humble mumble.

about / tags / ask / random

hi, i'm nuri. this is my fandom/everyday life tumblr. i talk a lot in tags and my posts are all over the place. ask is always open.

Showing posts tagged with “words”

“I’m starting to understand the real failings of multi-cultural education growing up in K-12 schools. We gave everyone access to the “fun” parts of culture. Let’s sing the dreidel song! Now we understand the Jewish experience. Let’s talk about segregation. Wasn’t that wrong. Aren’t we glad it’s over? Let’s take turns reading parts of the “I Have a Dream” speech. We had access to the easy stuff without having to really examine the hard stuff. And we were giving easy access to things that aren’t “ours” and shouldn’t be “ours.” So you can’t just pick up the “fun” stuff and put it into your party theme or Facebook pictures. I’m using simple terms like fun because that’s how multiculturalism was given to us as children. And while it may have served a purpose at the time, it gave us too much access to claim things that aren’t ours.

I honestly, honestly think that is some of the reasons why the race parties are such a horrible fad on college campuses. They are carrying on what we did in elementary school. Let’s make culture a party! Everyone bring your cultural food and put on a costume! The racism is present and good percentage of the participants are really expressing deep rooted racism. But some truly don’t want to “understand why it’s wrong” when they are re-enacting what we used to do with culture in elementary schools. Culture was supposed to be fun. “I don’t understand why you are mad now? I thought culture was a party!” Party’s over kids. Put down the head-dress.”

— Brian Henry (via theteej)

I am a positive person but I get really tired of aggressive optimism. If someone’s sad, let them be sad. All emotions have purpose. Sadness isn’t destructive if not prolonged. Sadness isn’t unproductive, as it offers awareness. Telling someone to “cheer up” or “be happy” is so ineffective and patronizing. The last thing a sad person needs is for someone to judge their feelings as pointless and unappealing. Welcome sadness, just don’t let it consume you.

“Saying people of color are obsessed with race is like saying that someone is obsessed with swimming when they’re drowning.”

Hari Kondabolu  (via jakeenglish)

My dear Frankie Foo, 
It’s your dad. I’m writing from a time, 2014, when believe it or not, I do not embarrass you. Seriously, you can’t get enough of me. When I come home from work, the moment the front door creaks open, I hear you and your brother with a cautious “…Daddy?”, and when I confirm that it is indeed me, an immediate “DADDY!!!!!” followed by the sound of a thousand horses stampeding across hardwood floors. (How do the two of you make so much noise? Do you each have nine cloven, hooved legs that immediately retract from human view when rounding corners into rooms?). Every time I see you, something very specific happens — my heart explodes. Every time. Without fail. And when you see me, you light up. Literally I think there must be fireworks behind those eyes of yours because I’m blinded by it and everything else disappears and you run over and wrap yourself around me so tight and I’m home. Did that just embarrass you? Sorry. 
Here’s the thing though: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep my cool around you. I’m simply far too happy to know you. You choreograph dance routines for you and I. You belt out Let It Go for an audience of one: me. So, I’ve decided to just lean into it and be a generally embarrassing presence in your life. That’s right, I’ll never try to be the “cool dad” — I think we both know how much that would exacerbate whatever embarrassment was there in the first place. 
So we’ll see how it goes. And when that day comes when those fireworks in your eyes fade and you cringe rather than squeal when I walk into a room, rest assured — I get it. I’ll even try to play it cool right along with you. But just know that my heart is exploding, over and over again. 
P.S. Please never say “cool beans.”

My dear Frankie Foo,

It’s your dad. I’m writing from a time, 2014, when believe it or not, I do not embarrass you. Seriously, you can’t get enough of me. When I come home from work, the moment the front door creaks open, I hear you and your brother with a cautious “…Daddy?”, and when I confirm that it is indeed me, an immediate “DADDY!!!!!” followed by the sound of a thousand horses stampeding across hardwood floors. (How do the two of you make so much noise? Do you each have nine cloven, hooved legs that immediately retract from human view when rounding corners into rooms?). Every time I see you, something very specific happens — my heart explodes. Every time. Without fail. And when you see me, you light up. Literally I think there must be fireworks behind those eyes of yours because I’m blinded by it and everything else disappears and you run over and wrap yourself around me so tight and I’m home. Did that just embarrass you? Sorry.

Here’s the thing though: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep my cool around you. I’m simply far too happy to know you. You choreograph dance routines for you and I. You belt out Let It Go for an audience of one: me. So, I’ve decided to just lean into it and be a generally embarrassing presence in your life. That’s right, I’ll never try to be the “cool dad” — I think we both know how much that would exacerbate whatever embarrassment was there in the first place.

So we’ll see how it goes. And when that day comes when those fireworks in your eyes fade and you cringe rather than squeal when I walk into a room, rest assured — I get it. I’ll even try to play it cool right along with you. But just know that my heart is exploding, over and over again.

P.S. Please never say “cool beans.”

black-culture:

Street harassment is real. @zellieimani

black-culture:

Street harassment is real. @zellieimani

“She loves her coconut oil, shea butter, black soap, olive oil, natural hair, saggy clothes, long dresses, hair wraps, twist outs, lemon water, green tea, grapes, sunflowers, friends, family, and future.
What’s a label? She doesn’t have one”

A carefree black girl (via thedappledsky)

man i love this more than anything

(via liveinnaturallove)

“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”

Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami (via monicalewinskyed)

robertkazinsky:

Film Meme: directors (6/7)

Watch the movie closely, and you’ll see how personal it is. Here’s a film in which cinema brings down the Nazi regime, metaphorically and literally. What could possibly be better than that? In this story, cinema changes the world, and I fucking love that idea! - Quentin Tarantino
Someone on Twitter asked me at the Ask Orange event last week what my favorite thing is about Poussey, and I said “her smile.” Because, although a lot of people talk about how the show is a mix between comedy and drama, being in prison is not necessarily funny. It’s not a funny situation. But there can be people in prison who are naturally funny people, and people that you would enjoy spending time with, enjoy sharing a meal with. Although throughout the season you see that Poussey is frustrated by her incarceration, she has four more years to do there, so it’s not like she can so much see her end date. So I think, in contrast to some of the other characters, she really has to make prison her home, and has to make it livable there. I really enjoyed finding the joy within the fucked up-ness of it. —Samira Wiley