actual criticisms of academia:

cost of education acting as class barrier

exploitation of graduate workers

colonialist past and present

ties to military industrial complex

danger of power structure entrenching and justifying orthodox views on social issues

criticisms of academia that get made:

those damn ivory tower academics are wasting money learning about things

you. american adult with a drivers license. can you tell me who has the right of way at a 4 way stop

incredibly unfair that staring at the last sentence you wrote for an hour does not actually make the next one magically appear 😔

the idea that restrooms, locker rooms, etc need to be single-sex spaces in order for women to be safe is patriarchy's way of signalling to men & boys that society doesn't expect them to behave themselves around women. it is directly antifeminist. it would be antifeminist even if trans people did not exist. a feminist society would demand that women should be safe in all spaces even when there are men there.

how i sleep knowing i will pirate every single thing released on disney plus

slightly late to the party buuuuut happy lesbian visibility week<333

this couldn’t be said any better

TWO HOURS AGO: an incredible photo taken by a ut austin student capturing something deeply poetic in my opinion, a line of state troopers eagerly waiting to arrest student protesters standing just behind a sign that reads "what starts here changes the world. its starts with you and what you do each day."

Can’t believe Din Djarin fucked Yoda and made baby Yoda.

The Separatist AU is one of the smaller timelines, but it’s equally interesting.

In this AU, after Ailani leaves the Order, she joins the Separatist Union. She has completely lost faith in the Jedi and now believes the only way to peace is the Order’s removal from the Republic and the complete dismantling of the GAR. 

She refuses to work on the front lines and instead works as a political aide to Count Dooku. The two connect through their lost love for the Order and desire to create something new. To keep her faith, Dooku never tells Ailani of his involvement with Darth Sidious. Her lightsaber never changes color. She never falls into darkness. She does the same thing she did for the Council. She arranges meetings and files reports. She runs the war from an office.

And she never sees Wolffe again.

Ailani meets her fate on Mustafar at the hands of Anakin Skywalker as he kills the Separatist leaders. 

I forgot how beautiful it was to watch Boba be adorned in the Tuskens clothes and to make his own staff.

Once again we knew nothing of the Tuskens but that they were "savage" but then they tell us, once somebody actually asks, that some tribes are violent but there's many of them. We see their clothes are earned. We used to assume they were just dirty scraps. It's very likely the fabric they wear is painstakingly handmade and serves a lot of purpose.

Their staffs are earned and taken from sacred trees that we are guided to by the animals or maybe even spirits of the land, from times long before it was sand. It's a part of you just as it's part of the land. Shaped by your hands and used as an extension of yourself.

They dance with their staffs. Moving with the sands in elegance. Steps passed down by their people for millenia. I wouldn't be surprised if their dance was telling a story like so many indigenous peoples do.

Man. It makes me emotional.

reblog to bonk prev with yr forehead like a cat

reblog to pet prev

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

I love going viral on tumblr.com. It’s like if you stood in a field and said some of the stupidest shit a human being is capable of and then like fifty thousand crows attacked you