BL stand for Bara Lesbianism -256

I realised I never did a proper introduction to this blog !

Call me Puss or Pussy ! Or Machatte even.

The goal of this blog is to praise and glorify women, it's why I tend to not post or repost things with men . It's still mainly my playpen where I post a bit of everything, I try to keep it positive, and dedicate it for my love of rule 63 stuff, as it's my passion to draw such art since I was a little girl, and become almost a political statement to me, " if there is no women in there I'll gender-bend in women ! ".

I'll got a depressed and busy from college, so it made my interest for most hobbies I have, and this blog decline... I now hope to find the time and energy to revive it. ( ImnotdepressedImnotdepressesdImnotdepressed)

As in for a hobby/ content update, confronted by yuppies to be at college, I had to broaden my motorsport horizon to F1, which is a pretty interesting sausage fest I guess. I also took interest more into my local wrestling scene as I'm poor and WWE really fucked up w John Cena to a ewww point, so you might see a bit of that !

Here is the key themes of this blog :

💖🩷♀️lesbian and women

💖🩷rule 63

💖🩷fashion

💖🩷 wrestling

💖🩷 bodybuilding

🌸♂️ gachimuchi

💖🩷 F1

💖🩷 motorsport

💖🩷 car culture

💖🩷 dance and dance music

💖🩷 sad troglodyke posting ( kept to a minimum )

It's all there to it !!

The only way I see myself able to put in perspective the impact of this woman, the first female director nominated for an Oscar in animation ( in 2007 by the way … ) and much more, is to highlight it through my own experience of her work through my life. Rest In Power Marjane, PUNK IS NOT DED ! ♥️🖤🇮🇷

As a young girl I remember my mom showing me the Persepolis movie, asking me if I wanted to watch it alone, and as she was checking on me later to be sure it wasn't too much of a hard watch for my age I remember her letting out a few tears during one of the scene.

I told her I was ok and she could leave me alone watching it. The tears of my mother, the tears of a woman was too much for me too handle.

Now I am the woman crying. Crying for Marjane who died of sadness, heart broken. For her life long love passing away and one can only assume for the state of her homeland of Iran worsening by the day.

As a teen I was proud that Persepolis is part of the french class program in middle school, and to prepare myself for it I dedicated the begining of a school year lunch break to read the big comic book of it at the school library. I laughed and I hold up tears as I read it, this was the story of a rebellious girl so similar to the attitude of the women of my family yet she was born so far away in the heart of the crumbling Persian empire.

I can't count the number of time I quoted Persepolis, the "don't look at my ass then " especially, in my case it was banter with my family while for her it was resisting to the radical religious regime. And yet I still could relate to the freedom in clothing choices boy had versus girl at school, even if our situations were totally different.

After Marjane's passing, I watched Persepolis ounce again with foreign female friends, who resonated with it, whichever country we are from, of whatever age or status we are of, all women can relate to this story, may it be a little or a lot. As a french woman born after the fall of the Shah, Iran is synonymous with Marjane Satrapi. Synonymous with the DVD box throning proudly on my mom's book shelf, with the turquoise blue of the delicate paper cut-out of the sleeve adorned with the profil of Marjane. An item I saw so often it gained a mundain quality in my memory, but it's none of that, and should not be taken for granted. It's a cry that show the struggle, the pride and the injustices the Iranian people faced, especially the women as it's how so relevant today

Marjane headed a collaborative comic book compilation as the Women, life freedom rose, and she fought with local women for the pleas of Iranian women back home.

She never stop fighting for her sisters, Until her heart was too heavy.

I went to her Funeral ceremony, under the heavy sun, I spoke with many Iranian women, of all age and social status. We shouted fist in the air and bumping our chest, united for Marjane. Her mom gave one of the most beautiful speech, and as I saw her walk toward the coffin of her daughter before it got transported to her grave site.

In that moment I understood what being a woman is. Re watching Persepolis made me understand more of Marjane's struggle as an adult, it than I could as a girl. Seeing the weight of the death of her daughter put on a Mother, truly made me understand the fear, and weight of being the former, what it put on our mother, and what will be my fears if I one day become a mother myself, what the deepest gut feelings are, the incredible highs but the fear of the lowest lows. This day I was certain I was no more a girl, I was a woman for sure.

Thank you Marjane, for being such a Woman. I could not be the woman I am now without you, and since your passing I took even more pride defending it, defending myself, knowing fully who fought for me before, and the girls after me who I'm fighting for now 💖🩷

Ps: Also to all the ones I see online before and even more since her death, bad mouthing huffing their own farts so hard their lost in a fog of theory. I see them, left grasping at straw to tarnish her legacy, nitpicking corn out of her shit and all weekly to establish their ideological purity, get lost fuckers. Women number one ! ( screamed like Iron sheikh's Iran number one obviously ) and PUNK IS NOT DED