They stared at him, and the little Rabbit stared back. And all the time their noses twitched.
"Why don’t you get up and play with us?" one of them asked.
"I don’t feel like it," said the Rabbit, for he didn’t want to explain that he had no clockwork.
"Ho!" said the furry rabbit. "It’s as easy as anything," And he gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs.
"I don’t believe you can!" he said.
"I can!" said the little Rabbit. "I can jump higher than anything!" He meant when the Boy threw him, but of course he didn’t want to say so.
"Can you hop on your hind legs?" asked the furry rabbit.
That was a dreadful question, for the Velveteen Rabbit had no hind legs at all! The back of him was made all in one piece, like a pincushion. He sat still in the bracken, and hoped that the other rabbits wouldn’t notice.
"I don’t want to!" he said again.
But the wild rabbits have very sharp eyes. And this one stretched out his neck and looked.
"He hasn’t got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.
"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"
"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.
"I don’t like dancing," he said. "I’d rather sit still!"
But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.
The strange rabbit stopped dancing, and came quite close. He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the Velveteen Rabbit’s ear, and then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards.
"He doesn’t smell right!" he exclaimed. "He isn’t a rabbit at all! He isn’t real!"
"I am Real!” said the little Rabbit. “I am Real! The Boy said so!” And he nearly began to cry.
“He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her. Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love. Both looked back then on the wild revelry, the gaudy wealth, and the unbridled fornication as an annoyance and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude. Madly in love after so many years of sterile complicity, they enjoyed the miracle of living each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs.”—
“It’s a form of violence, in the way that we look at women and how we expect them to look and be - for what sake?" she said. "Not health, not survival, not enjoyment of life but just so you could look pretty. I’m constantly telling girls all the time, ‘Everything’s airbrushed, everything’s retouched. None of us look like that.’”— Rosario Dawson Love, forever.
“Rape culture is telling girls and women to be careful about what you wear, how you wear it, how you carry yourself, where you walk, when you walk there, with whom you walk, whom you trust, what you do, where you do it, with whom you do it, what you drink, how much you drink, whether you make eye contact, if you’re alone, if you’re with a stranger, if you’re in a group, if you’re in a group of strangers, if it’s dark, if the area is unfamiliar, if you’re carrying something, how you carry it, what kind of shoes you’re wearing in case you have to run, what kind of purse you carry, what jewelry you wear, what time it is, what street it is, what environment it is, how many people you sleep with, what kind of people you sleep with, who your friends are, to whom you give your number, who’s around when the delivery guy comes, to get an apartment where you can see who’s at the door before they can see you, to check before you open the door to the delivery guy, to own a dog or a dog-sound-making machine, to get a roommate, to take self-defense, to always be alert always pay attention always watch your back always be aware of your surroundings and never let your guard down for a moment lest you be sexually assaulted and if you are and didn’t follow all the rules it’s your fault.”—This is a damn good read. (via ammywhammy)
“I’m tired of you my fellow feminists because of your Islamophobia. Your bigotry has turned me into an islamist with no faith and no spirituality. I’m tired of the weight on my shoulder for being a veiled queer woman that was not oppressed by her veil or her parents but was simply oppressed by ideas and the restrictions you put on me; where I had to love my veil just for it to be in the face of all the ideologies that say: “veils oppressed women.”—
Pedro Algorta, a lawyer, showed me the fat dossier about the murder of two women. The double crime had been committed with a knife at the end of 1982, in a Montevideo suburb.
The accused, Alma Di Agosto, had confessed. She had been in jail more than a year, & she was apparently condemned to rot there for the rest of her life.
As is the custom, the police had raped & tortured her. After a month of continuous beatings they had extracted several confessions.
Alma Di Agosto’s confessions did not much resemble each other, as she had committed the same murder in many different ways. Different people appeared in each confession, picturesque phantoms without names or addresses, because the electric cattle prod turns anyone into a prolific storyteller.
Furthermore, the author demonstrated the agility of an Olympic athlete, the strength of a fairground Amazon, & the dexterity of a professional matador. But most surprising was the wealth of detail: in each confession, the accused described with millimetric precision clothing, gestures, surroundings, positions, objects….
Alma Di Agosto was blind.
Her neighbors, who know her & loved her, were convinced she was guilty:
"Why?" asked the lawyer. "Because the papers say so." ""But the papers lie," said the lawyer. "But the radio says so too," explained the neighbors, "and the TV!"
Maybe I’m too young/ to keep good love from going wrong…
It’s never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder It’s never over, all my riches for her smiles when i slept so soft against her It’s never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter It’s never over, she’s the tear that hangs inside my song forever.
Let’s just say there’s a soft drink out there. Not naming names, but it kinda sounds like Schmoctor Schmepper. Call it Sr. Schmepper for short. So Sr. Schmepper is rolling out a new low-calorie drink, and they’ve decided that the best way to peddle their bubbly sugar water is with an ad campaign that proclaims “It’s not for women” and “No girls allowed”.
Hmm. Why would Dr…errr I mean Sr. Schmepper want to alienate half of their potential consumers right off the bat?
Well it seems they did some research and found that men won’t drink something that is perceived as lacking in the “manly” department, so they went out of their way “to eschew women” in their ad campaign, as the AP puts it.
You might wonder what that looks like. I’ve gathered together a few of the more egregious instances of sexism in the company’s campaign:
Bullets on the packaging (because nothing says “manly” like gratuitous and pointless violence amiright?)
A “men’s only” Facebook page, fully equipped with an application that allows it to exclude women from viewing content (didn’t know there was an app for that).
Facebook games and videos aimed at being “manly” including a shooting gallery (for targeting high heels and lipstick of course) and a “man quiz” with questions on activities like fishing and hunting.
TV commercials featuring “manly” activities like snake battling and laser shooting, and this gem of a voiceover: “Hey ladies. Enjoying the film? Of course not. Because this is our movie and this is our soda…You can keep the romantic comedies and lady drinks. We’re good.” The ads will air on all major networks, FX and ESPN during college football games, of course.