I was gonna say pretty well exactly the same thing.  While I’m religious myself, I held a lot of hatred for Christianity in general for many, many years because of the hatred and loathing I experienced growing up in a Southern Baptist megachurch.  The sad thing is, most of the people doing it didn’t realize the damage they were inflicting.  Many of them honestly thought, or still think, they did what was right.  It’s taken many years, but I’ve forgiven the vast majority of those people (I unfortunately can’t say all, but the few remaining all have other blood on their hands and I haven’t been able to let that go).  

What people that spew these things seem to fail to realize is the complexity of human sexuality and gender.  Being LGBTQ+ (intentionally leaving out the A here because I’ve never heard a religious argument for or against, among other reasons - none of which are negative) is an inherent part of one’s being.  Whether people believe me or not (my mother sure doesn’t), it’s no different than being blond or right-handed; those are parts of myself that I can’t change.  Sure, I can dye my hair, but doesn’t cease making me a natural blond.  I could learn to write with my left hand, but that doesn’t mean my natural reflexes aren’t always gonna be with my right.  

I’ve even been told that “we all have our battles” like I’m an alcoholic or something.  And I can’t believe that a person would be made LGBTQ+ simply to live lives of denial and celibacy.  One day, I think people will understand that.  I just hope I’m still around to see it.  

As a sidenote, it irks me that religion automatically = Christianity in articles like these. 

amerains

yestermorning:

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•••

Wait, wait, wait, I have an amazing new idea. How about we fix the American school system.

Administration in my high school spent FAR more time policing what we were wearing than worrying about the fact that half of us couldn’t read, many of us were gunned down or lost loved ones to gun violence, a full 10% of my graduating class were struggling with our sexual orientations and unsupportive families, or the fact that many of us were doin good to have a roof over our heads.  But god forbid a girl distract a boy with her ankles. 

amerains

pridefulvanity:

next time someone tells you Muslim countries oppress women, let them know Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Turkey, Kosovo, Kyrgyzstan, and Senegal have all had female Presidents or Prime Ministers and 1/3rd of Egypt’s parliament is female but the US has yet to even have a female vice president and can’t say “vagina” when discussing female reproductive rights

vieux-yeux

vieux-yeux:

violenceandscience:

dauntlessdaughterofmary:

thepondsaregone:

thorinoakenbutt:

castielandpie:

poryqon:

it bothers me that Kansas and Arkansas are not pronounced the same

I’m from the UK and I have been pronouncing Arkansas as Ar-Kansas my whole life

For all my non-american friends, Arkansas is pronounced ark-an-saw

WHAT

if this bothers you look at towns in eastern iowa/western illinois you think you can pronounce them but you’re wrong

I’m sure there’s a ton of reasons why this is but growing up in Kansas all I ever heard was that we pronounced the Arkansas River exactly it as it was spelled because it had our state name in it.

BUT, if you’re not talking about the River and you just mean the state of Arkansas, we pronounce it like “Arr-can-saw.”

TO RECAP:
Arkansas River? Pronounced exactly as it’s spelled.
State of Arkansas? “Arr-can-saw.”

I also want to punt everyone who pronounces the S in Illinois.

The name of the river isn’t always pronounced that way.  Everyone I know in Arkansas, Mississippi, and Tennessee pronounces it just like the state: Ar-can-saw.  

That said, YES to the town names thing.  In Tennessee, we have a Milan, but if you pronounce it like the city in Italy, no one will have a clue what you’re talking about.  It’s pronounced “MYlin.”  

Also, large portions of Southeastern Missouri (the bootheel) pronounce the state “Missourah.”  With my mom’s family being from there, so do I.  Always a fun conversation. 

quadguyin-china
roachpatrol:

avatarjk137:

nooby-banana:

thesanityclause:

rinnysega:

vashappeninstyles:

the19thhistory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

roachpatrol:

avatarjk137:

nooby-banana:

thesanityclause:

rinnysega:

vashappeninstyles:

the19thhistory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

owning-my-truth
ollin-atl:

mamitachvla:

Memorize this fucking image and then think about how you’re treating us in land that was originally ours 
pinches gringos calling us illegals BYE

But what about the native nations that were here before our gente Mexicana claimed the land as Mexico? No one ever seems to want to talk about that anymore. You’re leaving out so many groups who took care of these lands before it was Mexico: Ohlone, Pomo, Miwok, Paiute, Diné, N’de, Tohono O’odham, Zuni, and so many others. Soy orgulloso de ser Mexicano, pero tambien hay que recordar que antes que estas tierras fueran Mexicanas there were already native peoples here. And let’s be honest, Mexico’s history of treatment of indigenous people isn’t pretty, even after its “independence”. We have to stop talking as if this land always belonged to Mexico people. These lands were indigenous before someone decided to plant the Mexican flag here(and later the U.S.) n claim ownership of these tierras.

ollin-atl:

mamitachvla:

Memorize this fucking image and then think about how you’re treating us in land that was originally ours 

pinches gringos calling us illegals BYE

But what about the native nations that were here before our gente Mexicana claimed the land as Mexico? No one ever seems to want to talk about that anymore. You’re leaving out so many groups who took care of these lands before it was Mexico: Ohlone, Pomo, Miwok, Paiute, Diné, N’de, Tohono O’odham, Zuni, and so many others. Soy orgulloso de ser Mexicano, pero tambien hay que recordar que antes que estas tierras fueran Mexicanas there were already native peoples here. And let’s be honest, Mexico’s history of treatment of indigenous people isn’t pretty, even after its “independence”. We have to stop talking as if this land always belonged to Mexico people. These lands were indigenous before someone decided to plant the Mexican flag here(and later the U.S.) n claim ownership of these tierras.