#black law students association

[garadinervi]

Litigating the Black Panther Movement: The Assassination of Fred Hampton, Featuring Flint Taylor, The National Lawyers Guild, American Constitution Society, Black Law Students Association, and ACLU, The Law School, The University of Chicago, Chicago, IL, April 24, 2018

Plus: G. Flint Taylor and Ben H. Elson, The Assassination of Fred Hampton: 40 Years Later, «Police Misconduct and Civil Rights Law Report», Volume 9, Number 12, November/December 2009 (People's Law Office pdf here) [© Thomson Reuters]

[cbk1000]

Brave people of Tumblr afflicted with Sudden Onset Blackness, what are your stories?

[reasonsforhope]

"Research on a police diversion program implemented in 2014 shows a striking 91% reduction in in-school arrests over less than 10 years.

Across the United States, arrest rates for young people under age 18 have been declining for decades. However, the proportion of youth arrests associated with school incidents has increased.

According to the U.S. Department of Education, K–12 schools referred nearly 230,000 students to law enforcement during the school year that began in 2017. These referrals and the 54,321 reported school-based arrests that same year were mostly for minor misbehavior like marijuana possession, as opposed to more serious offenses like bringing a gun to school.

School-based arrests are one part of the school-to-prison pipeline, through which students—especially Black and Latine students and those with disabilities—are pushed out of their schools and into the legal system.

Getting caught up in the legal system has been linked to negative health, social, and academic outcomes, as well as increased risk for future arrest.

Given these negative consequences, public agencies in states like Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania have looked for ways to arrest fewer young people in schools. Philadelphia, in particular, has pioneered a successful effort to divert youth from the legal system.

Philadelphia Police School Diversion Program

In Philadelphia, police department leaders recognized that the city’s school district was its largest source of referrals for youth arrests. To address this issue, then–Deputy Police Commissioner Kevin Bethel developed and implemented a school-based, pre-arrest diversion initiative in partnership with the school district and the city’s department of human services. The program is called the Philadelphia Police School Diversion Program, and it officially launched in May 2014.

Mayor-elect Cherelle Parker named Bethel as her new police commissioner on Nov. 22, 2023.

Since the diversion program began, when police are called to schools in the city for offenses like marijuana possession or disorderly conduct, they cannot arrest the student involved if that student has no pending court case or history of adjudication. In juvenile court, an adjudication is similar to a conviction in criminal court.

Instead of being arrested, the diverted student remains in school, and school personnel decide how to respond to their behavior. For example, they might speak with the student, schedule a meeting with a parent, or suspend the student.

A social worker from the city also contacts the student’s family to arrange a home visit, where they assess youth and family needs. Then, the social worker makes referrals to no-cost community-based services. The student and their family choose whether to attend.

Our team—the Juvenile Justice Research and Reform Lab at Drexel University—evaluated the effectiveness of the diversion program as independent researchers not affiliated with the police department or school district. We published four research articles describing various ways the diversion program affected students, schools, and costs to the city.

Arrests Dropped

In our evaluation of the diversion program’s first five years, we reported that the annual number of school-based arrests in Philadelphia decreased by 84%: from nearly 1,600 in the school year beginning in 2013 to just 251 arrests in the school year beginning in 2018.

Since then, school district data indicates the annual number of school-based arrests in Philadelphia has continued to decline—dropping to just 147 arrests in the school year that began in 2022. That’s a 91% reduction from the year before the program started.

We also investigated the number of serious behavioral incidents recorded in the school district in the program’s first five years. Those fell as well, suggesting that the diversion program effectively reduced school-based arrests without compromising school safety.

Additionally, data showed that city social workers successfully contacted the families of 74% of students diverted through the program during its first five years. Nearly 90% of these families accepted at least one referral to community-based programming, which includes services like academic support, job skill development, and behavioral health counseling...

Long-Term Outcomes

To evaluate a longer follow-up period, we compared the 427 students diverted in the program’s first year to the group of 531 students arrested before the program began. Results showed arrested students were significantly more likely to be arrested again in the following five years...

Finally, a cost-benefit analysis revealed that the program saves taxpayers millions of dollars.

Based on its success in Philadelphia, several other cities and counties across Pennsylvania have begun replicating the Police School Diversion Program. These efforts could further contribute to a nationwide movement to safely keep kids in their communities and out of the legal system."

-via Yes! Magazine, December 5, 2023

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 - 𝙼𝙰𝙼𝙰 𝙸'𝙼 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Inspired by Britney Spears x Criminal

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: This is done in a universe where Armando is a teenager, the female reader is also a teenager. There is no adult/minor play in the passage and I do not write that.

Sixteen-year-old Yara was a good girl, never broke the rules, never back talked her parents, and was a straight A student. President of the Debate team, captain of the cheer team, and on student counsel, she was every parent's wet dream. That was until she met Seventeen-year-old Armando Aretas. A guy she kept away from to the best of her ability, but he always seemed to be around. Now, he was in her veins and well, it caused for a rather contentious environment in her home.

"Yara, have you still been seeing that boy?" The booming voice of her father cut through the silence of her room right along with the slamming open of her bedroom door. Grateful that she'd even gotten her door back after having it taken away for a month, she decided to play it cool. "No." Her eyes remaining trained to her phone screen, voice monotone and lacking it's usual emotion. "Well then why the hell is he outside my house?"

Yara's deep black curls bounced as her head swung towards her window. Her body basically moved on autopilot as she went over to her bedroom window. Her heart thumbed so intensely that she felt it in her throat, her ears rung, and her body trembled a bit as she stared at him out the window. There he was, stationed on his shiny black motorcycle that she was still somewhat terrified of. Even in the dark of the night it still shined. He removed his helmet, their eyes locked and it hit her that she'd given up probably the most intense love she'd experience all because her parent didn't like him.

All because of who his family was. The Aretas' weren't known for being the most law abiding, safe and friendly people. They had a strong hold on the drug market in Mexico and it was well known that they didn't care who knew this about them. They operated off the fear that forced people to respect them. Something thar kept her away, but God he pulled her in.

"Yara, don't even think about it." Her father was firm as she spun around. Her brown eyes darted across the room, looking for the best way to get out. "Young lady, you will not be associated with that criminal!" "God, will you just shut up! I stayed away from him; I did what you said. I let him go for you and look how you're treating me!"

For the moment, her father froze in pure shock. It was the first time he'd ever even heard her raise her voice, let alone at him. What kind of influence was this boy having on his perfect daughter. He didn't have much longer to think, because Yara went bolting out her bedroom door heading for the steps.

On the way down, Yara caught a glimpse of her mother, a look of worry and dismay present on the face idetical to her own.

"Yara, honey. Please, this isn't you. It's him its-- that influence." She pleaded running down the steps behind her daughter. This caused Yara to roar in frustration.

"It's not him!! It's you. You guys want me to be this perfect kid that I'm not! I have issues just like everyone else, but you guys don't even give me the space to express them and learn-- I don't have the space to be myself. With him..I do." The knot that formed in her throat was filled with the frustration she'd felt since childhood. The pressure put on her was incomprehensible. "With him, I can be me. I don't have to pretend that I'm ok and I can be flawed. I'm finally allowed the space to-- to just fucking relax!"

"Yarina." Her parents resorted to her full name. "You better watch yourself young lady. Like we said, you will not be associated with that thug." Her wide eyes gazed over her parents. She loved them dearly, but she couldn't continue like this. "Yara, please." Her mother's voice was much softer in comparison to her father as she stepped forward to take her hand, being immediately met with Yara moving backward.

"I'm sorry, but I'm in love with him." She offered one final apology before she quickly turned to exit the home. She wore nothing but pajamas, no shoes, socks, or even a sweater to keep her warm. "Yari." The teenage male rasped as his girlfriend approached.

"Where's your clothes?" His brows furrowed, hopping off his bike to remove his hoodie and pull it over her body. He glanced past her, seeing her parents standing in the doorway. "Let's go." He murmured, handing her his helmet. She knew he'd argue with her about her needing it more than him, so she put it on. Climbing on his bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

She didn't know what would happen with her parents, but she knew it wasn't her concern for the moment as he pulled off and she opted not to look back.

[trippiwonder]

Plants of Santa Muerte

A

Agave: Self confidence, Love-Magic.

Aloe Vera: Protection(especially for children & pregnant women), self love, inner beauty.

Apple: Knowledge, wisdom, necromancy, healing psychosomatic ailments.

Apricot: Love-Magick (especially for gender-variant people). Wisdom spells (especially focused on one's own self or your masculine side if you're a woman, or feminine side if you're a man.

Avocado: Love and lust spells(attracting men), erotic beauty, increase male virility.

B

Beans: Friendship-Magick.

Belladonna: Lust(enhancing one's seductiveness), protection(cord-cutter), connect to other dimensions and realms of consciousness.

Berry: Raspberries are used in female fertility spells (Raspberries are used to create). Black berries are used in protection and healing psychological trauma (Blackberries are used to destroy).

Burdock: Protection(keeping harm and danger away), attraction (people, places, things).

C

Cactus: Protection(guard against those who wish to do harm), Chastity spells (ward off unwanted sexual advances/aggression).

Cherry: Love-Magick (lust to love).

Chili Peppers: Chastity spells, Protection(cooling/calming).

Chocolate: Luxury, prosperity, erotic love. Dark chocolate is preferred.

Chrysanthemum: Necromancy, communing with the dead.

Cilantro: Self-acceptance, self-love, stopping/preventing bullying(giving victim courage to stop being victimized), Maintain grace during stress.

Cinnamon: Money-Magick(expand prosperity), Lust-Magick(add sensuality to relationship).

Coca Leaves: Offering to spirits, tool of divination, aid to energize mind during meditation.

Coffee Beans: Break addictions, Breaking self illusions.

D

Dandelion: Self-confidence to be stand out of the crowd, Detoxify negative thinking.

H

Honeysuckle: Expedite spell speed.

Hyacinth: Gay male love-magick(help with coming out of the closet or accepting one's own homosexuality).

J

Jasmine: Dream work(prophetic dreams). magnifies emotions in spell work like love or lust.

L

Lemon: Cleansing, Healing-Magick.

Licorice: Hexes , harmful magick, combat addictions, promote longevity.

Lily: Break love spells, ease transitional pain of loss(friends, breakups, divorce, death).

Lime: Cleansing spiritual ailments, love magick(zest/strengthen relationships).

M

Marijuana: Protection(from law and harm), Money-Magick.

N

Nettle: Protection-Magick(to get a handle on what is causing harm). In Healing-Magick(get a hold on ailments(arthritis)).

O

Orange: Cleansing the mind of harmful thoughts and emotions, and countering sorrow and depression in it's physical association.

P

Palo Santo: Healing-Magick(unknown ailment), Protection-Magick(block all harm spiritual/physical/emotional).

Pau d'Arco: Healing-Magick(critical condition), Undo/abort magick spells that gone wrong.

Peach: Gay male love magick.

Peppermint: Memorization (students/lawyers), quell arguments, spats among friends/lovers/coworkers.

Plum: Healing magick(over-come blockages).

Pomegranate: Healing-Magick(blood and feminine ailments), Increase fertility, prosperity, empowers women.

R

Rose: Red(Erotic Love), Pink(romantic love), White(pure platonic love between friends/family/self-love), Yellow(love of life).

T

Tobacco: Communing with the Divine, empowers men.

V

Vanilla: Lust-Magick(foreplay, oral, fetishes).

W

Wine: Divination, development of psychic abilities.

Y

Yerba Mate: Protection-Magick(standing ground), mental clarity, self-confidence.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Two (Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader)

Summary: The weekend before your last year of law schools begins, you celebrate the end of your summer associate position, where you meet an intriguing woman at the bar.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, dirty talk, light degradation kink

A/N: Hello! I’ll be in rehearsals this weekend so I’m updating a few days early. This chapter, as well as the next few, will be set in the past and marked accordingly. Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added to the tag-list let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think. 🩵

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog

Ten Years Prior

There was something so enticing about law school. Every attorney you ever met would warn you not to pursue law. It was their biggest regret, they would bemoan, and share horror stories of mountain high piles of readings and difficult exams that would slowly weed out the unworthy. The hundreds of thousands of dollars you would invest that wouldn’t guarantee you to pass the ever dreaded Bar Exam. The world of law was much like a game of cat and mouse; with the law student being the meek mouse and the demanding law professors and your fellow students as the prowling cats. Despite the many, many, many warnings, you ignored them.

You were the first person in your family to decide you wanted to be an attorney, so you were shocked to learn the vast majority of your classmates already had major ins to some of the top law firms in the country. It didn’t seem to matter that you received a top LSAT score, or that you were also accepted into one of the top law schools in the country, just like them. None of that mattered, you were already hundreds of steps behind everyone else. So, you conditioned yourself to work even harder. Endless hours of studying in the library, attending every office hour your professors would offer, taking any opportunity you could to network with any attorney who would reply to you on LinkedIn.

There was an even more alluring pull for you to get into corporate law, or “Big Law.” It wasn’t just the temptingly sky-high salary, or the perks that came with working for a major firm, it was the reputation. The attorneys who worked in corporate law were practically guaranteed a job in whatever other field or firm they wanted to move to next, due to the prestigious reputation they’d previously acquired. Unfortunately, you were competing against the majority of your classmates, most of whom had those direct family connections. Your ambition would always get the better of you, as it merely made you work even harder.

Eventually it paid off, as you received a summer associate position at the end of your second year at the top corporate law firm in Manhattan, Stark & Strange. You spent your summer working alongside some of the more powerful attorneys in the industry, and received paychecks that were larger than anything you had ever seen prior. The firm paid for an Uber Black to take you to and from your shoebox law school apartment, and even gave you a free gym membership. Practically every meal was comped, as you were wined and dined at restaurants where the bill cost more than your rent. It was a foreign world to you, the grueling hours made up for by designer handbags and any luxury you never dreamed of being able to afford, especially not on a summer associate’s salary.

You made a point to stay as late as they needed, and always volunteered to assist various attorneys with whatever work they needed done. Most of it was grunt work, like looking over a contract for typos, or printing hundreds of documents, but you soaked everything up like a sponge. Despite the many hours you spent at the firm, you hardly ever saw the men whose names were on the building, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. But, you were making good connections with a few of the other attorneys.

Maria Hill, one of the senior attorneys, usually requested for you to assist her on projects. She was only slightly terrifying, and practically ran the firm like the Navy. But, she was extremely knowledgeable and always made a point to introduce you to anyone she deemed important enough. Towards the end of the summer you were working on a tedious editing assignment from one of the junior attorneys, when Maria sent you an email to stop by her office before the end of the day. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as she sometimes wanted your help with a last minute deal, and she would almost always DoorDash whatever meal you wanted if you stayed long enough.

Once you finally finished your assignment, you packed up your belongings and made your way to the top floor where Maria’s office was located. Stark & Strange was a towering skyscraper in the center of Manhattan. Even though you were in a smaller office with a few of the other summer associates, you still had a breathtaking view of the skyline. Many called the design a waste of time and money, but those people clearly never met Tony Stark. No expense was spared when designing the project, and Maria told you it took over a decade to complete. But, when you’re a multimillionaire attorney, money was but a mere object. The hallways were becoming more familiar as the weeks passed, and it was a bittersweet feeling when you remembered your time was almost up.

The door to Maria’s office was slightly ajar, but you still knocked and waited for her curt response for you to enter. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, glasses hanging low on her face as she appeared to be typing. Her office was one of your favorites, it was so open and had a comfortable atmosphere. She had a variety of plants placed throughout the room, and you figured she must have a green thumb, but her paralegal once quietly shared how Maria often committed one of the worst sins of gardening…overwatering. You awkwardly stood near the doorway, contemplating if you should come back when she appeared to be less busy.

As if she sensed your hesitation, she gently shut her laptop, and placed her glasses on the desk, looking up at you. “Sorry about that, Stephen needed a contract updated before tonight.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Come, sit.”

Taking a seat, you nervously folded your hands across your lap, setting your bag on the ground next to your feet. “So, you wanted to see me?”

“I did,” Maria confirmed, giving you a curious glance. “Your last day is tomorrow, right?”

You nodded, and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. “My first day of classes is next Monday.”

Maria hummed, a thoughtful appearance on her face. “This is your last year of school?”

“Yes ma’am,” You replied, unsure of why she was asking you this.

“Tony and Stephen like to take out a select group of the summer associates every year for celebratory drinks,” Maria explained, and you swore you saw her roll her eyes ever so slightly before adding, “It’s mostly an excuse for Tony to brag more about the firm, but the drinks are free, and strong.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t realize they were having another dinner. “Oh, well that sounds nice.”

Maria nodded before continuing talking. “They usually ask the senior attorneys to each invite one of the summer associates, and my pick was you.”

You felt your eyes widen, she picked you? Shaking your nerves aside, you gave her a wide smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Hill. I’m honored.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Maria insisted, standing up and motioning for you to join her. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you this summer, but you rose to the challenge.”

Lightly blushing, you waited for her to grab her briefcase before you followed her out of the office. “I didn’t mind, I actually really enjoyed all of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Maria said, and she seemed sincere. “I believe Tony made the reservation for eight o’clock, but I’ll send you the details in the morning. Thank you again, I’ve appreciated your help.”

The elevator doors opened and you bid her farewell, as she went down the hallway to see if her wife was still working or was wrapping up. You could hardly believe it, sure you were sad that your summer was just about up, but you were one of the few associates selected for a special night out with all of the top attorneys and partners. A few of your classmates told you the partners would occasionally extend job offers to the top performing summer associates for when they graduated and passed The Bar, but you knew there was a slim chance of that happening to you.

Your last day flew by. You weren’t assigned much actual “work”, instead you spent most of the day chatting with the other summer associates and a few of the junior attorneys. Before you knew it, you were signing out for the last time, and handing in your key card and laptop on your way out. Maria had her paralegal forward you all the details, the bar they selected was yet another establishment you normally wouldn’t be able to afford, The Raines Law Room at The William Hotel. One of your roommates went there once with her parents, and gushed about how pretty and unique the space was, so you were excited to see it for yourself. The firm had allotted you one more Uber on their card, and you fully intended to use it.

The drive was surprisingly short, as traffic was relatively light for a Friday night. You sent your roommates a text reminding them that you’d be out late, before focusing your attention out the window. It had almost been three years since you moved to New York for law school, against your parents wishes, and you were still in awe of it. Yes, it was filthy, and there were rats and cockroaches galore, but every major city was dirty. New York was full of history and culture; there were thousands of places to explore, and millions of other people who were trying to find where they fit into this beautiful, messy story. You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

You arrived at the bar just before eight, you had a habit of needing to be early for every social function you attended. The Raines Law Room was everything your roommate described, and even more so in person. It wasn’t the usual type of bar you’d go to, and it was broken up into multiple rooms with the actual bar in the center of it all. Many of the rooms were furnished with bookcases and cozy, expensive furniture that reminded you of a library. It didn’t take you long to find your group, as Tony had apparently rented one of the private rooms. There were only around twenty people in attendance, Maria wasn’t kidding when she told you it would be a small gathering. You recognized two of the other associates who had been invited, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, and you gave them a friendly wave.

Maria was in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the couches with her wife, Natasha Romanov. You’d only briefly encountered the redhead, as she did a lot of international travel for the firm. They were speaking with Tony Stark, the latter who appeared to be at the end of telling a very animated story. Maria noticed you lingering, and waved you over once Tony finished talking. You awkwardly made your way over, trying not to trip in the process; you’d always been terribly clumsy. There was an empty spot next to Maria, so you took a seat.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Maria warmly greeted you. “Do you remember my wife, Natasha?”

“Of course, it’s great to see you again,” You said to the woman sitting on the other side of Maria.

Natasha offered you a small smile, wrapping her arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Maria’s been telling me all summer how much of a help you’ve been, and believe me, she doesn’t praise just anyone.”

Maria nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “That’s not true, I just have high expectations, unlike someone.”

Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Right, of course dear.” She turned to Tony, who was scrolling through his phone. “Have you met Maria’s young mentee, Stark?”

He looked up at the mention of his name, and his eyes landed on you. “Oh right, I remember you. Maria’s been raving about you for the past few months, and Natasha’s right, that’s a pretty rare occurrence for her.”

Maria glared at him, clearly unamused. “Funny as always, Tony.”

Sticking out his hand, you took it and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much for the opportunity this summer, Mr. Stark. I’ve learned so much.”

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. Have you met my other platonic, legal half? He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.”

“Most likely avoiding you,” Natasha quipped to Tony, her eyes scanning the room. “Looks like he’s over by my sister.”

Her sister? You turned your head to look around the room, until you saw Stephen lightly conversing with Yelena. You didn’t realize she was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha seemed to note your confusion.

“Yelena doesn’t like people to know we’re related,” Natasha explained, her tone more gentle as her eyes were locked on her sister. “She thinks people will say she only got the position because I work here.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong,” Tony offered, ignoring the glare Natasha gave him, before wildly waving his arms to get Stephen’s attention. It didn’t take long for Stephen to notice, and you watched him frown.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Stephen questioned, annoyance clear by his tone.

“Well you keep lecturing me on not offering the summer associates jobs without you being present,” Tony pointed out, “God forbid I have any fun.”

“I only told you that because you once tried to convince half of them they could only have the job if they signed a contract saying they could only refer to you as their Overlord,” Stephen pointed out, and Natasha briefly snickered before Maria shot her a disapproving look.

“It was a joke!” Tony exclaimed, pointing at you. “Back me up here, if I told you that, you would know I was joking, right?”

“Um…” You trailed off, your brain replaying what he had just said to Stephen about jobs. “I’d probably have to read the contract first.”

Tony sighed, “The world isn’t what it used to be. Fine then, Strange, you’re up.”

Stephen sat down next to Tony, and just like the latter did, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “It’s nice to formally meet you. Maria’s kept us up to date on all the work you’ve been completing. How have you enjoyed your summer at the firm?”

“It’s been the most wonderful opportunity,” You raved, wondering if this conversation was heading where you desperately hoped it was. “I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”

Stephen nodded, “We’re always happy to see our summer associates take the opportunity to use all of the resources we have available. Now, at the end of every summer, we like to ask our senior attorneys if they would like to refer anyone for a job. Maria, as well as a handful of others, all recommended you.”

Your brain short circuited, not quite believing what you were hearing. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We’d like to invite you to join the firm as a junior associate once you’ve graduated and passed The Bar,” Stephen continued, and you felt faint. “It’s a written offer that we can send to you on Monday morning.”

“That you’ll have one of the paralegals email out on Monday morning,” Tony corrected him before looking back to you. “What do you say? Do you want to join the greatest firm in the city? The salary is competitive, of course. Full benefits and all.”

Natasha snickered again, only this time Maria didn’t try to stop her, and you remembered how Maria mentioned Tony liked to take this time to brag. There were so many emotions swirling around in your head, but you were mostly in shock.

Stephen seemed to notice you were overwhelmed. “You can take the weekend to think it over, and take a look at the offer on Monday. I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You nodded, grateful for that. “Thank you so much, Mr. Strange, Mr. Stark. I’m so thankful for the opportunity.”

“We’ll talk on Monday,” Tony reiterated, standing up, and practically dragged Stephen with him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much,” You acknowledged Maria, who had been quietly conversing with Natasha. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening.”

“You deserve it,” Maria insisted, relaxing ever so slightly against Natasha. “Congratulations, and I hope we’ll be working together again next summer.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Natasha lightly teased her wife, giving you a wink. “Congratulations, and good luck on your final year of school.”

You thanked them both for a final time, before letting them have some privacy. There were still so many thoughts rushing through your brain, and the room was so bright and so loud, you needed to clear your head. As you started walking out of the room, you entered the main bar and decided that you didn’t need to clear your head, you needed a drink. The bar was fairly quiet, with a few patrons scattered throughout the room. You made your way to an empty stool, and waited for the bartender to finish making a drink before you ordered a vodka tonic.

There was hardly anyone else sitting at the bar, except for a woman a few stools down from you. She had dark brown hair, tucked behind her ears, and she was sipping on a glass of some variety of red wine. From a quick glance, you could see she was reading something on her phone, and you watched the frown lines on her forehead deepen every so often as she continued to scroll. The bartender came back with your drink, and you thanked him before taking a small sip.

“Come here often?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you curiously turned your head to find the woman a few stools down was now staring at you.

“I beg your pardon?” You replied in confusion, wondering if she was talking to you.

The woman arched an eyebrow at you, and you felt your cheeks flush under her heated gaze. She stayed in her seat, but her eyes remained locked on yours. “Some people would call that a pick up line, but not you apparently.”

“Do you often hit on strangers in a bar?” You questioned, watching her take a sip of her wine.

“Well if you came and sat next to me, you wouldn’t be much of a stranger,” The woman countered, and patted the bar stool next to her.

This was crazy, you reasoned with yourself. This woman could be a lunatic, or a serial killer. But she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher, and her eyes were so blue that you could feel yourself slowly getting lost in them. Before you fully realized what you were doing, you scooted over until you were sitting next to her. Her red lips turned up in a smirk, and she shut her phone off, placing it in her bag. There was something so intriguing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“So what brings a pretty little thing like yourself here on a Friday night?” She asked curiously, her eyes hungrily searching yours, and you could feel your cheeks begin to darken at her words. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you the way she was.

“Um, I’m here for a work event,” You said quietly, unsure of how much information you were willing to share with a stranger. “An internship event, rather. What about you?”

The woman nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Mmm, this and that. I’m staying at The William for a few nights while my place gets redecorated,” There was a sparkling glint in her eyes as she added, “And there’s a rather spectacular view of the city from my room.”

The color deepened in your cheeks, and you chose to take a rather large sip of your drink. “Oh, that’s…interesting.”

“Isn’t it though,” The woman agreed, and you watched her fingers lightly twirl around the glass in her hand. “I never got your name, darling.”

“You didn’t ask,” You pointed out, and she smirked at you.

“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” She guessed, gracefully scooting her stool closer to yours, looking at you expectantly.

There was something so addictive about the way she was staring at you, and it made you lower your guard as you told her your name. She let out another low hum, and repeated it back to you, saying it nice and slowly, drawing out each syllable. At this point, she was close enough that you could smell her perfume. The rich notes of vanilla and lavender swirled together through your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more and more distracted. Taking another large sip of your drink, you realized it was nearly empty. The woman also seemed to notice, as she waved the bartender over.

“What are you drinking, dear?” She asked, her voice sweet like honey.

“A vodka tonic,” You replied, and she slid your empty glass towards the bartender.

“Another one of those, please, as well as a Pinot Noir. Put her drinks on my tab,” She instructed the bartender, ignoring your protest that you could pay for your own drinks.

“Don’t be silly,” She gently chided you, one of her hands moving up to brush your hair out of your face. “You have gorgeous eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Every compliment was leaving you more flustered than the last, and you had no idea how she was having this strong of an effect on you. It was the alcohol, your brain reasoned, that had to be it. “No, not really,” You replied, your voice growing more timid.

The woman let out a disapproving tsk, her fingers lingering on your face before slowly pulling away. “Disappointing, but not surprising.”

The bartender returned at that moment with your drinks, and you mumbled a quiet thank you, hoping this would give you some liquid courage. You realized at that moment she never told you her name.

Clearing your throat, you did your best not to sound as intimated as you were. She was this beautiful, sort of menacing, and slightly strange woman. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself. “You know, for someone who hounded me for my name, it’s a little odd you never told me yours.”

The woman smirked again, and you thought you saw her lick her lips. “You never asked, dear,” she pointed out, and her fingers reached out to lightly brush yours. “I’m Agnes.”

Her touch, light as it was, felt like a shock of electricity coursing through your system. You kept waiting for her to let go of your hand, but instead she gently turned it so your palm was visible, and began tracing patterns on it as she sipped her wine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agnes,” You said, your courage slowly disappearing, and you weren’t sure what it was that you wanted from her, you just knew you didn’t want her to stop touching you.

Agnes laughed, the rich sound ringing deliciously in your ears. “Believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine.”

The hand stroking your palm began to make its way up your arm, and you were embarrassed by the goosebumps you felt by having her hands on you. Agnes also seemed to notice this reaction, and she was looking as if she wanted to eat you alive. She leaned in closer to you, her breath hot on your ear as she whispered, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to continue this discussion in my hotel room. Would you care to join me?”

It would seem tonight was just full of surprises. Her face was so close to yours, and your brain was still actively short circuiting. You’d barely spent any time with this woman, and you only knew her first name, but it didn’t matter. It was clear what this was, a one night stand. This didn’t have to mean anything, and you were riding a high from your job offer; you didn’t want it to mean anything. All you knew was that her breath was hot in your ear, and her fingers were lightly gripping your arm, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed her.

Fearing you wouldn’t be able to produce any actual words, you wordlessly nodded in agreement. Agnes proceeded to close out her tab, and you made a quick note of the Black AmEx card the bartender returned to her. She guided you out of the room, her hand grazing your lower back. You felt like you were floating, and the only thing grounding you to reality was the feel of her fingers stroking your back, slowly moving lower with every step you took.

Upon reaching the elevators, Agnes waited for you to enter before following, and pressed the button for her floor. As soon as the doors closed, it was as if a switch went off. Her hands were all over you, and within a moment you were against the wall of the elevator. While her right hand stayed pressed against your back, moving down to grab at your ass, her left moved up to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes began to darken with arousal, and before you could even process what was happening she kissed you.

You’d been kissed before, and you thought you knew how good it could be, but that was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against yours. She kissed you with fervor, like a woman starving and you were her salvation. Her lips were so soft and smooth against your own, it was addictive. As she lightly slapped your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to her, you let out a moan and she took that opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips. She tasted faintly of Pinot Noir, and you eagerly allowed her to dominate your mouth. Her hips jutted against yours, creating just enough friction for you to imagine how much better it would feel to have more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were at her floor, and she reluctantly broke your kiss. You let out a quiet whine and Agnes chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Patience, honey. My room is right down the hallway.”

She nearly had to drag you along, as your legs were starting to shake, and the walk to her room seemed endless. When you finally reached it, she hurriedly tapped her keycard to unlock the door. Yanking you inside, she slammed your back against the door, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Wasting no time, she began messing with the clasp of your dress, and as it became undone she helped you out of it, leaving you in your bra and panties. The older woman let out a low growl, and pulled you flush against her. Moving you towards the bed, she nearly tore your bra and panties off in the process, before laying you flat on your back.

She straddled your hips, and when you attempted to move your hands up to her waist she swatted them back down. “Be a good girl and behave,” Agnes warned lightly. “I’d hate to have to restrain you.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at that threat. Agnes smirked again, taking her shirt off and tossing it across the room, revealing a lacy dark purple bra. She leaned down and kissed you again, lightly biting your lower lip, causing you to groan into her mouth. It felt like she was all around you, but you needed more. You always prided yourself on your patience, but you were quickly losing it. Her lips left yours to trail down your jaw and the side of your neck, stopping near your collarbone. She began to leave hot, wet kisses along it, before biting down on the flesh at the base of your neck and sucking.

“Fuck,” You cried out at the sensation, and you heard her let out a low hum in response, keeping up her ministrations.

She left dozens of marks on you, and you were too lost in the haze of how good she felt to remember you were starting classes in two days. Her hands were relentless, moving all over your body. As her lips began to alternate attention between your breasts, her right hand moved between your thighs, and you both moaned as she felt how wet you were.

“Is all this for me, baby?” She murmured, raising her head up to yours, using two fingers to lightly tease your aching pussy. “What a pretty girl, dripping for me.”

Moaning, you arched your hips up, she was so close and you needed her fingers inside, filling you. “Please, Agnes.”

Letting out a low tutting noise, she pulled her fingers back. You whined, louder this time, and her responding grin sent a shiver down your spine. “Please what, honey? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” You begged, desperate to feel her fingers on you again. “Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl,” Agnes praised you, roughly thrusting two fingers inside you, going deeper than you normally could on your own.

Her fingers were so long, and so good, as she set a fast pace, twisting and hitting all of the sweet spots in you. You could barely breathe, all you could focus on was how good it felt to have her fucking you. Her thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit, and the added stimulation made you cry out. You were soaked, the movement of her fingers taking you created an obscenely filthy sound that filled the room. It didn’t take long until you felt a familiar unraveling, signaling you were close to orgasming.

“Such a good little whore, you’re taking me so well,” Agnes cooed and you felt yourself clench at her words. “Do you like this? Do you like having me fuck your tight little cunt?”

“Oh my fucking-” You cried out, but were cut off as she chose that moment to add a third finger, expertly curling them and bringing you that much closer to your release.

“That’s it, slut,” Agnes growled, fucking you even harder. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my fingers.”

“Agnes, please,” You whined, needing to feel yourself come undone. “Please I need…”

Agnes smirked, not relenting in her efforts, and began to leave kisses around the edge of your mouth. “What do you need, baby? Use your words for me.”

“Need to come, please. I need to come,” You babbled, as she took you higher and higher with every thrust of her fingers, and your words caused the older woman to groan.

“Come on my fingers, sweetheart,” Agnes ordered, and you felt yourself lose focus as the pleasure overcame you.

It was mind numbingly good, and you barely recognized the scream that left your throat. All you could feel were her fingers inside you, gently coaxing you through your orgasm. Her fingers slowly stilled, and you felt yourself pulse around them as her thumb gently eased off your clit. Pressing a sweet, slow kiss against your lips, Agnes pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine at how empty you felt.

“You took me so well,” Agnes purred, and you felt yourself drip even more at her words. “Such a slutty little pussy, you can’t even form complete sentences when I’m fucking you.”

You groaned, the filth spewing out of her mouth was a major turn on for you. “It’s not my fault you’re turning my brain into mush.”

Agnes fake pouted at you. “Oh, poor baby,” She mocked, pressing her hips against yours. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to use that little brain while I’m fucking you.”

“Want to taste you,” You moaned out, the idea just popping into your head. “Please.”

“Oh? You want to eat me out, baby?” Agnes questioned, her eyes growing darker yet still from arousal. “Do you want me to ride that pretty little face?”

“Fuck yes,” You begged, causing Agnes to chuckle before taking off her pants and panties, and moving you closer to the headboard before she straddled your face.

You could smell her; the scent was musky and sweet and you were salivating, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. Agnes rested one hand on the headboard and the other in your hair, slowly lowering herself onto your mouth. You wasted no time, licking and sucking, tasting her arousal. The guttural moan she let out spurred you on, eager to please her. She tasted so fucking good, and your tongue lapped up as much of her as you could. Her fingers tightened in your hair as she began to rock against your face, and you moaned against her as she roughly tugged.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, baby,” Agnes panted as she moved her hips faster. “You’re doing so well. Such a good job. Suck on my clit.”

Ever hoping to please her, you switched to swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking, hard. The moan she let out, louder than before, was entrancing. Her fingers kept your head in place as she rode your face, and you could sense her getting closer to the edge. Your tongue teased her entrance, slowly pushing inside and Agnes let out a loud hiss, encouraging you to go deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck,” Agnes began to grind down, getting closer with every thrust of your tongue. “Such a sweet fucking mouth. Do you want me to come all over that pretty face?”

Nodding against her, you sucked and licked, thoroughly enjoying being used by her. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder, hips thrusting even harder against your face as she let herself go. She tugged on your head as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, and you never saw something quite so beautiful. Her eyes were closed, head back as she let out several loud grunts, the sound causing you to twitch. You moaned at the taste of her cum, eager to get as much as you could. Her hips slowly stopped, and she gave herself a moment before lifting herself off of you, collapsing on the bed. She immediately pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you. Her body was flush against yours, and you relished at the feeling of her tits pressed against your back. She was so soft, and so warm; every part of her felt like heaven to you.

She began to nuzzle your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin. “Fuck that was so good. Thank you, honey.”

“It was my pleasure,” You drawled out, growing more tired with every word you spoke, slowly feeling yourself drift off.

Agnes murmured something to you, but you were too far gone to hear what she said. The last thing you remembered was the feel of her body curled up around you as you finally passed out from exhaustion. You weren’t sure how long you slept, for when you finally woke up the room was filled with bright sunlight, causing you to wince. It didn’t take you long to realize you were alone, and the already large bed felt ten sizes too big. A part of you wondered if Agnes was in the bathroom, but when you eventually made it out of bed you realized she was gone. The room was completely empty, save for you and your clothes from last night.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected, it was a one night stand after all. But, you had assumed she would at least still be there in the morning when you woke up. Shaking those thoughts aside, you rushed to pick up your clothes and get dressed. As you were putting on your clothes, you noticed a small folded up note with your name on it on the bedside table. You slipped your heels back on before grabbing it, and was slightly disappointed to see how short it was.

Thanks again for a great night. -A

Well, at least she left you something. You crumpled the note and stuck it in your purse, leaving the room without a second thought. The next two days were spent in a daze, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes. Your roommates were thrilled to hear about your job offer, and even more intrigued to hear of your night out with an older woman. You kept the details to a minimum, as you always kept those things more private, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. By the time Sunday night rolled around you were absolutely spent. You had just finished marking up your planner for the next few weeks with your class schedule, and double checked the time for your first class as you set your alarm for bed before finally drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, the exhaustion from the last few days made you sleep through your alarms, which almost never happened. But, after hearing your alarms go off one after another, one of your roommates came to check on you, the knocking on your door sent you shooting out of bed. You rushed through the apartment, throwing your laptop and books in your bag. As you were getting dressed, your eyes landed on the hickeys all over your neck, and you groaned. Great. Despite it still being summer, and extremely hot in the city, you wore a lightweight turtleneck. The lecture halls and library were usually freezing, so this wouldn’t seem too out of place to anyone.

Luckily your apartment was only a few blocks away from campus, and it never took you more than ten minutes to get there. You kept obsessively checking your watch, hoping to make it to your first class in time. Finally, you reached the correct building, and pulled up the class schedule on your phone to check which room you were in. Whipping around the corner, you spotted the door at the far end of the hallway. With one minute to go, you passed other students and professors, not a thought in your mind besides making it through those doors. Reaching the lecture hall, you opened the doors and went inside.The hall was relatively full, and as you searched for an empty seat you heard your professor begin to speak.

“Welcome to Ethics and Professional Responsibility in Criminal Practice.”

Wait a second, you knew that voice. How did you know that voice? You looked up, finding the last person you ever expected to run into, and you almost fell out of your chair. Standing there on the floor of the lecture hall was a strikingly familiar woman. It was the same woman from the other night, Agnes. Her messy dark brown hair was pulled back into an updo, and she wore an expensive looking black pantsuit. She was pulling up a slideshow on the laptop, so her back was turned, but it was her. You knew it was her. The strange thing was you didn’t remember reading her first name on the syllabus that had been sent out a few weeks prior.

After she finished projecting the slideshow, she turned her focus to the crowded lecture hall. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Agatha Harkness,” Her eyes scanned the room, until they eventually landed on you, and you watched her freeze, before quickly regaining her composure. “And I’ll be your professor for the semester.”

Fuck.

[frithwontdie]

Black Student Enrollment at Harvard Law Drops by More Than Half - The New York Times

The number of Black students entering Harvard Law School dropped sharply this fall after last year’s Supreme Court decision banning affirmative action in college admissions, according to enrollment data released on Monday. Harvard Law enrolled 19 first-year Black students, or 3.4 percent of the class, the lowest number since the 1960s, according to the data from the American Bar Association. Last year, the law school’s first-year class had 43 Black students, according to an analysis by The New York Times. While changes in data calculation might explain some year-to-year changes, the decline at Harvard was much sharper than at other elite law schools. It was notable not only for its severity but also because of the school’s past role in educating some of the nation’s best-known Black lawyers, including former President Barack Obama, the former first lady Michelle Obama, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson and the former Massachusetts governor Deval Patrick. The Supreme Court decision, and the fact that Harvard College was named in the case, played a role, according to David B. Wilkins, a Harvard law professor who has studied Black representation in the legal profession. “This obviously has a lot to do with the chilling effect created by that decision,” Mr. Wilkins said on Monday.

Chilling 🤣🤣🤣

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Trudy Ring at The Advocate:

Sweet Briar College in Virginia has barred transgender people from enrolling, based on administrators’ understanding of the founder’s will — from 1900. The private liberal arts college was founded by Indiana Fletcher Williams in honor of her deceased daughter, Daisy. Williams’s will stipulated that Sweet Briar would “be a place of ‘girls and young women,’” college officials told the Associated Press. Sweet Briar, located on the former Williams plantation in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, “has never had an admissions policy specifically for transgender students but has evaluated and admitted trans applicants on a case-by-case basis,” Inside Higher Ed reports. “The new policy holds that an applicant must confirm ‘that her sex assigned at birth is female and that she consistently lives and identifies as a woman.’” Sweet Briar President Mary Pope Hutson and the college’s board chair spelled out the new policy in a letter to the campus community in August. The phrase “girls and young women,” they wrote, “must be interpreted as it was understood at the time the Will was written.” “The board cannot change the words or the interpretation of the will,” Hutson told Inside Higher Ed. “I think that’s important.” The will is from 1900, and the college was established in 1901. It began admitting students in 1906. The Virginia legislature codified the will, and therefore the college must follow it. “And based on existing state case law, Sweet Briar leaders are required to consider how Williams viewed women and to honor that intent — even if current social norms do not reflect the founder’s perspective,” according to Inside Higher Ed.

The college has deviated from the will in one major way, however. The will mandated that Sweet Briar would admit whites only. In 1964, Sweet Briar sought the state’s permission to integrate, and that led to a long legal battle. The college admitted its first Black students in 1966 under a temporary court order, and a court struck down the whites-only policy for good in 1967.

What a disgraceful move by Sweet Briar College to ban trans women from campus.

[rawrsatthetree]

I think the best way to tackle a Modern AU for BG3 isn’t to make it a slice of life but to some how combine the elements of a collage drama, organized crime, a dooms day cult, and an alien invasion all into one coherent plot.

I do not know how to do this but I do have some ideas. All the characters have no reason to associate with each other until they’re all abducted by aliens, wormed, and released back into the wild like a bird that just got tagged. Everyone kind of writes it off as either a bad trip or a dream until the cross paths and the worm does the connection thing. Eventually bringing them all together with a few people investigating the invasion to get to the bottom of what’s happening.

Wyll is a pre law student mostly against his will to appease his dad. He wants to help people but doesn’t necessarily want to be a cop like his father the chief of police. He half asses his classes because he doesn’t have much passion for them, blowing them off to volunteer in clubs and community outreach programs. I think Mizora should be either a professor, Dean of students, or academic advisor. In exchange for favors she alters his grades pushes him through the system. Little does he know she’s also idk involved with a crime organization and her favors go from small and perverted to slowly becoming more dangerous and criminal. He’s young and she has a lot of power over his future and could even expose him as a fraud and an accomplice to his father so he feel helpless to defy her.

Astarion is a law school drop out but that’s old news. You’ll find him prowling the local bar and club scene looking for potential clients. After a string of bad luck and poor life choices he’s a prostitute and drug dealer for a local gangster in the Black Hand gang only known as The Vampire (I know I’m so creative). Cazador’s deal is still the pretty much the same local rich public figure is secretly a very cruel and evil man who uses fear and addiction to control his underlings.

Karlach worked as muscle for the leader of the Black Hand gang before she was forcibly sold and enlisted as a mercenary over seas. After a ten years fighting in foreign years she’s back and ready to get her revenge on the whole Black Hand cult unfortunately she has to do it quickly because (ok idk I tried doing some research and couldn’t find any condition caused by an injury that can suddenly become fatal idk maybe cancer from a bullet or shrapnel)

Gale isn’t a professor but like a doctorate student on a tenure track, but bordering on the mad science kind of research. He’s in an abusive relationship with his over seeing faculty Mystra. Ultimately a lab accident during his research leads to the orb.

I think Lae’zel should still be an alien. She was abducted on another planet and escaped while the earthlings were being tadpoled. Now she’s stranded and tadpoled on a strange planet.

Halsin is a university professor and a local environmental activist. He’s been investigating strange occurrences and is onto the alien invasion thing.

I’m honestly not sure about Shadowheart. She should definitely be college age. But I’m not sure how to approach the shar thing.

Not sure about Minthara either except maybe military turned death cult member.

Jaheira and Minsc are cops investigating the alien invasion I’m so sorry not like real world cops but like fun fictional cops that only exist in movies. Boo is their police dog. OMG wait no they’re Park Rangers!!

Other stuff

The dead three chosen are instead three gang leaders. Except Bhaal cult also doubles as a murder cult still on top of being a criminal organization.

The alien invasion is still the mind flayer grand design.

I don’t think the dead three are controlling the mind flayers this time. Instead they’re using the strange alien invasion occurrences as grounds to start a dooms day cult or maybe they are idk

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 8 February 1968, the Orangeburg massacre took place in South Carolina when police opened fire on Black South Carolina State students, killing three and wounding 28 during protests by Black students against an illegally segregated bowling alley. It was the first incident in which student demonstrators were killed by police in the 1960s, but is much less well-known than the Kent State killings of white students. The All-Star Bowling Lanes was refusing to serve Black customers, despite the banning of segregation in 1964, and so protests by Black students began on February 5. When police got involved, rather than enforce the law or arrest the racist business owner, they arrested 15 demonstrators and brutally beat several young women. On February 8, over 100 students assembled on the college campus around a bonfire. After a police officer was hit by a flying object, nine officers then opened fire on the crowd with live ammunition. The demonstrators tried to flee, and many were killed or injured as they ran away: all but two of the 31 victims “had been shot in the back, side, or through the soles of their feet,” according to Reid Toth. One of the survivors, Robert Lee "Dooley" Davis recounted the last words of his friend, Sam Hammond: "Sam asked me, he said, 'Dooley, do you think I’m going to live?' I said, 'Sam, you’re going to be all right, buddy.' And the next time I look over there, he was dead. I took my hand and put it over his face like this to close his eyes, because he died with his eyes open." Henry Smith and Delano Middleton were the others who died that day. The governor and the media, including the Associated Press, falsely claimed that there was a two-way gunfight between demonstrators and police. There were legal cases after the massacre, although none of the killer police were convicted of any crime. The only person who was jailed for the events was Cleveland Sellers, a young Black member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2205178599667278/?type=3

[opencommunion]

"When a book titled Terrorism: A Very Short Introduction, written by the British professor and historian Charles Townshend, was found by police near the pro-Palestine student encampment at Columbia University, it was held up by New York Police Department (NYPD) Deputy Commissioner Kaz Daughtry as evidence of some kind of foreign, radicalising influence on student activism. Apparently, for Daughtry, reading a book on terrorism is evidence of radicalisation. Knowing about terrorism makes you at risk of committing terrorism. Finding a book near a student encampment confirms that pro-Palestine solidarity is linked to terrorism.

What Daughtry was arguably trying to do was darken Palestine activism on college campuses across the United States with the association of terrorism. But doing so did not require much ideological work. After all, Daughtry had the media establishment on his side, an industry that had been furiously working well before October 7 to ensure that Palestinian resistance was entrenched in the public imaginary as a 'conflict' between so-called moderates and extremists and to set Palestinian violence as 'terrorism' in opposition to Israeli violence as 'self-defence.' ... Aside from all the eye-rolling, Daughtry’s book-staging act generated at least one very important reflection: we need to add a demand that is currently missing from the movement’s demands to universities to disclose and divest from financial ties to Israel. It is the demand that universities across the West dismantle the academic disciplines and systems of knowledge that produce, transmit, and sustain the very conditions that make genocide possible in the first place.

It is worth stating that terrorism is much more than actual political violence. For those paying attention, terrorism is a system for representing violence. It demarcates what counts and does not count as legitimate violence. In this knowledge system, the death-dealing of militaries, intelligence agencies, and private security forces acting at the behest of state actors is legitimate. And the violence of non-state actors resisting sovereign power, imperial projects, and state violence, is not. ... Attempting to discredit the pro-Palestine student movement, what Daughtry’s ludicrous book act also reminds us is that terror talk racialises. Terrorism has long been used to describe violence that is pathological in nature instead of political. It is the violence of 'psyches gone awry' and 'psychological disturbance.' Reframing political violence as pathological violence, terror talk implies that those who commit what is called terrorism do so out of some innate and ingrained penchant for irrational violence. In so doing, terror talk creates a racial category: the category of people who have not progressed into the age of the rule of law – and indeed cannot – due to reasons that emerge at the intersection of biology and culture.

As a Black man in a position of power, Daughtry should be ashamed of trafficking racial discourses that expose racialised populations, like his own, to state violence. For, indeed, with the irrational and uncivilised as its object, terror talk creates an edge to a rules-based order. That is, it establishes the limits of the universal application of the rights enshrined in international humanitarian law — the right to sovereignty, the right to security, and the right to life. In other words, terror talk suspends the juridical order for those deemed outside of the political and the rule of law — the so-called terrorists, future terrorists (children), terrorist sympathisers (the population), and terrorist reproducers (mothers). Suspending the guarantee of international political protection, terror talk makes killable life. We see this in Gaza. Terror talk has made it legitimate to bomb, maim, dice to pieces, snipe, displace, detain, and torture Palestinian life. Terror talk exposes Palestinian life to death and premature death.

The Western university is a key producer and disseminator of terror knowledge and therefore is entangled in the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people in ways that move beyond its financial investments in Israeli companies. Terror knowledge has been given the veneer of scientific and academic respectability under the umbrella term of 'terrorism studies.' With 90 percent of its research taking place after the 9/11 attacks, terrorism studies mushroomed into an area study since the war on terror. ... Offering embedded expertise to powerful institutions such as the police, military, intelligence agencies, arms manufacturing, and media industries, the overlooked role of the Western university in the 'military-industrial-academic complex' is that it creates and sustains the very conditions that enable genocide to happen. ... We thus call on the student movement to add another plank to their demands: the dismantling of terrorism discourses."

[uispeccoll]

Voices from the Stacks - The Morris Family

For the Morris family, achievement at Iowa is a family tradition. And luckily for all of us, it’s preserved with care in the Libraries Special Collections and Archives and the Iowa Women’s Archives. In today’s blog, we trace three generations of trailblazers in this impressive family tree.

James B. Morris Sr. - Image courtesy of Joan Liffring-Zug Bourget Collection, State Historical Society of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa

James B. Morris Sr. launches a legacy

James Morris Sr., left his descendants with large shoes to fill. James Sr. served as the owner and editor of the Bystander, the oldest Black newspaper west of the Mississippi. He also founded the Negro Bar Association, now known as the National Bar Association, along with the Iowa State Conference of the NAACP in 1939 with his wife Georgine. Today, James Sr.’s legacy lives on through the James B. Morris Scholarship Fund, which “provides financial assistance, motivation and internship opportunities for Iowa’s minority students pursuing post-secondary degrees,” and through the accomplishments of the Morris family members who came after him.

Image: James B. Morris Jr. found on Iowa Digital Library

Journeying on with James B. Morris Jr.

James Sr. and Georgine’s son, James B. Morris Jr., graduated from the University of Iowa in 1949. During his undergraduate years, he documented much of his time in Iowa City in a scrapbook filled with photos and charming captions for the various characters in his life. In this scrapbook we can see early photos of James and his then girlfriend, Arlene, who would later become his wife. Though the scrapbook is mostly centered on staged photos of James, Arlene, and their friends, it also contains a few photos of James throughout his service as a captain in the US Army from 1941–1945.

Images: Cover of James B. Morris Scrapbook and photos of friends

After graduation, James returned to Des Moines, joining his father’s law practice and becoming an active civil rights leader. He worked as legal counsel and served as president for the Des Moines branch of the NAACP as well as an officer in the National Conference of Christians and Jews. Heavily engaged with local concerns, James served as a frequent mediator between the Black Panther Party and the Des Moines Police Department—alongside his role helping his father with the Iowa Bystander newspaper. It was with the Bystander that James wrote a column, “Looking Over the Hawkeyes,” which details the experiences of 65 Black men and 10 Black women who attended the University of Iowa but were not allowed to live in the dorms or eat in the university dining rooms. One of those 10 women was James’ wife, Arlene.  

Images: Left, Arlene and James. Right, Arlene for the cover of Eyes magazine found at Iowa Women's Archives

Arlene was very accomplished herself. While in college, Arlene appeared on the cover of the first issue of Eyes magazine, a publication focused on African American life and culture, as well as serving on the magazine’s staff. After graduating from the University of Iowa, Arlene moved on to Drake University in Des Moines to earn a master's degree in psychology. With this qualification, Arlene established herself as the first African American female psychologist to be licensed by the Iowa State Board of Psychology. Heavily engaged with local organizations, Arlene participated in the Know Your Neighborhood Panel, a group consisting of a diverse group of women who traveled around Iowa and to several other states to speak about tolerance among races and religions. Arlene Morris also served on the Iowa Advisory Committee of the United States Civil Rights Commission for more than three years in the 1980s.  

Image: Robert V. Morris, 1976 from Iowa Digital Library

Robert V. Morris carries the torch

Robert V. Morris, James and Arlene’s son, continued the legacy of his family with a long list of accomplishments in his communities. Following in his grandfather’s footsteps, Robert would take over the Iowa Bystander from 1979 to 1983, a heavy role for someone who was still enrolled as an undergraduate. But Robert was no stranger to taking on challenges from a young age; in 1979, when he was just three years out of high school, he founded the Iowa City branch of the NAACP, leading it while pursuing his education and his position at the newspaper. After graduating, Robert became president of the Iowa-Nebraska chapter of the NAACP and wrote Black Faces of War: A Legacy of Honor from the American Revolution to Today, a book stemming from his previous television documentary project.  

Image: Robert interviewing Atlanta mayor Maynard Jackson, 1979 at the Iowa Memorial Union

The legacy of the Morris family has incredible significance within Iowa City and across the Midwest. Many materials related to the Morris family are held in the University of Iowa Libraries Special Collections and Archives and have been digitized. They can be viewed online in the Morris Family Papers Digital Collection. Arlene Morris’ personal papers, IWA 276, can be found in the Iowa Women’s Archives. 

-Kaylee S., Olson Graduate Research Assistant

[coochiequeens]

A small victory for women in American politics

Kentucky’s next Supreme Court is shaping up to be a historic one for women. 

Deputy Chief Justice Debra Hembree Lambert will become Kentucky’s chief justice in January. (Administrative Office of the Courts photo)

With the election of Kentucky’s first Black female justice, Pamela Goodwine, women will hold four of the court’s seven seats. Additionally, the court will be led by the first female chief justice, Deputy Chief Justice Debra Lambert, starting in January. 

As of earlier this year, 17 states have female majorities on their supreme court benches, according to a report from the Brennan Center for Justice. Alaska was also poised to gain a female majority after seven women sought a seat on its Supreme Court this summer. 

Goodwine’s election also makes her the first woman in history who will serve at every level of Kentucky’s judiciary branch: district court, circuit court, appeals court and the Supreme Court. . She said in a statement to the Kentucky Lantern that the milestone “reminds me of the women who came before me, paving the way through hard work, determination and resilience, often overcoming significant obstacles to reach their goals.” 

“Their struggles paved the way for our successes today, and it is our duty to continue their legacy and to forge a path for others as well,” Goodwine said. “Throughout my life, education and career, I have faced what many described as insurmountable challenges, but I don’t give up on my dreams when things get hard. I simply work harder to make my dreams come true.” 

Women outnumber men in law schools

Two previous female justices — Sara Walter Combs and retired Janet Stumbo — both say the new majority of women on the high court is a reflection of the increase in women in the legal profession. 

In 2016, women for the first time made up the majority of students in the nation’s law schools, according to the American Bar Association, which says the change came slowly. In 1963, only 4% of first-year law students were female, rising to 20% in 1973, 39% in 1983 and 44% by 1993.

In Kentucky last year women made up the majority of law students at the University of Louisville (53%) and Northern Kentucky University (55%). Female and male enrollment were about even at the University of Kentucky in 2023-24 with 203 women and 206 men enrolled in the law school.

Judge Sara Walter Combs Combs was the first woman to serve on Kentucky’s Supreme Court after being appointed by Gov. Brereton Jones in 1993. She now serves on the Kentucky Court of Appeals. When she began taking law classes at night at the University of Louisville, she said she was one of very few women in her law class. 

“When I started my work career, I was a teacher, and the one thing that women could do, predominantly in that period of our history, was to teach or to be a nurse,” Combs said. “Well, they’re still wonderful professions; it’s just a matter that now there are more options for women beyond those two choices, and I think the more options we have, the better, because we all have different talents.” 

While she was reluctant to “to tie gender and competency to one another,” Combs applauded the women on the Kentucky Supreme Court. 

“They have good legal minds, they have a great work ethic, they’re collegial, they’re everything that a good judge should be. They just happen to be women,” Combs said. “I’m delighted that they haven’t been held back because of that fact, but I would prefer to emphasize the fact of their competence rather than their gender.”

When asked if the majority of women could be a sign of increasing diversity on the bench in the future, Combs said a diverse pool of judges is needed to review cases. 

“I hope it does, because our social problems are very diverse in nature and origin, and I think their solution will require some diversity of approach to how we solve these problems,” she said. 

Change takes time

Stumbo, who was the first woman elected to the Kentucky Supreme Court in 1993 and retired from the Court of Appeals in 2017, said that diversity on the bench — in terms of race and gender — is a change that happens over time. Kentucky judicial candidates are required to be a licensed attorney for some time before seeking election. A district judge requires two years while the Supreme Court requires eight years. 

Retired Justice Janet L. Stumbo stands beside her portrait, painted by artist Tona Barkley, following a dedication ceremony Dec. 6, 2023. The portrait joined others of justices in the corridors of the second floor of the Kentucky Capitol in Frankfort. (Photo by Brian Bohannon)

“The composition of the bar has changed greatly,” Stumbo said. “The number of women who are lawyers, the number of minorities who are lawyers, has increased dramatically, and that’s the way we’ll see more diversity on the bench.” 

Stumbo said that the majority of female justices shows that the electorate in Kentucky is also more accepting of women being in these high-ranking roles. 

“There’s definitely more work to be done, but women are succeeding and succeeding in ways that are getting them recognized as fine litigators and tenacious litigators and people that you’re proud to have representing you,” Stumbo said. 

Judge Goodwine speaks to supporters at her election night watch party in Lexington Nov. 5, 2024. (Kentucky Lantern photo by Arden Barnes)

Women would have won a majority of Kentucky Supreme Court seats no matter how the Nov. 5 election turned out. Goodwine’s opponent also was a woman, Lexington attorney Erin Izzo.

Goodwine echoed those sentiments. She said that each justice on the court “carries unique perspectives and experiences” and that it’s imperative that younger generations see themselves reflected in the highest levels of the judiciary. She said that many have “expressed gratitude to me for being a trailblazer helping to forge a path for others to follow in my footsteps in their chosen profession, and that increases my drive and dedication to ensure that our justice system reflects our community.” 

“This new chapter for our court affirms the progress we have made and also challenges us to move forward with purpose and conviction,” Goodwine said. “We honor the legacy of our forerunners by continuing to uphold the principles of fairness, justice and equality for all. It is a responsibility I take to heart, and I look forward to working with my esteemed colleagues to protect the rights and uphold the dignity of everyone in our state ensuring that the Kentucky Supreme Court is a beacon of justice for all.” 

[mariacallous]

According to an August report from the Russian state news agency TASS, the Kremlin plans to become a “safe haven for people trying to escape Western liberal ideals.” To this end, Russia will introduce a new visa pathway for foreigners fleeing countries whose policies run contrary to “traditional Russian spiritual and moral values.” The report, although sparse on detail, claims that three-month visas may be issued for these spiritual refugees as early as last month. Discussion of the policy in the Russian information sphere has been colored by visions of Moscow as the leader of a future world in which so-called traditional values can thrive. Indeed, the idea for the policy was allegedly voiced to Russian President Vladimir Putin by an Italian university student during a virtual forum titled Strong Ideas for a New Time.

On the surface, Moscow appears to be resuscitating the old Soviet practice of painting itself as the center of resistance against the West. Back then, it was against capitalism; today it is against the West’s supposed liberal decadence. But there is something thoroughly 21st century in the new rhetoric and policies. The visa plan is the latest in a series of public relations measures designed to challenge the nature of borders in an increasingly digital world. The regime is not seriously looking to attract immigrants and seems unembarrassed by the paltry numbers of Westerners taking up the offer. It is looking to strengthen its virtual coalition of fellow travelers—a maneuver that has dangerous implications for liberal nation-states seeking to counter the Kremlin’s influence.

At home, Russia’s vision of “traditional values” consists of a draconian web of pro-Russian Orthodox, misogynist, and anti-LGBTQ+ laws, as well as the teaching of a mythologized history imbued with a cult of masculine, military strength. Frequently, these policies are driven by conspiracy theories as much as any state ideology. More often than not, they simply rail against anything Russia associates with Western liberalism. Whatever trends prevail in progressive Western society, from trans-positive messaging to support for Black Lives Matter, is decried as anti-Russian and antithetical to “traditional values.” In this sense, Russia’s campaign in support of its alleged values is a project rooted in the country’s relationship with the outside.

Indeed, defending “traditional values” is at the center of the Putin regime’s domestic and foreign policy. The Kremlin’s updated 2023 National Security Concept mentions “tradition” no fewer than 16 times, claiming that “a wide-spread form of interference in the internal affairs of sovereign states has become the imposition of destructive neoliberal ideological attitudes that run counter to traditional spiritual and moral values.” Moscow has anointed itself the leader of “international efforts to ensure respect for and protection of universal and traditional spiritual and moral values.” Russia seeks to weave support for “traditional values” into its policies abroad by funding sympathetic far-right groups across Europe and North America and by linking economic and security policy to the defense of values in international forums.

Moscow’s history of proclaiming itself as the center of an international political vanguard dates to the early Bolshevik era. Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, Soviet propagandists told their citizens that they were “the greatest internationalists” in the world and that Westerners were flocking to seek refuge in the fledgling Soviet Union. The state did plenty to attract both sympathizers and industrial specialists to its territory.

A series of high-profile Western leftists were treated to Potemkin tours; among those who visited in the 1930s were George Bernard Shaw, André Gide, Henri Barbusse, and Romain Rolland. Shaw, who was granted a private audience with Joseph Stalin on his visit in 1931, lauded Russia as the home of a spiritual resurrection that would rectify the social ills he saw in the West. He would later write to the Soviet author Maxim Gorky that he was “as strongly susceptible as anyone to the fascination of the Russian character.” Shaw was fascinated with the idea of Russia not as it was, but as an antithesis to the West: a mystical place where his own dreams could be realized.

More often, though, illusions were shattered. Gide was thoroughly disheartened by his own visit to the Soviet Union. Appalled by the lack of freedom of speech, the uniformity of opinion in Pravda, and the climate of fear, he wrote: “I doubt whether in any other country in the world, even Hitler’s Germany, thought be less free, more bowed down, more fearful (terrorized), more vassalized.” Fellow intellectuals who tried living in the Soviet Union, such as the anarchists Alexander Berkman and Emma Goldman, reacted even more strongly, publishing works that violently decried the persecution of the early Soviet era and fleeing within months.

Meanwhile, the ordinary leftist refugees, workers, and students who continued to immigrate to the Soviet Union from various capitalist countries tended to leave as disgruntled as they arrived and typically went home as soon as hard currency or other special support from the Kremlin dried up. As foreigners, they were also under permanent suspicion, and many disappeared in the Gulag. Despite its grandiose claims, Moscow was never an appealing destination for many foreign fellow travelers—especially once they experienced the reality of Soviet life.

Recent publicity tours in Putin’s Russia mirror the early celebrity visits to the Soviet Union—although today’s visitors tend to share Shaw’s excitement, not Gide’s revulsion, about life in Moscow’s realm. Right-wing provocateurs such as Jackson Hinkle and, most famously, Tucker Carlson have popped up in Moscow to record adulatory videos for their vast online audiences. Carlson, who posted clips of an interview he conducted with Putin this year, claimed to have been “radicalized” by his trip to Moscow. His video diaries depicted a world of fully stocked grocery stores, immaculate subway stations, and grandiose performances at the Bolshoi Theater. Even Tasty, Full Stop, the copycat McDonald’s that sprung up after the fast food giant’s departure from Russia in 2022, won Carlson’s approval.

Carlson’s Russia seems to be nothing but propaganda: the depiction of a fake world, untarnished by the poverty and violence that is endemic in Russian society. Yet Carlson carefully crafted an image of a Russia that is, essentially, a Disneyfied America: Here was a rich white man treated like royalty and able to access every aspect of an idealized American life—even McDonald’s—in a society shorn of the perceived messiness of today’s America, and especially of its supposedly deleterious progressive values. Like Shaw, then, Carlson projected onto Russia the hyperreality of a desired homeland: the dream America of the MAGA brigade. Moscow’s behavior on the international stage may challenge Washington’s geopolitical supremacy, but its “traditional values” rhetoric functions as an escapist simulation.

Today’s online proponents of “traditional values”—whether in the United States, Hungary, Austria or elsewhere—can thus react enthusiastically to Russia’s plans to welcome them as immigrants, even if they have no intention of ever moving to the country. In response to the policy announcement, Alex Jones, the bankrupted Infowars founder, encouraged “true patriots” to “stand up for spiritual and moral values” in a post on X. On Truth Social, the right-wing social network founded by former U.S. President Donald Trump, Moscow’s plan was met with enthusiasm—not for Russia as some sort of conservative utopia, but for the rejection of cultural traits associated with progressive America. The fantasy of Russia as the “new America,” as one Truth user put it, provides the raw material for bonding around conspiracy theories and anti-progressivism from the comfort of home—and makes it possible for self-styled patriots to sympathize more with Russia than with their own country.

Only a handful of fellow travelers on the traditional values ticket have attempted to make the move to Russia. While the Russian state has recently trumpeted an American family’s escape from “the dissolution of traditional moral and family values,” the experience of other recent arrivals has left them desperate to “jump on a plane and get out of here.” Russian authorities do little to help with schooling, jobs, language training, and so on—and claims of bold projects to house incoming foreigners turn out to be little more than amplified rumors. Presumably the latest policy announcement will be another element of simulated reality: the creation of the idea of Russia as the home of traditional values without anything to back up that vision.

However, when 21st-century fellow travelers are able to bond over and amplify their visions of Russia as the new America in the online world, Russia’s approach may turn out to be more than an easily debunked PR scheme. Pravda’s monotonous reel of uniform opinions shocked Gide, but today’s Russia sympathizers are more likely to be found in polarized social bubbles where the order of the day is conformity, not plurality, of opinion. Unlike their 1930s predecessors, who could not get a sense of Soviet reality from abroad, today’s fellow travelers have Russian reality at their fingertips—if they care to look. This includes thousands of hours of footage of war crimes, evidence of widespread oppression of dissenting voices, and accounts of the systematic repression of religious believers outside the Kremlin-controlled Russian Orthodox Church.

Yet in the fragmented world of social media, where anyone can live in their own self-constructed reality, the disaffected are able to project an imagined anti-liberal vision of reality onto Russia. In the United States, this culminates in MAGA voters giving a higher approval rating to Putin than to their own president, something that was unimaginable in the 20th century outside a tiny, politically irrelevant fringe. Parties that have aligned themselves with the rhetoric of “traditional values” have enjoyed real successes across Europe, including recently in France and Austria, and the MAGA movement may yet carry Trump back into the White House. Russia’s “traditional values” project may not win it a war or generate an influx of migrants, but it has a clear effect on other countries’ politics.

Most analysts consider Russia’s dream of creating a multipolar world in which its territorial, economic, and military might acts as a counterpoint to U.S. or Chinese hegemony a fantasy. Equally outlandish is the idea, much propagated by Russian nationalists, of a new Eurasian empire���or even, given Russia’s depleting strength, reuniting Ukraine, Belarus, and today’s Russian Federation into a “Great Russia.” But analysis that overemphasizes the physical over the virtual—or dismisses online movements as mere propaganda and trolling—fails to recognize 21st-century realities.

The most important future clash of civilizations is not based on geography. Instead, we are beginning to see the creation of virtual civilizations: boundary-less political allegiances defined by amorphous and fluid values perpetuated through the internet. Citizens with similar affinities in Russia, the United States, France, Germany, and wherever find themselves having more in common—and spending more time—with each other than with their own compatriots who don’t share their political views. Putin’s Russia may not be about to conquer Ukraine or create a multipolar world order, but it is working to reorder political identities by encouraging foreigners to view Moscow as a simulated realization of their own political dreams.

[1800naveen]

Chapter 27 of ACOWAR

When I first read ACOWAR and got to the part where Mor is having a breakdown about her dad entering Velaris but Rhysand tells her that he won't get in, nothing really was going through my mind. But something clicked today...

This. Just this. This paragraph made me realize that this is Jim Crow. Sarah Janet Maas, did you create the fairy version of Jim Crow? Has anyone else notice this?

In the late 19th century, these laws were created in the Southern part of the US which legalized racial segregation of the black community and other people of color. Black and white students attended separate schools, with black schools typically receiving far less funding and resources. Restaurants, theaters, hotels, parks, drinking fountains, you name it, were segregated.

Black people weren't welcomed almost anywhere. Signs that said "whites only" to keep them away and racists who would get agitated over a black person coming near their establishment. Lynch mobs chasing them, burning buildings associated with the black community, etc.

This also reminds me of ICE or border patrol. The people who deal with immigrants and will send them back to their countries, the same country that they left behind so that they can have a better life for themselves and their family.

Imagine finally leaving Hewn City. You feel a mix of emotions but happiness is one that fills you. You're finally free and you can see the world now! When you go to Velaris, you notice that some things are strange. People look at you funny, they treat you almost as if you're a criminal, they don't serve you at restaurants, they won't let you have a place of shelter, and you can't even have fun. It clicks in your head that this is not a safe, welcoming place for people like you. When it comes to an end, you're sent back into the darkness that you were came from, where you were born from, and you wonder if you'll ever see the light again.

I'm the daughter of two immigrants who left their country due to a civil war and they haven't been back since they left. When they came to America, it was all before shit like that was more serious so they were lucky not to deal with this crap. In many African countries (including my own), we have tribes AKA ethnic groups. Sarah's description of Illyria and the Illyrians makes me think of the dumb stereotypes of Africans. That we live in huts, that we hunt with bow and arrows or spears, that we're primitive, etc. You can tell in Sarah's writing that she has never actually experienced the things she writes.

I feel sad reading this again and knowing what that's the equivalent of. The woman doesn't even bother to hide her racism. Who am I kidding? If she used a black woman's death to promote her book, she can do shit like this! Sarah, you little white-privileged bitch.

How the Illyrians are portrayed as violent, savage, warmongering people who have a patriarchal system and are based on brown/indigenous people remind of George RR Martin's portrayal of the Dothraki who are nomadic warriors that are seen as brutes, warmongers, people who don't have any respect for their natural surroundings, have a patriarchal system, and their men treat women worse than the Illyrians. These guys are based on the Mongolians. I know George wrote this in the 90s and stuff but there had to be something based on portraying a culture into your fictional story.

My honest reaction to Sarah creating the fairy equivalent of the Jim Crow laws and ICE/border patrol:

Me realizing that if there's major problem that different groups of POC faces, she'll somehow put it in her books so that her white main characters can face it, so that they can finally be the ones that get oppressed:

SJM when you tell her that making her white main characters go through and face problems that people of color have struggled and dealt with for years isn't right:

[queersatanic]

Carl Grant, a Vietnam veteran with dementia, wandered out of a hospital room to charge a cellphone he imagined he had. When he wouldn’t sit still, the police officer escorting Grant body-slammed him, ricocheting the patient’s head off the floor. Taylor Ware, a former Marine and aspiring college student, walked the grassy grounds of an interstate rest stop trying to shake the voices in his head. After Ware ran from an officer, he was attacked by a police dog, jolted by a stun gun, pinned on the ground and injected with a sedative. And Donald Ivy Jr., a former three-sport athlete, left an ATM alone one night when officers sized him up as suspicious and tried to detain him. Ivy took off, and police tackled and shocked him with a stun gun, belted him with batons and held him facedown. Each man was unarmed. Each was not a threat to public safety. And despite that, each died after police used a kind of force that is not supposed to be deadly — and can be much easier to hide than the blast of an officer’s gun.

...

Over a decade, more than 1,000 people died after police subdued them through means not intended to be lethal, an investigation led by The Associated Press found.... These sorts of deadly encounters happened just about everywhere, according to an analysis of a database AP created. Big cities, suburbs and rural America. Red states and blue states. Restaurants, assisted-living centers and, most commonly, in or near the homes of those who died. The deceased came from all walks of life — a poet, a nurse, a saxophone player in a mariachi band, a truck driver, a sales director, a rodeo clown and even a few off-duty law enforcement officers. The toll, however, disproportionately fell on Black Americans like Grant and Ivy. Black people made up a third of those who died despite representing only 12% of the U.S. population. Others feeling the brunt were impaired by a medical, mental health or drug emergency, a group particularly susceptible to force even when lightly applied.

...

Reporters filed nearly 7,000 requests for government documents and body-camera footage, receiving more than 700 autopsy reports or death certificates, and uncovering video in at least four dozen cases that has never been published or widely distributed. Medical officials cited law enforcement as causing or contributing to about half of the deaths. In many others, significant police force went unmentioned and drugs or preexisting health conditions were blamed instead. Video in a few dozen cases showed some officers mocked people as they died, laughing or making comments such as “sweaty little hog,” “screaming like a little girl” and “lazy f---.” In other cases, officers expressed clear concern for the people they were subduing.