In this Native-directed, -produced, and -starring movie, three contemporary, urban, indigenous sisters, Vickie (Valerie Red-Horse), Karen (Kimberly Norris Guerrero), and Tanya (Irene Bedard), face an uphill battle when they open their own business selling homegrown cosmetics under the name “Naturally Native,” encountering racist, patronizing attitudes along the way. Functioning as (director, writer, and actor) Red-Horse’s commentary on her fight with the movie industry to get Native-centered films, including her own, made, Naturally Native is the first film by, about, and fully financed by Native Americans, with all production monies being supplied by the Mashantucket Pequot Nation.
Protip: This is a really bad question to ask when visiting the National Mall. We have 8 buildings surrounding the Mall, and a total of 19 museums, 9 research centers and the National Zoo. A S.H.I.E.L.D agent should know better!
(We think she means the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History in this case.)
i actually had this conversation today
That’s it, WE CAN ALL GO HOME NOW. There won’t ever be a better graphic that summarizes sexist double standards in today’s geek culture.
THIS IS OUR CULTURE IN A NUTSHELL.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
I’m really glad I read that.
Hello there. The following is an incomplete list of Domestic Violence shelters for Queer and Trans* People of Color in all 50 United States. This list will also contain reading resources with tools for addressing abuse and domestic violence in queer communities.
Fweeeh.. finally finished it, it took a lot !! °_° The result looks nice, but I’m not really satified with it >.< I want to be more loose and stylized with my next pic.
I also found out that me and Jean have the same name initials (J.K.) while coloring him LOL.. However i saved the steps too, so if you like it more than I dislike it, I’ll post them here as a mini-tutorial :3