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As I got on the train this morning, I was alarmed by how many folks are moving around mask less and careless.
I immediately began to pray for myself and my loved ones.
Then I felt led to share a prayer template to San Lazaro.
One is mine, one is a common prayer.
harriet tubman—disabled organizer, herbalist, skilled celestial navigator, ornithologist, forager, nurse, firearms specialist, medicine woman, crafter of oyster shell slingshots—became an ancestor in the twentieth century; shame how reductive lessons about her usually are.
Tomorrow by GloRilla is a mantra. “every day the sun won’t shine, but that’s why I love tomorrows!” IKDR cus weeping may endure for a WHAT???? night! but joy comes in the what??? MORNING! HALLELUJAH
she’s like “jesus, do the thing” and he’s like “mom no it’s not time” and she goes to the servants and is like “he’s gonna do the thing just do what he says” and jesus rolls his eyes and does the thing
it’s actually so funny how in the Bible when Jesus is at the wedding, Mary comes up to him and says ���they don’t have wine” and Jesus is so annoyed with her bc he knows she’s asking him to fix it 😭 so he turns the water to wine bc his mom asked 😭😭
Can't break up with your abuser because you can't afford rent on your own—can't move in with mom or grandma because section 8 won't allow it—can't stand up to your slumlord for fear of getting evicted or "reported to CPS"—any feminism worth the name should prioritize housing.