One Species

An exploration of human nature. How we treat one another, both the kindness and the cruelty.

reportagebygettyimages:

In Syria’s civil war, a conflict with many villains, a group of first responders called the Hanano Civil Defense team are doubtlessly the good guys. They are one of the last hopes for civilians caught on Aleppo’s front lines: after a bombing, they’re first to the scene to evacuate the injured, retrieve and clean bodies, and fight fires. In June, the reporter Matthieu Aikins and Reportage photographer Sebastiano Tomada spent seven days in Aleppo embedded with the group, who are the last hope for civilians who find themselves on the front lines of war. Their story and images were published as this month’s story in the online magazine Matter, part of the publishing platform Medium. See the feature here.

— 23 hours ago with 192 notes
#syria  #aleppo  #middle east  #violence  #war  #civil war  #hanano civil defense 
quisqueyameetsborinken:

Aisha Syed Castro (born September 15, 1989), is a Dominican violinist and a member of the Yehudi Menuhin School orchestra.
Aisha was born in Santiago, Dominican Republic, the daughter of Saifuddin Syed, of Pakistan descent and Carolina Castro. She is the second of four children. She has three siblings: one sister, Sabah, and two brothers, Kabir and Kareem.
She started studying violin and flute when she was four years old at El Hogar de la Armonia in the City of Santiago, Dominican Republic with Professor Henry Disla. Then she traveled twice a week to Santo Domingo to take classes with master Hipolito Javier Guerrero, years later becomes master student Caonex Peguero. By the age of six she was already a member of the Children’s Symphony Orchestra.
At 11 she debuted with the National Symphony Orchestra, becoming their youngest solo performer. The same year she attended a symposium on the violin at the Juilliard School in New York.
In 2002, following a two-year audition process, she entered the Yehudi Menuhin School in London. She was the first Latin American to be admitted to the school. She passed all the tests and secured a scholarship from the British government.
Aisha presently resides in London, and has performed 57 concerts in Europe and the Dominican Republic.
In 2001, she performed at the National Theater in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
In 2007 she shared the stage with Michel Camilo Dominican Jazz Player at the Casandra Awards and shared a scene with pianist Jeremy Menuhin.
In 2009, she performed at the National Theater in Santo Domingo for the Casandra Awards. In March that year, she shared the stage at the Eilat Festival in Israel with performers of classical music such as violinist Julian Rachlin, Aleksey Igudessman, Pavel Vernikov and Boris Kushnir. She was directed by director and violinist Maxim Vengerov. She was later selected by Israeli composer Noam Sheriff to perform the world premiere of his Concerto Canarian Vespers, at the Menuhin Festival Gstaad in July 2009 in Gstaad, Switzerland.
As a soloist she has performed in festivals such as Claygate, Shipley, Summer, Royal Tunbridge Wells International Music, Thaxted and Bath. Her other performances include fundraising in Europe at The Leatherhead Charities, Princess Trusts, Rainbow and Save the Children. She also performed at the Royal Festival Hall a concert called “Moving Young Minds”. She performed for the Diplomatic Corps in the City of London, for the commemoration of the Independence of the Dominican Republic at the Bolivar Hall.
In January 2009, Syed won an international contest in which three thousand young people from 20 countries took part. She won the Cassandra 2009 as an International Violinist.

quisqueyameetsborinken:

Aisha Syed Castro (born September 15, 1989), is a Dominican violinist and a member of the Yehudi Menuhin School orchestra.

Aisha was born in SantiagoDominican Republic, the daughter of Saifuddin Syed, of Pakistan descent and Carolina Castro. She is the second of four children. She has three siblings: one sister, Sabah, and two brothers, Kabir and Kareem.

She started studying violin and flute when she was four years old at El Hogar de la Armonia in the City of Santiago, Dominican Republic with Professor Henry Disla. Then she traveled twice a week to Santo Domingo to take classes with master Hipolito Javier Guerrero, years later becomes master student Caonex Peguero. By the age of six she was already a member of the Children’s Symphony Orchestra.

At 11 she debuted with the National Symphony Orchestra, becoming their youngest solo performer. The same year she attended a symposium on the violin at the Juilliard School in New York.

In 2002, following a two-year audition process, she entered the Yehudi Menuhin School in London. She was the first Latin American to be admitted to the school. She passed all the tests and secured a scholarship from the British government.

Aisha presently resides in London, and has performed 57 concerts in Europe and the Dominican Republic.

In 2001, she performed at the National Theater in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

In 2007 she shared the stage with Michel Camilo Dominican Jazz Player at the Casandra Awards and shared a scene with pianist Jeremy Menuhin.

In 2009, she performed at the National Theater in Santo Domingo for the Casandra Awards. In March that year, she shared the stage at the Eilat Festival in Israel with performers of classical music such as violinist Julian Rachlin, Aleksey Igudessman, Pavel Vernikov and Boris Kushnir. She was directed by director and violinist Maxim Vengerov. She was later selected by Israeli composer Noam Sheriff to perform the world premiere of his Concerto Canarian Vespers, at the Menuhin Festival Gstaad in July 2009 in Gstaad, Switzerland.

As a soloist she has performed in festivals such as Claygate, Shipley, SummerRoyal Tunbridge Wells International Music, Thaxted and Bath. Her other performances include fundraising in Europe at The Leatherhead Charities, Princess Trusts, Rainbow and Save the Children. She also performed at the Royal Festival Hall a concert called “Moving Young Minds”. She performed for the Diplomatic Corps in the City of London, for the commemoration of the Independence of the Dominican Republic at the Bolivar Hall.

In January 2009, Syed won an international contest in which three thousand young people from 20 countries took part. She won the Cassandra 2009 as an International Violinist.

(via thisisnotlatinx)

— 1 day ago with 173 notes
#amazing women  #beautiful women  #women musicians  #women in classical music  #latinx muscians  #latina muscians 
The Forsaken: A Rising Number of Homeless Gay Teens Are Being Cast Out by Religious Families →

pacerlabs:

This is actually a really, really well done article. long but absolutely worth the read. So glad that a magazine as big as Rolling Stone is publishing content saying, “Hey, people, we may be patting ourselves on the back about marriage equality these days but there are much bigger issues still being swept under the rug.”

(via fuckyeahsexeducation)

— 1 day ago with 5499 notes
#lgbtqia  #queer youth  #lgbtqia youth  #homelessness  #bigotry  #homophobia  #rolling stone 
Every Day.

Every day, the stories keep coming. Crimes against women. Crimes against people of color. Crimes against the lgbtqia community. Crimes against the disabled. Crimes against… humanity. More often than not, these crimes are not simply against one of the above categories, it might be a woman of color. A disabled queer. A transwoman. The perpetrators are not picky, as long as “they” are not “us”. 

And what does my community do? What on Earth are all of the White People I grew up with talking about and doing on FB? What do they talk about as they clink margaritas and martinis at happy hour? They certainly aren’t the ones sharing the stories. They don’t want to listen. The women ignore what I have to say and if I post something, the men come clamoring to invade and dominate my space. There is a small, selective group who present open ears. My closest friends. My professors. The rest are lattes and trips to Cabo because life is good right? 

Every story I read. Every crime I come across. The pit in my stomach gets bigger. I will never experience the discrimination, fear, pain nor the violence in any comparable form, whatsoever, but I will alway speak against it and I will always make room for those whose voices need to be heard. 

That is what this space is for. 

— 1 day ago with 1 note
#discrimination  #women  #poc  #moc  #disabled  #lgbtqia  #white people  #society  #news  #violence  #crimes  #oppression 
Vietnam was even more horrific than we thought →

(Source: amodernmanifesto, via owning-my-truth)

— 1 day ago with 542 notes
#asia  #vietnam  #war  #usa  #america  #violence  #war crimes  #history  #american history  #crimes against humanity 
thepeoplesrecord:

Eviction & intersectionality: Why black women need housing justiceSeptember 14, 2014
My heart sank once I realized it was an eviction notice. After coming home from an underwhelming day at work, I looked forward to zoning out on TV realities that were infinitely more exciting than my own reality. I never imagined I would be greeted by a real-life soap opera in the form of an official-looking notice posted on my door. That day, I became the recipient of a one-way ticket on the eviction train, party of one. Needless to say, the notice put a wrench in my ambitious plans for the evening.

Where did I turn first? Google. I didn’t know the first thing about eviction. At that point in my life, I thought simply mentioning evictions was a little taboo — I believed eviction only happened to people way more downtrodden than myself. Growing up, whether it was true or not, I always considered my family middle class. Surely, an eviction could never happen to a girl like me (I had yet to recognize that my current job hardly qualified me for a place in the middle class and that my salary bordered those of the working poor).

Upon Googling the foreign concept of tenants being forced out of their homes, I found nothing to ease the anxiety gradually building in the pit of my stomach. The legalese, convoluted language and complete lack of tenant resources I encountered on the Internet provided little information and no peace of mind. I felt lost, dazed and confused. Surely the nice ladies in the office of my apartment complex were willing to negotiate with me to ensure a roof over a fellow woman’s head.

Rude awakening: Any sisterhood I ever had with my apartment’s white female property managers was null and void now that I was headed to Eviction Land. Solidarity be damned! After pleading with them for a merciful payment plan, they told me my best option was to pay off my balance and move immediately. Of course, I did not have enough money to pay them what I owed — I was paying far more than 30 percent of my income, which explains why I fell behind on my rent. No safety net in sight, I needed to stay in my apartment as long as possible (which was not very long according to the Google gods).

I never saw the sheriff — I vacated my apartment just in the nick of time. With my tail tucked between my legs and feeling irresponsible as ever, I moved back to Georgia (my home state) to crash on a family member’s day bed. I wish I knew then that my shame was unwarranted and that my story of eviction was not an extraordinary one. A recent study conducted by the MacArthur Foundation revealed that poor Black women are disproportionately impacted by evictions. The study found that while Black women were only 9.6 percent of Milwaukee’s population, they experienced 30 percent of the city’s court-ordered evictions. This distressing statistic was attributed to a number of factors including low wages, intimidation by male landlords and triggering the aggravation of landlords because of child and partner-related incidents. Apparently, several landlords find eviction justifiable when a Black woman merely makes a complaint about mold affecting her children’s health or when she lives with an abusive partner who causes domestic disturbances.

My “Blackness” and my “womanliness” are both things that I love about myself and other Black women; however, neither polls well in today’s discriminatory housing market. Black women face higher eviction rates than any other group because of our marginalized identities. While the term “intersectionality” has been appropriated to reference a plethora of social phenomena, it was originally coined by Black feminist scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw to describe how the multiple oppressed identities of Black women collectively contribute to how people perceive us in society. If you asked me to hypothesize why women of color bare the brunt of evictions in this country, I would point you down the path of intersectionality.

In the tradition of countless resilient Black women that came before me, I made lemonade out of lemons by carving a career path out of a hardship — stopping evictions became my line of work. After moving back to Georgia, I tapped into a vibrant community of activism, which eventually led to a job as an organizer for a housing justice organization called Occupy Our Homes Atlanta. Our mission was to repair the devastation caused by the housing crisis in Atlanta by fightingforeclosure and eviction through direct action and public pressure. 

Unsurprisingly, the majority of our residents-in-struggle were Black, and many of them were Black women. These women inspired me to no end — they were smart, radical and ready to salvage their slice of the American Dream by fighting like hell to save their homes. I will never forget one of my favorite resident-activists, Mildred Obi. A daughter of the Civil Rights Movement, she occupied her home after being evicted and eventually won it free and clear from Bank of America. Mildred harnessed her power in the name of housing justice and continues to help others in danger of losing their homes. She is a prime example of why Black women need housing justice: Because when we fight, we can win. As Black women, even the seemingly simple act of survival is a fight, so fighting for our human right to housing is inherent in us.

I carry Mildred’s spirit with me in my new position as a community organizer with the Tenants Union of Washington in Seattle, which was recently named the number one city for apartment rent increases in the country. Any push for rent stabilization in Seattle will be a hard-won fight due to a statewide ban on rent control. Displacement and gentrification both run rampant in the city as for-profit developers snatch up affordable housing and drive up rents in historical communities of color. While our city’s Just Cause Eviction Ordinance prevents landlords from terminating tenancies at will, still approximately 10 households are evicted every day. I brace myself for all of these challenges knowing that other Black women are in this fight with me ready to create space for other Black women in the housing justice movement. I fervently believe that my role in this movement is to amplify and elevate the voices of Black women because more than any other population, we need housing justice and we need it now.
Source

thepeoplesrecord:

Eviction & intersectionality: Why black women need housing justice
September 14, 2014

My heart sank once I realized it was an eviction notice. After coming home from an underwhelming day at work, I looked forward to zoning out on TV realities that were infinitely more exciting than my own reality. I never imagined I would be greeted by a real-life soap opera in the form of an official-looking notice posted on my door. That day, I became the recipient of a one-way ticket on the eviction train, party of one. Needless to say, the notice put a wrench in my ambitious plans for the evening.
Where did I turn first? Google. I didn’t know the first thing about eviction. At that point in my life, I thought simply mentioning evictions was a little taboo — I believed eviction only happened to people way more downtrodden than myself. Growing up, whether it was true or not, I always considered my family middle class. Surely, an eviction could never happen to a girl like me (I had yet to recognize that my current job hardly qualified me for a place in the middle class and that my salary bordered those of the working poor).
Upon Googling the foreign concept of tenants being forced out of their homes, I found nothing to ease the anxiety gradually building in the pit of my stomach. The legalese, convoluted language and complete lack of tenant resources I encountered on the Internet provided little information and no peace of mind. I felt lost, dazed and confused. Surely the nice ladies in the office of my apartment complex were willing to negotiate with me to ensure a roof over a fellow woman’s head.
Rude awakening: Any sisterhood I ever had with my apartment’s white female property managers was null and void now that I was headed to Eviction Land. Solidarity be damned! After pleading with them for a merciful payment plan, they told me my best option was to pay off my balance and move immediately. Of course, I did not have enough money to pay them what I owed — I was paying far more than 30 percent of my income, which explains why I fell behind on my rent. No safety net in sight, I needed to stay in my apartment as long as possible (which was not very long according to the Google gods).
I never saw the sheriff — I vacated my apartment just in the nick of time. With my tail tucked between my legs and feeling irresponsible as ever, I moved back to Georgia (my home state) to crash on a family member’s day bed. I wish I knew then that my shame was unwarranted and that my story of eviction was not an extraordinary one. A recent study conducted by the MacArthur Foundation revealed that poor Black women are disproportionately impacted by evictions. The study found that while Black women were only 9.6 percent of Milwaukee’s population, they experienced 30 percent of the city’s court-ordered evictions. This distressing statistic was attributed to a number of factors including low wages, intimidation by male landlords and triggering the aggravation of landlords because of child and partner-related incidents. Apparently, several landlords find eviction justifiable when a Black woman merely makes a complaint about mold affecting her children’s health or when she lives with an abusive partner who causes domestic disturbances.
My “Blackness” and my “womanliness” are both things that I love about myself and other Black women; however, neither polls well in today’s discriminatory housing market. Black women face higher eviction rates than any other group because of our marginalized identities. While the term “intersectionality” has been appropriated to reference a plethora of social phenomena, it was originally coined by Black feminist scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw to describe how the multiple oppressed identities of Black women collectively contribute to how people perceive us in society. If you asked me to hypothesize why women of color bare the brunt of evictions in this country, I would point you down the path of intersectionality.
In the tradition of countless resilient Black women that came before me, I made lemonade out of lemons by carving a career path out of a hardship — stopping evictions became my line of work. After moving back to Georgia, I tapped into a vibrant community of activism, which eventually led to a job as an organizer for a housing justice organization called Occupy Our Homes Atlanta. Our mission was to repair the devastation caused by the housing crisis in Atlanta by fightingforeclosure and eviction through direct action and public pressure. 
Unsurprisingly, the majority of our residents-in-struggle were Black, and many of them were Black women. These women inspired me to no end — they were smart, radical and ready to salvage their slice of the American Dream by fighting like hell to save their homes. I will never forget one of my favorite resident-activists, Mildred Obi. A daughter of the Civil Rights Movement, she occupied her home after being evicted and eventually won it free and clear from Bank of America. Mildred harnessed her power in the name of housing justice and continues to help others in danger of losing their homes. She is a prime example of why Black women need housing justice: Because when we fight, we can win. As Black women, even the seemingly simple act of survival is a fight, so fighting for our human right to housing is inherent in us.
I carry Mildred’s spirit with me in my new position as a community organizer with the Tenants Union of Washington in Seattle, which was recently named the number one city for apartment rent increases in the country. Any push for rent stabilization in Seattle will be a hard-won fight due to a statewide ban on rent control. Displacement and gentrification both run rampant in the city as for-profit developers snatch up affordable housing and drive up rents in historical communities of color. While our city’s Just Cause Eviction Ordinance prevents landlords from terminating tenancies at will, still approximately 10 households are evicted every day. I brace myself for all of these challenges knowing that other Black women are in this fight with me ready to create space for other Black women in the housing justice movement. I fervently believe that my role in this movement is to amplify and elevate the voices of Black women because more than any other population, we need housing justice and we need it now.
— 1 day ago with 193 notes
#racism  #eviction  #america  #tenants union of washington  #occupy our homes  #atlanta  #georgia  #black women  #intersectionality  #human rights  #oppression 

The phenomenon of the female homicides in Ciudad Juárez, called in Spanish the feminicidios (“femicides”) and las muertas de Juárez (“The dead women of Juárez”), involves the violent deaths of hundreds of women since 1993 in the northern Mexican city of Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, a border city across the Rio Grande from the U.S. city of El Paso, Texas. The estimated homicide toll is speculated to be around 400, but many local residents believe that the true count of los feminicidios stands at an estimated 5,000 victims. Most of the cases remained unsolved as of 2003, and are still mainly unsolved today.

The phenomenon of the female homicides in Ciudad Juárez, called in Spanish the feminicidios (“femicides”) and las muertas de Juárez (“The dead women of Juárez”), involves the violent deaths of hundreds of women since 1993 in the northern Mexican city of Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, a border city across the Rio Grande from the U.S. city of El Paso, Texas. The estimated homicide toll is speculated to be around 400, but many local residents believe that the true count of los feminicidios stands at an estimated 5,000 victims. Most of the cases remained unsolved as of 2003, and are still mainly unsolved today.

(Source: mujer-encabronada, via thepeoplesrecord)

— 1 day ago with 1854 notes
#violence against women  #misogyny  #oppression  #human rights  #mexico  #cuidad  #las muertas de juarez  #woc  #violence 

grrlyman:

Queer Kids in America by M. Sharkey

I started following mobmaterial this week, and you can expect me to be reblogging quite a bit of their stuff. It is fantastic. 

(via mobmaterial)

— 1 day ago with 11784 notes
#lgbtqia  #qpoc  #poc  #diversity  #portrait  #queer  #usa  #america  #photography 

5centsapound:

Claudia Gaudelli: Women Boxers in Argentina
Artist Statement via lensculture:

This photoessay, “Women Boxers” was born from a desire to show women from an unusual perspective: fighting in the boxing ring. By highlighting a side of women that is commonly associated with masculinity—what many would even call a dark side—my hope is to broaden our perception of the limits of womanhood.

Each one of these female athletes has her own story but all of them shared something in common: humble origins and family environments in which the prevailing atmosphere was  need and poverty.

None of my subjects hailed from “conventional” families, or from nice homes with gardens,  or from airy apartments with balcony views. For these women, their past became their identity and situated them in a present where sacrifice, respect and love for boxing are the very air they breath. For these brave women, boxing is a form of art: the art of hitting and not being hit.

These athletes live a life of discipline and strict training. Every day when they get up, they are looking for a different future for themselves. They spend what free time they have on long commuter rides from poor, suburban neighborhoods, traveling for the chance to get in the ring.

They train every morning, sometimes evenings too, day after day. All of them are pouring their hearts out for the chance to fulfill a dream, a shot at the world championship.

This dream is what keeps them standing on their feet, this dream has kept them from falling, kept them waking up, training, struggling and fighting.

—Claudia Gaudelli

(via 2brwngrls)

— 2 days ago with 414 notes
#women in sports  #women boxers  #woc  #woc athletes  #women athletes  #latin america  #argentina  #claudia guadelli  #amazing women  #beautiful women