عزوز


irresistible-revolution:

princesswhatevr:

youngblackandvegan:

dynastylnoire:

xthegirlwithkaleidoscopeeyesx:

Racism in advertising.
This is what we’re told constantly. That our brown skin is ugly and that we can only be beautiful if we’re white.

A bleaching deodorant I can understand. My underarms get dark from shaving during the summer. The rest of this is all the result of colorism/shadeism/antiblackness period

Dove is all about women loving the skin they’re in
As long as the skin is white

But don’t forget! The also sell tanning creams to American white women to be darker!

It’s a trap game and they want us to all feel bad and buy more of their cheap and poorly made products. Also tested on animals so…

Fuck them!

pls tell me a white woman isn’t on this post comparing tanning lotion to skin bleaching

(via marahjuana)

artblackafrica:

Andrew Esiebo, "Nigeria On My Mind"

Andrew Esiebo started out in photography by chronicling the rapid development of urban Nigeria as well as the country’s rich culture and heritage. As his work began to gain international recognition, he started to explore new creative territory, integrating multimedia practice with the investigation of themes such as sexuality, gender politics, football, popular culture and migration. (x)

(via yagazieemezi)

malcolmxing:

Edhi holding one of the disabled children in his orphanage. Abdul Sattar Edhi has transformed the humanitarian landscape of Pakistan, running a charity organization with his wife which includes ambulances, orphanages and mental institutions. 

Photography: Chris-Steele Perkins, 1997.

(via myrandomlagblog)

allmyfriendsarewhite:

"Elmo is with his good friend, Lupita. They are talking about all the great things about their skin. For example, Elmo’s skin just happens to be very ticklish. Lupita’s skin happens to be a beautiful brown color. Skin can come in all different shades and colors. Isn’t skin just the best? However, ticklish or smooth or black or brown or white or tan, be sure to love the skin you are in."

I actually wanted to cry when I saw this. How many little black boys and girls had an easier day, with less self-hatred, because of this?

(via yagazieemezi)

Baba’s mother died before I was born.
Her oldest son died in the ‘67 war in Egypt. Most of her went with him.
Every day after losing him, a small part of her stopped breathing until there was nothing left.
She wore black until the day she died.
Her husband followed.
The eldest daughter wore her mother’s grief for two years after.

I remember when Mama’s father got sick. She flew him out of Syria
to Egypt, hoping to bring him to America to save him.
When I asked him about home, his eyes watered, and he took a callused hand to my cheek.
He refused to leave. We sent him back.
Mama was oceans away when he died. She has not forgiven herself.

Teta cried everyday during his last days, but at the end she did not weep.
She had nine children to hold.
Three years ago, two of her boys went to the war.
Two years ago, they locked one of her boys away.
She did not cry, she had six children to hold.
Her garden grieved for her. The trees and grape vines wore midnight for her hands.
The flowers still grow.

I understand why Jiddo’s eyes watered when he spoke of home.

And the emptiness or the fullness in our lungs when we think of how the tiles on our grandmothers’ balconies feel beneath bare feet.
And how the air often smells of fire and feels of warmth.
The sweet scent of jasmines in the dusty dawns.
When my friend Kathy asks me why I want to weep when I see the stars,
I tell her she was not brought up in mourning.

—    Fatima Kh., “Clusters” (via sikoot)

(via sikoot)

“ Ok so why the fuck….. ”

—    Usually said by someone who is about to make a valid point while simultaneously asking you a rhetorical question (via guy)

(via blackorchidd)