The more interesting part of this is that it isn’t sexual, and her interest is piqued in someone she’s completely let her guard down with. She’s never done that before, even with the men she’s been head-over-heels in love with. - Charlotte Sullivan

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"Several months ago, I was at a school event where a very young black girl was standing shyly off to the side as I was chatting with some 6th grade students after my presentation. She gave me her notebook and asked me to sign it, which I was glad to do. It was a book of her own poetry and short stories. I smiled and said “I’m so glad to meet a young writer!” She beamed at me and said “I love writing and I want to be a writer but I didn’t think I could because I’m not white.” I was surprised and asked her if she’d read any books by Walter Dean Myers, Angela Johnson, or Linda Sue Park. She nodded and shrugged her shoulder and said, “But I’ve never seen them in person.” To this young teen, an author of color was a mythical creature, not to be believed, until she’d seen one in person. She couldn’t believe in her dream to become a writer until she saw for herself that a real life POC had done it. This is why we must continue to fight for diversity in children’s literature. For all of our children, so that they can see that we exist and that they can believe that their dreams of becoming whatever they want, can come true."

From this great post by Ellen Oh.

This story reminds me, too, of something I always talk about which was that I never met an author until I was like 25. Until then, I didn’t think I could be one because I thought being an author was for special rich people who lived far away, probably in New York, and had some secret access to that whole world. (This was before the internet.) So I can totally imagine how a non-white kid who only ever met white authors would think the way the girl in this story does.

Adults are models of possibility. We need to model all sorts of possibility for all sorts of kids, and can’t ever assume that they just “know” about things existing that they don’t get to see and experience for themselves.

Especially when you’re a poor kid or otherwise not privileged in some way or come from an addicted family, you tend to have people around you that have those same limited and limiting beliefs. I never had goals or ambitions modeled for me by the adults in my immediate family. No one ever said I could and should try things that I wanted to do and have dreams and take risks. I learned survival and getting by, and making do with what you have and staying safe. I was a poor kid, and got that. When I multiply my own experience by a factor of also not-white, I can start to catch a tiny glimpse of what the girl in Ellen’s story and kids like her are up against.

I can stand in front of kids and talk about my background of poverty, and the dysfunction I grew up in, and I do do that, to share my own struggle to achieve a goal. But when I’m talking to a roomful of not-white kids (and I’ve been to plenty of schools like that) I know it’s not the same as if they could see someone who looks like them telling that story. Thanks, Ellen, for sharing this.

(via sarazarr)

Thank you to Sara for really understanding the importance of this issue and for caring enough to share it.

(via elloellenoh)

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curlicuecal:

This is the best thing I have ever seen.

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amourhaus:

kinell:

She’s a dream

I fancy her so much

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ducktrainer:

saemiligr:

dear-monday:

So we know it’s JK’s headcanon that Dudley has a magical child, right? Imagine his kid starting to show signs of magic and Dudley remembering all the odd things that used to happen around Harry. Imagine his kid coming home from Hogwarts and being all, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME UNCLE HARRY WAS FAMOUS?” Imagine Dudley reading up on Harry and finding out about all the stuff he did and all the things that happened to him and struggling to grasp how his scrawny, speccy cousin saved the wizarding world. Imagine Dudley, white-faced with terror at his first big family get-together with Harry, Hermione and all the remaining Weasleys. Imagine Mrs Weasley being decidedly cool towards him until he eats fifth helpings of everything she cooks and telling her that she’s the best cook he’s ever met. Imagine Dudley meeting Fleur. Imagine the others embarrassing Harry by telling Dudley stories about him. Imagine Dudley and Harry going down the pub together for beers. Imagine Harry still calling him Big D. Imagine Dudley cheerfully never dieting ever again and being fat and happy forever THE END.

This makes me absurdly happy

did they just made me happy about DUDLEY

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catsfurever:

@therealkatiestevens This is happening right now! We are so excited! Thank you for supporting us and liking the show! We love you!

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Reblog if you don’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend.

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pvnkslut:

I have a dog.

I have coffee.

I have tumblr 

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