making eye contact with a hot stranger and knowing you will never see them again
On August 28, 1955—eight years before the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom—Emmett Till was murdered in Money, Mississippi for allegedly flirting with a white store clerk, Carolyn Bryant.
Bryant’s husband, Roy, and his half brother J. W. Milam kidnapped the 14-year-old Chicagoan from his great uncle’s home and beat him, shot him in the head, tied his body to a large metal cotton gin fan with barbed wire and dropped him into the Tallahatchie River. Three days later the teenager’s bloated, mutilated body was pulled from the river.
Till’s mother, Mamie, insisted on an open-casket funeral for her only son so that the world might see the brutality he suffered. Two Black publications, Jet and The Chicago Defender, ran pictures of Till’s casket.
Despite overwhelming evidence of their guilt, the two white men who killed Emmett Till were acquitted by an all-white jury. They went on to sell the story of murdering the teenager to Look magazine for $4,000.
The horrific death of Emmett Till is largely credited with intensifying the push for Black voter registration in Mississippi and serving as a catalyst for the civil rights movement in general.
My parents are both pastors and once I was fucking this one dude who’s dad was the pastor of the rival church and he whispered ‘talk biblical to me’ so i started reciting Psalms 23 and we ended up getting into a competition of who could recite the most bible versus before they cummed
you need less jesus
Rupi Kaur, you are your own soulmate
beyonce: yall ready to get grimey
if you dont have me on facebook you are probably not missing out on any posts but the comment section is important too lmao
I went to the Renaissance faire dressed as a warrior. I had a real sword with me, too. I was standing (in character) next to a sword-fighting ring, where kids of all ages got the chance to pick up a sword and challenge the champion. Some woman walks by, with her little girl. The girl starts walking towards the ring, saying she wants to fight. But the mom pulled her away hella sharply, and was like, “That’s for boys.” You don’t want to be a BOY, do you?” And the girl looked around and saw me. I think she thought I was a boy; I had my hair in a ponytail, and was wearing a hood. So she comes up to me and asks me, “Do you think girls can be fighters, too?” And her mom looks like she’s silently gloating. Like she thinks I’m going to say no. So I take off my hood, untie my hair so that it flows freely, and kneel before her. And I’m like, “Milady, anyone can be a fighter.” I swear, the look on that mother’s face made my day.