we’re all one

Seeds Sown

We’re all seeds.

grasping to take root,

climbing to surface,

providing nourishment,

becoming landscape.

We’re all seeds.

Struggling through the dark,

grasping each dawn,

each bit of sun,

each drop of rain,

soaking in despair,

drowning in tears,

or swimming up stream,

we’re all seeds.

Bursting through,

breaking ground,

tasting air,

thriving,

rooting,

growing.

Seeds of trees,

Seeds of flowers,

Seeds of weeds,

all seeds of life.

-Tia


One day, they will wake up to an extremely unbearable ocean of sameness.

- Rene Yañez, San Francisco resident on the changing demographic of his city. As quoted in this NYT article on how the tech boom is altering SF. This article galvanized my interest in ICT, policy and social inclusion. (via policyandsocialinclusion)

A Poem About My Feelings And Belonging In An Unjust And Sexist World

s-karakus:

dark ravens are carressing my face
as they drink my blackened tears
black from misogyny and being bullied
by ravens at school

i loathe men
nearly as much as
i loathe myself

my soul is bleak and i hate life
because of the unjust evils
of anything uncastrated

girls at my school wear maekup


Being black isn’t tied to a nationality

manifestingwomanist:

It’s not an American thing. It’s global.

(Source: lowkeyshe, via lati-negros)


farroverrthemistymountains:

keepingkatiehealthy:

anchorsamour:

mybodypeaceofmind:

symphonyofawesomeness:

All these lovely ladies weigh 154lbs. We all carry weight differently, don’t live your life by an outdated chart. Find a number that looks and feels good.

TAKE A GOOD LOOK. WEIGHT COMES IN DIFFERENT SHAPES AND SIZES.

THIS ^ OH MY GOD the amount of times i’ve tried to get through to people about this!!! LEARN IT FOR CHRIST SAKE.

This is the perfect visual.

this is perfect!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
humansofnewyork:


He didn’t know much English beyond: “I’m from China.” But he did pull out his iPad and showed me his brother, his toys, his drum set, and a picture of his class.
She is …
A Queen once said that to exhale is to resurrect
Her true form is African-esque 
The darkness of her pigment is radiant and shines brighter than the purest halo of truth
She defines Empress
Her roots hold stories of Ethiopian queens and tribal kings
The movement of her shape replicates the bodies of our ancestral mothers, grandmothers, and great great-grandmothers
Her dark brown eyes shed the tears of past sufferings and burdens
But foretell of a time to come
When our people will get high enough to reach redemption 
She will conceive a generation of success 
A generation of brown girls and black boys 
Willing to change their world 
And they will always hold their ancestry in their hearts 
And hope is that they will never part-with it 
Because their roots hold the same stories hers did
And they will continue the cycle 
For generations to come
Because she is a Queen
and she bore me 
By: Crystal Worrell

0 notes