For those who are unaware, Joumana Kayrouz is a badass.Just a few days older than 50, Joumana Kayrouz may offer one of the most compelling portraits of the American Dream that southeast Michigan has to offer. In the midst of the 30-year Lebanese civil war, she arrived in the United States with $1,000 in her pocket, half a college education and limited English language skills. Since then, she has built the second-largest personal injury law firm in Michigan, employing about 70 people, including a large team of lawyers. It’s the only major personal injury law firm in Michigan owned by a woman, and wields an advertising budget of approximately $4.3 million dollars a year. She holds a degree in ethics from Yale University, speaks four languages — English, Arabic, French and Italian, and is flawless in all but the last — and metro Detroiters can see her face on more than 750 billboards and buses, the wallpaper of the city.
She is probably also the most visible Arab-American in southeast Michigan — an area of the world with one of the largest Arab populations outside the Middle East. She’s been a trailblazer in her profession, one traditionally dominated by white Jewish men, and to many who know her, she’s a quiet feminist icon. She serves as a cultural ambassador between Lebanon and the United States, and is an enormous donor to progressive politicians, especially those who advocate for the rights of women. She gives approximately 20 percent of her wealth to charity, tithing in accordance to her profoundly felt religion, and serves as a role model to many in the legal profession and the immigrant and Arab-American communities in Detroit.
Totally forgot to post the link to the rest of the story earlier.
You think you’re going to be hip and teen forever and then suddenly you find yourself drinking red wine and playing board games and lusting after men with beards
Mermaid in your cup of hot chocolate. Mermaid in your tea cup. Mermaid in your coffee cup. Tiny mermaids helping you have the best hot beverage.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s public relations department decides to take nice photos of the Avengers so that they can send them to the media whenever the team goes public. They somehow manage to convince Thor to put on normal clothes and get through the photoshoots pretty quickly.
Except Tony wouldn’t stop preening and duck facing. They eventually gave up and used the “best” one. To this day, Tony still gets the stink eye from the head of PR.
I also accept this headcanon
People criticizing TFIOS because Gus sounds pretentious???
that was the point???
like literally at his fake funeral his best friend talks about how fucking pretentious he is and how annoying it was???
It was one of his character flaws? He was deliberately written that way?
You’re not being clever or critical by pointing it out, you are literally stating a fact about the novel that the author deliberately wrote
#this has actually been a very amusing blow up for me#maybe i’s because i hear characters’ voices in my head when i read things?#because lol yeah he’s a pretentious ass#that’s the point?#i don’t#what
This scene was actually when I went from feeling more or less neutral on Joan to actively disliking her.
Because wow, that was patronizing.
I loved that scene in Elementary.
1) Firstly, because it immediately deconstructs the “hero throws and breaks something in frustration” cliche (Sherlock throwing a glass slide in HoB, anyone?) it might even be seen as a parody of that cliche.
2) Secondly, because the dynamic is different between a man and a woman than it would be between two women or two men, the visual of a man smashing something in a temper in front of a woman can be taken as threatening or borderline abusive. Joan Watson immediately shows that she is not intimidated by Holmes’ behavior.
3) Lastly? One of the running themes of Elementary is the deconstruction of Sherlock Holmes as the solitary, antisocial genius, and his becoming a member of a community. Holmes’ gifts are given their due respect, but no one in Elementary plays the game of Because Sherlock Holmes is a Bloody Genius He Can Do Whatever He Wants So There. When Sherlock goes after Moriarty (“M”), Captain Gregson suspends him. When Sherlock doesn’t want to talk about his addiction, Alfredo says “You’ve got to get over yourself.” And when Sherlock behaves like a spoiled child, Joan tells him “Use your words.”
You see Joan patronizing Sherlock. I see a member of Sherlock’s community teaching him how to behave like an adult member of that community.fuck yes elementary if you don't like Joan I don't like you (okay probably not really but I want a notarized list of reasons you don't like her and then we'll see)
When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend."
— By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
When I thought of all the ways my life could go wrong, reading fanfiction about pregnant men at three in the morning was not on the top of my list
To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:
Let’s play a game.
Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.
you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, neverYou know that I do. also What A Beautiful Man WHY IS HE SO FUCKING PRETTY How Do you Exist? LOOK AT THESE FLUFFY MOFOS because i love them and want to see them I hate it and I wish I never had to think about it again