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Vinnie, 18, College freshman, Pansexual, Genderfluid, Pagan/Wiccan.

If you ever need help or just feel like chatting feel free to leave me messages.

setsunaa:

how to confess to your crush

inconsistentblogger:

When Welcome to Night Vale first started up it seemed like the only normal people in Night Vale were Carlos and Steve Carlsberg but now Carlos is running around an alternate dimension with an umbrella and Steve Carlsberg just picked up his step-brother’s doppelganger and threw him so I guess you’re not allowed to be normal in Night Vale

agirlnamedagnes:

This is what my husband and I purchased at the grocery store the other day.

We don’t have kids.

We are adults. We pay bills.
And drink water from a whale.

atheistangel:

Because equality starts at home.
 
"It was the most sincere display of appreciation that my five-year-old son has ever shown. He looked me straight in the eyes and said a very mature and worldly “thank you.” The words were full of honesty, relief, happiness and a little bit of anguish. “You’re welcome, baby,” I said looking at him with a smile and masking the pain I was feeling. “You look so pretty.” My gender creative son was thanking me for buying him a dress to wear to Christmas Eve dinner. He had eyed the ensemble weeks ago and asked to wear it for Christmas so he could take “fancy pictures by the fireplace and the tree. I told him no. Not because the outfit was made for girls and he is a boy, but because had I bought it then he would have wanted to wear it immediately and often and when we finally sat down to Christmas Eve dinner it would have been thrashed. He talked about his “Christmas outfit” nonstop and asked everyday if it was time to go buy it. Today was the day. We got home and both ran up the stairs to my bedroom with its mirrored closets. I sat on the floor removing price tags while he tore off his “school clothes,” which he wears as a disguise when out in society so that people will think he is all boy. He wears “school clothes” so that he won’t get teased, have to sit by himself at the lunch tables and so he will get invites to birthday parties. More than anything he wants to be thought of as “normal.” But, he’s not. He closed his eyes as I put on the black bubble skirt covered in sequins, the red long sleeved t-shirt that says “JOY” on it in glitter and the black sequined vest. I spun him to the mirror. He opened his eyes, took himself in and then thanked me. My first reaction was to smile. He reminded me of when I was a little girl and wanted a show stopping dress for the holidays. My dresses were made of scratchy fabric that made noise when I moved. I wore white socks with lace trim and stiff, shiny Mary Janes. I learned at an early age that beauty is pain. My son looked sassy and beautiful. He looked natural, happy and truly comfortable for the first time that day. Then I felt pain. If the rest of the world could be more empathetic, accepting, welcoming and kind, my son could be this happy and comfortable all of the time — because then my son could be a boy who dresses like a girl and not have to think twice about it. The world isn’t like that. Other people can’t see the beauty in my son in a dress. I haven’t always seen the beauty either. Two and a half years ago this scene from my life wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have bought girl clothes for my son. Never. Ever. Back then, I felt uneasy when he played with Barbies. When he tried to dress feminine, I’d hand him his brother’s masculine hand-me-downs and tell him to put them on. I didn’t give him choices because I knew that his choices would be pink with sparkle and rhinestones. His choices would smell like the raspberry vanilla body spray he snuck from bathroom and hid under his bed. Then I realized that my actions were telling him “you can’t be you because I want you to be what society wants you to be.” My husband and I changed the way we were parenting. There was something unique about our son that we could choose to support or destroy. We had to follow his lead. He led us to the pink aisles at Target; and, that’s not a dangerous, harmful, unhealthy place for a boy to be. My son’s Christmas dress is hanging in his closet. He checks on it before and after school and a few other times each day. On Christmas Eve, a dozen members of our family will gather around the table in honor of religious beliefs and to celebrate the passing of one year and the start of another. It will be the first holiday that my son will join us at the table dressed as a girl. We won’t care. We will tell him that he is beautiful, inside and out. And, we’ll mean it.xoxo, C.J.’s Mom  Raising my rainbow ♥

atheistangel:

Because equality starts at home.

 

"It was the most sincere display of appreciation that my five-year-old son has ever shown. He looked me straight in the eyes and said a very mature and worldly “thank you.” The words were full of honesty, relief, happiness and a little bit of anguish.

“You’re welcome, baby,” I said looking at him with a smile and masking the pain I was feeling. “You look so pretty.”
My gender creative son was thanking me for buying him a dress to wear to Christmas Eve dinner.
He had eyed the ensemble weeks ago and asked to wear it for Christmas so he could take “fancy pictures by the fireplace and the tree.

I told him no. Not because the outfit was made for girls and he is a boy, but because had I bought it then he would have wanted to wear it immediately and often and when we finally sat down to Christmas Eve dinner it would have been thrashed.

He talked about his “Christmas outfit” nonstop and asked everyday if it was time to go buy it.

Today was the day. We got home and both ran up the stairs to my bedroom with its mirrored closets. I sat on the floor removing price tags while he tore off his “school clothes,” which he wears as a disguise when out in society so that people will think he is all boy. He wears “school clothes” so that he won’t get teased, have to sit by himself at the lunch tables and so he will get invites to birthday parties. More than anything he wants to be thought of as “normal.” But, he’s not.

He closed his eyes as I put on the black bubble skirt covered in sequins, the red long sleeved t-shirt that says “JOY” on it in glitter and the black sequined vest. I spun him to the mirror. He opened his eyes, took himself in and then thanked me.

My first reaction was to smile. He reminded me of when I was a little girl and wanted a show stopping dress for the holidays. My dresses were made of scratchy fabric that made noise when I moved. I wore white socks with lace trim and stiff, shiny Mary Janes. I learned at an early age that beauty is pain.

My son looked sassy and beautiful. He looked natural, happy and truly comfortable for the first time that day. Then I felt pain. If the rest of the world could be more empathetic, accepting, welcoming and kind, my son could be this happy and comfortable all of the time — because then my son could be a boy who dresses like a girl and not have to think twice about it. The world isn’t like that.

Other people can’t see the beauty in my son in a dress. I haven’t always seen the beauty either. Two and a half years ago this scene from my life wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have bought girl clothes for my son. Never. Ever. Back then, I felt uneasy when he played with Barbies. When he tried to dress feminine, I’d hand him his brother’s masculine hand-me-downs and tell him to put them on. I didn’t give him choices because I knew that his choices would be pink with sparkle and rhinestones. His choices would smell like the raspberry vanilla body spray he snuck from bathroom and hid under his bed.

Then I realized that my actions were telling him “you can’t be you because I want you to be what society wants you to be.”

My husband and I changed the way we were parenting. There was something unique about our son that we could choose to support or destroy. We had to follow his lead. He led us to the pink aisles at Target; and, that’s not a dangerous, harmful, unhealthy place for a boy to be.

My son’s Christmas dress is hanging in his closet. He checks on it before and after school and a few other times each day. On Christmas Eve, a dozen members of our family will gather around the table in honor of religious beliefs and to celebrate the passing of one year and the start of another. It will be the first holiday that my son will join us at the table dressed as a girl. We won’t care. We will tell him that he is beautiful, inside and out. And, we’ll mean it.

xoxo, C.J.’s Mom
Raising my rainbow ♥

40514294s:

awwww-cute:

Here’s my friend’s dog in a banana costume

incognito

40514294s:

awwww-cute:

Here’s my friend’s dog in a banana costume

incognito

lipstickndynamite:

One of the best mom moments in TV history. I wish more parents knew how important it is to validate their children’s feelings.

amortizing:

2014 is half over and

  • -i lost no weight
  • -didn’t learn anything
  • -haven’t made an effort to save money
  • -still ugly

churchvan:

if your boyfriend doesn’t worship your butt then he’s a lame and i’m very sorry you have to deal with that

snazziest:

I’m reading your palm and it says it belongs on my butt

captainyosssarian:

if pooh bear can wear a crop top so can i

thankfulforanotherdawn:

stunningpicture:

Saw this outside a church on the weekend in Melbourne. Happy to see times are changing, might be slow, but at least there is change.

necessary.

thankfulforanotherdawn:

stunningpicture:

Saw this outside a church on the weekend in Melbourne. Happy to see times are changing, might be slow, but at least there is change.

necessary.

relahvant:

perpetualvelocity:

moonjellys:

proudgayconservative:

nolanthebloghog:

The bomb is dropped

The kittens sort of soften the blow.

this is the shittiest post ever. please unfollow me if you agree with this post also shame on OP for using cute kittens for this garbage post

not sure what it is exactly that makes this post so shitty? Because it’s promoting actual equality? instead of saying that you can call everyone else shit because you are part of an oppressed party you can say you are equal to them doesn’t exactly sound like a shitty idea to me.

BOOM. So many people on this website need to read this twice, let it sink in and then read it again.

irrreversibility:

boys cry
girls masturbate
boys can like pink and not be gay
girls can have short hair and not be a lesbian
boys can like ballet
girls can like video games
boys can be hot without a six pack
girls can be hot without a hairless body
boys can have hair down to their waists
girls can have stretch marks, curves and back fat

gender doesn’t determine what you can and cannot enjoy, what you can and cannot look like or what you can and cannot do

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