The Little Match Seller
It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and darkness,a poor little boy, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true he had on a pair of slippers when he left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to his father, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the slippers he could not find, and a girl seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying that she could use it as a cradle, when she had children of her own. So the little boy went on with his little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron he carried a number of matched, and had a bundle of them in his hands. \no one had bought anything of him the whole day, nor had any one given him even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, he crept along; poor little child, he looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on his long, fair hair, which hung in curls on his shoulders, but he regarded them not.
"If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb."
LIttle Red Riding Hood
Once upon a time there was a sweet little boy. Everyone who saw him liked him, but most of all his grandfather, who did not know what to give the child next. Once he gave him a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited him so well, and he wanted to wear it all the time, he came to be known as Little Red Riding Hood, or Little Red. One day his father said to him: “Come Little Red. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandfather. He is sick and weak, and they will do him well. Mind your manners and give him my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your sick grandfather.”
The Norwegian Nobel Committee has decided that the Nobel Peace Prize for 2014 is to be awarded to Kailash Satyarthi and Malala Yousafzay for their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education.
BREAKING: Malala Yousafzai Wins Nobel Peace Prize
Malala, now 17, was shot in the head by a Taliban gunman two years ago in her home country of Pakistan after coming to prominence for her campaigning for education for girls.
She won for what the Nobel committee called her “heroic struggle” for girls’ right to an education.
She is the youngest ever winner of the prize. (x)
"We now know that telling writers to avoid the passive is bad advice. Linguistic research has shown that the passive construction has a number of indispensable functions because of the way it engages a reader’s attention and memory. A skilled writer should know what those functions are and push back against copy editors who, under the influence of grammatically naïve style guides, blue-pencil every passive construction they spot into an active one."
Harvard psycholinguist and cognitive scientist Steven Pinker on the art and science of beautiful writing
This is just the most recent of countless similar messages I have received because of my Wonder Woman costumes. I am so tired of white, white passing, and anti-Black people from any and all ethnic backgrounds and nationalities looking at me in my costume and telling me ‘You don’t deserve to wear that. Wonder Woman isn’t for Black people.’
It’s nothing to do with ‘accuracy’, it’s racism and I’m sick of it. In before ‘Oh but they just didn’t know about Nubia!!’ Please. You can try to use ignorance as an excuse but you have to ask yourself, even if these people don’t know there IS a Black Wonder Woman, what makes them feel like they have the right to tell Black people what they can and cannot do? What gives them this supposed authority over our imaginations and our desire to create? This mentality is the reason why so many potential cosplayers of color are afraid to even wear a costume.
I can and have sent these people panels, pages and issues of official DC comics full of images of Black Wonder Women (yes, there are more than one!) and it doesn’t matter to them. My skin is still too dark, my nose too broad, my hair too nappy, in their words, not mine. I have been told to my face that I disgrace the Wonder Woman costume with my Blackness. Many other people of color have gone through similar experiences. I know of only one way for us to combat this.
Create, design, display and wear whatever we damn well please. Let our differences enhance our art. Let every single privileged individual who thinks to question our rights to self expression choke on their words. Feel free to be yourself in whatever way you see fit. Do not let other people’s opinions of your race or ethnicity dictate your choices. Don’t let the way they see you have anything to do with who you are.
"The cost of daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse."
Ian McEwan, from Atonement (Jonathan Cape, 2001)