Esoterica's avatar

Esoterica

deliciouskaek

just waiting for these fools to start the rest of the bullshit

deliciouskaek:

how everything gotta be a crusade

how they wasn’t talking about harassment just a conversation

and other assorted fuckery

when a conversation forced upon you can feel like harassment

can be considered harassment

when being pressured to “smile” can feel like harassment even when “you’re too pretty to be so mean” is meant to be a compliment

can’t even think for a minute that how you feel when i walk by might not be the most pressing thing on my agenda

and my outward appearance — for better or worse — might be hiding something you can’t fathom

still waters run deep, and i’ve been still a long motherfucking time

and if that hasn’t even crossed your mind

then no i don’t want your number

no i don’t wanna give you mine

and no i don’t wanna meet you nowhere

no i don’t want none of your time

because any man/woman/etc. who can’t respect that maybe i don’t want those things from you?

is the scrub they were singing about

and if you mad

then it’s probably you

strugglingtobeheard

women give fake numbers and names for a reason.

thegoddamazon:

sourcedumal:

thegoddamazon:

strugglingtobeheard:

when i was a teenager and in my early twenties, it was so hard to say no without being fearful of the reaction. i’ve been called bitch, ho, had men try to really follow me and convince me, plead, beg and get violent. so i learned quickly that in most cases, no wasn’t an ok response. even if i said i had a boyfriend or a partner, the response would generally be “so?” (because people who have no respect for that are totally cool potential partners or fuck buddies *Eyeroll*). so i lied. i still use a fake name when i’m out in the streets depending on how i feel. especially when i was dancing, if i saw a custie and he tried to talk to me. but on the real, i was always afraid of being harmed. seriously harmed. and i don’t wanna get into a verbal confrontation with a man i think will not hesitate to harm me if i cuss him out for being disgusting. only a month ago i cussed some old ass nasty dude out for oggling my sisters ass and then telling me i’m beautiful like this was some kind of compliment when a. duh and b. you was just oggling on my baby 19 year old sisters ass and you 50 fucking something. so i cuss him out. he comes by three times, back and forth, back and forth, yelling at me each time. 

so in cases where i am cornered, where the man aint taking my verbal cues, where he is cute but just doesn’t get i’m not interested, i give fake names and numbers. a lot of girls do this for that reason. all these ashy dick niggas talking about oh don’t give me no fake number neither. if you have a history of getting fake numbers it’s because you are scary, intimidating and too much. and women are using their intuition. and that intuition is telling them that YOU ARE NOT SAFE TO SAY NO TO. i’m so tired of these stupid fuck niggas not understanding shit. their are brothers who respect your boundaries, who can smile and make eye contact, say how are you and see if a conversation proceeds from there. and there are plenty of women who make the first move, it’s 2012 so definitely a lot more than even 2000 i think! even when you reading a book or doing something where you are busy, you know this nigga dont respect that if he bugging you. so if he gets a number, it’s gonna be a fake a lot. it is what it is. these dudes can’t dial back their sense of entitlement to any and all pussy, to a time of day, to our time, their misogyny. their sense of superiority. so we make maneuvers and create survival mechanisms to survive from YOU.

I give out the number to rejection hotline because I used to get guys who would call me at any hour of the night as if I didn’t have anything better to do than talk to them.

Case in point: my ex. Even after telling them my call hours, they’d somehow think it was they who were the special snowflake that got to call me anytime and I’d be cool with it. Then they’d get mad when I get irritated with that shit.

Rejection Hotline is on speed dial just so I can hand it out to scrubs I’m not interested in.

That tactic doesn’t work anymore. Dudes will demand your number and then call that number to make sure that it isn’t fake, and if it is, they’ll harass you even more until you cave and give you that number.

I’ve been cornered like this on multiple occasions and these niggas want to talk about how we’re ‘uppity’ when our safety is legit in question here.

You don’t care about women. You don’t give a shit about what happens to us.

You just care about fucking us to get you off and then disposing of us like a paper towel.

Yeah, they immediately call or text it to see if it’s fake. I don’t understand why some people don’t realize that I don’t like giving out my cell number for a reason. I got harassed like crazy after I broke up with my ex. He’d fill my voicemail with all sorts of nasty messages, send me texts with horrible, threatening messages, and call my phone dozens of times throughout the day and night. Like, this went on for months.

And the last thing I need is some emotionally unstable guy getting my number. I’ve changed numbers more times in the past year than ever. In fact, I’ve had five different numbers just trying to avoid the crazed-messages I’ve gotten.

The fact that men don’t even stop to consider that women do have boundaries and that just because they talk to us doesn’t give them the right to cross said boundaries…is just a message loud and clear.

For instance, I don’t go anywhere alone with a guy I have no interest in fucking, because for all I know, he might try and force me into some shit. And I’ve had that happen to me. I went out with a guy who tried to force me to drink (I didn’t see him when he was making the drink so I decided against drinking at all that night), and then while I was on the phone with my friend he grabbed me and kissed me. Like, he forced his tongue in my mouth and then tried to shove his hands down my pants. I had made sure to give absolutely no signals that I wanted sex or even to be touched, but he literally tried to force me into it.

WHILE I WAS ON THE PHONE.

Like, this is date rape in action. Luckily, I was sober, and my friend bailed me out by pretending to have needed my help in an emergency. I took the bus to her place and changed my number the next day so the guy wouldn’t call me ever again.

(via the-goddamazon)

strugglingtobeheard

women give fake numbers and names for a reason.

queennubian:

thegoddamazon:

strugglingtobeheard:

when i was a teenager and in my early twenties, it was so hard to say no without being fearful of the reaction. i’ve been called bitch, ho, had men try to really follow me and convince me, plead, beg and get violent. so i learned quickly that in most cases, no wasn’t an ok response. even if i said i had a boyfriend or a partner, the response would generally be “so?” (because people who have no respect for that are totally cool potential partners or fuck buddies *Eyeroll*). so i lied. i still use a fake name when i’m out in the streets depending on how i feel. especially when i was dancing, if i saw a custie and he tried to talk to me. but on the real, i was always afraid of being harmed. seriously harmed. and i don’t wanna get into a verbal confrontation with a man i think will not hesitate to harm me if i cuss him out for being disgusting. only a month ago i cussed some old ass nasty dude out for oggling my sisters ass and then telling me i’m beautiful like this was some kind of compliment when a. duh and b. you was just oggling on my baby 19 year old sisters ass and you 50 fucking something. so i cuss him out. he comes by three times, back and forth, back and forth, yelling at me each time. 

so in cases where i am cornered, where the man aint taking my verbal cues, where he is cute but just doesn’t get i’m not interested, i give fake names and numbers. a lot of girls do this for that reason. all these ashy dick niggas talking about oh don’t give me no fake number neither. if you have a history of getting fake numbers it’s because you are scary, intimidating and too much. and women are using their intuition. and that intuition is telling them that YOU ARE NOT SAFE TO SAY NO TO. i’m so tired of these stupid fuck niggas not understanding shit. their are brothers who respect your boundaries, who can smile and make eye contact, say how are you and see if a conversation proceeds from there. and there are plenty of women who make the first move, it’s 2012 so definitely a lot more than even 2000 i think! even when you reading a book or doing something where you are busy, you know this nigga dont respect that if he bugging you. so if he gets a number, it’s gonna be a fake a lot. it is what it is. these dudes can’t dial back their sense of entitlement to any and all pussy, to a time of day, to our time, their misogyny. their sense of superiority. so we make maneuvers and create survival mechanisms to survive from YOU.

I give out the number to rejection hotline because I used to get guys who would call me at any hour of the night as if I didn’t have anything better to do than talk to them.

Case in point: my ex. Even after telling them my call hours, they’d somehow think it was they who were the special snowflake that got to call me anytime and I’d be cool with it. Then they’d get mad when I get irritated with that shit.

Rejection Hotline is on speed dial just so I can hand it out to scrubs I’m not interested in.

I told y’all about how I was followed for two damn blocks in broad day light on a street populated by plenty enough people to intervene right? I told you all that this nigga was drunk, at least 20 years my senior, and had no plans of leaving my side right? 

The thing is, these types of kats don’t stop. 

I’ve been fondled in broad day light by some random strange young buck that felt like I needed to know he found my ass fat. He also had his penis hanging out. Imagine that. You’re trying to go home and some strange youngin get’s off the bus at a bus stop that lets you off pretty much in seclusion. You have to walk up a steep hill surrounded by nothing but grass and eventually neighbors in a quite urban suburb. 

He doesn’t go away. In both instances they wanted my number. They didn’t care that I had a boyfriend or that I was not interested. 

Oh then there was that time I had a peeping tom. 

Oh and then there was that time I was followed home by a strange white man.

There was that time I was followed from a bus stop to a building I was performing at.  

Oh and then there was that time where a few young bucks rang the door bell and banged on the door every night after they figured two single women lived in the the building. 

They did this until one of us came down. They asked for some random person. My upstairs neighbor said that person does not live there. (we lived in a epic house converted into two separate apartments.) The young buck ask my neighbor if she wants any company. She says no. Young back asks, ” how about these 15 inches then.” O.o 

(via dynastylnoire)

strugglingtobeheard

women give fake numbers and names for a reason.

sourcedumal:

thegoddamazon:

strugglingtobeheard:

when i was a teenager and in my early twenties, it was so hard to say no without being fearful of the reaction. i’ve been called bitch, ho, had men try to really follow me and convince me, plead, beg and get violent. so i learned quickly that in most cases, no wasn’t an ok response. even if i said i had a boyfriend or a partner, the response would generally be “so?” (because people who have no respect for that are totally cool potential partners or fuck buddies *Eyeroll*). so i lied. i still use a fake name when i’m out in the streets depending on how i feel. especially when i was dancing, if i saw a custie and he tried to talk to me. but on the real, i was always afraid of being harmed. seriously harmed. and i don’t wanna get into a verbal confrontation with a man i think will not hesitate to harm me if i cuss him out for being disgusting. only a month ago i cussed some old ass nasty dude out for oggling my sisters ass and then telling me i’m beautiful like this was some kind of compliment when a. duh and b. you was just oggling on my baby 19 year old sisters ass and you 50 fucking something. so i cuss him out. he comes by three times, back and forth, back and forth, yelling at me each time. 

so in cases where i am cornered, where the man aint taking my verbal cues, where he is cute but just doesn’t get i’m not interested, i give fake names and numbers. a lot of girls do this for that reason. all these ashy dick niggas talking about oh don’t give me no fake number neither. if you have a history of getting fake numbers it’s because you are scary, intimidating and too much. and women are using their intuition. and that intuition is telling them that YOU ARE NOT SAFE TO SAY NO TO. i’m so tired of these stupid fuck niggas not understanding shit. their are brothers who respect your boundaries, who can smile and make eye contact, say how are you and see if a conversation proceeds from there. and there are plenty of women who make the first move, it’s 2012 so definitely a lot more than even 2000 i think! even when you reading a book or doing something where you are busy, you know this nigga dont respect that if he bugging you. so if he gets a number, it’s gonna be a fake a lot. it is what it is. these dudes can’t dial back their sense of entitlement to any and all pussy, to a time of day, to our time, their misogyny. their sense of superiority. so we make maneuvers and create survival mechanisms to survive from YOU.

I give out the number to rejection hotline because I used to get guys who would call me at any hour of the night as if I didn’t have anything better to do than talk to them.

Case in point: my ex. Even after telling them my call hours, they’d somehow think it was they who were the special snowflake that got to call me anytime and I’d be cool with it. Then they’d get mad when I get irritated with that shit.

Rejection Hotline is on speed dial just so I can hand it out to scrubs I’m not interested in.

That tactic doesn’t work anymore. Dudes will demand your number and then call that number to make sure that it isn’t fake, and if it is, they’ll harass you even more until you cave and give you that number.

I’ve been cornered like this on multiple occasions and these niggas want to talk about how we’re ‘uppity’ when our safety is legit in question here.

You don’t care about women. You don’t give a shit about what happens to us.

You just care about fucking us to get you off and then disposing of us like a paper towel.

strugglingtobeheard

women give fake numbers and names for a reason.

deliciouskaek:

strugglingtobeheard:

when i was a teenager and in my early twenties, it was so hard to say no without being fearful of the reaction. i’ve been called bitch, ho, had men try to really follow me and convince me, plead, beg and get violent. so i learned quickly that in most cases, no wasn’t an ok response. even if i said i had a boyfriend or a partner, the response would generally be “so?” (because people who have no respect for that are totally cool potential partners or fuck buddies *Eyeroll*). so i lied. i still use a fake name when i’m out in the streets depending on how i feel. especially when i was dancing, if i saw a custie and he tried to talk to me. but on the real, i was always afraid of being harmed. seriously harmed. and i don’t wanna get into a verbal confrontation with a man i think will not hesitate to harm me if i cuss him out for being disgusting. only a month ago i cussed some old ass nasty dude out for oggling my sisters ass and then telling me i’m beautiful like this was some kind of compliment when a. duh and b. you was just oggling on my baby 19 year old sisters ass and you 50 fucking something. so i cuss him out. he comes by three times, back and forth, back and forth, yelling at me each time. 

so in cases where i am cornered, where the man aint taking my verbal cues, where he is cute but just doesn’t get i’m not interested, i give fake names and numbers. a lot of girls do this for that reason. all these ashy dick niggas talking about oh don’t give me no fake number neither. if you have a history of getting fake numbers it’s because you are scary, intimidating and too much. and women are using their intuition. and that intuition is telling them that YOU ARE NOT SAFE TO SAY NO TO. i’m so tired of these stupid fuck niggas not understanding shit. their are brothers who respect your boundaries, who can smile and make eye contact, say how are you and see if a conversation proceeds from there. and there are plenty of women who make the first move, it’s 2012 so definitely a lot more than even 2000 i think! even when you reading a book or doing something where you are busy, you know this nigga dont respect that if he bugging you. so if he gets a number, it’s gonna be a fake a lot. it is what it is. these dudes can’t dial back their sense of entitlement to any and all pussy, to a time of day, to our time, their misogyny. their sense of superiority. so we make maneuvers and create survival mechanisms to survive from YOU.

^ basically all of this

this is why there are actually hotlines of fake numbers set up for people to give the digits to. it’s not ONLY because it’s cute and funny to do that, it’s because sometimes you can’t get the fuck away from these people, y’all don’t make it safe to say no. 

and there’s no point in being mad at me for protecting myself, be mad at these assholes who can’t take no for an answer without assaulting, harassing, demeaning and demanding that i/we give them attention.

talk to them.

because i damn sure am not going to, and fuck if i can tell if you’re the next one to pull that shit at a glance. shit ain’t safe to guess anymore. 

dudes down the street, known my daughter for years, under the guise of giving her a friendly hug, pulled up her damn skirt in the middle of the fucking street, talmbout “she like that shit”

and she didn’t have a choice but to laugh it off because if they’re gonna do that, what might they do next?

does she have to be nice, too? was she wrong for not giving them her time and attention?

fuck y’all

all of y’all

talk to them niggas and all the ones like them

then come talk to me

I’ve been out with my sons, and had dudes decide that my lack of interest in their bullshit was a reason to harass me. Mind you, I’m with my children and these assbags are calling me everything but a child of God while blocking my path and scaring my kid. Fuck you very much if you think I need the attention of those pieces of shit more than I need space to walk down the street.

(via hamburgerjack-deactivated201404)

On Street Harassment, Victim Blaming & Life in My Skin

It’s funny in a horrifying I might start crying kind of way to think about how many times I’ve experienced extreme sexism/misogyny from perfect strangers. I’m always boggled at how willing people are to excuse their behavior & claim I should have been nicer, or that they’re sick and don’t know any better. I remember a guy tried to grab me on an empty train car in high school, I kicked the shit out of him & ran like hell. For a host of reasons I was afraid to tell my parents about what happened, but when I told some friends about it the next day I remember a girl I only kind of knew shutting down the victim blaming comments by saying “Girls get raped on the train.” and that the way she said it was so *knowing* you know? I never asked for her story. She didn’t offer it either. But then I was already a survivor so I guess I didn’t need it to understand.

Fast forward a few years from that age & I can tell you a dozen more “extreme” stories that happened in between, but the ones that stick out most all have a theme of me being engaged in my life when misogyny dropped in for a visit. There was the guy in Germany who tried to trap me in a dark tunnel with his car (I jumped on the hood & ran like my life depended on it, maybe it did) and there was no conversation between us. He yelled at me in German from a moving car then drove around to bar my way. There was the guy that followed me home from the store one night telling me that he could be a rapist. He didn’t speak to me in the store & our conversation outside consisted of me walking past him & him yelling at me that I was a stuck up bitch. The guy that called me everything but a child of God, because I wouldn’t buy his CD came at me on a bus & no one (including his friend) said shit to stop him. Or the group of men who surrounded me while I was walking with my child that had to be backed off by a neighbor with a gun.

How many times exactly does someone have to be insulted, harassed, or terrorized before the conversation can be about the person who accosted them & not about what else they could have done? Should have done? How many incidents (all with different people, different settings, different responses) does it take before the discussion is about ways to stop the harassers & not ways to respond to them so that they maybe, possibly, if you’re lucky won’t escalate? When do we talk about the culture that not only permits these behaviors, but encourages them & punishes victims for being wary of new people after years of bad experiences? When do we talk about why women are cautioned to be nice, to be patient, to be careful, but never told it is okay to say no & mean it without fear of repercussions? Oh right, those are all hard topics for hard days & folks would rather blame victims than address problems.

gabydunn

Woman in Comedy: A really scary thing happened to me last night at a comedy show.

gabydunn:

Part of me thinks it’s too soon to be writing about this because I don’t think I’ve completely processed how I feel, but I also think maybe this has happened to other women and I should talk about it in as raw a way as possible. I’m still really embarrassed and ashamed and garbled up inside, but maybe this can start a helpful discussion in terms of women and comedy.

Last night, I was on a stand up show in the East Village. The show started out with a small crowd and the host did an amazing job interacting with them and riling them up. By the time I got on stage, there were about 20 or so more people in the audience and the place had really filled up. The show was still kind of loose because of the back and forth between the host and the audience, so when I got on stage, I riffed a bit about the stuff that had happened before and then talked to one guy on the side of the audience who the host had dubbed “Banana Republic.” All joke-y. All in good fun.

Then, I start my actual set and do my first two jokes, which go pretty okay. I start another joke that is vaguely sexual - not crude, not crass - mainly silly and that goes well too. The next joke I do is about my boyfriend.

At a comedy show, when you’re on stage, usually you can’t see the audience because of the bright lights. So I’m looking into pitch darkness. As I start the joke, someone yells, “Does your boyfriend know?” referring to the sexuality joke I’d just told. I stop, laugh and say that he does because I think it’s just more of the loose environment that’s been going on at this show. I attribute it to an audience member just having fun.

I start to tell the joke about my boyfriend again, and at the midway point, the same voice yells something else derogatory about my boyfriend, homophobic and misogynistic towards me. I stop, confused. I can’t see who is talking to me so I make a HUGE mistake and say, “Sir, if you’re gonna talk to me, you need to come to the front because I can’t see you.” I think calling him out like this will shut him up.

Read More

I totally understand this phenomenon & I’ve lived it a few times, but OMFG I want to smack the club management with a clue bat after reading this story. This should have never ever been allowed to go on for so long & the onus should not have been on Gaby to carve out a safe space for herself. Damn.

earthgirlzareeazy
southerntellect:

queennubian:

karnythia:

soydulcedeleche:

angrybrownbaby:

curvesappreciationsociety:

angrybrownbaby:

curvesappreciationsociety:

angrybrownbaby:

So big breasteses are only sexy on women like her but “tacky and too much” on me? It’s not like I paid for them. HATERS.


Who told you that?

Honestly? White women. :/

Really? That’s so strange, no one’s ever said that to me and I have size F boobs! That’s no fun :/ Why do they say that? Is it because you have a small frame?

The same reason why Salma Hayek gets hate for her large breasts whereas Christina Hendricks gets praised, unfortunately. I also have a small/short waist, large hips, butt and thighs so it’s basically an issue with my entire figure in general.

we all know curves on WOC=gross and lewd.
curves on white ladies=sessy.

I side eye anyone who doesn’t know this after all these years. Even if they don’t know about Sarah Baartman aka Hottentot Venus, the ongoing commentary every time Venus & Serena Williams leave their house should be a clue.

 Indeed.

I’ll dissent here and say to the men, staring at me like a piece of meat doesn’t make me feel sexy, at all. In all actuality, you and your group of friends staring me down as I walk by scares me. I don’t see “sessy” here. I see prey. Because that’s what I’ve felt like walking down streets and mall corridors, aisles and sidewalks. 
PS. Keep your mmphs and grunts to yourself. 

Grunts, growls, kissy noises…all of it makes me stabby.

southerntellect:

queennubian:

karnythia:

soydulcedeleche:

angrybrownbaby:

curvesappreciationsociety:

angrybrownbaby:

curvesappreciationsociety:

angrybrownbaby:

So big breasteses are only sexy on women like her but “tacky and too much” on me? It’s not like I paid for them. HATERS.

Who told you that?

Honestly? White women. :/

Really? That’s so strange, no one’s ever said that to me and I have size F boobs! That’s no fun :/ Why do they say that? Is it because you have a small frame?

The same reason why Salma Hayek gets hate for her large breasts whereas Christina Hendricks gets praised, unfortunately. I also have a small/short waist, large hips, butt and thighs so it’s basically an issue with my entire figure in general.

we all know curves on WOC=gross and lewd.

curves on white ladies=sessy.

I side eye anyone who doesn’t know this after all these years. Even if they don’t know about Sarah Baartman aka Hottentot Venus, the ongoing commentary every time Venus & Serena Williams leave their house should be a clue.

 Indeed.

I’ll dissent here and say to the men, staring at me like a piece of meat doesn’t make me feel sexy, at all. In all actuality, you and your group of friends staring me down as I walk by scares me. I don’t see “sessy” here. I see prey. Because that’s what I’ve felt like walking down streets and mall corridors, aisles and sidewalks. 

PS. Keep your mmphs and grunts to yourself. 

Grunts, growls, kissy noises…all of it makes me stabby.

(via southerntellect-deactivated2012)