so 2 years later I feel the exact same, I’m on medication now and I feel the same. The family situation is the same, the subtle and sometimes not so subtle abuse is the same. Im 22 too and have never lived away from them (they still get siblings to ‘babysit’ me when their in pak), never had a proper non part time job in the field i want and have never been in a relationship.

It’s been so long I wonder if theres any point in trying anymore. My mental state is getting worse and the close friends I did have for a couple of months..we arent in much contact anymore. It feels impossible to leave, they infantilise me to the point of embarrassment even if it’s a joke, yet want to me grow up get a job while cooking/cleaning and looking after/doting on my parents for my entire life until they pass away (Astagfirullah). And the hardest part is the constant berating and trying to take my meds away from me. I’m not in control of my own body, how I look, how I act, how I dress, who I talk to, where I go or what I eat.

And I can’t even stay mad because it takes too much emotional energy from me, all I do is cry. Dads nice to me and in my heart I want to forgive him for what he did. For mum I think after all these years of it there will always be a hatred for her deep down no matter how minute. I don’t like to be around any of them.

I have to remind myself even if everything was always fine It isn’t a horrendous act for me to want to move out. It will come with a lot of fighting but it’s not in the wrong. I can’t waste my life here pretending every day. How long can I hide my art? my interests? my sexuality? it can’t last forever. Everyday I hate my nose, my face and my body with the weight I’ve gained more and more. I want to be loved by someone but the fear it so ridiculously numbing I back out and can’t reply to anyone. I constantly blame myself and feel anyone hates me. I can’t even do the final step in applying for therapy because everyone’s always snooping, there is nowhere to talk the truth. I don’t know how long I can hold on for or if I will even make it to 23, I really can’t see any future for me, I’ve long forgotten any big dreams I had in the past. I just want to sleep and never wake up. I’ll have to see how it goes…

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uunsi:

420paki:

to be clear, anger about the british taking prized jewels from punjab and then refusing to give them back all these years later isn’t JUST about the damn jewels.

egyptian activists lobbying for ancient artifacts to be returned to egypt from france and all other stretches of the world isn’t just about the sentiment.

those things were taken forcibly from a people in a dehumanizing way, and a refusal to return them reinforces the idea that those who colonized still hold some form of power over those who they colonized. they are pieces of history that were taken with little to no regard of the people whose history they represented

remember that one time david cameron said "If you say yes to one you suddenly find the British Museum would be empty” when talking about the kohinoor diamond? the british devoted entire museums and fields of study based off their theft of colonized people. 

the people who want us to get over colonization the most refuse to let go of the emblems of its legacy :)

marxistbarbie:

marxistbarbie:

marxistbarbie:

being a brown girl and growing up w white friends was so painful, when i have a daughter im going to do everything i can to make sure she grows up with other brown girls 

there’s so much shame and humiliation in being a brown teenager surrounded by white girls. when i went through puberty it wasnt same as my friends

like they just…..grew, they got breasts and hips and kept it moving. i got facial hair before any of the boys we knew. my body hair was (and is still) dark, thick, prominent and all over. 

my closest friend saw my pubic hair in the girls changing room and told the entire school about it. someone asked me if i was secretly a man. i went home that day, my 12th birthday, and held back tears as my family cut my cake. i leaned too far over my work in art class causing my shirt to hitch up and my back to be exposed, i didn’t notice until the laughter of the group of boys behind me was loud enough. 

there’s so much shame in being brown and having body hair. there’s so much self-hatred towards the natural state of our bodies. so when i see white women (whose bodies mine has always been dichotomised against) partaking in body hair activism that doesn’t acknowledge this, when i see those tiny tufts of wispy thin blonde armpit hair dyed bright pastel colours, i feel no empowerment and no liberation - just the pain i’ve always felt within my own natural body. 

excima:

tinyrats:

me when my straight girl friends show me pictures of their ugly boyfriends expecting me as a gay woman to somehow validate their bad tastes

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did someone draw his arm?…