reserve Bank entitled “Analyzing the Racial Wealth Gap and Implications for Health Equity.”

“The goal of a [federal] reparations program would be to seek acknowledgment, redress, and closure for America’s complicity in federal, state, and local policies … that have deprived black Americans of equitable access to wealth and wealth-building opportunities,” the report said.

The city’s Health Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan and his team offered three key recommendations including: a fresh approach to public health policy, how to improve data collections on wealth and health outcomes and getting the community more involved with health care decisions.

But moderate and conservative politicians opposed to reparations accused Adams’ health minions of turning into ideologues and social justice activists instead of doing their jobs.

“Add reparations and sowing racial divisiveness to the list of greatest policy hits by Commissioner Vasan’s and his health department, right alongside the crack pipe vending machine, heroin ‘empowerment’ signs on subways, firing unvaccinated city workers, supporting government drug dens; and banning unvaccinated kids from sports,” fumed Council Republican Minority Leader Joe Borelli (R-Staten Island).

The New York legislature approved a commission to address economic, political and educational disparities by black people in June and follows the lead of California, which became the first state to form a reparations task force in 2020.

New York Assembly Speaker Carl Heastie, the first black person to hold the position, called the legislation “historic.”

Adams has previously expressed support for the commission which is awaiting Hochul’s signature.

“We have consistently brought together experts to discuss a variety of ideas to promote equity in our city and we will continue to do so,” said the Health Department’s spokesman.

“We have an obligation to help New Yorkers lead longer, healthier lives.”

As with most progress in this system, we have to first inspect its ongoing involvement in pro enslavement systems. Not only did the historical ties to the Trans-Atlantic-slave trade leave on going structural residual connections that linger in our society today, it continues to exist in the 13th amendment's clause: slavery illegal unless a crime was found on you. That "unless" aspect made it essentially persist as is under the guise of hyper-criminalization at a system level. This has had adverse, negative effect on everyone including the environment. These are facts that can be proven. Not just social justice counter points. Besides, we are literally (regardless of what we say about it) immersed in politics and social justice through our lived social experiences. Claiming "the social justice advocates are the issue for pointing out what exists" is not helpful and adds to the lack of communal education required to understand these things. We need problack proindigenx reperations and restituion.

[sheshallfromtimetotime]

Hapy St. Patrick's Day.

"More than with most famines, this is an avoidable catastrophe. With its restrictions on the distribution of food aid, water, and medical supplies, Israel is manifestly causing famine as it wages war. In this, it is facilitated by the United States, which continues to arm Israel and give it political cover through the use of its veto at the UN Security Council.

In recent US announcements, there is a measure of recognition of the gravity of the situation in Gaza, but the practical measures which followed are inadequate. Air-drops will not stop famine; nor will the proposed maritime corridor between Cyprus and Gaza relieve starvation on the necessary scale.

On this St. Patrick’s Day in an election year, we are appealing to the conscience of Irish America. We ask Irish Americans in their capacity as citizens, as members of cultural and benevolent societies, as political leaders, to use their influence to avert a Famine as severe as the one faced by their ancestors. To do this it is necessary that the United States ceases arming Israel; that it puts pressure on Israel to halt its military action and lifts its blockade on Gaza; that it refrains from using its veto at the UN security council in relation to Palestine; that it restores funding to UNRWA, the agency best-equipped to provide relief; that it acts as an honest broker to bring about an agreed political settlement between Israel and Palestine."

[beguines]

In the early 1990s—at the peak of a 20-year growth in the US crime rate—the federal government announced the launch of a "violence initiative." Headed by the US Public Health Service and backed by senior psychiatrists such as Fredrick Goodwin (then chief scientist at the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH)), this project drew on biological theories of crime which dated back to the nineteenth century Lombrosian concept of the "born criminal". It was proposed that a mass-screening programme of inner-city children would be undertaken across America to determine those biologically or genetically predisposed towards anti-social and violent behaviour. As a vaccine against criminality, once the "conduct-disordered" children had been identified they could then be administrated psychotropic drugs. Breggin and Breggin's detailed discussion of the violence initiative rightly demonstrates the racist ideology behind the supposed objectivity of this biomedical project; a focus on inner-city youth is blatantly a focus on minority and black communities. At the time, Goodwin allegedly made remarks at the National Advisory Mental Health Council comparing "inner-city youth to monkeys who live in a jungle, and who just want to kill each other, have sex, and reproduce".

Psychiatry's involvement in such projects is perhaps less shocking when considering their long support for racial theories of the mind. In 1850, physician Samuel Cartwright reported in The New Orleans Medical and Surgical Journal his discovery of two new mental disorders affecting slaves in the Deep South: the first, drapetomania, was a disease causing slaves to run away from their owners, while the second, dysaesthesia aethiopis, resulted in the slaves becoming lazy, showing a lack of respect for the rights of property and breaking work tools. The prescribed cure for both disorders was "whipping, hard labor, and, in extreme cases, amputation of the toes". This psychiatric naturalisation of slavery as normal, inevitable, and even healthy for the black slave has been referred to by Burstow as a blatant example of "social control medicalized." Yet as Greenberg reminds us, for the burgeoning community of mad doctors, the discovery of such mental conditions held out the promise of contributing to contemporary society through the establishment of new "scientific" ideas in the area.

The commonalities between slavery-era diagnostic constructions and psychiatry's recent focus on inner-city youth are what Breggin and Breggin describe as "the psychiatric labeling of resistive or rebellious activity in order to justify medical control." This process of enforcing the status quo through the biomedical pathologisation of the political has allowed the psychiatric profession to enhance their respectability, capital, and power in capitalist society. Though treated with suspicion by some colleagues in the north of the United States, Cartwright's ideas were widely supported by fellow physicians, local politicians, and slave owners in the south. Whereas the classifications were abruptly consigned to history by the civil war only a few years later, drapetomania, along with Kraepelin's biological theories on praecox (later relabelled as schizophrenia), were highly influential on medical researchers in the early twentieth century who contended that African Americans were "biologically unfit" for freedom.

Bruce M.Z. Cohen, Psychiatric Hegemony: A Marxist Theory of Mental Illness

[sevenoctober7]

When US President Nixon wanted to read about {Islamic Fundamentalism}, he asked American intelligence to prepare a study for him on that subject, but their research was long, so he asked his advisor, Richard Crane, to read the research and summarize it for him. Robert Crane, or Richard Crane, was the president’s advisor. Nixon's American Foreign Affairs Officer, holds a doctorate in public law and a doctorate in international and comparative law, is president of the Harvard Society for International Law, deputy director of the National Security Council at the White House, and was one of America's leading political experts in general. Robert read the long intelligence paper to summarize it for the president, then went to attend Islamic seminars and lectures to learn more about the subject. Only a few days passed...until the news of Robert Crane's conversion to Islam spread throughout the entire United States of America. He called himself Farouk Abdul Haq, based on Farouk Omar, may God be pleased with him. He says about the reason for his conversion to Islam: As a student of the law... I found in Islam all the laws that I studied... and even during my studies at Harvard University for 3 years... I did not find in their laws the word (justice). ) Even once, I found this word in Islam often. He also said: We were in a legal dialogue, and there was one of the Jewish law professors with us. He started speaking and then started delving into Islam and Muslims, so I wanted to silence him.. So I asked him: Do you know the size of the inheritance law in the American Constitution? He said: Yes, more than eight volumes. I said to him: If I brought you a law for inheritance in no more than ten lines, would you believe that Islam is a true religion? He said: This cannot be. So I brought him the verses on inheritance from the Holy Qur’an and presented them to him. He came to me after several days and said to me: It is not possible for a human mind to count all the kinship relationships with such comprehensiveness that does not forget anyone and then distribute the inheritance among them with such justice that does not oppress anyone.. Then this Jewish man converted to Islam.!! After Dr. Farouk Abdel Haq converted to Islam, he began to criticize the West for its biased and inadequate view of Islam. He criticized Muslims who did not understand or apply Islamic teachings, and he used to say: Many Muslims who live in the West do not practice or live according to the teachings of Islam. Dr. Farouk Abdel Haq Robert Crane, previously, passed away on December 12, 2021, at the age of 92. We ask God Almighty to forgive him and have mercy on him.

[useless-catalanfacts]

This is Concepció Aleixandre (1862-1952). She was a Valencian doctor, inventor and teacher who was one of the first female gynaecologists and who pioneered working in favour of women’s health in the late 19th and early 20th century, particularly working in favour of better health for poor women.

In 1875, the Spanish professional medical magazine El Siglo Médico said that “because of physiological laws, the woman-doctor is a dubious being, a hermaphrodite or a sex-less being or, in any case, a monster”. Only 14 years after this, there were already 5 women who graduated in Medicine: 3 from the University of Barcelona and 2 from the University of València. One of them was Concepció Aleixandre.

She was born in a wealthy family from València who let her study. She graduated high school with the highest grade in all subjects and then studied to become a teacher (which was considered a women’s job), again with the highest grade in all subjects, but immediately after graduating she tried to enrol to become one of the first women to study medicine in the University of València. After many issues with the university’s management, which wasn’t used to allowing women to study, she was allowed and was one of the brightest in her class. She got her license in Medicine and Surgery in 1899 - once again, with the highest grade in most subjects - and decided to specialize in Gynaecology. Ironically, at first Spain’s Gynaecological Society did not allow her because they did not allow women, but eventually they changed their mind and she became the first woman member of Spain’s Gynaecological Society.

She moved to Madrid to work in a hospital, but at the same time opened a private clinic where she attended patients for free or adapting the price to their economic situation. Her attention became famous because of her warmth and closeness with the patients and their children, who could go to the office to hundreds in a single day.

She also worked to promote hygiene, took part in scientific and medical research, and worked for women’s rights. She was vice-president of the feminist organization National Council of Women, she was president of the Women’s Committee for the People’s Hygiene, of the Ladies’ Section of the Ibero-American Union, and in 1928 she was declared honorary president of the Association of Spanish Women Doctors. In 1926, still in Madrid, she founded the Lyceum Club Femenino, which was the first feminist club in Spain. She also spoke in favour of women’s right to vote and gave conferences and wrote articles to promote hygienic knowledge for the health of women and children. To continue this work, between 1916 and 1920 she ran a section about women’s health in the magazine La Medicina Social Española.

Concepció Aleixandre also campaigned for women to have access to education and culture. For this reason, she founded the People’s Ibero-American Centre to promote the education of women in the Iberian peninsula and Latin America, and campaigned in favour of the Galician writer (in Spanish language) Emilia Pardo Bazán being admitted in the Royal Spanish Academy of language in 1912, but she was again denied access as she had already been denied in 1889 and 1892. The first woman to become a member of the Royal Spanish Academy would only arrive in 1979 (Carmen Conde).

Sources: Diari La Veu, Sàpiens.

[blindaysblogforturtles]

OKAY OKAY I COULDN'T CONTAIN MYSELF

A man or a monster.

Yoshi and Shen have 3 children together: Yoshi II, the oldest, representing the bond between the clan and the yokai, and little Chisenshiro, an homage to the sacred name and to the little boy Yoshi grew up with.

For a long time things were good and chill, so pacific in fact that some of the clansmen were leaving for the modernity of the city. Not many, but it was clear that since their mission wasn't as proeminent as before, times of peace allowed them to leave without facing guilt or banishment. Yoshi grew to be a good and loving father, and a specially protective husband.

It's because things were good that the tragedy felt all the more painful.

Shen sensed a disturbance in the air first. For days she left the mountains to look for the source of the threat. There was something wrong, she told Yoshi, and she knew he could feel it too. But how the fuck would they explain that? He couldn't exactly summon his warriors because of a hunch. He tried, but the council argued he was being paranoid since the times were of peace.

Well, that blew up on their faces when the fucking Shredder came around with an army of corrupted humans and yokai alike and proceeded to wipe out every single Hamato on sight. He killed elders, women, children. Babies. The warriors, samurai and ninja, tried to put up a fight, but his power was unmatched. Yoshi hadn't known it was an attack. For all he knew his little brother had come to see him after all this time. He'd been excited and hopeful, and that hope blinded him to Saki's true intentions.

Yoshi barely survived, his children had to do most of the fighting to keep their family alive, and Shen carried all of them away from the massacre ocurring with the help of her father in law, Riku. Chiseburo, his wife, had been the first one victim to the Shredder as she saw through his façade.

They hid in the forest, having to move often to avoid capture from the army the Shredder had sent after them, settling in the city with an old member of the clan that had left before the incident. Life in the city was specially hard for Shen and the kids, as they were still part yokai and needed to be connected to their roots. The boys could grow used to the lack of energy they felt for the broken connection, but Shen grew weaker by the day and no one knew if she would survive. Nobody had made a pact like Yoshi and Shen's before.

And that wasn't the only problem. The moment of relative safety was cut short when they received a message from Shredder declaring war against japan unless Hamato Yoshi and his family - all of the people who had left the clan too - came forward to face him. They were hopeless.

Until Yoshi found about an american organization specialized in detaining dangerous supernaturals to keep the lives of humans as normal and mystic free as possible. He connected to them and asked for help, but it wouldn't be simple as that, as they couldn't just trust a random guy from half the world away. With a heavy heart Yoshi said goodbye to his family and promised they'd be whole again. He would be back. Shen allowed him to go, but as soon as he left, her spirit collapsed and she fell into a deep sleep.

In America the organization put Yoshi through all sort of test and trial to prove his story because, unbeknownst to him, Saki had made himself a very respectable public figure in japanese society. They accepted his request for help only after he proved that he himself wasn't just a delusional lunatic and showed his powers.

The look in agent conducting his case as he heard Yoshi's retelling of what happened gave him a bad foretelling, but he forced it down as he promised they'd work on his case.

If he in turn worked for them.

Forbidden from contacting his family by any means, and unable to feel them in his soul, JY0B2's mind withered and deteriorated to the point he was barely human. He spent years being subjected to tests, sent to violent missions, used as a hit man; and experiment after experiment, his memory of the reason he was there faded only more and more, to the point he couldn't remember what life outside had been.

After a mission that almost ended his life he hid in the sewers aiming to go back to base after he lost his enemies but found his injuries were too severe do that. He spent 3 days in the sewers, where he found something. A small rat. In the back of his mind he remembered that yokai had a connection to animals and he was part yokai, and in the back of his mind he remembered a stunning Jorogumo saying she'd devour his flesh like a black widow eats a rat, but it was all blurry and confusing. He called the rat Yoshi. It felt right. And when he went back to base, he still had the animal with him.

"It's fine, Yoshi." He said, laying in his cell and stroking the rodent's furr. It squeaked. "I promise I'll bring you back to your family in my next mission. I just don't want to be alone now."

That promise he wouldn't break.

-----------------------------------------

Bro I fr am enjoying writing this shit. What the actual fuck. I LOVE IT. Also, finally, we see a glimpse of Splinter. Is Yoshi gonna mutate? Or is it JY0B2? I WONT TELL YA HEHEHEHEHEHEH

BUT I am workin on art for the pathetic lil man so there's that. And his rat friend. And also the monster wife, I made her extra hot and extra dangerous.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

In Mexico and Brazil, Anti-Corruption Efforts Seem to Have Faded

Policies to fight graft are a low priority in both countries and have lost momentum in the region as a whole.

Despite a wave of headline-making corruption cases, the hard truth is that most Latin American governments have relegated anti-graft measures to a lower priority in recent years, while voters have been less active and mobilized around the issue. With a few exceptions—as in Guatemala last August—anti-corruption pledges no longer define Latin American elections.

This is especially true in the region’s two most populous countries, Brazil and Mexico, which last decade showed glimpses of hope through high-profile corruption investigations such as Operation Car Wash. Yet, more recently, they have struggled with entrenched corruption and limited political will to tackle related issues. Over the past five years, both countries have faced a particularly troublesome road in the fight against corruption as measured by the Capacity to Combat Corruption (CCC) Index, co-published by Control Risks and the Americas Society/Council of the Americas (which publishes AQ). The index evaluates and ranks 15 Latin American countries based on their ability to detect, punish and prevent corruption.

In the 2023 CCC Index, Brazil’s score stabilized just above the regional average, while Mexico’s fell for the fourth consecutive year. (The next edition of the CCC Index is set to be published in 2025.) In both countries, rhetoric against corruption has proven stronger than their capacity to combat it.

Continue reading.

[cartermagazine]

Today In History Dr. Bernard A. Harris, Jr. became the first African American astronaut to take a spacewalk on this date February 9, 1995. Harris, Jr. was the Payload Commander on STS-63 (February 2-11, 1995)—the first flight of a joint space program. Special Honors: 1996 Honorary Doctorate of Science, Morehouse School of Medicine. Medal of Excellence, Golden State Minority Foundation 1996. NASA Award of Merit 1996. NASA Equal Opportunity Medal 1996. NASA Outstanding Leadership Medal 1996. The Challenger Award, The Ronald E. McNair Foundation 1996. Award of Achievement, The Association of Black Cardiologists 1996. Space Act Tech Brief Award 1995. Alpha Omega Alpha Medical Honor Society, Zeta of Texas Chapter 1995. Election of Fellowship in the American College of Physicians 1994. Distinguished Alumnus, The University of Houston Alumni Organization 1994. Distinguished Scientist of the Year, ARCS Foundation, Inc., 1994. Life Membership, Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity. NASA Space Flight Medals 1993, 1995. NASA Outstanding Performance Rating 1993. JSC Group Achievement Award 1993. Physician of the Year, National Technical Association, 1993. Achiever of the Year, National Technical Association, 1993. American Astronautical Society Melbourne W. Boynton Award for Outstanding Contribution to Space Medicine 1993. Achievement Award, Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity 1993. Who’s Who Among Rising Young Americans Citation 1992. Certificate of Merit, Governor of Texas 1990. City of San Antonio Citation for Achievement 1990. NASA Sustained Superior Performance Award 1989. NASA Outstanding Performance Rating 1988. NASA Sustained Superior Performance Award 1988, 1989. National Research Council Fellowship 1986, 1987. Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society 1985. Outstanding Young Men of America 1984. University of Houston Achievement Award 1978. Achievement Award 1978. CARTER™️ Magazine carter-mag.com #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #historyandhiphop365 #cartermagazine #carter #drbernardharris #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #history #staywoke https://www.instagram.com/p/CocIi73OeUc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[djuvlipen]

The Forgotten History of Romani Resistance

May 15, 2015 By Pierre Chopinaud

On the evening of May 16, 1944, in the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, SS guards armed with machine guns surrounded the area of the camp designated for Roma and Sinti prisoners. Their intent was to round up the nearly 6,000 prisoners there and send them to the gas chambers. But when the guards approached the area, they were met with armed resistance from the inmates.

The prisoners had learned of the planned “liquidation” and fashioned weapons from sheet metal, wood, pipes, rocks, and any other scraps of material they could get their hands on. According to the memories of survivors and witnesses to the incident, the inmates forced the guards into retreat, and though some prisoners were shot that night, the act of resistance allowed the Roma and Sinti prisoners to put off execution for several more months.

How can such an epic episode have been lost to history? Who knows about the Sonderkommandos revolt of August 1944? Who knows about Witold Pilecki, who infiltrated Auschwitz to organize its resistance network? Keeping alive the memories of these events could help prevent such crimes from happening again in the future. 

This is why La Voix des Rroms is raising awareness around May 16, the Romani Resistance Day in Europe. The Romani Resistance Day represents a change in the way Romani culture and identity appear in public space. This change comes from an understanding of this space as a political one, where a history of resistance replaces a history of oppression. We have urged Romani organizations across Europe to embrace this date: there are several events planned this year in Budapest; Lety (Czech Republic); and Paris, where we are organizing Romani Resistance Day (Fête de l’insurrection gitane) in collaboration with other stigmatized minorities like Muslims and blacks.

For too long, Roma people have been misrepresented by stereotypes: the beggar, the prostitute, the compassionate victim, the folkloric artist. Those stereotypes overshadow the nuances of Romani culture and identity, which have to be the result of political struggle. Romani cultural creation aims to challenge mainstream culture, identity, and representation, just as the African American civil rights movement in the United States changed the whole of America’s identity. 

We must do all we can to promote Romani culture and identity. For more than four decades, Europe’s Roma communities have wanted to establish an institution that would give their traditions and creations their own stage. Across Europe, institutions exist to celebrate an array of cultures, nationalities, and identities, but there is nothing of this kind for Roma.

The European Roma Institute, recently proposed by the Open Society Foundations, the Council of Europe, and leading Roma organizations and figures, is a unique way to address this imbalance and give Romani traditions and creations their own stage.

In order to be successful, the European Roma Institute will need to tackle the breadth of Romani culture and identity. A lot has been done in the past to promote Romani culture with the help of an institutional framework, but it failed, in my opinion, because the specificity of Romani culture cannot be expressed using mainstream categories. There are some very specific features of Romani identity and culture that need to be addressed, like Romani humor; among all Roma, there is a common perception of the world, a common distance from society, as is exemplified in Charlie Chaplin movies—whose grandmother was, in fact, a Roma woman from England. 

The main challenge of the European Roma Institute will be to deal with the tensions between unity (we are all “Roma”) and multiplicity (we all belong to the “landscape” or the territories we live in). That double belonging has always structured Romani identity. It needs to be fully addressed.

La Voix des Rroms is a grantee of the Open Society Foundations.