i’ve mentioned this here before, but it will remain one of the most ideologically influential experiences of my life: when i was in fifth grade i did a report on post traumatic stress as manifested in veterans of the vietnam war, and my father did me the huge favor of connecting me w/ a vietnam vet friend of his who was diagnosed with PTSD, assuring him that while i was only ten i was bright and curious and he should be as honest with me about his experience as possible.
i remember entering his office with my tape recorder, sitting in a chair that was too big, and asking him questions about war, and his life after war, while swinging my legs over the edge of the chair. i remember being very, very quiet as he spoke of pulling the car over on the highway for fear of crashing when his hands would shake uncontrollably in response to song on the radio or a smell that he couldn’t be sure was real or sense-memory. and of ruined relationships and anger and american hypocrisy.
and i also remember that was the day i learned what “valor” meant. he used “valor” in a sentence and i didn’t know that word, and when i asked him to explain “valor” he became very quiet. and i can’t remember precisely what he said, if he ever offered me the dictionary definition or not, but i do remember him looking very sad, and saying something about our country’s idea of “valor”, and also something about a broken promise. and there was an edge to his words that i couldn’t parse at the time that i would later come to understand was bitterness, that he sounded bitter.
to this day i can’t hear or read the word “valor” without seeing sunlight coming through his office window at a slant, close-to-sunset light, and feeling the kind of quiet, confused, completely internalized panic a child feels when they sense that a grown up is trying very hard not to weep in their presence.
I feel like a lot of abortion debates are becoming based on feelings, emotions, and subjective morality. I’m not looking for an ugly knock out drag out debate, i just want to discuss hard facts about abortion and see where this goes.
The fetus relies fully on the body it is inside of to maintain it’s survival and function, thereby requiring that persons continuous consent to remain there, as the right to security of person was deemed more important that a right to life as seen in the supreme court cases in the USA of Roe V. Wade and McFall V. Shimp (In Canada the two cases that did this were Morgentaler, Smoling, and Scott v. Queen and Daigle V. Trembley).
The fetus does not have the capacity for conscious, purposeful, or controlled movement. All movement that a fetus makes is fully involuntary, and happen as a result of the nervous system forming, testing itself out, and testing limb movement in order to ensure everything is in place to ensure survival capability after birth -assuming it survives the pregnancy and birth. In fact, the first sparks of consciousness in homo sapiens happens at 5 months AFTER birth.
Lack of safe abortion access KILLS. An estimated 68,000 people per year die because of lack of access to safe abortions, and a uncounted millions are left with permanent health issues as a result. That’s an estimated 186 people who will die TODAY because they did not have safe access to an abortion. There are an estimated 19 million unsafe and illegal abortions performed annually.
Most abortions are NOT performed on teenagers who were sleeping around and did not use protection. The largest groups recieving abortions are ages 20-24 (33% of all abortions), non-hispanic white (36%), religious(37% identify as protestant and 28% identify as catholic, meaning over half of abortion recipients follow a sect of Christianity) , married or cohabiting (55%), have one or more children (61%), used protection (51%) and are below the poverty line (42% are 100% below the poverty line, and a further 27% are 100-199% below the poverty line. 69% of abortion recipients are below the poverty line). (source)
And finally there is the fact that organs, does not a person make. Most things on this planet have organs. Birds have organs, bees have organs, dogs, lions, bears, pigs, cows, and even individual cells have organs or organ-like components that keep them alive. The fetuses development level does not grant it rights because that is not how we grant rights.
Those are the cold, hard facts on abortion. Those are the facts pro choicers have presented a thousand times to you and countless other pro lifers like you. Those are the facts that your group has ignored over and over again in favour of proven misinformation. I have no doubt there will be no response to this, and if there is you will give me lifenews or some other equally biased site as a “source”, despite my giving you only unbiased ones. If you want to discuss the facts on abortion you can’t use websites that are based in lies.
Anyone who tells me women shouldn’t have access to safe abortions can get drop-kicked in the face. You don’t have to agree with someone’s choice – respect it, stay quiet, and move on. Did it personally effect your quality of life? I hardly doubt it. It’s 2018 people. Wake the fuck up.
Okay, I hate to get apart of these discussions, but I gotta talk here.
I’m an abortion survivor.
At the first (maybe second?) Ultrasound, the doctors pulled my parents aside and said that I was a trouble baby, that there was an 80% chance that I would have several crippling diseases, that there was a chance that I wouldn’t live past my first year, that the birth would probably be painful and dangerous for my mom, who was already nearly too old to have children and had already had two c-sections, drastically increasing her risk of hemorrhaging to death.
The doctors recommended abortion. Strongly.
I’m sure you can guess what my mom said.
No.
She didn’t care that I would never know. She didn’t care that she might die. She didn’t care that she might only have me for a year. She didn’t care that I might not be the happy, healthy child that she had hoped for.
She didn’t care.
Cuz my mom’s the most selfless person I know.
And guess what?
I was fine.
Yeah, I have neck and back problems and CM and MVA and a crap ton of other problems, but I still thank my mom every kriffing day for not aborting me. Because she decided to risk her life instead of having a “safe” abortion, I graduated at the age of 15, scored in the 95th percentile of my state, won a full ride scholarship to college, am a sophomore student with honors, and I just got an invitation for an internship in NYC.
Call me proud, bragging, boastful, privileged, or any other shitty words, but until you can convince me that maybe I shouldn’t have existed, you can kiss my ass.
And look, @iidigestive-readerii , I don’t want there to be a quarrel between us. Even friends can have their differences, but I want the differences–and the reasons why they exist–to be clear.
Your mother had that option. She had the option to make a choice. The doctors presented her with the facts of her pregnancy, and she did what she thought was best. That’s what pro-choice people want– for people to be able to make a choice about their pregnancy.
Your existence is not an argument for making abortions illegal or for their immorality- if anything, your existence is an argument for informed choices, for prenatal screening, and for strong support systems that help both mother and baby. If your mom didn’t have access to prenatal screenings, if your mom didn’t have those options, do you think she would have been as informed about the potential challenges of raising you? Knowing and accepting the risks means you get to prepare for them. You get to make yourself mentally ready for possible challenges, and they don’t surprise you when they pop up after birth. Don’t you think that robust prenatal and postnatal healthcare and support made it easier to give birth with all these potential problems? Without the option to legally and safely abort, prenatal screenings are much less useful- and it sounds like your mom was in a pretty good situation to begin with, other than you being a risky pregnancy. And that’s what you were, a risky pregnancy. You are not an abortion survivor. If your mother had gone through an abortion procedure and Fetal You had survived, you’d be an abortion survivor, but your mom chose to carry you to term. That makes you a successful pregnancy. That makes you her baby. But an abortion survivor? Nah.
Nobody’s saying “you shouldn’t exist.” Even you’re just saying that your mother had the option to abort and didn’t. Does that make the option a bad one? No. Being pro-choice is about the choice itself. Not everybody’s as lucky as your mother- from just the snippet of story up there, it’s pretty obvious that she had a strong support system (your father) and was receiving regular medical care. That’s not the case for a lot of women.
Also: anecdotes aren’t data. Your story is anecdotal, a best-case scenario. Your story is the story of a woman who clearly had access to medical care and support, and who was part of a family that supported her decision as well. But your story doesn’t contradict the facts or even provide strong evidence that abortion is immoral or should be illegal- it just shows that in one very specific case, a woman’s choice not to abort turned out really well for the child (and I’m assuming your mother, I bet she’s very happy with you- you’re obviously really accomplished and I bet she loves you a lot).
But it’s not an argument against abortion.
And those children who died slow, agonizing deaths with days or weeks of their birth because their parents refused to terminate a pregnancy despite being warned of major complications with the fetus’s development are, obviously, never going to be in a position to say, “I wish to GOD they’d made the choice not to prolong my suffering.”
Imagine being told that your child-to-be had no chance of living past a month and would be in pain that entire time, and NOT having the option to avoid putting them through that.
Imagine being told that there was a very high probability that you wouldn’t survive the pregnancy long enough to make it *to* delivery let alone *through* delivery, that the best possible outcome would be if you naturally suffered a miscarriage before it was too late for you, and NOT having the option to avoid putting yourself through that.
”No abortions ever” means no abortion even in cases where the mother’s life is at risk or the fetus isn’t viable or the baby has a life expectancy of three awful days. In all of those cases, if you have a choice, you can still choose to take the risks for yourself and for your potential child. Pro-choice doesn’t mean “remove the choice to NOT get an abortion in high-risk scenarios.”
Everyone’s like “those Germans have a word for everything” but English has a word for tricking someone into watching the music video for Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up.
While this funny, please read the article, because you need to know what these people have been caught planning.
ZPS set up a website with pictures of the 1,500 rioters they’d identified, but visitors to the site could only see 20 pictures at a time. So frantic fascists went to the site’s search bar to see if they’d been named.
“The first thing they’re doing is using the search function on the website to input their own name, or somebody they know, but who nobody else knows, in order to see if this website really works,” Ruch said, “to see if it’s really possible that we identified 1,500 people.”
The site received a traffic boost after a far-right website linked to it, Ruch said. ZPS built a map of names that appeared in the same users’ searches. From those searches, alone, they learned the names and associates of approximately 25 rioters they hadn’t previously identified.
“What we got was quite a network of who knows who, and who else was in Chemnitz,” Ruch said.
U.S. anti-fascists have pulled similar stunts. This summer, undercover activists cozied up to the organizers of a far-right march, and offered to make a website and coordinate T-shirt orders for the event. The website, which did not charge for T-shirts, asked participants for their names and addresses, supposedly to calculate shipping costs. Instead of sending free T-shirts, the activists behind the website published the names and addresses they received.
ZPS’s performances have previously landed it on far-right extremists’ hit lists. In April, German police arrested a soldier who was suspected of planning far-right terror attacks, which he allegedly wanted to blame on refugees. The man also reportedly kept a list of leftist figures he wanted to murder, among them ZPS affiliates.
A September investigation into the alleged would-be-terrorist revealed a larger ring of suspected extremism among Germany’s military elite. Germany’s FOCUS magazine reported that the criminal investigation had uncovered a network of far-right soldiers and officers planning for apocalyptic violence on “Day X,” when they would take over the country.
“It’s terrifying, but I don’t want to live in a country where I can’t do radical political art,” Ruch said. “We need to know who this is, who finances it, who the driving forces are.”
good on ZPS for sure but uhhhhhh holy fucking shit that bolded paragraph made my stomach flip upside down
After your parents found out you are gay and kicked you out, the only place left for you to go was the magical forest. Write about your life.
The birds began their chirping at the first signs of sunlight. A disgruntled yawn startled some of the birds that had been singing away in the treetops. As soon as Roderick finished stretching, he hastily took off his boots and clothes to streak into the lake. He was butt-naked and he felt no shame. Not here at least. There were no people living in or around this part of the forest. It was rumored that many dangerous creatures found their home here and that the darkest parts had swallowed men’s souls whole. Roderick thought it was perfect. Legends like these kept people at bay. He felt safe here. And being an outcast himself, he almost felt at home. Sometimes he could not sleep as he saw eyes preying on him in the distance. However, it seemed as if the birds enchanted their surroundings with their songs, keeping the darkness out. Once Roderick had finished his morning routine, he spruced himself up to the best of his abilities, strapped on his sword, and set out for the nearest town. Birds would sometimes stop mid-song as he passed underneath them, wondering where a roaring growl had come from – which, of course, had come from Roderick’s stomach.
He had not eaten in days and his hunting skills were practically nonexistent. Luckily, he was familiar with a bakery in the nearest town, Rosebarrow, and it had the most delicious bread throughout the land of Estria. On top of that, it was free for him most of the time.
The townsfolk would look at him in disgust from their front porches as soon as they laid eyes on him. His muddy boots and tattered clothes were almost certainly a sign he was an outcast. Roderick clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword when he heard two women talking in hushed voices as they walked by, glaring at him. It was the usual. It was the world he lived in and he had come to accept.
Roderick turned a corner and the air was suffused with the smell of freshly baked bread. He exhaled deeply, trying to release the tension in his body from encountering the townspeople and sauntered into the bakery. A bell chimed and soon after a young man came hurrying from the back room to welcome his customer.
“Roderick!” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s good to see you again.”
Roderick looked around, his eyes carefully inspecting the place. He had come here every week for the past six months and had learned to be cautious. The young man twiddled with his fingers, seeming to wait for Roderick to say something back or, at the very least, make eye contact.
“Is he here?” Roderick finally said.
“No”, the young man replied, his smile sobering up. “He is seeing some investors. He wants to go into the gold mining industry or something.”
Roderick didn’t reply. The young man took that as his cue, turned around to collect an arm full of loaves from the shelves behind him, and placed them on the counter. Roderick opened his bag and put the loaves inside. They were still warm, and for some reason a wave of sadness passed through his body.
The young man looked at him, his eyes trailing Roderick’s every movement as if he might disappear at any moment. When Roderick shoved the last loaf in his bag, the young man leaned over the counter and gave him a kiss.
Roderick recoiled. “Not now, Charlie!” he snapped. “In broad daylight?”
“Calm down, no one saw us,” said Charlie. But Roderick’s eyes widened in fear. “I just told you my dad is meeting up with investors and you know I would never kiss you if anyone was around. Trust me. Why are you always so anxious about this?“
His body stiffened at the remark. “Why?” shouted Roderick. “Are you seriously asking me this question?” Roderick swiveled on his heels and made for the door.
“Wait. Wait!” Charlie hurried after him. "I am sorry. That was foolish. Please stay.”
Roderick stared at him incredulously. “Do you know how many of us are killed every single day, Charlie?” Tears crept up in the corner of his eyes. “For real, what were you thinking? If we continue to keep this up, it’s going to get us both killed! Fucking killed, Charlie! The Royal Guard kill people like us on the spot!”
Charlie stepped closer. His fingers gently wiping away the tears streaking across Roderick’s face. “I know,” he whispered.
“Don’t you dare touch me like this!” Roderick batted his hand away. Roderick reached for the doorknob, but before he could open the door Charlie had slapped him in the face.
“You are the man I love,” his fist pulled back, ready to deal a heavy blow. “You…,” he stammered. “You… of all people. Don’t you dare…,” Charlie lowered his fist and started sobbing.
Roderick knew where Charlie was going. He used to be more certain of himself. But the more he got to know himself, the less of him was left. The people of Estria didn’t accept two men loving each other.
“This is not good for any of us, this secrecy. It’s eating us alive!”
“It’s eating you alive” Charlie retorted.
When I was about to leave the house for good…,” Roderick said, clenching his fist, “…my father walked up to me, opened the door, and said he was not going to judge me, but he’d be happy to break my neck so God could do the judging a little sooner, and shoved me outside.”
Charlie fell silent. Roderick had told him everything about his past, and he could not possibly forget something like that. "I understand,“ he whispered.
“No!” he shot Charlie an icy stare. “I don’t think you understand.” He opened the door and stormed out. The bell chimed violently as he smashed the door shut.
The steps on the stairs creaked. “Charlie?” came a voice. Charlie jerked around and froze instantly.
“I… I thought you were out of town,” Charlie said, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror.
“You are a sin, my disgrace of a son.” ———————— The next morning Roderick woke up exhausted. He barely slept and the few dreams he had were all about Charlie never wanting to speak to him again. Charlie had only tried to reconcile, he shouldn’t have stormed off like he had. Roderick packed his things and once again set out for Rosebarrow.
Upon arriving at the bakery he noticed that a rather large crowd had gathered around its entrance. As he made his way through the crowd, he passed a man who said, “I heard his own father has done him in. Praise that man.” Another woman said, “It’s probably going to take a while to scrub that sinful blood out from the floor.”
Terror swept quick as lightning over Roderick’s face. His heart raced as he made his way to the edge of the crowd. He noticed a woman speak to two men in red cloaks. ‘That must be the royal guard,’ thought Roderick. “Could you describe to me what the man looked like?” inquired one of the guards. “Man? He’s an abomination! Just like that scum Charlie you found dead on the floor this morning.”
Roderick’s heart almost pounded out of his chest and he could barely make out what the woman was saying among the thunder in his head. “He has curly hair and green eyes and is about this height,” to which the woman rose her hand a foot above her head. “And he has a sword with a very distinguishable guard. An owl!” Roderick’s heart might as well have stopped at that very moment, but instead it was pounding so quickly and loud that people around him might have heard it. He glanced at his sword, quickly covered the guard with his hand, and made his way out of the crowd as fast as he could, fighting back the tears that might give him away. All he wanted was to get out of that place, out of that town.
He arrived in the woods two hours later. Charlie was dead. Roderick’s only reason to live had been murdered by his own father. He stared blankly into the lake. The water looked serene and darkly inviting. He trudged off into the lake and continued walking limply against the rising water that slowly swallowed him whole. He dived in and tried to stay underwater by holding on to the vegetation growing on the bottom. But no matter how hard Roderick tried, he wouldn’t drown. His head parted the water and he gasped for air before disappearing into the lake again as quickly as he had surfaced. He kept trying to drown himself, but after failing a dozen times he finally gave up. Roderick crawled out of the water and slammed the bank with his fists, making water and sand splash up around him. “Is this what is left of me?” he cried. “How could I have let this happen?” He unsheathed his sword and pressed the point to his chest. But upon seeing the sword he remembered Charlie’s words: “This sword is an heirloom. But we never even look at it. Here, you can have it.” He remembered how Charlie looked at him as he handed Roderick the sword. “May it protect you in the forest and guide you to greater heights. There’s something about you, and I’m not quite sure what it is, but I think you can change this land for the better. I think it’s your eyes…they look so determined.”
Roderick had accepted the sword rather hesitantly. “Well if you insist, then I shall hereby promise that this sword will not only serve to protect my own ass, but will also serve to protect you.” And then they kissed and laughed, and kissed a little more. Roderick had no idea where his determination had gone since that day, but he started to suspect that it wasn’t the forest that would swallow his soul whole, but rather the people living in Estria themselves.
A breeze rustled through the trees when suddenly the wind picked up. Birds chirped loudly as their branches swayed. Roderick clenched his sword, his eyes darting around the trees. As quickly as it started, the wind fell silent. Roderick’s mouth fell open in utter bewilderment. It might have been his imagination, but there, only a few feet in front of him, stood Charlie with his back turned to Roderick. His eyes widened as he used his arms to crawl forward, his hand trembling violently as it reached out for Charlie.
“Charlie!” his eyes welling up. His face was soon a mixture of tears and cold water that had dripped from his hair. “I am so sorry!” He forced his body up despite the exhaustion and ran towards Charlie. But he could not will his body for long, his legs were shaking and quickly gave out, making him fall back to his knees. Charlie did not move. “I am a coward,” Roderick began, “I promised I would protect you but even that I couldn’t do.” He waited for a response, but none came. “Charlie?” Still nothing. “Charlie, I love you.” Roderick was desperate. “Charlie, what do you want me to say? Say something. Please…,” he said as he dragged himself forward. And just when he was almost able to graze Charlie’s feet, Charlie turned around and held out his hand, smiling.
Roderick could feel his blood gushing through his veins as he looked at Charlie’s hand hovering in front of his face. He grasped it, and Charlie helped him up. For a moment they looked at each other. The storm raging in Roderick’s eyes calmed. The wind started to pick up again, and his lover vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Night fell and Roderick’s sobs turned into anger as he rummaged in his bag and found that the once warm bread was cold. “Estria and all its people can go fuck themselves!” he shouted at the clouds above him. ‘You were always there for me. Your kind and loving self. You gave me this sword and bread and picked me up when no one else would,’ he thought as he clenched his fist, nails digging so deep into his skin that it began to bleed.
All of a sudden, it was as if the fire the townsfolk said he would burn in for all of eternity filled his heart. Roderick stood tall. “No one will define me! I will define myself, and if their God doesn’t praise me, I will praise myself!” The wind continued to howl. “I promised I would protect you with this sword and I will.” He lifted it high in the air and looked at the sword as it glistened in the moonlight. “Do you hear me?!” He shouted. “In your memory…,” tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, “… I promise to protect everyone who’s different like us. Even if it costs me my life.” He pounded his chest. “Do you hear me?” he shouted again. “I shall fight. Nor the king’s army nor the people of Estria shall defy me. I am going to train and I will proclaim myself a knight to make sure anyone can be whoever the hell they want to be and love whoever the hell they want to love. I will look after them as you looked after me. This ends here!” And even though tears were rolling down his face, his eyes grew more and more determined.
—–3 years later—–
Roderick had taken on an apprenticeship as a blacksmith. He’d promised to work diligently and refused any form of compensation as long as the blacksmith taught him how to use his sword. He worked the iron, and with every blow of the hammer he remembered his vow. Each evening he practiced his stances and technique as if his life depended on it – and it did. After three years of toiling every day without pause, he felt confident in his skills. Roderick took the final test, forged his own armor, and passed with flying colors. “Remarkable, the owl elements you managed to put in this armor,” said his teacher, his face beaming with approval. “It’s outstanding.”
The blacksmith had gifted him a black stallion. Together on his horse Valicius, Roderick forged ahead, looking for other knights to join his order. He galloped to all quarters of the compass, sleeping in the scorching heat of deserts and camping in the darkest of caves.
Seven months passed and the clatter of hooves that long had been the only sound to keep him company was soon a rolling thunder that would turn the heads of anyone who heard it. For now, riding beside Roderick were seven other knights that had joined the order:
The Pink Eagle, a princess whose father ordered the death of her beloved Anna, by lashing her until she collapsed.
The Black Arrow, who never missed a shot except when it comes to romance. He carries a bow made of entangled vines.
The Gator, a pan knight who was banished and left to his own devices in the swamps of Argar, where he wrestled alligators and gained strength.
The Eclipse, who was excommunicated after a church member found he took too much liking in men and women, and his non-binary sibling Deimos, who is so strong they can uproot fully grown trees with their bare hands.
The Diamond, a trans woman to who people threw stones at after a fellow mine worker once caught her wearing a dress. Her armor is made out of the strongest materials, inset with a diamond placed over her heart, that no stone will ever be able to scratch.
And the Ace, who refused to make love and have children after she was betrothed to a handsome nobleman. She was thrown to the wolves but was quickly accepted by them.
Grass streaked underneath the thudding of hooves, but vanished as they came to a halt. There they stood, side by side on their horses, on the edge of a cliff that overlooked Rosebarrow.
“Today”, began Roderick, “I am honored and blessed to have you as my friends. Three years ago I made a vow…,” he said, looking up, thinking about Charlie “… that I would protect anyone who is queer with this sword.” He heaved the sword to show the other knights. “The king’s army and the people of Estria kill us for what? Because I like men? Because they don’t understand you are a woman? We are a disgrace they say. Say we should burn. But I don’t believe that! Nobody but me decrees what I can and cannot be!” He banged his chest. “We share the same pain and I have nothing but respect and admiration that you joined me on this mission. This isn’t my mission anymore, it’s ours.”
“There are kids, people, who go through life with their heads down, ashamed of who they are. They have been taught that who they are is wrong and they can’t even be themselves, and if they are, they get punished. Accepting yourself, loving yourself, being proud of yourself, it’s something all those people in Estria have. They are probably not even aware of what a privilege that is. And they call us a sin? Us? Fuck them. Being able to be yourself is a goddamn human right! And nobody, nobody, is going to take that away from us.”
“We have been through a lot. The battle is by far not only fought in the realm of the physical. The hardest battle is in our mind and hearts. But we are strong, we have overcome many trials, and you have given me the courage to stand up for others! To walk with pride!”
“Tonight we ride for Rosebarrow and let it be known we have arrived!
That we have their back
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!” the other knights bellowed, their horses rearing up.
“The king’s army does not expect us to win
But we will never surrender!
Weakness is not in our hearts!
We will look at our fellow queers who struggle and fight day in and day out
And we will draw strength from them!
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“Never will we let them fall, never will we let them down
We will protect them
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“It’s just the eight of us now, and it might be the eight of us forever
We cannot expect others to ride with us
But we continue to fight for them!
And welcome everyone with open arms
So we can walk with pride together!
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“WHO ARE WE?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
This made me tear up
As someone who has struggled with his orientation for a long time, this story hits really close to home and is very important to me. I reached out to @caeryth asking if we could do more with it. We want to have a website and create more Pride Knights’ content to inspire and empower others. We want everyone to know that your differences are what make you unique and that you are valid no matter how you identify yourself. We are both students and are short on money to buy a website but this is going to happen no matter how long it takes. However, we’ve made merch for our fellow Pride Knights who want to help out. Meet us:
There are t-shirts, sweatshirts and hoodies. The print is on the back and the Pride Knights’ logo on the front.
Join us and inspire and empower others. Show that it’s okay to differ from the masses. Show your support for others and your pride in yourself – celebrate what makes you, you.
We have each other’s backs!
We stand up for our fellow queers who fight day in and out and we draw strength from them!
When people keep misunderstanding the concept of asexuality and keep saying that it is “Not wanting to fuck” or “Not getting laid” :
asexuality = does not experience sexual attraction
asexuality /= not experiencing sexual desire
you can wanna fuck and just not be attracted to anyone
just like you can be hungry and open up the fridge but everything in there makes you go “nah, i don’t really want to eat that”. Like, you wanna eat, but you don’t wanna eat anything specific
crows have been documented holding ‘funerals’ for many years. however, researchers suggest that they may not be mourning; evidence indicates that crows may be examining the body & surrounding area for potential threats to the rest of the flock.
The-Lounge 