In honor of International Women’s day, I give you

Mrs Theodosia Okoh <3

The creator of the Ghana Flag we all proudly represent today

The Boondocks-yes

The Bridge by Charly Palmer

how europe underdeveloped africa by Walter Rodney

| Desmond Tutu

Dr Cheikh Anta Diop

 “Most of the ideas we call foreign are oftentimes nothing but mixed up, reversed, modified, elaborated images of the creations of our African ancestors, such as Judaism, Christianity, Islam, dialectics, the theory of being, the exact sciences, arithmetic, geometry, mechanical engineering, astronomy, medicine, literature (novel, poetry, drama), architecture, the arts, etc.,” Diop put forth in Civilization or Barbarism. He argued specifically that Aristotelian metaphysics, the Pythagorean theorem, the concept of pi, Platonic cosmogony, and other commonly believed Greek creations actually were developed in ancient Egypt. “Consequently, no thought, no ideology is, in essence, foreign to Africa, which was their birthplace.

my heart by Lizz Wright

Lizz Wright

There is no one torturing you except yourself. There is nobody except yourself; your whole life is your work—your creation. Once you grasp this, things start changing …transforming. You can play at changing your hell into heaven, or, if you are in love with misery, create as much as you wish.

Osho (via erosboros)

we are the ship by Kadir Nelson

bessie and her son richard by Gordon Parks

Gordon Parks’s compelling photograph of Bessie Fontenelle and her youngest son Richard, Jr., was published by Life magazine on March 8, 1968, as part of a special feature on blacks and poverty called A Harlem Family (or At the Poverty Board). Parks’s essay and twenty-five photographs vividly depict the hardships of a Harlem family living under deplorable conditions. Taken shortly after Bessie violently retaliated against her husband’s abuse, this image, which appears on the opening spread, captures both her love for her son and her deep frustration and exhaustion—the dichotomy of a life torn between hope and despair. Her sadness is tempered by her child’s wide-eyed innocence. The article begins with this admonition: “What I want/What I am/What you force me to be/is what you are,” suggesting that we are all part of one global family. Sadly, only young Richard survived the family’s hardships and grew up to escape poverty.

by Indiana University Art Museum

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

Love is patient and kind 

It does not envy or boast 

Love is not arrogant or rude 

It does not insist on its own way 

Lov is not irritable or resentful

it does not rejoice at wrongdoing 

but rejoices in the truth

Love bears all things

believes all things

hopes all things

endures all things.

Love never end

1 Corinthians 13:6

indigenousrev:

Colonialism is the establishment, maintenance, acquisition and expansion of colonies in one territory by people from another territory. Colonialism is a process whereby sovereignty over the colony is claimed by the metropole and the social structure, government, and economics of the colony are changed by colonists - people from the metropole. Colonialism is a set of unequal relationships: between the metropole and the colony, and between the colonists and the indigenous population.

still I rise by Maya Angelou You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise   Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room  Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise  Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries  Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own back yard You may shoot me with your words You may cut me with your eyes You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise  Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame  I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain   I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide   Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear   I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise!

road to rhythm by Paul Goodnight