Tupac died at 25. If Malcolm X died at 25 he would have been a street hustler named Detroit Red. If Martin Luther King died at 25 he would’ve been known as a local baptist preacher. And if I had died at 25 I would’ve been known as a struggling musician. Only a sliver of my life’s potential.

Quincy Jones (via sunflobrwn)

this is important

(via sugeknights)

Im 25. I’d just be known as a loud mouthed hussy

(via chillona)

I’m 25 and I’m just Jamal.

(via thedrunkenenigma)
socialjusticekoolaid:

I don’t care what someone else tries to tell you, your retweeting and reblogging matters. You’ve made a difference in Ferguson, in New York, in LA, and around the world by keeping these stories boosted and present. Don’t stop, ever. #staywoke #farfromover
vicemag:

Why Did a Black Man Get Shot and Killed by Police in Walmart for Carrying an Unloaded Air Rifle in an Open Carry State?
On Wednesday, prosecutors released security footage from the Beavercreek, Ohio, Walmart where 22-year-old John Crawford III was fatally shot by police on August 5. Also on Wednesday, a grand jury decided not to bring charges against Sean Williams, the officer who killed Crawford. This all seems depressingly normal: A black man is dead for little or no reason, everyone agrees it’s a very, very sad thing, and you can’t help but think that he wouldn’t be dead if he were white.

The August 5 incident began when Crawford picked up an air rifle in the store and aimlessly fiddled with it as he spoke on a cell phone to his girlfriend. Unbeknownst to him, police officers Sean Williams David M. Darkow were on the scene after responding to a call from a man named Ronald Ritchie, who told 9-1-1 a black man was waving a gun and pointing it at children. The full surveillance footage does not match up with that account, and Ritchie has now changed his story. The final two minutes of footage show Crawford being seemingly unaware that police were there, as he chats on his phone. And police in turn gave him no time at all to drop the rifle before shooting. Crawford’s last words—heard over the phone by his girlfriend—were “It’s not real!”
Currently, Crawford’s death is being treated as a tragedy by the authorities, but a mostly unavoidable one. According to the grand jury the cops responded appropriately considering what they heard from dispatch—who, Williams’s report says, told them that Crawford was waving around a real gun. Even if Crawford failed to obey their “repeated commands” to drop the weapon, however, the surveillance footage shows that he didn’t have any time to do so before the cops opened up.
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I was quiet, but I was not blind.

— (via namelessjessi)

fail splendidly. fail comfortably. use failure as a redirect. not as a measure of your worth or value. fail beautifully.

— nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)

hersheywrites:

cumgirl1:

"im tired of seeing posts about Ferguson" yeah well im tired of white cops killing black people so

image

ladytatyana:

Kay koule twompe soley soley men li pa twompe lapli
nedahoyin:

tastefullyoffensive:

[autumnx]

LOL..
youngblackandvegan:

blkqueenish:

Natural hair x Black love

glory

ass-butt-fallen-angel:

stiles2014:

i hate it when my “friends” just dismiss something i’m really passionate about like “oh you’re talking about that again” like shut up don’t ruin this for me do you know how many times i’ve pretended to care or even genuinely tried to get interested in what you like????? the least you could do is fake it rather than making me feel like a burden

This is one of the most hurtful things friends do

It’s easy to love someone when they’re happy. What’s hard is loving someone when they’re crying on the bathroom floor at 2am because everything came crashing down at once.

— midnight thoughts (sometimes I’m a mess)

It doesn’t interest me… what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me… how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me… what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know… if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know… if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me.. if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know… if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know… if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, Yes.

It doesn’t interest me… to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done…

It doesn’t interest me… who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me..where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know… if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.