(Source: realfun-funeral, via beardsnotbeers)
So, I’ve been trying to make my own essential oil from the giant blooms of jasmine growing my front yard. (sorry for the scary picz)
Process:
1/2c carrying oil (I used sweet almond and a lil coconut)
4c flowers (collected over a week)
Collect one cup of flowers, put in a bag and lightly mash them (not to a pulp! just to release the gooood stuff) and place in a jar with the oil in a warm, sunny spot (not hot, warm).
Wait 48 hours, strain the oil out, toss the flowers, and repeat this process (but use the same oil, duh!) over and over until 4 cups have been used.
So far I’ve done 3 batches and am currently waiting for 2 more days to pass before the last one. I will post the results if it works.
Fingers crossed it does and I haven’t been dousing myself in the milky white sticky goo that jasmine vines are filled with for nothing!
My re-usable bag garden: (L to R) yukon gold potatoes, lavender, catnip, anise hyssop, aloe, and sweet basil, cuban oregano, and spearmint!
And a close up of my pretty potato flowers! (potatoes grow flowers?!?!)
This Is What Happened to CeCe
This is a guest post by Redlark. Redlark is a white, lower-middle-class queer activist working a pink collar union gig in the Twin Cities. They are working with an amazing group of friends and allies of CeCe McDonald to get CeCe’s charges dropped and help her move back into her normal life.
Cece McDonald stood up to bigots and survived a hate crime. Now she’s in the county jail waiting to be tried for second degree murder.
This is a story about intersectionality – what happens when a young trans woman of color goes up against white supremacy, misogyny and transphobia. It’s a story about what happens when you have to fight for your life.
**
It began last June, the night of the 5th, when Cece and her friends – all young, black and queer – decided that they wanted to walk to the grocery store.The grocery store in question is in south Minneapolis just off Lake Street, the busy, polluted, vital artery running from the wealthy white neighborhoods by the lakes through blocks of working class, multiracial, immigrant businesses before it ends in upmarket gentrification at the river. The grocery store is between the police station and the the light rail in a historically contested neighborhood where communities meet, mix and sometimes contend: the older white working class who bought in during the seventies and eighties meets immigrants from Mexico, Somalia and Central America who came looking for work or for political refuge; Native people still under the gun of colonization; African-Americans who’ve lived in Minneapolis for generations or arrived from Chicago or New Orleans in the last few years; students, punks and radicals, mostly but not exclusively white, gentrifiers or born in the neighborhood.
To get to the store, the group had to walk past a dive bar called the Schooner.
Dean Schmitz and his friends were standing outside the Schooner’s side door. All were older – Dean was 47 – and all were white. When they saw CeCe and her friends walk by, they started yelling – “faggots” “chicks with dicks” “n*****s” – a litany of vile abuse targeted at a group of much younger strangers.
CeCe McDonald has a strong sense of justice &ndash%3
(Source: transfeminism)
“The thing about patriarchy is that individual men, gay and straight, are often really wonderful people who you love deeply, but they have internalized some really poisonous shit. So every once in a while they say or do something that really shakes you because you’re no longer totally certain they see you as a human being, and you feel totally disempowered to explain that to them.”
—
(Source: lasluchasdelcorazon, via humanshumans)
