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my gender is filthy, contradictory, performed —a persistent metamorphosis. it is wandering hands and hot lips, it is fists and rhinestones and guttural moans. it is vintage glamour daddy and deep, tender strength. it is everything stable you thought you could rely on about binary gender except that it has been pulverized and regurgitated in an incoherent mess.
my gender is a cultural mockery. it is an homage to pain, connection and transformation. it is both a rejection and an acknowledgement of the ways that i am trapped by beauty, gender and desire. it is from this place that i pervert beauty. it is from this place that i highlight the fallacy of a natural, or neutral body. it is here, in this place of uncertainty, that my transformation continues.
majestic
(via heavymuffintop)
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“… the socialization of boys regarding masculinity is often at the expense of women. I came to realize that we don’t raise boys to be men, we raise...”
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I pronounce it gorf.
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This is what we need reported more in the media-positive stories
god
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you guys.
(book) snape just messaged me on okcupid
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“The leg kick before a woman starts to twerk symbolizes the shackles of 400 years of slavery and oppression being broken. God...
