Taylor Swift has the right to be upset about being called a bitch by a misogynistic asshole, regardless of whether you feel like he told her during the phone call or not. At the end of the day, even if he did, it does not matter whether or not that realization struck her during the phone call or after it was aired to the entire world. She should be allowed, just like any of us, the ability to process her emotions at whatever pace she needs to process them.
Imagine all of the women (and men) who sit back silently, or over-enthusiastically, support an abuser in their life. “Maybe if I’m nice, he/she won’t be so mean to me. Maybe it will be different this time.” THINK ABOUT IT.
Kanye showed Taylor that it, in fact, wasn’t different this time. If Taylor feels violated in any way, at any time, who are we to judge that reaction?? And now we have the world trying to tell her to shut up because apparently she “condoned” the behavior by trying to be “cool” with him on the phone. Apparently she has waived all right to be offended/hurt/betrayed and is only allowed to experience those emotions within a certain window of acceptability.
Remind yourself of Kanye’s past behavior and how utterly abusive and damaging he has been, not just with regard to Taylor, but the terrible, degrading, abusive messages he has conveyed through his “art”. While you’re at it, you should also think long and hard about why Taylor might have wanted to “play nice” with him on the phone so that she would no longer be on the receiving end of his bullshit.
All that being said, you are lame af if you’re trying to judge her or police her emotional response (delayed or otherwise) for something that you could not fathom going through yourself.
“When the weather gets cold in a few months you will complain about it then, so enjoy this heat”
I will bitch about it now, I will bitch about it then, I will bitch about everything there is ever to bitch about, because guess what, Im a bitch
I feel like this needs to be Seussified.
I will bitch about heat. I will bitch about cold. I will bitch about sunshine, and about growing old.
I will bitch about everything, inside and out. You will find there is nothing I can’t bitch about.
i am laughing because i just started imagining a gordon ramsay-like feminist writer who, rather than helping to keep restaurants in business, goes to writers of television shows and films and chastises them for the sexism, racism, and general lack of diversity in their scripts
“YOUR SCRIPT IS AS WHITE AS THE PAPER IT’S PRINTED ON, YOU DONKEY.”
I realized why the idea of constellations has always swayed me. constellations are so very human.
our wonder of the stars is bone-sunk; we’ve been thinking and dreaming and watching and watching and watching since the beginning of time, and we looked for so long that we started making connections.
we played a celestial game of connect-the-dots; trying to find order in something so vast and trying to show that the stars are in everything and everything is in the stars.
we plucked pictures out of the infinite; there’s a dog, there’s a bear, there’s a lion, see? look, right there; the stars hold and mirror back everything.
but then it went a step further. instead of everyday things, we stopped picking out the cups and the bears, and instead we saw stories.
look, there’s Andromeda, chained to a rock and waiting to be devoured by Cetus. there’s Orion, and Hercules, and do you see Orpheus’ lyre? Zeus sent an eagle to retrieve it after Orpheus’ death and he placed it in the sky.
we did the most human thing imaginable: we wrote our stories into the stars. we filled the night sky; previously so vast, so unknowable; with our history. we forged connections to the stars and made it so our children will always know where they come from.
