me and a bicycle. photo cred: sam

we’re making a queer/feminist porno i know, i’m excited too. we’re making a queer/feminist porno i know, i’m excited too.

we’re making a queer/feminist porno i know, i’m excited too.

We had a lot of trouble with western mental health workers who came here immediately after the genocide and we had to ask some of them to leave.

They came and their practice did not involve being outside in the sun where you begin to feel better. There was no music or drumming to get your blood flowing again. There was no sense that everyone had taken the day off so that the entire community could come together to try to lift you up and bring you back to joy. There was no acknowledgement of the depression as something invasive and external that could actually be cast out again.

Instead they would take people one at a time into these dingy little rooms and have them sit around for an hour or so and talk about bad things that had happened to them. We had to ask them to leave.

— ~A Rwandan talking to a western writer, Andrew Solomon, about his experience with western mental health and depression.

From The Moth podcast, ‘Notes on an Exorcism’. (via jacobwren)

(via jacobwren)

mariecalloway:

Reports suggest this document is about to be taken down from Pastebin. Pasting it here.

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We are some cis and trans women and non-binary poets in the Bay Area who are concerned about ongoing issues of misogyny and gender/sexual violence in our communities.

We are writing…

.

What a red glowing sun on a weekday morning at the end of summer feels like to wake up to.

What an invasive police state, mixed feelings on bitumen and daily headlines about indigenous homicide feels like to wake up to.

What one hundred thousand migrating birds feel like to wake up to. What the stillness in your stagnant heart creates and what that feels like to wake up to.

What dreaming about several ways to be a more tender and gentle human being feels like to wake up to.

What a roof top in Harlem that divides your attention into two different decades feels like to wake up to.

What being high on MDMA, sleeping in a forest and jumping into glacial water feels like to wake up to.

What the anxiety you collect as you start studying the ocean and it’s constant giant losses feels like to wake up to. What placing your feet in soil and acknowledging how your restless body yearns for a different setting, different people feels like to wake up to.

What sitting across from someone and how the conversation you two have compels you to love yourself more feels like to wake up to.