Sacada por Flor Daniel En la foto: Emi Voelklein
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies

oozey mess
Not today Justin
YOU ARE THE REASON
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
KIROKAZE
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
Game of Thrones Daily

Show & Tell
Fai_Ryy

roma★
Noah Kahan
cherry valley forever
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
🪼

titsay
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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@polyyin
Sacada por Flor Daniel En la foto: Emi Voelklein

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bitch if you think african dictators wouldn't wipe their asses with any returned ancient artefact or sell it to the Chinese and keep the money for themselves, you're out of your mind. colonial theft was a terrible thing, but giving those objects back would ensure they're destroyed and lost forever. many Western museums fund the training of archaeologists in Africa and elsewhere - that's the only reparation that makes sense.
Wow, my first anon hate! This means I’m starting to make it big, right?
So many racist assumptions here I don’t know where to begin. Let’s list them, shall we?
Colonialism is over
All of Africa is a war zone
Western-taught academia is necessary for archeology
Non-Western countries are incapable of being responsible
Non-Western countries are only interested in money and have no desire to connect with their heritage
Only the Chinese buy black market artifacts
I think I got most of them? Feel free to point out any additional racism I missed.
Now, the only reason I am not just ignoring this is because this does bring up complex, important issues that many people genuinely do not have a complete knowledge or understanding of. I did not want to get too in-depth when I made my original post, but I have decided that at this point I do not care how lengthy this ends up being. So I am going to address those issues right here and now. Namely, the belief that Western countries should hold onto objects for the sake of preserving them and how it is thinly veiled racism.
To begin, I would recommend watching Chimamanda Adichie’s TED Talk, The Dangers Of A Single Story. It’s making big waves in the academic community as it clearly articulates to a general audience how our views of the wider world are shaped by narratives we are told, rather than the lived realities people experience.
You imply that the entire continent of Africa is ruled by corruption. Firstly, it’s not. Here’s a few pictures of modern day Africa:
Nairobi, Kenya (x)
Gaborone, Botswana (x)
Porto-Novo Benin (x)
They look like real hives of scum and villainy, the lot of them.
These people have a stable government. Artifacts would be just as safe here as anywhere else.
It’s true that not all regions of Africa have political stability. But those issues are the legacy of colonialism. People in Africa (and other parts of the world) had stable societies for thousands of years before Europeans came along and destroyed any semblance of Native political structure. And yes, while societies rose and fell, and artifacts didn’t always survive, it was only 75 years ago when WWII almost caused the complete collapse of European society. Plenty of incredibly important artifacts were lost because of it, yet for some reason I don’t see anyone arguing that Western museums aren’t “safe” enough for artifacts.
Here’s a comparison: Let’s say you have a priceless family heirloom, passed down for generations. It has important cultural significance, and you could sell it for a high price to private collectors (which, according to our current laws, you would be within your right to do so). You keep it, not only because it’s valuable, but because it has a special meaning to you. Now imagine someone broke into your house and stole that heirloom and put it in a museum. You know exactly the person who stole it, and you have ample evidence of how they violated your rights. So you go the court and present your evidence and ask if you could have your heirloom back. But now the court says that no, you can’t have it back, because clearly you weren’t responsible enough to prevent it from being stolen in the first place. Plus, the court argues that it’s an important piece of art and shouldn’t be hidden away in your house. Maybe, just maybe, if you build a fancy glass case for it and allow people to come see it they will give it back. But you don’t have the money to build the case because when they broke into your house they stole all your money too. You can’t even go see your family heirloom in the museum; the entrance fee is too high. And funny enough, you might have considered donating that heirloom to the museum eventually. If the museum had waited, and asked politely, and offered to let you help tell your family’s story with that heirloom, all parties might have been happy. But I’m willing to bet that now you’re not really feeling in a charitable mood.
The point of all this is, and I can’t emphasize this enough, Western museums do not have the right to dictate what other cultures do with their artifacts. We lost that right when we took them by force.
Sometimes an Indigenous community will be the bigger person. They’ll say hey, we don’t have the resources right now to preserve our history in the way we want to, since you took all economic power from us as well. Please keep our artifacts safe until we’re able to. Sometimes, they decide to build bridges and give a museum a selection of artifacts they want to be displayed. But whether or not they do this is entirely up to them.
Oh, and lastly, if you think it’s only the Chinese who buy black market artifacts and help keep colonialism alive, check out the time when the American company Hobby Lobby helped fund Islamic extremist groups by buying black market artifacts. Or if you want something more recent, here’s a guy who stole from Native gravesites for his personal collection.
Have any other arguments? Feel free to bring them up. I’d love to discuss them with you. Try to be less defensive, it’ll help your case. And this time, try not to use anon. I can’t really take you seriously this way.
i’m very tired, you guys realize poor people are allowed to spend money on items that aren’t just needed for survival, right? you guys know poor people can save 10 dollars every paycheck or something so they can buy a video game or a tattoo or go to a fancy restaurant, right? you realize poor people don’t have to act like 16th century peasants in order to be considered poor and need money? like you do know poor people are allowed to fucking enjoy things, don’t you?
this should be the most reblogged post on tumblr before it dies

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Cuando leí el veredicto del juicio por el crimen de Lucía Pérez me sentí tan mal que corrí al baño porque pensé que iba a vomitar.
No necesitaba que me contaran el caso, lo recordaba perfectamente. Lucía tenía 16 años. La habían drogado, violado y asesinado. Tres hombres de 25, 43 y 61 años la dejaron sin vida frente a una salita. Se decía que había muerto porque su cuerpo no aguantó el dolor.
Recuerdo también que nos afectó tanto que se convocó el 19 de octubre al primer paro de mujeres (hecho que se reflejaría globalmente el 8 de marzo del año siguiente). Ese día ninguna de mis profesoras fue a dar clases a la universidad. Llovía a cántaros y cientos de mujeres se agruparon en silencio frente al congreso. Fue una movilización casi espontánea, nacida del enojo, indignación y tristeza que sentíamos. La historia de Lucía nos dolía en el alma y en todo el cuerpo.
Esto fue en el 2016. Hoy terminó el juicio y el resultado fue el siguiente: Todos absueltos, ningún culpable. Para los jueces no hubo delito. Sólo se condenó a dos de los hombres por tenencia de drogas.
Cómo este caso hay muchos, y en todas partes del mundo. Para nosotras no hay justicia.
Hoy estamos más juntas que nunca. No vamos a parar hasta cambiarlo todo porque si nuestras vidas no valen nada, no tenemos nada que perder.
Me indigna la sociedad en la que vivimos. Qué impotencia!!!😣
Como puede ser posible tanta injusticia!!!
Me, in tears, halfway through writing a 300 word essay: I can’t do this anymore
Person on A03 who’s writing for fun:
Inconvenient Truth: these are the same person
STOP MAKING EVERYTHING MULTIPLAYER I DON’T HAVE FRIENDS YOU ASSHOLES
@studentlifeproblems

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thinking in your target language: coherent and eloquent sentences. you use every verb tense perfectly, the grammatical genders are all correct, and your intonation is like a native speaker’s.
actually speaking your target language:
Paralelas.
Que hubiese dicho frases, palabras tejidas con otras, todas juntas, abrigándote con el pullover de mi buena dicción y mi carisma y mi guitarreo clásico de cuerdas un poquito desafinadas de rendición y otro poquito el desgaste de este sudor que no me deja en paz los dedos. Sí, una frase tras otra, cataplum y ahora no te podés ir porque la magia idiomática te pega a mi suelo y ya está, dame un beso, lo arreglamos.
Que te hubiese mirado otra vez con los mismos ojos con los que te vi detrás de no sé cuántas copas del vino más barato que me cabía en la billetera y lo largué, acodada en la cresta de la ola, con esa cortina de humo de cigarrillo haciéndome de cobertura y la poca luz que te caía, yo, tenía que decir algo.
Tenía que tenerte. Así, porque en ese entonces, yo todavía creía que tener era un verbo y no esta cuestión occidental toda borroneada ya de tetas en las revistas y descuentos del treinta por ciento.
Cómo te me reíste en la cara, una bofetada espléndida, toda viva, toda vos. Que mala eras, dios. Yo lo veía, vos me lo decías y te reías y me seguías tirando encima el vino y te caías y yo pensaba en la camisa que estaba estropeando hasta lo irrecuperable y que me arrancaste después con rabia, con tanta rabia que para treparte me hiciste pelear como un perro en celo, me fajaste, y me volviste a fajar y cuando se acabó yo solo te miraba porque en mi vida, te lo juro por dios, nadie me había fajado con tantas ganas y con tanto amor.
Hay como setenta escenas más, todas las mismas, robando carteles en la calle, forreándonos en cada esquina, amenazando en todos los muelles y al final no había forma de dejarnos, no la había.
Está la última botella también, y yo queriendo hacer de caballero de reluciente armadura y dos gorilas haciéndome probar el suelo a las cuatro de la mañana y tus dedos sobre un pañuelo sobre mi cara. Vale la pena que me la rompan por una botella de Blue Curaçao, tan contenta estabas con los labios teñidos de granadina viéndome medio muerta.
La última vez que me acordé, fue gritando tu nombre con la cabeza metida entre las rejas inservibles de esa ventana, ese patio tan triste que teníamos, esa escalera a un techo de dos por dos donde nos enroscamos en una manta la segunda noche. Ahí, yo creo que grité, pero es probable que estuviese llorando la bronca de la camisa, de los carteles, de las pastillas, de los licores, del vino barato y de cada cagada a palos.
Y después hice de cuenta que nunca te había tenido. Y esquivé cada poste que vaciamos, cada camino que nos sabíamos, cada antro, cada plaza. Hasta el techo, todo, absolutamente todo.
No te vi nunca más.
Estuve en diez ciudades después de la tuya. En no sé cuántas camas, en antros también, pero nunca volví a robar una botella ni a tener que bajar una puerta a patadas porque del otro lado una bolsa de pastillitas y vos jugando a la payana hasta sacarme de quicio. No volví a tapar cada ventana de la casa con frazadas clavadas a las paredes porque nadie, nunca más en mi vida, me pidió llorando que no deje que salga el sol.
Una vez tu voz al teléfono, toda esa angustia y que tu nuevo novio no había pateado la puerta del baño hasta desencajarla porque la casa la tenía toda recién pintada y vos habías pasado no sé cuántas horas gritándole mi nombre, a tu novio, que nunca tuvo las pelotas para reventar la puerta a patadas. Pero yo ya estaba lejos. Me habías tirado tan lejos, que nunca más supe cómo volver.
“So what do you all bring to the team?”
“I can fly.”
“I shoot lasers.”
“I make good life decisions.”
“That’s not really a super –”
“No, trust us, she’s our most important member.”
—Un kilo de morrones por favor.
—¿Un kilo?
—Sí, un kilo dije.

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Artist removes 1 inch off the peak of England’s highest mountain; Brits want their inch back.
It is still England’s highest mountain, but Scafell Pike is ever so slightly smaller now after an artist stole the top inch of the summit to display in a gallery.
Oscar Santillan, 34, was accused of vandalism after removing the stone pinnacle of the 3,209ft Lake District peak for an exhibition in London.
Ian Stephens, managing director of Cumbria Tourism, said: “This is taking the mickey and we want the top of our mountain back.”
I love art
This is the funniest thing I have ever seen
what r they going to do just glue it back on
Hope we’re all appreciating the irony in the British saying “give us our land back!”
# does anyone get a little bit of a gay vibe?
When you don’t understand her but you’re already thinking about how many dogs you’ll have when you’re married