In fact, I fear I am a jack-of-all-trades.

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
boppinrobin autumnsky
symmetraismygf

the athiesm of women/people of color/lgbt people is absolutely different than the athiesm of cishet white men and i feel like people forget that a lot

paintmeahero

how?

owlsofstarlight

Don’t have spoons for long explanation - also this is only speaking for christianity - but religion has been a force of oppression for women, people of color, and lgbt+ people and the rejection of the religion is often coupled with the rejection of how religion treats them.

I’ll also say that abuse survivors are included in this because it is a reaction to and an attempt to reconcile how (christian) god would allow abuse to happen.

For straight white men atheism is usually rooted in intellectual and rational superiority complexes. It’s a “i am more rational and intelligent than you, how can you believe in something so obviously fake” thing as opposed to a reaction to a societal institution that upholds their oppression and abuse.

bairnsidhe

Women, PoC, Queer people, immigrants, trauma survivors, etc:  How can I believe in something that teaches you to be cruel?  How can I trust the books that tell me of peace and love, when you use your faith to hurt me?  How can a loving god allow [insert injustice of the day]?

White Men: I, as an Intellectual, eschew silly superstitions that say I might, someday, after my death, face one (1) single consequence.

boppinrobin neonoranges
damondauno

For the 75th anniversary production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma!, she loves her and he loves him!

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical Oklahoma! was revived by the Oregon Shakespeare Festival with LGBT+ Casting. “This revival made the musical’s primary romantic couple, Laurey and Curly, lesbians. It made the comic sidekick couple, Will Parker and Ado Annie, gay men (with “Annie” renamed “Andy”). It’s not just the two romantic couples in the show who have been reimagined. Laurey’s starchy yet sometimes playful Aunt Eller will be a transgender woman (portrayed by a transgender female performer). Ali Hakim will be a bisexual man who has a great fling with Ado Andy, but winds up married to a young bi woman named Gertie Cummings (who also fell in love with Curly). The director, Bill Rauch, felt Jud needed to stay a troubled straight man who, with no changes to the book, is angry that Laurey prefers a woman instead of him. “We wanted also to make sure that the world was not just LGBTQ-inclusive, but that it was clear that this was a community that was thriving, because there are straight allies. They are choosing in this small rural corner of Oklahoma to make a community that is inclusive and that is loving.””

Major changes to a show must be approved by the copyright holder. "Ted Chapin protects the catalog of Rodgers and Hammerstein with great ferocity, and at the same time, he understands the way great classics remain relevant is through thoughtful expansion and reinvention and experiment. So, I was really, really honored — not only to get the permission in general, but the fact that this is the 75th anniversary of ‘Oklahoma!‘ 

The story of the Tony and Pulitzer Prize winning Oklahoma! centers around Laurey and Curly, who are in love but are too stubborn to admit it to one another. A troubled farmhand, Jud, will do everything in his power to make Laurey fall in love with him instead. "I think this casting really excels in the love song ‘People Will Say We’re In Love,’ a beautiful love song that Laurey and Curly share, but their fear that people will say we’re in love takes on a completely different resonance and a completely different depth when it’s sung by two women, and the courage that it takes for these two people then, you know, finally when they sing, ‘Let people say we’re in love.’ The audience just cries and cheers, because it’s an affirmation in a completely different way.

Sources: x / x / x ll Official Production Page

I’m so sad I missed this I hope another company copies them so I can maybe see something like this again
cacchieressa pearwaldorf

The Loneliness of the Military Historian

notbecauseofvictories

by Margaret Atwood

Confess: it’s my profession
that alarms you.
This is why few people ask me to dinner,
though Lord knows I don’t go out of my way to be scary.
I wear dresses of sensible cut
and unalarming shades of beige,
I smell of lavender and go to the hairdresser’s:
no prophetess mane of mine,
complete with snakes, will frighten the youngsters.
If I roll my eyes and mutter,
if I clutch at my heart and scream in horror
like a third-rate actress chewing up a mad scene,
I do it in private and nobody sees
but the bathroom mirror.

In general I might agree with you:
women should not contemplate war,
should not weigh tactics impartially,
or evade the word enemy,
or view both sides and denounce nothing.
Women should march for peace,
or hand out white feathers to arouse bravery,
spit themselves on bayonets
to protect their babies,
whose skulls will be split anyway,
or, having been raped repeatedly,
hang themselves with their own hair.
These are the functions that inspire general comfort.
That, and the knitting of socks for the troops
and a sort of moral cheerleading.
Also: mourning the dead.
Sons, lovers, and so forth.
All the killed children.

Instead of this, I tell
what I hope will pass as truth.
A blunt thing, not lovely.
The truth is seldom welcome,
especially at dinner,
though I am good at what I do.
My trade is courage and atrocities.
I look at them and do not condemn.
I write things down the way they happened,
as near as can be remembered.
I don’t ask why, because it is mostly the same.
Wars happen because the ones who start them
think they can win.

In my dreams there is glamour.
The Vikings leave their fields
each year for a few months of killing and plunder,
much as the boys go hunting.
In real life they were farmers.
They come back loaded with splendour.
The Arabs ride against Crusaders
with scimitars that could sever
silk in the air.
A swift cut to the horse’s neck
and a hunk of armour crashes down
like a tower. Fire against metal.
A poet might say: romance against banality.
When awake, I know better.

Despite the propaganda, there are no monsters,
or none that can be finally buried.
Finish one off, and circumstances
and the radio create another.
Believe me: whole armies have prayed fervently
to God all night and meant it,
and been slaughtered anyway.
Brutality wins frequently,
and large outcomes have turned on the invention
of a mechanical device, viz. radar.
True, valour sometimes counts for something,
as at Thermopylae. Sometimes being right—
though ultimate virtue, by agreed tradition,
is decided by the winner.
Sometimes men throw themselves on grenades
and burst like paper bags of guts
to save their comrades.
I can admire that.
But rats and cholera have won many wars.
Those, and potatoes,
or the absence of them.
It’s no use pinning all those medals
across the chests of the dead.
Impressive, but I know too much.
Grand exploits merely depress me.

In the interests of research
I have walked on many battlefields
that once were liquid with pulped
men’s bodies and spangled with exploded
shells and splayed bone.
All of them have been green again
by the time I got there.
Each has inspired a few good quotes in its day.
Sad marble angels brood like hens
over the grassy nests where nothing hatches.
(The angels could just as well be described as vulgar
or pitiless, depending on camera angle.)
The word glory figures a lot on gateways.
Of course I pick a flower or two
from each, and press it in the hotel Bible
for a souvenir.
I’m just as human as you.

But it’s no use asking me for a final statement.
As I say, I deal in tactics.
Also statistics:
for every year of peace there have been four hundred
years of war.

poetry