This is Maria Christian, my former cast director at the Michigan Renaissance Festival as her character, Princess Isaade M’boukou. Maria’s been designing and wearing African-Elizabethan fusion garb to MiRF for decades, so she has a few different gowns and headpieces in rotation. In addition to her duties keeping the stage acts organized, as Isaade she acts as an impresario at the feasts, talks about West African traditions and folklore, and is much needed and treasured PoC representation on the cast.
I go to the Michigan RenFest every year and I remember see this woman’s amazing dresses. Fun fact, we also have The Nun, who roams the grounds in a period habit trying to save souls and punishing nonbelievers. She’s also a very awesome black woman.
That sounds amazing and terrifying.
This. Is. SOOOOOOOOOOOOO. COOL!
Just wanted to remind everyone that I also take Garb submissions!
Reblog this forever. I’ll never forget how many of my students in the school I worked in with a 100% free and reduced lunch rate lived in residential motels and how many of them relied on the school to get breakfast and lunch and how often those were their only meals for the day.
Or how my friends who have older cars have to spend so much money repairing them but an older car was all they could afford in the first place.
And how you literally have no safety net because if you already fixed one thing on your car and something else goes a week later, you’ve already spent the little bit of buffer you saved up.
“The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.
Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.
But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.
This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socioeconomic unfairness.”
As I’m walking through Target with my little sister, the kid somehow manages to convince me to take a trip down the doll aisle. I know the type - brands that preach diversity through displays of nine different variations of white and maybe a black girl if you’re lucky enough. What I instead found as soon as I turned into the aisle were these two boxes.
The girl on the left is Shola, an Afghani girl from Kabul with war-torn eyes. Her biography on the inside flap tells us that “her country has been at war since before she was born”, and all she has left of her family is her older sister. They’re part of a circus, the one source of light in their lives, and they read the Qur’an. She wears a hijab.
The girl on the right is Nahji, a ten-year-old Indian girl from Assam, where “young girls are forced to work and get married at a very early age”. Nahji is smart, admirable, extremely studious. She teaches her fellow girls to believe in themselves. In the left side of her nose, as tradition mandates, she has a piercing. On her right hand is a henna tattoo.
As a Pakistani girl growing up in post-9/11 America, this is so important to me. The closest thing we had to these back in my day were “customizable” American Girl dolls, who were very strictly white or black. My eyes are green, my hair was black, and my skin is brown, and I couldn’t find my reflection in any of those girls. Yet I settled, just like I settled for the terrorist jokes boys would throw at me, like I settled for the butchered pronunciations of names of mine and my friends’ countries. I settled for a white doll, who at least had my eyes if nothing else, and I named her Rabeea and loved her. But I still couldn’t completely connect to her.
My little sister, who had been the one to push me down the aisle in the first place, stopped to stare with me at the girls. And then the words, “Maybe they can be my American Girls,” slipped out of her mouth. This young girl, barely represented in today’s society, finally found a doll that looks like her, that wears the weird headscarf that her grandma does and still manages to look beautiful.
I turned the dolls’ boxes around and snapped a picture of the back of Nahji’s. There are more that I didn’t see in the store; a Belarusian, an Ethiopian, a Brazilian, a Laotian, a Native American, a Mexican. And more.
These are Hearts 4 Hearts dolls, and while they haven’t yet reached all parts of the world (I think they have yet to come out with an East Asian girl), they need all the support they can get so we can have a beautiful doll for every beautiful young girl, so we can give them what our generation never had.
Please don’t let this die. If you know a young girl, get her one. I know I’m buying Shola and Nahji for my little sister’s next birthday, because she needs a doll with beautiful brown skin like hers, a doll who wears a hijab like our older sister, a doll who wears real henna, not the blue shit white girls get at the beach.
The Hearts 4 Hearts girls are so important. Don’t overlook them. Don’t underestimate them. These can be the future if we let them.
You can read more about the dolls here: http://www.playmatestoys.com/brands/hearts-for-hearts-girls
Marriage equality is cool and all, but uh…
Trickle down equality, yo!
i want queer community events that dont revolve around alcohol or sex or cis gay men or drag queens thanks !
shoutout to people working weekends and overnights and overtime, people working in hospitality and retail and food service, who are sacrificing time with their loved ones, so fuckers with weekday desk jobs get to live comfortably with…
"This literally does not happen"
Ive worked weekends and most nights for the past 8 years, and this past christmas was the first in that time that I was off and got to spend it with family. Fuck off.
That asshole does realize that places are open on holidays and weekends. Do they think that ghosts run the damn registers??
Publishing as a tip for anyone looking to save some money! That actually sounds like it might be easier than making it with the whole cashews, I want to try this!
self diagnosing is so hard because everytime you’re like “maybe I am mentally ill” theres also a big part of you going “nah you’re probably just a naturally lazy/nasty/disgusting/useless person trying to find an excuse for your behavior” because of the institutionalized ableism that runs through everything
So go to the doctor and get an actual diagnosis?
Why don’t poor people just buy more money?
IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM AW MAN