“I would eat his heart in the marketplace” is legit the most savage line I have ever heard, I’d like to personally thank Shakespeare for putting into words that feeling of rage and protectiveness women get when some fuckboy hurts another woman
Okay first off, I will always reblog this post, but secondly, I went to Shakespeare in the Park tonight to see this and all the women cheered *so loudly* when Beatrice said this line, and the guy in front of me looked around all shocked and a little scared and said “… oh wow” and it was ICONIQUE
“In my personal experience, women raise their voices because they feel like they aren’t being listened to. Men raise their voices because they feel like they aren’t being obeyed”
I know some of you joke about making Victor Hugo roll in his grave, but there are small cracks on his tomb in the Pantheon, and I’m telling you: he’s trying to get out
He’s ready to throw hands over the new BBC adaptation
you stop by the side of the road to buy fruit at a stand, watermelon and peaches. “watermelon’s in season,” the old woman says, smiles with far too many teeth. watermelon is always in season. you take a bite of a peach, and the juice stains your mouth red.
the kudzu climbs over the trees, the old cars in your neighbor’s front yard, towards your driveway. it crawls over the statues in your garden and up your brick walls. it crawls over your windows until you can no longer see outside, but you’re not even sure you want to.
you visit saint simons. the sand is almost as white as the residents’ faces when you ask about fishing. “don’t go onto the beach at night,” a lifeguard whispers to you, glancing around to make sure nothing is near. you notice there are no crabs, no birds, only the noise of the waves against the shore.
your grandmother keeps putting food out for the neighborhood’s stray cats. you don’t want to tell her the cats haven’t shown up in a long time. the things eating the food are not cats.
it’s football season. you must choose a side. your street is lined with red and black flags, bulldog statues. you start to notice dark shapes roaming the sidewalks when they think you can’t see them. your mother takes down the black and yellow banner, but it’s too late. there are dogs on the street. too many dogs. you chose wrong.
turn left onto peachtree avenue in half a mile, your gps says. you have passed four peachtrees in the past seven minutes. they all look the same. you are on peachtree. turn left onto peachtree avenue in half a mile.
there is a church just over the hill from your house. they are spaced exactly in one and a half mile increments. you have never dared to ask why.
“bless your heart,” an old woman says to your friend as you leave the restaurant. your friend pales, and you immediately move away from her and say goodbye. you know you will not see her again.
in a diner, a tourist asks for unsweet tea. the waitress screams and backs away. the others join in. you turn away, not wanting to see what happens next. not again.
it is thanksgiving, and the men over 25 in your family are going out to the woods to hunt. they cover themselves in camouflage and take their largest guns, and will not answer when you ask what they are hunting.
it’s spring. the pollen starts to appear. it covers the buildings, the cars, the roads. it has been three days since you could last leave your house. outside, the screaming starts. you do not know if the pollen traps you inside or protects you from the thing out there. you do not want to find out.
you’re on the porch alone, a glass of iced tea next to you. the air is still and heavy, and the mosquitos and gnats buzz. at least, that’s what you tell yourself is making that noise. the wind whispers through the trees. you are not alone. you are never alone.
Our school used to ask children who were late questions about maths, but those that they can’t answer yet. And then they made kids write down that they don’t know math. My 11yo classmate (who was always great at math) was crying after this.
Oh god, my elementary school was hell.
I remember this one music teacher who, for some reason, REALLY fucking hated autistic kids. I would know, because everyone in my weird therapy group was targeted while everyone else was ignored.
I saw her physically drag a kid out and threaten to get him suspended because he was to scared to dance solo in front of his peers.
There was also “lunch detention,” and they didn’t fuck around with that. They didn’t isolate the students like that, they fucking shoved them in a separate room and forbade them from sitting together or talking. They slowly brought in several teachers and eventually the principal, and they all, one by one, told us that we were horrible, reprehensible people who would never be successful.
And you wanna know HOW you got lunch detention? Not finishing your work on time, even if it was a one-time thing.
State sanctioned child abuse
‘Child abuse’
Y’all are insane.
It may not be child abuse but honestly, some of this shit is fucking insane and harmful to the students than it is helpful.
I mean.
It is abuse.
Emotional Abuse is a thing
fucking dumbasses thinking its not child abuse if you arent beating the child unconscious is why people continue to get away with child abuse
this is why old ppl never realize what they’re saying when they say “when i was your age i payed for my tuition all by myself” yeah well sorry susan my tuition is $35,000 a year and i make $7 an hour
Borne Ceaseless 