formerly librarianarchy

My dad is a science teacher at a public middle school. A month after turning 50, he suddenly learned he has stage 4 colon cancer that's metastasized to his liver and lungs. When I visited him in the hospital, he kept repeating the words "I'm scared. I don't want to die." I turned my head to the wall and cried.

My mom, an LVN, has been driving to his place often in order to care for him and empty his ileostomy bag, which he's still too scared to even look at. Not being able to go to the bathroom normally, and dealing with accidents where the bag of his own waste bursts and leaks onto him makes him feel humiliated and is causing him to become extremely depressed.

We're thankful that my mother a nurse, but she makes much less than he does as a teacher, and has been draining her retirement for his treatment. She's also had to take ubers lately to go see him because she can't drive at night, as she has a serious vision disability due to a genetic condition that eventually results in blindness.

Most of the money received is from my mom, other family members, and former students of my father. But what's maybe even more important than the amount received, is the number of people donating. I can see how hopeful and excited it makes my dad to see just 5 donations in a day from people he doesn't know.

When multiple strangers donate even just $5 each in a day, I can tell that it makes him even more excited than it does to see that same amount donated by one person in a day. (which is still very exciting!! One person who reblogged this donated $100, which was so generous that my parents were scratching their heads trying to figure out who they knew with the name Adrian. Thank you so much to that very kind person who doesn't even follow me 😭🤍🩷)

The other day, I asked mutuals to donate, and 5 people sent $5-$25, bringing the gfm up ~$80. My mom called my dad to let him know, "all those donations came from her freaks on tumblr!!" He thanked me over and over and was amazed when I told him this post was shared 500 times. He said, that's so many people! It really brightened his day so much.

I would appreciate it if you could take the time to open his page, even if you can only donate $1. For you, it may be just a small dent in our goal that won't make a difference. But to him, it shows that there's one more human out there who sees him, who's thinking about him, who knows his name, knows what he's going through, and wishes for him to recover. Even a dollar means the world to us!!!

Please, think about saving this post and donating $1, $5, or $10 this week. Share it online, with people you know irl, with anyone who could help. If you can't spare anything now, I'd appreciate if you could take the time to just pray for him and his recovery. You can send an ask to let me know if you'd like, as prayers are something that comfort my dad a great deal.

Thank you everyone who's supported us so far, I love you all dearly and I'm so incredibly grateful for your help.

$3,501/$12,000

So because parkour is such a ridiculously male dominated sport, the "correct technique" for a lot of these movements that you're taught when you become an instructor plays to a male body's strengths: upper body strength, higher center of gravity, etc.

She demolishes this course by moving in ways that make sense for her body. She doesn't muscle her way up to her over a wall, she just throws a leg up over the wall. She doesn't use upper body strength to do the salmon ladder, she uses her hips!!! And it's fucking incredible.

So many girls and young women walk away from parkour because every movement caters to the strengths of men, because doing what makes sense for their bodies is seen as "bad technique" to be trained away.

An abandoned theater in Rochester, New York. Formerly a pornographic theater, then just a facade after the Walgreens next door gutted it to use as a warehouse. The Walgreens with it's shampoo and baby formula and half of the store locked in cages; the contradictions stare into you. You go because it is the nearest pharmacy, close in walking distance for you and your disabled loved ones.

The Walgreens shuts down and it too, is now just a vacant facade, next to a vacant facade. You stare into the large windows meant to advertise it's contents, now only showcasing absence. A wide open space with torn up floors. You think about how perfect the location could be for low income housing, for squatting, for anything other than standing as a constant reminder of the city's failures to her people. The parking lot is empty, save for the occasional cop car, to ensure no one uses the lot or the building for anything at all. The cop ensures the space will stay as useless as himself.

They add letters to the theater's marquee; a reminder and encouragement of surveillance. "If you see something, say something. In progress call 911, over and done call 311." They board up the doors, ensuring that the space will stay in it's intended form: empty, useless, an eyesore that reminds everyone of their place. The freshly boarded up door has been emblazoned with a message from those who lack.

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