Frances E. Kendall, Understanding White Privilege
White supremacy doesn’t regard non-white languages as real languages, it regards them as deviant forms of communication reduced to broad ethnic strokes (“Indian”, “Asian”, “African”) that is unacceptable because it is seen as an affront to white/euro hegemony.
redphilistine said: Hi, I just saw your reply to my post. Thank you. Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions? Out of all my family and family friends (both Palestinian and Jordanian), I'm the only one who is against the monarchy and I'm curious to understand the nature of the tribal opposition that you mentioned.
Ahlein:) My response to the tribal bit is more anecodtal because its in my family, so of thats all right i can share that:)
But my more academic response is based on research and interviews i had with some female members of the islamic action front. Sorry for the late reply, i forget there’s a msg option 0_0
Could you reply to my email? Or let me know yours?
When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. He sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lampost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender little drawing of it.
When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about ‘design’ and ‘balance’ and getting ‘interesting planes’ into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest ‘academical’ tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on.
But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.
And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.”