remember when angelina jolie got a double mastectomy and Every Single Man on Earth acted like it was a personal attack on them specifically
Even though by the time it was announced she already had her breasts reconstructed and she was only going public about it to warn other women about risks?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot as several of my friends deal with breast cancer.
So proud of my mother for doing her own research after I sent her that meme. A sign she hung in her car window.
Stay woke
Is this true?
Not only is it true, it gets worse. The Susan G Komen For The Cure Foundation has actually successfully sued “competing” charities, because (paraphrasing) their “message or branding was infringing.”
You read that correctly: they took money that people had donated to cure cancer, and hired attorneys with it, to sue ANOTHER group of people trying to find a cure for cancer, who, in turn, had to us their donated money to hire their own legal counsel to defend themselves.
Yeah signal boost because not enough people know about this and seriously FUCK SUSAN G. KOMEN THEY ARE THE ACTUAL WORST
It’s that time of year again, please remember Komen is the actual worst
Komen For The Cure is pretty much awful.
My mother died in 1996 from breast cancer. Most cancer charities are scams, in that people throw fancy parties and get rich off them and very little money goes into research or support for patients. Here are some vetted cancer charities that get good scores on Charity Navigator and pay medical expenses or fund research:
Can I just say, from the bottom of my heart, in regards to Dewayne Johnson winning his lawsuit against Monsanto and being awarded $289 million in damages and also lost 11 BILLION in stock value following the jury’s decision and also opened up legal precedent against Monsanto for other people to go after them for damages thanks to exposure to their shit;
FUCKING GOOD, and also my deepest sympathy to Mr. Johnson, who has terminal cancer thanks to their products, but FUCKING GOOD, FUCK YOU MONSANTO, SUCK A THOUSAND HORSE DICKS IN HELL
Consider this my open request to society: destroy them. If you have the money and the misfortune of being able to take these fuckers to court, then destroy them.
They’ve got other similar lawsuits still ongoing against them right now that total $5.5 BILLION in damages sought.
This lawsuit can now be cited by all the others, and I promise it will be.
And gods, but I hope that it ruins them.
For those of you who don’t recognize the name “Monsanto” they produce Roundup, which is a herbicide (weed killer) known for killing weeds but not crops.
Roundup, incidentally, is specifically the chemical that Mr. Johnson was exposed to that contributed to his terminal cancer.
There are about 5,000 more current lawsuits being filed against Monsanto for the same thing. Monsanto claims Roundup is safe, and points to lots of studies done on it…the majority of which, coincidentally, have been conducted by/funded by Monsanto.
One of the main points in the trial was recently unearthed evidence that shows that Monsanto has been actively suppressing studies that show that Roundup is dangerous for decades now.
The men who hid this evidence are, in no small way, complicit in the deaths of these innocent people and should be removed root and branch.
There’s an irony to that. And one we should pursue until they feel the burden of these deaths on their souls and on their daily lives.
Some more info; there’s also evidence that points to Monsanto paying off EPA agents to suppress studies and evidence that show that Roundup is a potent health risk.
Monsanto is, as it has for decades, claiming that glysophate…the active ingredient in Roundup…is safe. Which, as disclosed at this trial, is a lie, and they’ve been suppressing the evidence for years.
BUT, in addition, testing has shown that Roundup contains VERY DANGEROUS levels of heavy metals such as arsenic, chromium, cobalt, and lead, in addition to highly toxic petroleum residues, which Monsanto does not disclose on the labels. They were hidden under ‘other additives’ on the label.
Some of the things arsenic, other heavy metals, and petroleum distillate exposure can cause?
Cancer. Such as that which is killing Mr. Johnson and others.
The studies conducted by Monsanto to claim Roundup was safe were only conducted on glysophate. They actively suppressed studies that found that glysophate could be a health risk, and did not disclose any information about the other dangerous additives…which have been known to be dangerous for decades.
You can hear parts of the autoimmune disease community shrieking in rageful vindication.
Between this and the study coming out of Finland linking exposure to certain pesticides and herbicides as being linked to early onset MS (among other things) I’m about to flip the God damn table.
I think I need to call my dad (a farmer) and my mum ( plagued with endocrine and autoimmune issues)…
heyyyy, yall! i’m Le’Andreia.. but y’all can call me Dreia (Drayuh) & i have cancer. i have none hodgkin’s lymphoma. im 22, homeless and my fiancée and i have been living in our car and w friends (neither one of our families live in kansas) our tags expired in august so we’ve been pretty stagnant. we do have jobs but trying to get around and avoid the police is a thing all in itself lol. before anyone else asks, we’re avoiding the police because our tags are bad!!!!!! we aren’t criminals! all i’m asking for is a little help w our vehicle, i need to make it to my last 4 chemo treatments. please help us!!! i’ve created a gofundme in the hopes that people will have a heart & pitch in lol. i previously had an acct but after i withdrew money, it closed out my acct!! please continue to donate, we’re still needing help! 👉🏾 https://www.gofundme.com/2ne7dwk 👈🏾 please donate!!!!
i’ve fallen into a pit of depression. please help me
Ok a white woman used her Black boyfriend as a prop today to beg for money to go to college and is now twice over her limit
But this woman has NON HODGKINS LYMPHOMA and is homeless and losing all hope and has barely over $1k and only asked for $6k?
Like, officially, do we ALL have to put ubiqutous 22 year old white girl pics up to crowdfund? Because apparently you can even be full of shit and an entitled skunk and get 2-3x what you asked for
For god’s sake. This post wont even escape Black tumblr.
And what does she get in the notes? “What if its fake?”
oh fuck off
Can I point out that just sharing this on my FB boosted her campaign by $135 and netted about 30 new shares.
This aint a humblebrag, just pointing out the importance of getting campaigns for us out of the strict Black Tumblr orbit so I’m suggesting anyone who follows me does the same.
Seriously, post this on your FB, twitter, Ello, whatever you can. Write a small amount about it.
Y’all might remember that I had you guys sending postcards to Gus and Charlie, because Gus was fighting cancer, and losing kind of badly. Gus was 7 years old when he died on September 29th, just prior to what would have been his 8th birthday.
My friend Sasha held her son as he died and then carried him to a hospital, so that at some point in the future no parent will have to deal with this. In his death, Gus may have provided answers to the questions his incredibly rare and deadly form of cancer brings to the table.
Gus was only able to make to almost-but-not-quite 8 years old because of the ACA. He was able to experience things and live as full a life as possible and learn about dinosaurs and go to school (he was diagnosed young, prior to even entering school) and make friends – because of the ACA. His mother and father were only able to afford a service and cremation because his ACA-compliant insurance paid the bulk of the bill. They were only able to continue financially caring for their youngest son Charlie (who just turned 7 years old…yesterday, I think) and keep themselves in food and housing rather than going bankrupt…because of the fucking Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare.
With her permission, I have posted this here, because I want people to know exactly how badly Republicans will be screwing children, and their grieving parents, over if they repeal the ACA.
For Gus, who never made it to 8; for Sasha and her husband, who lost their son; for Charlie, who lost his brother –
For all of the other parents and lost children who are and were in the same boat –
We can’t let Republicans do this. We need to step up to the plate. Because they – Sasha and Gus and everyone like them – can’t.
Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise!
Oh my god, this is beautiful.
A small child enters Valhalla. The battle they lost was “hiding from an alcoholic father.” Odin sees the flinch when he slams the cup and refrains from doing it again. He hears the child’s pain; no glorious battle this, but one of fear and wretched survival.
He invites the child to sit with him, offers the choicest mead and instructs his men to bring a sword and shield, a bow and arrow, of the very best materials and appropriate size. “Here,” he says, “you will find no man who dares to harm you. But so you will know your own strength, and be happy all your days in Valhalla, I will teach you to use these weapons.”
The sad day comes when another child enters the hall. Odin does not slam his cup; he simply beams with pride as the first child approaches the newcomer, and holds out her bow and quiver, and says “nobody here will hurt you. Everyone will be so proud you did your best, and I’ll teach you to use these, so you always know how strong you are.”
————
A young man enters the hall. He hesitates when Odin asks his story, but at long last, it ekes out: skinheads after the Pride parade. His partner got into a building and called for help. The police took a little longer than perhaps they really needed to, and two of those selfsame skinheads are in the hospital now with broken bones that need setting, but six against one is no fair match. The fear in his face is obvious: here, among men large enough to break him in two, will he face an eternity of torment for the man he left behind?
Odin rumbles with anger. Curses the low worms who brought this man to his table, and regales him with tales of Loki so to show him his own welcome. “A day will come, my friend, when you seek to be reunited, and so you shall,” Odin tells him. “To request the aid of your comrades in battle is no shameful thing.”
———-
A woman in pink sits near the head of the table. She’s very nearly skin and bones, and has no hair. This will not last; health returns in Valhalla, and joy, and light, and merrymaking. But now her soul remembers the battle of her life, and it must heal.
Odin asks.
And asks again.
And the words pour out like poisoned water, things she couldn’t tell her husband or children. The pain of chemotherapy. The agony of a mastectomy, the pain still deeper of “we found a tumor in your lymph nodes. I’m so sorry.” And at last, the tortured question: what is left of her?
Odin raises his flagon high. “What is left of you, fair warrior queen, is a spirit bright as fire; a will as strong as any forged iron; a life as great as any sea. Your battle was hard-fought, and lost in the glory only such furor can bring, and now the pain and fight are behind you.“
In the months to come, she becomes a scop of the hall–no demotion, but simple choice. She tells the stories of the great healers, Agnes and Tanya, who fought alongside her and thousands of others, who turn from no battle in the belief that one day, one day, the war may be won; the warriors Jessie and Mabel and Jeri and Monique, still battling on; the queens and soldiers and great women of yore.
The day comes when she calls a familiar name, and another small, scarred woman, eyes sunken and dark, limbs frail, curly black hair shaved close to her head, looks up and sees her across the hall. Odin descends from his throne, a tall and foaming goblet in his hands, and stuns the hall entire into silence as he kneels before the newcomer and holds up the goblet between her small dark hands and bids her to drink.
“All-Father!” the feasting multitudes cry. “What brings great Odin, Spear-Shaker, Ancient One, Wand-Bearer, Teacher of Gods, to his knees for this lone waif?”
He waves them off with a hand.
“This woman, LaTeesha, Destroyer of Cancer, from whom the great tumors fly in fear, has fought that greatest battle,” he says, his voice rolling across the hall. “She has fought not another body, but her own; traded blows not with other limbs but with her own flesh; has allowed herself to be pierced with needles and scored with knives, taken poison into her very veins to defeat this enemy, and at long last it is time for her to put her weapons down. Do you think for a moment this fight is less glorious for being in silence, her deeds the less for having been aided by others who provided her weapons? She has a place in this great hall; indeed, the highest place.”
And the children perform feats of archery for the entertainment of all, and the women sing as the young man who still awaits his beloved plays a lute–which, after all, is not so different from the guitar he once used to break a man’s face in that great final fight.
Valhalla is a place of joy, of glory, of great feasting and merrymaking.
And it is a place for the soul and mind to heal.
THIS! This is the Hanged God who owns my loyalty, Old One-Eye who’s call I answer above all.
He is not one to turn the brave aside, asks no more than what one can give (Even if, at times, it doesn’t look that way.)
Steel Phoenix Studios 