Leandra Medine x thecoveteur
Vogue 1959
I was shopping with my family yesterday and as I wandered away from my parents, browsing the racks of clothing, a man pushing a stroller, with his wife not too far away, looked me up and down and told me to cover my hair. Granted, I was in Saudi Arabia and the man was wearing traditional Saudi dress, his wife wearing a niqab. I don’t want this post to sound like I am anti-Saudi, anti-tradition and/or opposed to niqab; that is definitely not the case. I am; however, opposed to another individual telling me how to dress. I understand that I’m in a conservative Muslim country and I must obey the rules; I happily wear the abaya. But I am not going to cover my hair. And this is not anti-Muslim sentiment, because I am Muslim and a proud one at that. I am against someone telling me what to do and how I should act, to do something I don’t yet feel ready for and to judge my faith and belief system based on how I look. It was something in that man’s look that made me feel a mix of emotions: hurt, shock, anger and then disgust. He was judging me based on how I looked and though I do not know what conclusions that man came to, I could tell they were unpleasant.
When I hear hurtful comments about my physical appearance, I tend to ignore them. When I hear hurtful comments about my personality, they stick and I tend to re-evaluate my behaviour and my relationship with the individual.
But when somebody decides to touch upon something as personal as my faith, whether be it verbally or otherwise, I honestly don’t know how to react. And such things tend to stick with me for the longest time.
I used to listen to it all the time when I was little and thinking about grown-up things. I would go to my bedroom window and stare at my reflection in the glass and the trees behind it and just listen to the song for hours. I decided then that when I met someone I thought was as beautiful as the song, I should give it to that person. And I didn’t mean beautiful on the outside. I meant beautiful in all ways.
— The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Vanessa Jackman
“Well, then,’ the Cat went on, `you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.”
(via obliviateworld)
Dime
Dime por favor donde no estás
en qué lugar puedo no ser tu ausencia
dónde puedo vivir sin recordarte,
y dónde recordar, sin que me duela.
Dime por favor en que vacío,
no está tu sombra llenando los centros;
dónde mi soledad es ella misma,
y no el sentir que tú te encuentras lejos.
Dime por favor por qué camino,
podré yo caminar, sin ser tu huella;
dónde podré correr no por buscarte,
y dónde descanzar de mi tristeza.
Dime por favor cuál es la noche,
que no tiene el color de tu mirada;
cuál es el sol, que tiene luz tan solo,
y no la sensación de que me llamas.
Dime por favor donde hay un mar,
que no susurre a mis oídos tus palabras.
Dime por favor en qué rincón,
nadie podrá ver mi tristeza;
dime cuál es el hueco de mi almohada,
que no tiene apoyada tu cabeza.
Dime por favor cuál es la noche,
en que vendrás, para velar tu sueño;
que no puedo vivir, porque te extraño;
y que no puedo morir, porque te quiero.
