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macrolit · 5 months

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NYT's Notable Books of 2023

Each year, we pore over thousands of new books, seeking out the best novels, memoirs, biographies, poetry collections, stories and more. Here are the standouts, selected by the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

AFTER SAPPHO by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Inspired by Sappho��s work, Schwartz’s debut novel offers an alternate history of creativity at the turn of the 20th century, one that centers queer women artists, writers and intellectuals who refused to accept society’s boundaries.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED by S.A. Cosby

In his earlier thrillers, Cosby worked the outlaw side of the crime genre. In his new one — about a Black sheriff in a rural Southern town, searching for a serial killer who tortures Black children — he’s written a crackling good police procedural.

THE BEE STING by Paul Murray

In Murray’s boisterous tragicomic novel, a once wealthy Irish family struggles with both the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash and their own inner demons.

BIOGRAPHY OF X by Catherine Lacey

Lacey rewrites 20th-century U.S. history through the audacious fictional life story of X, a polarizing female performance artist who made her way from the South to New York City’s downtown art scene.

BIRNAM WOOD by Eleanor Catton

In this action-packed novel from a Booker Prize winner, a collective of activist gardeners crosses paths with a billionaire doomsday prepper on land they each want for different purposes.

BLACKOUTS by Justin Torres

This lyrical, genre-defying novel — winner of the 2023 National Book Award — explores what it means to be erased and how to persist after being wiped away.

BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN by Jessica Knoll

In her third and most assured novel, Knoll shifts readers’ attention away from a notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy, and onto the lives — and deaths — of the women he killed. Perhaps for the first time in fiction, Knoll pooh-poohs Bundy's much ballyhooed intelligence, celebrating the promise and perspicacity of his victims instead.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

This satire — in which prison inmates duel on TV for a chance at freedom — makes readers complicit with the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside. The fight scenes are so well written they demonstrate how easy it might be to accept a world this sick.

THE COVENANT OF WATER by Abraham Verghese

Verghese’s first novel since “Cutting for Stone” follows generations of a family across 77 years in southwestern India as they contend with political strife and other troubles — capped by a shocking discovery made by the matriarch’s granddaughter, a doctor.

CROOK MANIFESTO by Colson Whitehead

Returning to the world of his novel “Harlem Shuffle,” Whitehead again uses a crime story to illuminate a singular neighborhood at a tipping point — here, Harlem in the 1970s.

THE DELUGE by Stephen Markley

Markley’s second novel confronts the scale and gravity of climate change, tracking a cadre of scientists and activists from the gathering storm of the Obama years to the super-typhoons of future decades. Immersive and ambitious, the book shows the range of its author’s gifts: polyphonic narration, silken sentences and elaborate world-building.

EASTBOUND by Maylis de Kerangal

In de Kerangal’s brief, lyrical novel, translated by Jessica Moore, a young Russian soldier on a trans-Siberian train decides to desert and turns to a civilian passenger, a Frenchwoman, for help.

EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett

The world-building in this tale of a woman documenting a new kind of faerie is exquisite, and the characters are just as textured and richly drawn. This is the kind of folkloric fantasy that remembers the old, blood-ribboned source material about sacrifices and stolen children, but adds a modern gloss.

ENTER GHOST by Isabella Hammad

In Hammad’s second novel, a British Palestinian actor returns to her hometown in Israel to recover from a breakup and spend time with her family. Instead, she’s talked into joining a staging of “Hamlet” in the West Bank, where she has a political awakening.

FORBIDDEN NOTEBOOK by Alba de Céspedes

A best-selling novelist and prominent anti-Fascist in her native Italy, de Céspedes has lately fallen into unjust obscurity. Translated by Ann Goldstein, this elegant novel from the 1950s tells the story of a married mother, Valeria, whose life is transformed when she begins keeping a secret diary.

THE FRAUD by Zadie Smith

Based on a celebrated 19th-century trial in which the defendant was accused of impersonating a nobleman, Smith’s novel offers a vast panoply of London and the English countryside, and successfully locates the social controversies of an era in a handful of characters.

FROM FROM by Monica Youn

In her fourth book of verse, a svelte, intrepid foray into American racism, Youn turns a knowing eye on society’s love-hate relationship with what it sees as the “other.”

A GUEST IN THE HOUSE by Emily Carroll

After a lonely young woman marries a mild-mannered widower and moves into his home, she begins to wonder how his first wife actually died. This graphic novel alternates between black-and-white and overwhelming colors as it explores the mundane and the horrific.

THE HEAVEN & EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

McBride’s latest, an intimate, big-hearted tale of community, opens with a human skeleton found in a well in the 1970s, and then flashes back to the past, to the ’20s and ’30s, to explore the town’s Black, Jewish and immigrant history.

HELLO BEAUTIFUL by Ann Napolitano

In her radiant fourth novel, Napolitano puts a fresh spin on the classic tale of four sisters and the man who joins their family. Take “Little Women,” move it to modern-day Chicago, add more intrigue, lots of basketball and a different kind of boy next door and you’ve got the bones of this thoroughly original story.

A HISTORY OF BURNING by Janika Oza

This remarkable debut novel tells the story of an extended Indo-Ugandan family that is displaced, settled and displaced again.

HOLLY by Stephen King

The scrappy private detective Holly Gibney (who appeared in “The Outsider” and several other novels) returns, this time taking on a missing-persons case that — in typical King fashion — unfolds into a tale of Dickensian proportions.

A HOUSE FOR ALICE by Diana Evans

This polyphonic novel traces one family’s reckoning after the patriarch dies in a fire, as his widow, a Nigerian immigrant, considers returning to her home country and the entire family re-examines the circumstances of their lives.

THE ILIAD by Homer

Emily Wilson’s propulsive new translation of the “Iliad” is buoyant and expressive; she wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform.

INK BLOOD SISTER SCRIBE by Emma Törzs

The sisters in Törzs's delightful debut have been raised to protect a collection of magic books that allow their keepers to do incredible things. Their story accelerates like a fugue, ably conducted to a tender conclusion.

KAIROS by Jenny Erpenbeck

This tale of a torrid, yearslong relationship between a young woman and a much older married man — translated from the German by Michael Hofmann — is both profound and moving.

KANTIKA by Elizabeth Graver

Inspired by the life of Graver’s maternal grandmother, this exquisitely imagined family saga spans cultures and continents as it traces the migrations of a Sephardic Jewish girl from turn-of-the-20th-century Constantinople to Barcelona, Havana and, finally, Queens, N.Y.

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY by C Pam Zhang

Zhang’s lush, keenly intelligent novel follows a chef who’s hired to cook for an “elite research community” in the Italian Alps, in a not-so-distant future where industrial-agricultural experiments in America’s heartland have blanketed the globe in a crop-smothering smog.

LONE WOMEN by Victor LaValle

The year is 1915, and the narrator of LaValle’s horror-tinged western has arrived in Montana to cultivate an unforgiving homestead. She’s looking for a fresh start as a single Black woman in a sparsely populated state, but the locked trunk she has in stow holds a terrifying secret.

MONICA by Daniel Clowes

In Clowes’s luminous new work, the titular character, abandoned by her mother as a child, endures a life of calamities before resolving to learn about her origins and track down her parents.

THE MOST SECRET MEMORY OF MEN by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr

Based on a true story and translated by Lara Vergnaud, Sarr’s novel — about a Senegalese writer brought low by a plagiarism scandal — asks sharp questions about the state of African literature in the West.

THE NEW NATURALS by Gabriel Bump

In Bump’s engrossing new novel, a young Black couple, mourning the loss of their newborn daughter and disillusioned with the world, start a utopian society — but tensions both internal and external soon threaten their dreams.

NORTH WOODS by Daniel Mason

Mason’s novel looks at the occupants of a single house in Massachusetts over several centuries, from colonial times to present day. An apple farmer, an abolitionist, a wealthy manufacturer: The book follows these lives and many others, with detours into natural history and crime reportage.

NOT EVEN THE DEAD by Juan Gómez Bárcena

An ex-conquistador in Spanish-ruled, 16th-century Mexico is asked to hunt down an Indigenous prophet in this novel by a leading writer in Spain, splendidly translated by Katie Whittemore. The epic search stretches across much of the continent and, as the author bends time and history, lasts centuries.

THE NURSERY by Szilvia Molnar

“I used to be a translator and now I am a milk bar.” So begins Molnar’s brilliant novel about a new mother falling apart within the four walls of her apartment.

OUR SHARE OF NIGHT by Mariana Enriquez

This dazzling, epic narrative, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, is a bewitching brew of mystery and myth, peopled by mediums who can summon “the Darkness” for a secret society of wealthy occultists seeking to preserve consciousness after death.

PINEAPPLE STREET by Jenny Jackson

Jackson’s smart, dishy debut novel embeds readers in an upper-crust Brooklyn Heights family — its real estate, its secrets, its just-like-you-and-me problems. Does money buy happiness? “Pineapple Street” asks a better question: Does it buy honesty?

THE REFORMATORY by Tananarive Due

Due’s latest — about a Black boy, Robert, who is wrongfully sentenced to a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous and brutal Dozier School — is both an incisive examination of the lingering traumas of racism and a gripping, ghost-filled horror novel. “The novel’s extended, layered denouement is so heart-smashingly good, it made me late for work,” Randy Boyagoda wrote in his review. “I couldn’t stop reading.”

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by Vajra Chandrasekera

Trained to kill by his mother and able to see demons, the protagonist of Chandrasekera’s stunning and lyrical novel flees his destiny as an assassin and winds up in a politically volatile metropolis.

SAME BED DIFFERENT DREAMS by Ed Park

Double agents, sinister corporations, slasher films, U.F.O.s — Park’s long-awaited second novel is packed to the gills with creative elements that enliven his acerbic, comedic and lyrical odyssey into Korean history and American paranoia.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED by Idra Novey

This elegant novel resonates with implication beyond the taut contours of its central story line. In Novey’s deft hands, the complex relationship between a young woman and her former stepmother hints at the manifold divisions within America itself.

THIS OTHER EDEN by Paul Harding

In his latest novel, inspired by the true story of a devastating 1912 eviction in Maine that displaced an entire mixed-race fishing community, Harding turns that history into a lyrical tale about the fictional Apple Island on the cusp of destruction.

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Locked down on the family’s northern Michigan cherry orchard, three sisters and their mother, a former actress whose long-ago summer fling went on to become a movie star, reflect on love and regret in Patchett’s quiet and reassuring Chekhovian novel.

THE UNSETTLED by Ayana Mathis

This novel follows three generations across time and place: a young mother trying to create a home for herself and her son in 1980s Philadelphia, and her mother, who is trying to save their Alabama hometown from white supremacists seeking to displace her from her land.

VICTORY CITY by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s new novel recounts the long life of Pampa Kampana, who creates an empire from magic seeds in 14th-century India. Her world is one of peace, where men and women are equal and all faiths welcome, but the story Rushdie tells is of a state that forever fails to live up to its ideals.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by Cat Sebastian

This queer midcentury romance — about reporters who meet at work, become friends, move in together and fall in love — lingers on small, everyday acts like bringing home flowers with the groceries, things that loom large because they’re how we connect with others.

WESTERN LANE by Chetna Maroo

In this polished and disciplined debut novel, an 11-year-old Jain girl in London who has just lost her mother turns her attention to the game of squash — which in Maroo’s graceful telling becomes a way into the girl’s grief.

WITNESS by Jamel Brinkley

Set in Brooklyn, and featuring animal rescue workers, florists, volunteers, ghosts and UPS workers, Brinkley’s new collection meditates on what it means to see and be seen.

Y/N by Esther Yi

In this weird and wondrous novel, a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.

YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang

Kuang’s first foray outside of the fantasy genre is a breezy and propulsive tale about a white woman who achieves tremendous literary success by stealing a manuscript from a recently deceased Asian friend and passing it off as her own.

#new york times #100 books #reading list #2023 #books #reading #have you read any of these titles?

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coochiequeens · 6 months

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Finally I'm able share some good news

Wild festivals, exquisite fruit-bowls and unusually realistic renderings of motherhood and female friendship – not to mention a glimpse of Lady Hamilton as an enthusiastic follower of Bacchus – will go on show in Madrid on Tuesday as one of the country’s most famous galleries seeks to spike the patriarchal canon of art history with a new, and avowedly feminist, exhibition.

The show at the Thyssen-Bornemisza – called simply Maestras (Women Masters) – uses almost 100 paintings, lithographs and sculptures to show how female artists from the late 16th to the early 20th centuries won recognition in their own lifetimes, only to find their works forgotten, erased or consigned to dusty storerooms.

Organised into eight chronological sections that reflect artistic and social changes, Maestras also explores how female artists, gallerists and patrons worked together to create and celebrate art while living and working in the grip and gaze of sexist, and often misogynistic, societies.

Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones, The Shoe Shop, 1911. Photograph: Elyse Allen/© Art Resource, New York Scala, Florence

Seventeenth-century works by Artemisia Gentileschi, Fede Galizia and Elisabetta Sirani give way to still lifes of fruit and flowers before the exhibition moves to portraits – including Élisabeth Louise Vigeé Le Brun’s Lady Hamilton as a Bacchante – and then to Orientalism, depictions of working women, images of maternity, sisterhood and, finally, to images of female emancipation.

Among the show’s early exhibits is one of Gentileschi’s anguished studies of Susanna and the Elders, while the later pieces include Mary Cassatt’s bleary-eyed Breakfast in Bed and Maruja Mallo’s playful Fair pictures.

“This exhibition speaks positively of that other half of art history,” said the exhibition’s curator, the art historian and critic Rocío de la Villa.

“For a long time, the feminist history of art has been beset by all the handicaps and obstacles that had been put in the path of female creators. For example, they couldn’t access the same artistic training that their male colleagues could. They generally lived in an extremely patriarchal system that denied them their rights and in which their signatures had no legal value.”

There were, however, “certain moments and certain places” in which conditions were more favourable to female artists, and the show aims to offer “a series of windows through which we can see a mutual understanding and a camaraderie between artists, gallery owners and patrons”.

It also reminds visitors that some talented women caught the eye of European royal courts, and that some had husbands who helped them in the studio – or even looked after their children – because they knew that their wives’ gifts far exceeded their own.

Mary Cassatt, Breakfast in Bed, 1897. Photograph: The Huntington Library, Art Museum

Guillermo Solana, the artistic director of the Thyssen-Bornemisza, said Maestras was another example of the museum’s continuing commitment to feminism, education and addressing the prejudices of the past.

“I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t do any mansplaining today but I can’t help it when it comes to explaining what I’ve learned from the process of doing this exhibition, because I’ve learned a lot,” he told journalists on Monday morning.

“The first thing I learned from this exhibition – and which I think the public will also learn – was so many new names; so many fantastic artists I’d had no idea about and had never heard of. Of course, we knew about Artemisia Gentileschi and Frida Kahlo or Paula Modersohn-Becker, but how many important artists have got away – or been taken from us?”

Frida Kahlo, Portrait of Lucha María, A Girl from Tehuacán, 1942. Photograph: akg-images/© Rafael Doniz @ 2023 Banco de México Diego Rivera Frida Kahlo Museums Trust, México, D.F./VEGAP

De la Villa agreed. “The public is going to ask, ‘How can it be that we didn’t know about these female artists?’” she said.

“How is it that their works were in storerooms until recently? Maestras is a feminist exhibition that seeks to emphatically correct the prejudices that have come about as a result of the patriarchy – prejudices that have meant that works by female artists have remained in museum storerooms during the 20th century.”

She said the male-dominated artistic system had always sought to defend itself by denigrating female artists. Equally damaging, she added, was how historians had played down the achievements of women until their voices were silenced and their creations overlooked and then hidden from view.

“When women are hidden, or robbed of their past, they are robbed of their identity,” said De la Villa. “The power of culture is very important. It just can’t be separated from the social conditions we enjoy, or which we suffer.”

Maestras is at the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum from 31 October to 4 February 2024

#Spain #Madrid #the Thyssen-Bornemisza #Maestras (Women Masters)#Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones #mary cassatt #frida kahlo #October 31st to February 4th 2024

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wlwcatalogue · 9 months

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Female Queer Icons of Hong Kong // Yam Kim Fai (任劍輝) and Pak Suet Sin (白雪仙)

Photo 1: Promotional photo for 1955 contemporary movie The Model and the Car (玉女香車) (no video available) (Source: LCSD Museum Collection Search Portal)

Photo 4: Photo from Sin Fung Ming Opera Troupe's 1958 trip

Photo 5: Photo from a 1962 newspaper feature on Yam, Pak, and others at their (?) summer villa in Central, Hong Kong

Photo 6: Christmas celebrations with Yam, Pak, and their protégés of the Chor Fung Ming Troupe

Far and away the most iconic duo in Cantonese opera, Yam Kim Fai (任劍輝) and Pak Suet Sin (白雪仙) – commonly referred to simply as Yam-Pak (任白) – were famed for their partnership both on and off the stage… Click below to learn more!

Edit on 28/07/2023: Updated to link to a photo of the entrance to the Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s Pop Culture 60+ exhibit, and to add information regarding Yam and Pak's marriage status.

Iconic? How?

Yam-Pak are the face of Cantonese opera; you can't talk about the latter without mentioning the former. It's to the point where a gigantic picture of them graces the entrance to the Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s permanent exhibition on Hong Kong pop culture’s evolution across the past 60 years (“Hong Kong Pop 60+”) - they are the first thing you see upon entering!

Best known as the originators - with Yam playing the male leads and Pak the female leads - of five masterpieces of Cantonese opera, namely:

1. Princess Cheung Ping (帝女花) 2. The Legend of the Purple Hairpin (紫釵記) 3. The Dream Tryst in the Peony Pavilion (牡丹亭驚夢) 4. The Reincarnation of Lady Plum Blossom (再世紅梅記) 5. Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) (Note: Princess Cheung Ping, Purple Hairpin, and Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom were made into abridged movie versions, with the Sin Fung Ming troupe members reprising their roles from the theatre productions. Also, the "Fragrant Sacrifice" (香夭) duet from Princess Cheung Ping (movie clip) is one of - if not the most - famous songs in Cantonese opera.)

Yam and Pak were the leading pair and co-founders of the legendary Sin Fung Ming Opera Troupe (仙鳳鳴劇團; 1956-1961), which is widely held to have pushed Cantonese opera forward as an artform due to Pak and scriptwriter Tong Tik Sang’s (唐滌生) emphasis on poetic libretti and adapting source material from Chinese literature and history. (Note: it has been common practice since the 1930's for Cantonese opera troupes to be founded by key actor(s).)

They were also very active in the Hong Kong film industry in the 1950's, being paired in over 40 movies together across roughly 8 years. One of those – the aforementioned Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) – is the sole Cantonese opera movie on the Hong Kong Film Archive’s 100-Must See Hong Kong Movies list (IMDB list / archived version of the official PDF). It's a well-deserved inclusion - check out this beautifully-shot dance scene.

Even their post-retirement activities had a significant effect on the industry! In the early 1960’s, they held auditions for prospective students and provided - for free - systematic, hands-on training to those who passed; Yam and Pak even hired other veterans to teach skills they personally were not as familiar with. Prior to this, apprentices were expected to learn primarily from observing their masters, and to pay handsomely for the privilege. Yam-Pak’s methods proved exceedingly effective: the Chor Fung Ming Opera Troupe (雛鳳鳴劇團; 1963-1992) starring their apprentices reigned supreme in the 1970’s-1980’s. Following this success, Cantonese opera institutes - most notably the major 1900s-era guild, the Chinese Artists Association of Hong Kong (八和會館) - started to offer systematic coaching to young hopefuls in the 1980's.

Okay, so why are they queer icons specifically?

The lazy answer is that they're queer icons because nearly all of Yam's roles were male, so Gender is involved by default, and since most hit Cantonese operas of the time were romances, that means you get to see two female actors performing being in love onscreen (and also on stage, but there aren't any video recordings from back then). So far, so Takarazuka Revue.

Female actors playing male roles in Cantonese opera To give some context, each Cantonese opera performer specialises in one of four major role-types, and Yam was a sung (生) - i.e. an actor specialised in playing standard male roles. Female sung were fairly common in the 1910's-1930's due to women being banned from performing with men during that period, but when the ban lifted in the mid-1930's, many troupes shifted towards cis-casting. Yam was pretty much the only one whose popularity survived the transition. Just take a look at the huge number of Cantonese opera movies produced during the 1950’s-1960’s – you’ll be hard-pressed to find a female sung other than Yam, let alone one with top billing. Happily, thanks to Yam's immense popularity, her profilic film career (over 300 movies!), and the prominence of Sin Fung Ming works in the Cantonese opera canon, there has been a resurgence in female sung which endures to this day. Two noteworthy examples are Yam's protégé Sabrina Lee/ Loong Kim Sang (龍劍笙) - a star in her own right - and Joyce Koi/ Koi Ming Fai (蓋鳴暉), one of the biggest names still active in the industry. (Note: perhaps due to cinema being more "realistic" in nature, Yam's early movies often involved her playing female characters cross-dressing as men, including in some Cantonese opera movies. However, she received increasingly more male roles as her fame grew, and from the mid-1950's onwards she was playing male characters onscreen nearly exclusively-- even in non-Cantonese opera movies! See Photo 1 above.)

What sets Yam and Pak apart is that they were particularly known for their chemistry. Long before Sin Fung Ming's formation in 1956, the advertising copy for their first Cantonese opera movie together - Frolicking with a Pretty Maid in the Wineshop (酒樓戲鳳, 1952) - declared "Only this movie has Yam-Pak flirting on the silver screen" (source - 華僑日報 1952/05/23-26). And indeed, they were popular for their flirtatious duets: their Cantonese opera works invariably contained at least one, and such scenes made it into some of non-Cantonese opera (i.e. "contemporary") movies too. In fact, there are not one but two contemporary movies where Yam and Pak's characters are not paired up and yet still sing a duet together in such a way that their significant other(s) become convinced that the two are in romantically interested in each other - see 1952's Lovesick (為情顛倒) and 1956's The Happy Hall (滿堂吉慶) - a weirdly specific situation which doesn't crop up in the other, non-Yam-Pak movies I have seen.

Speaking of contemporary movies, let's talk about a certain plotline that keeps cropping up in works featuring the both of them and where Yam plays a woman! Six of the eleven movies which fit that criteria involve Yam's character cross-dressing as a man (a common characteristic across Yam's handful of female roles), and Pak's character falling for her. Nothing ever comes of it, of course, but, um. It was certainly a trend. Actually, even their very first movie together - 1951's Lucky Strike (福至心靈) - falls into this category.

Such storylines, and the emphasis on their chemistry, are particularly interesting given that both Yam and Pak remained ostensibly unmarried throughout. This was unusual for female performers of their stature, who tended to wed in their twenties, often to fellow-actors or wealthy men (e.g. Hung Sin Nui/紅線女, Fong Yim Fun/芳艷芬, and Tang Pik Wan/鄧碧雲)... In contrast, by the time Yam-Pak retired from the stage in 1961, they were both over 30 years old and without husbands.

Also, did I mention they were popularly believed to be living together? There doesn't seem to be any conclusive evidence either way... although it's a little strange that separate newspaper pictorials depicting "Yam at home" and "Pak at home" seem to be of the same location... however what is conclusive is that they did spent a lot of time together offstage. Pak has talked about how when they had no guests over, Yam would watch TV by herself while Pak was in the living room (source - p93), and protégé Mandy Fung/ Mui Suet Sze (梅雪詩) has said that Pak would sometimes cook for Yam at home (source - 03:53~). They would also celebrate birthdays, New Year's, and Christmas together (see Photo 6 for an example of the latter).

Shortly after Yam's passing in 1989, Pak set up the Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin Charitable Foundation (任白慈善基金) to support the arts and provide welfare for the elderly. In 1996, Pak made a large donation to Hong Kong University, resulting in one of the buildings being renamed Yam Pak Building (任白樓) in thanks (source).

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to DM me or send an ask if you have any questions, or are just interested in learning more.

If you made it here, have this bonus piece of trivia - Yam and Pak were also well-acquainted with Hong Kong's preeminent queer icon, Leslie Cheung (張國榮), who was a massive fan of theirs. Sadly there don't seem to be any pictures of them before Yam's passing, but here's one of Pak (centre) having afternoon tea with Cheung (left) and his long-term romantic partner Daffy Tong (唐鶴德) (right) at the Cova cafe in the Pacific Place shopping mall.

#wlw recommendations #sapphic #lgbtq #asian lgbtq #hong kong #theatre #cantonese opera #chinese opera #yam kim fai #leslie cheung #pak suet sin #yampak #yambak #pak sheut sin #bak sheut sin #hong kong queer icons #not me hastily adding tags because i keep forgetting certain ones

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djuvlipen · 1 year

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♀️latscho diwes djuviale♀️

💞 I made this blog to highlight the specific struggles Romani women face based on our sex, our race and our class

💞 I'm anti-gender, anti-sex trade, anti-religion, anti-capitalist

💞 I support women's and LGB rights. My feminism is female only!

💞 I'm a half-sinti, half-white working class homosexual woman living in Western Europe

BEFORE YOU BLOCK ME, READ THIS: x

FAQ, BOOKS AND RESOURCES BELOW

General / Frequently asked questions

-> Difference between Roma and Romanian (x)

-> Difference between Roma and Sinti (x)

-> My profile picture is from De la source à la mer (1984), by Sinti-Manouche filmmaker and writer Pisla Helmstetter

-> My banner is from The Gypsies are Found Near Heaven (1975), by Emil Loteanu

Posts on the racialized misogyny targeting Romani women

-> general masterpost (x)

-> posts on Romani women being sex trafficked into prostitution in Europe (x) (x)

-> posts on the forced sterilization of Romani women in Europe (x) (x) (x) (x)

-> post on healthcare discrimination (x)

-> incest, sexual and domestic violence targeting Eastern European Romani women (x) (x)

-> Roma, religion and misogyny (x)

-> On "Gypsy witches" (x)

Inspiring Romani women you should know about

-> autobiographies by Romani women (x)

-> Sandra Jayat, French-Romani painter and poet (x)

-> Katarina Taikon, Swedish-Romani writer and antiracist activist (x) (x)

-> Elena Gorolova, Czech-Romani women's rights advocate (x)

-> Jelena Savić, Serbian-Romani feminist, poet and essayist (x)

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-> Kiba Lumberg, Finnish-Romani and butch lesbian artist (x)

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-> "15 Bad ass Romani ladies you should know about" (x)

-> Romani herstory, an "ever-growing digital library that celebrates women of Romani descent from the past and present, unsung heroines & trailblazers who refuse(d) to conform to stereotypes"

Romani feminist writings

-> Intersections of Gender, Ethnicity, and Class: History and Future of the Romani Women’s Movement, by Jelena Jovanović, Angéla Kóczé, and Lídia Balogh (x)

-> Gender, Ethnicity and Class: Romani Women's Political Activism and Social Struggles, Angéla Kóczé (x)

-> Lessons from Roma Feminism in Europe: Digital Storytelling Projects with Roma Women Activists from Romania, Spain and Sweden, Jasmine Ljungberg (x)

-> Romani women’s identities real and imagined: Media discourse analysis of “I’m a European Roma Woman” campaign, Jelena Jovanović (x)

-> Džuvljarke: Roma Lesbian Existence, Vera Kurtić (x)

-> Re-envisioning Social Justice from the Ground Up: Including the Experiences of Romani Women, Alexandra Oprea (x)

-> Angéla Kóczé on the hijacking of the Romani feminist and antiracist movement by neoliberal groups (x) (x)

-> Mihaela Drăgan on the racialization of Romani women (x)

-> quotes from Romani feminist books (x)

Learn about the Romani genocide

-> general post (x)

The Genocide and Persecution of Roma and Sinti. Bibliography and Historiographical Review (x)

Roma Resistance During the Holocaust and in its Aftermath, Angéla Kóczé, Anna Lujza Szász (eds.) (x)

O Porrajmos: the Romani Holocaust, Ian Hancock (x)

Porrajmos: The Romani and the Holocaust, Ian Hancock (x)

Responses to the Porrajmos (the Romani Holocaust), Ian Hancock (x)

Barvalipe Roma Online University (playlist of lectures about many different aspects of Romani history, politics and culture) (x)

Romani slavery in Romania

Brief overview (x)

Alternatives to the labrys flag

(first design by @/sapphos-darling)

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bangtanhoneys · 5 months

Text

The Grammy's - Part Two

Part 1 l Part 3

The GRAMMY’s.

The Grammy Awards are awards presented by the Recording Academy of the United States to recognise “outstanding” achievements in the music industry…if you believed what you read on Wikipedia and if you didn’t see the artists who had brought exceptional change to the music industry like Lana Del Ray, Ariana Grande, Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry and even Diana Ross.

BTS were included in that list of people who had changed the music industry, had made Billboard change their rules every time they brought out a new single or album, had streaming numbers no one else had and yet for all the Grammy nominations, performances and making an appearance, there was no Grammy.

Until they had received a notification from Bang-PD to their phones, though five of those messages had been delayed in getting to their recipients.

Grammy Nominations have come through - Grace has got 3.

7 Rings - Record of the Year

In My Head - Album of the Year

7 Rings - Best Pop Solo Performance.

Each had a different reaction to the news, which was understandable. At first, there was elation over the fact that at least one of them got a Grammy nod, second was amazement that she had scored three big major categories and then worry mixed in with disappointment. Why hadn’t they had the nomination? Whether solo or as a group, the Grammy’s had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

Namjoon, Yoongi and Seokjin knew Grace would flat-out refuse to perform or even go to the awards. They knew her back to front - her loyalty stood with the group and if they weren’t getting a nomination, then neither would she.

However, this was a defining moment in her career, their careers, their history and for the country.

And for those who knew what kind of start Grace had, this would be the perfect way to celebrate that career.

She started as an admin assistant, straight out of school and into employment with Big Hit Entertainment who then saw that she could do ballet dancing, and ballroom dancing, who could sing though that skill was untouched, spoke perfect English, could speak German as well and had all the charm of an idol.

Yet there was no place for her.

Everyone knew Bang PD wanted a hip-hop group and that’s what he started with in Namjoon, then Yoongi and Hobi. Grace was added as a backup for the ability to sing their ad-libs and rap alongside them without any problem. Then along came Seokjin & Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin and suddenly they were an idol group.

A woman shouldn’t be doing hip-hop with a boy group and so she had signed a two album contract which had left her on tenterhooks as to whether all the skills she had gained while working with Bangtan Sonyeondan would now be worthless. But along came Skool Luv Affair and Dark & Wild and everything fell into place.

Now they couldn’t see the group without their eldest member, the only female, their noona. The woman who protected them in every sense of the word and who had always been there for their solo projects and careers. Her own started very late after their military careers had started so she had full reign of being the BTS representative.

If her upcoming tour was a testament to how well her solo career had taken off, then a Grammy nomination would just solidify that.

Updates were coming in every day and then it was the date of the Grammy Awards themselves. Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon & Yoongi were given special permission for absence of leave for two days so Seokjin planned a private viewing party just for the boys, their close friends who knew Grace as well and some of their team.

Seokjin had been up till late preparing snacks and food as the Grammy’s would start at 10am their time. There was plenty of alcohol covering his kitchen counter and there was food everywhere when Hobi had arrived first.

“Hyung, have you been stress cooking again?”

Seokjin paused where he was putting out plates and cups, chilling the expensive alcohol that had been gifted to him by someone and making sure there was enough kimchi in the container. Multitasking at its finest.

“Maybe? I can’t help it. I’m nervous, more for Grace than anyone else.”

Hobi sighed, having had the same conversation with every other member of the team and Grace herself. She had massive reservations about attending and performing, believing it all to be a big farce so they could have big viewing numbers.

“I know, but noona will be fine. She’s a lot stronger than us and a loss at the Grammy’s won’t affect her like it did us. As she said, as long as her performance is killer, who cares.”

Nothing more could be said as the front door opened and the rest of his boys poured through, Jungkook first then the rest following with bags of more food and alcohol.

“How drunk are you all getting?” Hobi laughed, receiving hugs and pats on the back as he looked at the various sized bags that were being dumped in the kitchen.

“It would have been more but Yoongi-hyung stopped us,” Taehyung shrugged as he dropped his bag and then lifted his arm, flexing it to show off his muscles which caused Jimin to roll his eyes and push at him. “We’ve all got muscles. It hasn’t been that long since Hobi-hyung has seen us.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Yoongi and Namjoon asked Seokjin at the same time, causing the two to pause, look at each other then back at their hyung.

Jungkook, while looking every inch the military man he had become, had wrapped his arms around Seokjin and pushed his face into his back.

“Nervous,” Seokjin admitted while patting Jungkook’s hands. “I’m more nervous for her than about the whole thing. But I know she can handle it. It’s just a big thing.”

“For everyone,” Namjoon smiled slightly and reached over to give Seokjin’s shoulder a squeeze, causing the man to squawk at how strong that grip had become. “Ah, sorry hyung.”

“Come on, let’s get the TV sorted before everyone else comes. And start cracking the bottles open hyung, let the champagne breathe before we get started,” Yoongi grinned as he took control of the situation, shooing people to start doing jobs.

Even though it was early in the morning and most people had been up all night working, everyone was in bright spirits as the coffee churned. The living room was filled with about 20 people, some on the couch, some on the floor, some on chairs they had brought over. Jungkook had even stolen the spare mattress in the other room and had laid it out on the floor for some.

BTS, however, had taken control of the couch.

They barely listened to the people talking on the screen as they all settled down with their various glasses of drink though Seokjin, Hobi and Namjoon had stuck to iced coffee for now. They wanted to be sober enough to get to her performance before drinking any type of alcohol.

Their phones went off at the same time.

“Oh my god, look at her!”

Taehyung lifted his phone up and began showing it around to the others. Sejin had sent a picture of Grace between her parents, dressed in her Elie Saab dress and made up to the nines as her father stood in a suit to her left and her mother stood to her right in a gold dress. They all matched perfectly to what Grace was wearing.

Messages quickly flew out of good luck, hope it all goes well, kill the stage, etc. None were read by Grace but Sejin sent a thumbs up emoji back with a winky face.

There was silence in the room as they watched the red carpet, pointing out the various celebrities they knew of or had met. They had immediately spotted Liam McEwan, one of the reporters who they actually liked. And then they saw Bang PD step out of the car with Grace’s parents, a member of staff leading them past the red carpet and inside.

“Here we go,” Seokjin muttered as Namjoon’s hand squeezed his shoulder again, a bit more gently this time.

The noise from the crowd was instantaneous.

Hands reached forward for the remote control to turn down the volume a bit as screams were heard, many heads turned as the camera switched to Liam McEwan. “Everybody, Grace Chu from BTS has arrived! The queen is here.”

The boys held their breath until the camera caught up with where it was meant to be, showing Grace in front of the Grammy backdrop, cameras flashing in her eyes as she smiled for the photographers. The dress sparkled each time the camera flashed and then she was moved along, straight towards Liam.

“Seee! Told you she could do it,” Yoongi said as he raised his glass of whiskey, not at all a bit tipsy as Jungkook reached over and filled it up for him. When did he get started on that?

“She hasn’t even gotten inside yet hyung,” Jimin laughed, already opening another bottle of champagne as if Grace had already won her three awards and had been crowned Queen of Korea.

Seokjin and Namjoon as well as Hobi, the only three who had been determined not to drink until the end, slowly sipped on their iced coffee and laughed as they watched an excited maknae open Taehyung’s bottle of wine for him.

“But she’s won everyone over! I mean, that dress is amazing on her,” Taehyung said as he stood, pushing over Jimin who spilled himself into Hobi’s lap. Obviously, a career in the military had done nothing to dampen their enthusiasm.

Taehyung stood next to the large TV screen, pointing at various parts of her dress. “I mean, it’s pretty low. I wonder who signed that off but either way, she looks amazing. And look! Cleavage! No one has seen noona with cleavage yet.”

Yoongi groaned, covering his eyes. “Don’t mention Grace and cleavage in the same sentence. I’m not drunk enough yet.”

Seokjin hid a grin behind his hand and tried not to chuckle, ignoring Hobi who was cackling into his back and Namjoon who stood ready to defend his noona’s honour until he was pulled back down.

“What?” Taehyung asked, grinning. “Okay, okay. But this is history in the making here. She’s got everyone eating out of her hand already and she’s not even inside yet. Is that Taylor Swift she’s saying hello to? Oh, it's Nicki Minaj. Ah, another collab being set up there.”

“Tae,” Seokjin started and threw a napkin at him. “Sit down before your eyes turn into the same shape as the TV. You’re blocking the view as well.”

There were plenty of voices who agreed with him as Tae pouted and sat back down, ignoring the maknae line’s giggles.

The next time they saw Grace was sitting with her parents in the main room, taking a glass of water and gulping it down before Sejin and the Grammy team led her away.

“Oh this is it,” Jungkook whispered as he somehow managed to squeeze in next to Seokjin. If there were two people in the room who were close to Grace and could feel her nerves from here, it would be them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to 5-time Grammy nominated member of BTS, Grace Chu,” the loud announcement came.

“Okay. This is it,” Namjoon said as he went into leader mode. “Everyone shut up and let’s enjoy it.” Nothing more needed to be said as everyone went into quiet mode, 20 sets of eyes on the TV that showed a black curtain being lifted as the opening to the Sound of Music’s ‘Favourite Things’ was being played by a small orchestra, dressed in black dinner suits and dresses.

Jungkook reached over and held onto Seokjin’s hand tight.

Each light in the middle came on to show her standing there, in her blazer dress that was very short but presentable and caused some uproar from the boys the moment they saw it but a quick look from Namjoon and they settled again.

Her eyes met the camera as it slowly zoomed in and she gave a small smile as she started to sing, four female dancers walking on stage to meet her dressed in white suits.

“My wrist, stop watchin’, my neck is flossy,” Grace and Jungkook sang at the same time, though he did it under his breath as he watched the choreography on the TV. By the time the chorus came, the four female dancers spread further apart to allow the seven male dancers to come alongside though they were dressed in matching black suits.

“Wearing a ring, but ain’t gon’ be no Mrs,” Grace sang as she flashed her left hand, wiggling slightly causing Jimin and Taehyung to giggle.

There were more outrage noises when it came to the second pre-chorus, the female dancers were back as the lyrics “my smile is beamin’, my skin is gleamin’” were sung but instead of Grace doing the usual choreography that the boys were used to, it had been changed for American tv.

All five women turned and leaned forward, resting heads on backsides as Grace shifted hands to turn her head towards the camera as she sang the rest of the lyrics, “the way it shine, I know you’ve seen it” as her hand went down the thigh of the dancer who she was resting on.

“I bought a crib just for the closet,” Grace sang as she rightened herself, not paying attention to the crowd’s delighted noises or what her parents were going to think. Right now, it was a cause of getting through this song to get to the rap part and then done.

All dancers were back for the chorus and Yoongi, Hobi and Namjoon shifted towards the edge of the seat. They had seen the many comments around this song and whether Grace could perform the rap part live, since it was so fat, not realising she covered their rap parts with ease when they needed her to.

“When you see them racks, they stacked up like my ass yeah,” she sang/rapped, turning her body a little to camera to show her hand grabbing a chunk of her backside to match the lyrics. She then fully turned to the camera, the dancers in formation on either side of her as she continued the verse.

“Shoot, go from the store to the booth. Make it all back in one loop, gimmie the loot,” she continued as she danced her way through the verse without stopping to take a breath.

In complete jubilation, every single person in Seokjin’s living room sang along with her.

“Nevermind I got the juice. Nothing but net when we shoot. Look at my neck, look at my jet!”

“Ain’t got enough money to pay me respect. Ain’t no budget when I’m on the set If I like it, then that’s what I get,” Grace continued from where they left off singing.

The dancers all left the stage as the orchestra took over the last chorus, letting the song play out once Grace stopped singing. The audience stood, clapping and cheering for her and even though the camera’s didn’t show it, she did a full bow to the crowd.

“Okay, that was amazing!”

The alcohol was flowing now the worst of the nerves were over with and Seokjin happily accepted the glass of wine, Namjoon a whiskey from Yoongi and Hobi a washed down glass of white wine. All seven boys, their close friends and team lifted their glasses in cheers.

“Namjoon, you do it,” Yoongi said as everyone looked to Seokjin to lead the toast.

“Oh right,” their leader said as he stood, making his way to stand next to the TV where the awards were flowing.

“When I first met noona, I was a shy teenager who had no clue, probably like many of us. She didn’t care that I was into hip hop, that I had big dreams and that I wanted to be something. All she cared about was Namjoon - what did he want? And I never knew the answer to that question until the day she and I were out buying plants,” Namjoon paused then laughed when he realised he was getting teary as was the rest of the boys in front of him.

“She asked what I wanted? And I picked up this plant pot because it was cute. And I realised there and then, that all noona wanted from me was to be happy and if a plant pot made me happy because it was cute, then that’s what she was going to get for me. Seeing her come from someone who didn’t know their place in the world to now seeing her up there on the Grammy stage, I’m very thankful that I have Grace Chu in my life. So fuck the Grammy’s, who gives a shit. Grace Chu just made history!”

Everyone’s glasses went up with cheers. “To Grace Chu!” they all said then downed their alcohol in one go, only for glasses to be filled again just as quickly.

There was complete and utter silence when she didn’t win Best Pop Solo Performance, though Jungkook could see the storm brewing over his leader’s head. “Noona isn’t bothered,” he muttered as he pointed to her on the screen as she laughed and talked to her parents, completely unbothered by the fact she didn’t win.

It turned out to be a very long morning as each award came and went.

“The nominees for Record of the Year are,” that sentence interrupted all the conversations in the room, heads turning on a swivel to stare at the screen.

BTS turned to look at each other and as if they had the same thought, they each reached over to clasp hands. Namjoon closed his eyes, let out a breath and prayed.

“And the winner is,” there was a giant pause and Grace on the screen turned to her mother to say something before the answer was revealed: “7 Rings - Grace Chu.”

There was complete and utter pandemonium in Seokjin’s living room. Namjoon had fallen to the floor on his knees, Jungkook on his back. Taehyung and Jimin were hugging each other, Hobi stared at the screen in utter confusion and Yoongi reached over to wrap an arm around Seokjin’s shoulders.

“She did it, hyung. She actually did it.”

They missed most of her speech, only calming down enough to hear the last part of it.

“Holy shit,” Namjoon muttered as he wiped a hand down his face and stayed where he was. Jungkook grabbed hold of his shoulders and whispered hurriedly at him. “Hyung, hyung, look.”

On screen, Chris Martin from Coldplay was walking across the stage.

“No way,” Seokjin whispered as Yoongi grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing tight. If there was anyone who was important to the couple and to the rest of the band, it would be Chris. The fact he was there to present the biggest award of the night was not missed by anyone.

“The winner for Album of the Year,” Chris paused and turned to look at Grace. “In My Head" by Grace Chu, produced by Bang PD & PDogg from Big Hit Entertainment. Congratulations.”

There was silence for a moment and then a multitude of noise. Cheers, screams, crying, hooting, laughter and some kind of noise Taehyung had produced at the news. Each man had a different reaction as they watched Grace stand and walk up to the stage, greeting Chris the traditional way before hugging him.

They went silent again as Grace started her speech, each of them holding their breath as they were standing. It wasn’t missed that she had said her boys, ARMY and her man separately and for her to acknowledge Seokjin like that on American TV was another big moment.

Jimin’s phone rang just as Grace walked off stage and he quickly pulled it out, seeing Sejin’s name on the screen.

“Ah Sejin-hyung,” Jimin said while he put the voice call on speakerphone so they could hear their old manager.

“Grace is just coming backstage now so I’ve got you on speakerphone, one moment.” They could hear the tears in his voice over the noise in the background. “Grace, the boys are on the phone.”

They were all screaming their congratulations on the line and suddenly they heard Bang-PD on the line.

“Boys,” he started crying again. “I’m so proud of you all. So proud. I’m letting Grace have a moment with her parents but I just wanted to say I’m very proud of you all. Thank you.”

It was hard to even get their words out but there were promises for a celebration dinner when they got back and Grace would speak to them later once she got back to her hotel.

“She did it,” Namjoon whispered as he saw the notifications on his phone on various media outlets across South Korea and America reporting on Grace winning her two Grammys. CL, IU, TXT and others were posting on their social media, tagging BTS and Grace in their posts. Even Billboard had put up a post.

“She did it,” Namjoon repeated as he rested a hand on Seokjin’s back and an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. Hobi joined them at Jungkook’s side, pulling Jimin and Taehyung in and Yoongi joined them by wrapping an arm around Taehyung and Seokjin.

Grace would return back to Korea, to them, as a twice Grammy awarded artist. And no one would be able to say that Korea’s Noona hadn’t broken the barrier that they all needed to be broken and no one could say that they as a group and individually weren’t leading the way for other Korean idols and groups.

#bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts eighth member #bts female member #bts fic #bts fanfiction

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accio-victuuri · 5 months

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from this article released 12/8 about wyb’s effect on YAYA after being their spokesperson. Their brand director Suki, was interviewed and they gave some insight on WYB being the face of the brand.

“Wang Yibo has led YAYA to become a "super dark horse". Is spokesperson marketing okay again?”

Wang Yibo ’s three-wear goose down jacket with a removable inner lining sold out 120,000 pieces during Double 11 . Suki said, "We have deep stockings of styles for artists' upper body in advance, but the final total sales volume is really surprising. We all joked that the specially opened " Yibo dedicated production line " was so busy that it was smoking. For this reason, we have Hundreds of production lines that have been put into production to meet consumer demand."

On the day it was officially announced that Wang Yibo became the chief spokesperson for YaYa down jackets, the total online transactions in all channels reached 200 million+; Douyin single-day women's clothing top 1; Tmall clothing live broadcast TOP 1, Tmall men's clothing TOP 1, Tmall women's down jackets TOP 1 , Tmall men’s down jacket TOP1.

Q: How did you come up with the idea of asking Wang Yibo to be your spokesperson?

Suki : Yaya has a brand development history of more than 50 years. After the share reorganization in 2020, we vigorously promoted the rejuvenation strategy. The spokesperson is our effective contact point with consumers.

Wang Yibo is a new generation artist born after 1995. He has multiple identities such as actor, singer, race car driver, and dancer. He has both national and commercial influence.

Q: Are there any challenges in this collaboration?

Suki : Yes, the cooperation with Wang Yibo itself is also a process of testing the strength of the brand . We noticed that Wang Yibo has many endorsements, including endorsements for high-end luxury brands and TOP endorsements in various sub-categories. As a brand in the down jacket subcategory, YaYa has experienced relatively rapid growth in market performance after the share reorganization in recent years. Combined with the brand's accumulation and renewal of brand assets over more than 50 years, it finally successfully passed the layer-by-layer review of the artist team and the demands of both parties. And the fit is very high.

Of course, cooperation with top-notch artists does not happen overnight. It ends with a Weibo post on the day of the official announcement. The core test is the brand's ability to undertake, whether it is your products, operations or brand marketing, the ability to undertake will be tens of millions of times. Magnify infinitely with the attention.

Q: How do you feel about working with Wang Yibo’s team overall?

Suki : Professional . They already have a very mature and standardized cooperation process through many cooperations with high-end luxury brands and top brands in various sub-categories, and the docking team has high business literacy. Our overall communication with the artist team is very efficient.

Q: What is the logic behind choosing these celebrities to sign?

Suki : 1 (top) + N (artists of multiple styles) diversified spokesperson matrix system.

The existence of male spokespersons is to increase the proportion of Yaya men's clothing . YaYa's current market sales situation shows that the proportion of women's clothing is higher than that of men's clothing. In addition to Wang Yibo, we also cooperate with male artists such as Chen Zheyuan, Cheng Lei, and Zhou Yiran . They are all niche actors who have produced hit dramas in recent years and have their own loyal fan groups. In addition, when it comes to the choice of upper body styles, we will also select some unisex styles for female fans to choose from.

#wang yibo #king yibo

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simstomaggie · 1 year

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Women's History Month Collection for Girls

March is the month to celebrate women and all our contributions to history and society!

(This was totally not supposed to be ready for International Women's Day on the 8th, no no.)

I wanted to give girls the opportunity to show off their feminism and also to celebrate diversity among women, so I made this! We have a sweatshirt with amazing women from history, a dress with incredible women from different media, and a t-shirt with amazing feminist artwork by Alura on etsy (link below)!

the "All Girls Are Superheroes"-Dress

This dress is the dress from Dream Home Decorator made bgc. The design says "All Girls Are Superheroes" in simlish, and above it you can see all kinds of (super-)heroines!

25 swatches

bgc

disallowed for random

the "Historic Women"-Sweatshirt

This was i think the original idea: make some historical women in the sims and put the faces on a shirt! I did a tiny mesh edit, to make the sweatshirt a little nicer. You have the names of the women on the shirt in the white banner, and below it says "The Future is Female". I'll leave it to you to figure out who is who ;) Thanks to my friends @kyriat-sims, @jackiewilsonsims , @dsimsdecades and @simming-in-the-rain for their lovely contributions to this project!

11 swatches

bgc

disallowed for random

a big thank you to the amazing @simverses for her help with a small weight issue!

the "Girlpower"-Shirt

These is a t-shirt with the fantastic designs by Alura! If you like them and would like to support an amazing artist, please go to her shop AluraHome! The link to the feminist art is right here! I edited them slightly, and added simlish!

31 swatches

bgc

disallowed for random

I also made this shirt for toddlers and infants! it's basically the same, although the colors of the shirt are slightly different, and they have one less swatch!

TOU:

Please do NOT claim as yours.

Do NOT put behind paywalls.

Do NOT reupload.

DO recolor (without the mesh please!)

DO use for mesh edits

PLEASE give proper credit

HAVE a good time

DOWNLOAD ON PATREON (FOR FREE, NO EARLY ACCESS!)

IF YOU’D LIKE TO SUPPORT ME, YOU CAN BECOME A PATRON, OR BUY ME A KO-FI. THANKS ♥

cc: @maxismatchccworld @mmfinds @mmoutfitters @public-ccfinds ♥

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mybeingthere · 5 months

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Tom Seidmann Freud (1892-1930)

Tom Seidmann Freud, nee Martha Freud, a children's book illustrator and author celebrated for her deceptively simple yet modern style. An eccentric niece of Sigmund Freud, she was born in Vienna in 1892 and moved with her family nine years later to Berlin. She was an artistically gifted child, at fifteen changed her name to Tom (allegedly to avoid sexism she might encounter as a female artist). She eventually studied art, first in London and then in Berlin and in Munich, where she focused on Art Nouveau illustration.

From 1914 to her death at thirty-eight in 1930, she published nearly a dozen books of her own and contributed illustrations to others. Today, nearly one hundred years late, her artwork looks surprisingly contemporary with its simple, folk art aesthetic and fantastical story lines about rabbit words, talking fish, and magic boats. Her illustrations are childish but not babyish, and surreal while also being thoughtful and narrative.

Strikingly fresh in its day, Seidmann-Freud's work was an example of how seriously people took children's literature as an art form. While Seidmann-Freud wrote, and illustrated her own stories, she also illustrated classical fairy tales, such as those by Brothers Rimm and Hanns Christian Andersen, in her Ten Tales for Children. She released her most well-known children's book, Die Fishreise (The Fish's Journey), in 1923.

Seidmann-Freud created her illustrations using the ancient pochoir technique that was experiencing a revival. She drew the figures, foreground, and background with ink and then overlaid watercolors using stencils. Seidmann-Freud experimented with several different kinds of children's books, including ABC books, songbooks, game books, and movable books such as Das Wunderhaus (The House of Wonders, 1927) and Das Zauberboot (The Magic Boat, 1929), subtitled "a book to Turn and Move." She also produced a series of counting books known for their typographical innovation, one of which was chosen for the Museum of Modern art's 2012 exhibition Century of the child: Growing by Design, 19000-2000, in New York.

In the early 1920s, she and her husband, writer and journalist Jakob Seidmann, founded publishing house Perergrin Verlag in Berlin. It was named after the main character in The Fish's Journey, who seeks to overcome his outsider status by escaping to a dreamlike utopia. Tragically, the demise of their publishing venture in the wake of 1929 global financial collapse led to her husband's suicide, and in 1930, to her own. (Their seven-year-old daughter, Angela, went to live with Tom's sister, the actress Lily Freud, and her husband in Hamburg, before they all moved to Prague in 1939. Angela, (Aviva) emigrated to Israel just before the outbreak if Word War II).

Seidmann-Freud died the same year that the liberal democracy in Germany, the Weimar Republic, started its frenzied downward descent. Until Hitler took dictatorial control in 1933, her work continued to receive accolades from her peers, including the legendary literary critic and philosopher Walter Benjamin. Because she was Jewish, however, by 1933 her books began to disappear.

Despite the Nazis destruction of "suspect" literature, and her untimely death, copies of her innovative children's books have survived as an important part of the history of avant-garde book-making in twentieth century Europe.

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asnowfern · 8 months

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Crimson Starlight

Summary: His fingers twitch before clenching into a fist at the side of his body. He wears a nostalgic smile as amethyst eyes take in every detail, lost in every smudge and swipe of water colours. A secret conversation between him and the long gone artist.

A lost history of the world's most iconic female impressionist artist and her first ever sale of an art piece.

~~~

OR Vampire Rhys and human Feyre falling in love in 1880s Paris.

Rating: M, some blood and violence

WC: 4.2k

Read on AO3

A/N: Happy Feysand Week everybody!

Written for day 2 of @officialfeysandweek2023 prompt: Hobbies Because she likes to paint🎨 and he likes blood🩸 (The link is tenuous I know)

Thank you so much to @octobers-veryown for helping me check on the art history stuff! Love you💜

THE FEYRE ARCHERON EXHIBIT

Defying English societal norms and her middle class background, Feyre Archeron propelled to notoriety at a private art gallery in 1889, rendering critics of the community speechless with her stunning use of colours and bold impressionistic still life paintings. Eventually, paving the way for the self-taught artist to win the gold medal at the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris.

Come celebrate with us one of the most prolific and trailblazing female artists in history.

***

She watches from her corner in the cool exhibition as the man enters the room. His tailored jacket clings to his broad frame, the first two opened buttons of crisp white shirt reveal whorling black ink and tantalisingly teases lean muscles underneath. His presence is commanding even as his steps hitched in the middle of the exhibit, sharp violet eyes zeroing in on a portrait hung at the opposite end of the room, almost hidden from view from the general public. As if, it's a portrait which only he knows the existence of.

The lights of the museum seemingly follows him as he strides towards the painting, an aureate glow reflecting off dark skin with every step. He looks up at the smeared bright colours tracing three distinct lifeforms, the brush strokes in a distinctly different style.

His fingers twitch before clenching into a fist at the side of his body. He wears a nostalgic smile as amethyst eyes take in every detail, lost in every smudge and swipe of water colours. A secret conversation between him and the long gone artist.

A lost history of the world's most iconic female impressionist artist and her first ever sale of an art piece.

===

A deafening crack of thunder over Hyde Park snaps Feyre out of focus, her hand twitches and sends dark shades of brown splashing over delicate painted hands. Ruining what was supposed to be portraits of her sisters. Matching storm in crystal blue eyes narrows as she swears, her mind races on how she could correct the misstep and salvage the painting.

Another clap of Zeus's lightning bolt sends rain down on the garden. It quickly soaks the canvas sitting and accumulates water on her precious paint. Dismayed, Feyre closes the easel and gathers her materials. Within the next minute, she ducks into a small stand and relies on the small red brick structure above her for shelter.

Assessing eyes surveys her now damp canvas and sculpted lips curl inwards in dismay. Canvas are expensive, paint all the more so. For them to be wasted and ruined by the rain. The number of meals she may have to skip out on to recuperate the losses.

She stares idly at the splotchy colours as her mind overlays new images of how the painting could look like. Her hand pauses in mid-air as she reaches for a new brush. It is something different, something new.

Leaving no further room for doubt, she lowers her brush to the canvas in a smooth decisive stroke. With a slight curve to the lips, her brushes levels swipe after swipe, adding more colours, more shapes, more shadows. More.

Suddenly, her hand stills. Feyre inhales sharply.

A chill runs down her spine and raises the hair at the back of her neck. Feyre shivers as she looks up, surprised that night has fallen in what had to be hours since she escaped to the shelter.

As fast as it came, the pressing fear lifts from her chest and returns her breath back to her. Her fingers tremble as she dumps the brushes into her cup, quickly rinsing out the paint.

"That's a beautiful painting," a low, silky voice says from behind her.

Despite instincts screaming at her to run, Feyre turns towards the source of the voice and her mouth goes dry.

The man is impossibly beautiful.

Sharp sensual lines trace his facial features, his mouth pulls into a smirk with a hint of white gleaming through. He draws himself closer, wrapping her in a sea of salt and citrus. She feels her back practically arching towards him in response - closer, closer.

He leans, not into her but towards the canvas, pausing for a stretched second. When he finally turns his gaze on her, the world quietens. For there are no colours that Feyre could mix to emulate the violet in his eyes. No, not just violet but the varying shades of blue and purple. It is like a galaxy, drawing you in until nothing else matters.

"Hello, darling," he purrs.

The words break the enchantment and Feyre steps away, her back colliding into a pillar. The stone cold surface spurs her into action, hands flying to keep her belongings.

Rough calloused fingers gently close around her wrist. He asks lightly, "What's the hurry?"

Feyre fights to keep her eyes open, fights to not lose herself in the smooth silk of his voice. She breathes out shakily, "I don't want any trouble. Just let me go and you'll never have to see me again."

"Why would I ever want that?" He returns sharply, her hand remains rigid in the air even as he releases it.

A tension locks in her jaw as she pushes down the primal fear. She lifts her chin slightly, "Well, then what do you want?"

"I want," he pauses as if to collect his thoughts, his eyes drifting back to the coarse board sitting on the easel, "I want to see the finished work."

"Why?"

"Because I might like to buy it."

The words sound genuine and takes her by surprise. She swallows the lump, her heartbeat kicking up a notch, "You're lying."

The man studies her for a moment, she resists the urge to squirm under the intensity of his stare. Finally, he asks, "Can you afford to let me go on the possibility that I might be telling the truth?"

Hot wells of embarrassment burn her cheeks as he touches on a sore subject. She has never sold a painting. Without the easy privilege that comes with wealth and titles, a female artist with no formal training or connections can never sell or exhibit.

Forever an amateur.

She straightens her back to raise steely blue eyes to vibrant violet, saying carefully, "I'd consider it if you're telling the truth."

The edges of his mouth flick upwards, "Let's set up a meet when you've completed," he hands her a card with a name and address in Grosvenor Square, "We can discuss over dinner."

He lifts her hand to brush his lips, spreading warmth over her frigid knuckles. Feyre swallows thickly, "This time, a week from now"

He glances up, his lips lingering a touch longer than what is probably appropriate before drawing himself back to full height, "Very well, bring the completed piece and a couple more of your favourite ones. I will send a carriage to you at seven pm next Tuesday."

She nods and gives her address down in Bayswater, her mouth set in a grim line. The man steps a respectful distance backward, giving her slight how, "I'll be counting down the minutes before I am able to see you again…"

"Feyre"

His eyes twinkled like stars in the night sky, "till then, Feyre darling."

Feyre looks up at the blanket of clouds as she walks home, her hands clutching tightly onto the easel. She hopes that she did not just invite a murderer into the home of her and her sisters.

===

Feyre stares at the intricate designs etched into the wooden door. She shifts slightly and readjusts her grip on the numerous covered paintings sandwiched between her arm and body. Taking a deep breath, she raises her hand to grab the knocker. Only for the door to swing open to reveal her mysterious buyer - Rhysand, from the card, her brain reminds her.

Her eyes unwittingly drags up and down the male. He, Rhysand, has shed his jacket today. The sheer white shirt hangs loosely on his body but does little to hide his muscular physique. With a teasing smirk and another caress of his lips against the back of her palm, he leads her down a tastefully decorated corridor.

The tight trousers, Feyre thinks, was definitely a conscious choice on his part.

"Is there no one else here?" She asks as they enter a dining room, her head swivelling around, noting the lack of people around.

"Why, Feyre," Rhysand teases, smiling widely to reveal sharp pearly white canines, "are you enquiring after my marital status?" Feyre is about to scoff when he croons, his eyes slightly darkened, "Fortunately, I remain a bachelor."

This time, Feyre does scoff, settling her paintings down with a huff, "It doesn't concern me if a potential art dealer is a married man or a bachelor. Although," she nods her head in gesture of her surroundings even as he bends at the waist to carefully study the pieces, "you don't seem like a very discerning collector."

Rhysand draws to his full height as he smiles wanely, "There hasn't been art that made me want to collect as much as yours."

She withholds a frown to mark his sincerity, announcing, "I have not yet decided if you're conman or a predator."

He lets out a barking laugh, "Darling, I am sincere in my offer, but," his voice drops into dark velvet and awakens a dangerous heat in her, "make no mistake about it. I am most definitely a predator."

With her hackles raised, she meets the darkened stare with her own, "And what makes you think that I'm a prey?"

"No, you're not," Amethyst eyes glint as he dips his chin in agreement. Then as fast as a switch, he drops the heat and speaks formally, "Fifty pounds for the painting from the park and a thirty percent commission on all future sales."

Though she is sure her eyes are round with disbelief, she forces the breathlessness out of her voice, "Let's talk terms over dinner."

Dinner goes smoothly, a simple yet elegant affair. Servants slip in and out only to bring in food. Gentle clanks of chinaware bounce around the room as they eat.

"Paris?" Feyre asks incredulously, her dessert fork hitting the plate loudly, "You want me to move to Paris? With you?"

He shrugs, the very picture of nonchalance, "Is there anywhere else better to be?"

Her jaw clamps down on the delicate pastry. He is right, of course. The city of light is the epicenter of Europe's art scene - the birthplace of the often condescended upon impressionism. A place she could flourish much better than stuffy London. The marginal freedom she could attain as a female artist.

Her sisters are comfortable with the small inheritance they've received with their mother's death. She could modestly live off the money Rhysand is offering for the painting for a couple of months. She could entrench herself in the landscape, learning and absorbing. She could actually be an artist. She could, she could, she could.

Her heart lifts ever so slightly in hope and excitement.

She could.

===

Feyre wrestles her hands behind her back as she observes the casual art dealers surrounding her. It's been a few weeks since her move to Paris and things have progressed well enough that when she heard about Helion Spell-cleaver's private art exhibition, she paid the small fee and signed up for entry.

"Look, Dagdan. It's the same distinctive wild brushstrokes as before. This must be Rhysand Night's artist then," a low voice sneers from a distance, "the new star."

Feyre releases the iron grip on her hands and forces them open and relaxed. Her back straightens with every stretched beat as she turns to the pair, schooling her expression into one of impassion.

Dagdan and Brannagh.

Hailing from the upper echelons of French government and strong familial ties to the leadership of the society of French artists, the sibling duo made their debut at the last Salon with a piece Feyre found to be derivative. A pale attempt to pander to the recent commercial success of mixing impressionism elements into classical art styles the Salon prefers. A view that is sometimes whispered clandestinely around the community but never to their faces.

"Yes," the brother tuts, his elbow tight around his sister's, "and the same obscene mix of colours. But the price that it fetched? They say it's avante garde but I don't get it. Perhaps the perception of the common," his eyes flick disdainfully at the slightly frayed material of her plain cotton dress and distinct lack of a corset and bustle, "just isn't something that we can understand."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Feyre forces on a polite barely passable smile, interjecting, "Perhaps, the perception of the common is more suited for the masses. I couldn't possibly begin to understand the, er, beauty from a trained eye."

"No," Brannagh curls a perfectly shaped lip in haughty contempt, "you really wouldn't." Her voice drops a decibel, "Mark my words, your name will be forgotten the day you stop offering extra services to your sponsor."

Her fists clenched into tight balls as they stalk away, the low rumble of their sniggers fuelling the burn in Feyre's cheeks.

The words still haunt Feyre days later. She growls in frustration as she lifts a charcoal to paper for the umpteenth time that day. Her mind draws a blank.

Obscene mix of colours.

The charcoal breaks into pieces as it collides against the hard floor. Feyre bends her knees to pick up the pieces and inadvertently collapses to the ground. The cool sting of marble permeates through the fabric to reach her skin.

She twists her body slightly to rest against the leg of the chair, her eyes falling shut. It's just to rest her eyes, she tells herself. The next time she opens them, she will be ready to face her canvas. She thinks as Brannagh and Dagdan's voices melt into a pot of derisive laughter.

"Feyre, wake up!"

Large hands envelope her, pressing her against a stiff jacket while gently shaking her awake. Feyre whines at the intrusion, "Five more minutes."

The pressure of fingertips on her lessens and a low chuckle reverberates pleasantly down her spine. "Wake up, darling."

Her lids flutter open and Rhys swims into vision, lines of concern carved into his face. The lines lessen as he takes in her waking form, gradually giving into tender amusement.

"Rhys?"

"You had me worried for a moment there"

She groans, sitting up. A warm palm lingers on her back, lending her support, "What time is it?"

"Nine," he answers, his brows pinched together.

Feyre rubs the bridge of her nose. She is more than two hours late for their appointment, no wonder he showed up. She gives a woeful look, "I'm really sorry about this. I was just really tired."

He doesn't say anything. Instead the arms which are still wrapped around her tighten and there is suddenly nothing else in her world but a salty sea of citrus.

"I was so afraid that something had happened to you." The confession comes out in the slightest of whispers.

"It's just an ill-timed nap," she murmurs into his chest, his confession prompting one of her own, "I've been having a block the past few days. Ever since the gallery."

They lock gazes, Rhys searching her expression. But for what, Feyre cannot say. Finally, a familiar smirk returns, "I think I have a solution for that."

Refusing to let her change out of her paint speckled dress, he ushers her into a carriage and sets them off with haste. The infuriating man refuses to let her sneak a peek out of the carriage window, even after they have arrived at their destination.

"Is this really necessary?" She huffs as he ties a scarf around her eyes.

"Yes, now hush."

With a last good natured hush, Feyre loops a shaky arm around her mysterious broker's elbow and follows. She relaxes after a couple of minutes.

"Hold tight, darling."

"What, why?"

Feyre stifles a gasp as the ground beneath her moves upwards, leaving her stomach behind. With reflexes faster than what the other probably expected, she whips the blindfold off her head.

Dark metallic structures whirl past her at impossible speed, bringing them higher and higher. She lurches forward as the contraception comes to a halt, only strong arms which are still circled around her shoulders keep her upright.

She gingerly steps forward to move towards the viewing balcony. Every inch of her body thinks of nothing but to lean against that edge, "How? This isn't open to the public yet "

He gives a mysterious smile of his, "I have my ways."

She sniffs at the non-answer. But it doesn't matter, she peers downwards at the small dots that littered the streets of Paris, the shimmering glow of the street lamps glinting at her like stars. It is suddenly obvious why Paris is known as the City of Light.

But to speak of stars.

She shifts her gaze upwards and reaches out a hand. She's so close to the stars, closer than she's ever been before.

Colours burst in her mind, a cacophony of swirls and lines. Her lips relax and pull upwards at the image. She turns back to Rhys, "Thank you"

The male remains silent, his eyes are shaped like the moon and reflected wonder, "Do that again"

"Do what?"

His lips trembled, "Smile"

Her face splits open as a warmth fills her chest.

"Welcome to Paris, Feyre darling."

===

Feyre races down the street, swerving through Parisians, earning herself disapproving glances and tuts. She ignores them in favour of the paper scrunched up in her palm and the bursting excitement in her chest.

Exposition Universelle, Exposition Universelle. They are actually going to showcase her art at the Exposition Universelle - the world's fair to show the progress and success of the French and they wanted to display her art. The art of a no-name, English female impressionist. Her entire being vibrates with excitement.

She barges through Rhys's door, her chest heaving as she tries to regain her breath. The brunette darts around before dashing up the stairs and into Rhys's study.

Never mind that she did not have an appointment. For what is an appointment in the face of such fantastic news?

Apparently, very important. She thinks as her eyes numbly take in the sight before her.

Her throat fills with pennies, her tongue becoming numb in her mouth. Blood roars in her ears.

Rhys is locked in a lover's embrace with another woman. Her head lolls back and her eyes are glazed. She sighs in pleasure as familiar large hands hold the back of her head in an iron grip, his full lips pressed to her neck.

She should be mortified. Maybe even betrayed. Yet, a tight, blooming heat erupts in her stomach. Feyre's back hits the shelf behind her with a thud. Rhysand snaps his head dangerously towards her. His hand loosens on the woman, who slides to the floor.

Twin streaks of blood flow from his mouth and dribble down his chin.

With her heart still pounding jungle beats, Feyre turns around and bolts. She barely makes it to the stairs before a flash of black snarls and sweeps her off the ground, launching them into the air.

They land roughly at the base of the steps, hard arms absorbing the crucial impact from the ground. His heavy body pins her down. A guttural growl vibrates the narrow space between them.

She should be terrified, horrified, petrified. And she is all of those things. Yet, her brain is still caught up in the way Rhys had embraced the woman, her moans and sighs of limp pleasure, the trail of blood running down his chin as he fixed her a feral, hungry glare.

Teeth, no, fangs scrape up the surface of her cotton dress and rips the high collar. His hot breath tickles the length of her exposed throat and raises goosebumps. Another low snarl escapes his throat.

His pupils are blown wide open, a black hole consumes the vibrant galaxy she is used to seeing. No, this is not the Rhys she knows. A paralysing fear seizes her body.

He lowers his head once more, sharp fangs join the soft wet tongue, poised at her jugular. Feyre squeezes her eyes shut, a choked sob escapes her as pain erupts, "Rhys"

Immediately, the hard pressure lifts and is replaced by a pliable heat. The pain lessens.

"I am so sorry, Feyre," she relaxes her eyes open to see sorrowful violet eyes staring back at her, "Sleep"

There is nothing left to do but to let the darkness pull her under.

===

Dear Feyre darling, There are no pretty words I can use to defend what happened, nor will I ply you with lies. The truth is I am an unholy creature, an undead monster of the night. I prey on humans and leech off them. So as much as it pains me, I understand if you never want to see me again. If it is agreeable to you, Helion Spell-cleaver has agreed to be your agent and will be awaiting your correspondence. My dear heart, in the short weeks that we have known each other, you have become everything. You brought beauty into the humdrum of my centuries of existence. A shining star in the endless dark sky. A brightness that I sully with my very presence. A fact I grew comfortable ignoring. But alas, reality has caught up and I can't pretend to be what I am not any longer. Instead, I wish you the very best - at the upcoming Exposition Universelle and all future endeavours. I know you will shine, as you always have, and always will. Yours eternally, Rhysand

The paper remains crumbled in Feyre's hand as she reads it for the umpteenth time. Her heart grows heavier with every read, her heart that has no business weighing her down.

An undead creature, an undead monster of the night.

Nothing about that statement is wrong. The image Rhysand drew in his letter is one that matches her memory. Yet, it is also completely different from the image of Rhys in her head.

That Rhys is teasing quips and arrogant smirks. That Rhys is encouraging words and a confidante. That Rhys is soft smiles against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower.

She can't quite reconcile the two but she knows without a doubt that she isn't changing agents, not yet. She gives the River Seine a last glance, appreciating the glitters of setting sun, and stands up. Her body twists towards the main street when she collides head first in a hard chest, gasping.

Obsidian hair and pitiless dark eyes.

"Congratulations on the exhibition, peasant."

Sharp pain explodes in her abdomen. Feyre opens her mouth to scream but it is covered by a cloth. The cruel glint in Dagdan's eyes stands out in an otherwise nonchalant face. White hot agony spreads along her body as he twists the blade. Metallic tang fills her mouth.

No, she's actually going to die here.

The exhibition. She's going to die before she succeeds. Her sisters. She is going to be abandoned in a foreign land without ever getting to see them again.

Rhys. She is going to die before she ever figures out how things could be resolved. A scream of pure terror and a primal growl tear her away from her thoughts. Air floods her nostrils.

Inky blue-black hair, bright violet eyes.

Rhys's face is dark with rage, his lips folded into a thin line. Blood splatters his cheeks and immaculate velvet jacket. Next to him, Dagdan sobs, clutching on to his severed arm. Brannagh kneels over her brother, her neck tilted up at the male, her face locked in fear.

He turns a fearsome glare on them, his deep baritone blends with a beast-like growl, "Jump into the river and remember, we were never here."

There might have been a splash but darkness edges her vision and her world is muffled, nothing but a rain of salt and citrus. It feels like she's falling deep into the vast ocean.

"Feyre," a devastated voice reaches out for her, shining a beacon of light, "I can't save you. Not without condemning you."

Warm liquid gurgles her mouth as she forces out the words, "I'm not ready to die."

She continues, sending the gentlest look she can muster into conflicted anguished shades of violet, "Do it."

===

She watches as the nostalgic smile wraps around the man like a fitted glove. Then the moment vanishes. Giving the dark frame and vibrant colours one last look, he straightens his jacket, flicking off a lint and leaves.

She emerges from her corner, her mouth widens into a predatory smile. It is time to move. She smoothly navigates her way through the quiet crowd, memorising every guard location, every exit and every camera.

Not that it matters much, so long as she does it right.

She carefully looks around her surroundings before fixing her attention on the painting. She remembers the shaky hands and skittish strokes. Her first time blending colours in that manner, the first of many to come. Well, they do say you never forget your first.

With a broad, catlike grin, Feyre grips tightly onto the painting and walks out of the doors and the museum goers' minds. Later, as the painting hangs proudly in their doorway, Feyre raises a crimson glass to Rhys, the galaxy eyes that she can never tire of sparkle at her. The glasses clink together lightly.

'Happy 120th anniversary, my love."

#feysandweek2023 #feysand #feysand fic #Feyre Archeron #Rhysand #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Vampire!Rhys need I say more?

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queerasfact · 1 year

Text

Queer Calendar 2023

We put together a calendar of key (mostly queer) dates at the start of the year to help us with scheduling - so I thought I’d share it around! Including pride and visibility days, some queer birthdays and anniversaries, and a few other bits and bobs. Click the links for more info - I dream one day of having a queer story for every day of the year!

This is obviously not an exhaustive list - if I’ve overlooked something important to you, feel free to add it in the reblogs!

January

3 - Bisexual American jazz-age heiress Henrietta Bingham born 1901

8 - Queer Australian bushranger Captain Moonlite born 1845; gay American art collector Ned Warren born 1860

11 - Pennsylvania celebrates Rosetta Tharpe Day in honour of bisexual musician Rosetta Tharpe

12 - Japanese lesbian author Nobuko Yoshiya born 1896

22 - Lunar New Year (Year of the Rabbit)

24 - Roman emperor Hadrian, famous for his relationship with Antinous, born 76CE; gay Prussian King Frederick the Great born 1712

27 - International Holocaust Remembrance Day

February

LGBT+ History Month (UK, Hungary)

Black History Month (USA and Canada)

1 - Feast of St Brigid, a saint especially important to Irish queer women

5 - Operation Soap, a police raid on gay bathhouses in Toronto, Canada, spurs massive protests, 1981

7 - National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day (USA)

18 - US Black lesbian writer and activist Audre Lorde born 1934

12 - National Freedom to Marry Day (USA)

19-25 - Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week

March

Women’s History Month

1 - Black Women in Jazz and the Arts Day

8 - International Women’s Day

9 - Bi British writer David Garnett born 1892

12 - Bi Polish-Russian ballet dancer Vaslav Nijinsky born 1889 or 1890

13 March-15 April - Deaf History Month

14 - American lesbian bookseller and publisher Sylvia Beach born 1887

16 - French lesbian artist Rosa Bonheur born 1822

20 - Bi US musician Rosetta Tharpe born 1915

21 - World Poetry Day

24 - The Wachowski sisters’ cyberpunk trans allegory The Matrix premiers 1999

April

Jazz Appreciation Month

Black Women’s History Month

National Poetry Month (USA)

3 - British lesbian diarist Anne Lister born 1791

8 - Trans British racing driver and fighter pilot Roberta Cowell born 1918

9 - Bi Australia poet Lesbia Harford born 1891; Easter Sunday

10 - National Youth HIV & AIDS Awareness Day (USA)

14 - Day of Silence

15 - Queer Norwegian photographer and suffragist Marie Høeg born 1866

17 - Costa-Rican-Mexican lesbian singer Chavela Vargas born 1919

21-22 - Eid al-Fitr

25 - Gay English King Edward II born 1284

26 - Lesbian Day of Visibility; bi American blues singer Ma Rainey born 1886

29 - International Dance Day

30 - International Jazz Day

May

1 - Trans British doctor and Buddhist monk Michael Dillon born 1915

7 - International Family Equality Day

7 - Gay Russian composer Pyotr Tchaikovsky born 1840

15 - Australian drag road-trip comedy The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert premiers in 1994

17 - IDAHOBIT (International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Intersexism and Transphobia)

18 - International Museum Day

19 - Agender Pride Day

22 - US lesbian tailor and poet Charity Bryant born 1777

22 - Harvey Milk Day marks the birth of gay US politician Harvey Milk 1930

23 - Premier of Pride, telling the story of the 1980s British activist group Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners

24 - Pansexual and Panromantic Awareness and Visibility Day; Queer Chinese-Japanese spy Kawashima Yoshiko born 1907

26 - queer American astronaut Sally Ride born 1951

29 - Taiwanese lesbian writer Qiu Miaojin born 1969

June

Pride Month

Indigenous History Month (Canada)

3 - Bisexual American-French performer, activist and WWII spy Josephine Baker born 1906

5 - Queer Spanish playwright and poet Federico García Lorca born 1898; bi English economic John Maynard Keynes born 1883

8 - Mechanic and founder of Australia’s first all-female garage, Alice Anderson, born 1897

10 - Bisexual Israeli poet Yona Wallach born 1944

12 - Pulse Night of Remembrance, commemorating the 2012 shooting at the Pulse nightclub, Orlando

14 - Australian activists found the Gay and Lesbian Kingdom of the Coral Sea Islands in 2004

18 - Sally Ride becomes the first know queer woman in space

24 - The first Sydney Mardi Gras 1978

25 - The rainbow flag first flown as a queer symbol in 1978

28 - Stonewall Riots, 1969

28 June-2 July - Eid al-Adha

30 - Gay German-Israeli activist, WWII resistance member and Holocaust survivor Gad Beck born 1923

July

1 - Gay Dutch WWII resistance fighter Willem Arondeus killed - his last words were “Tell the people homosexuals are no cowards”

2-9 - NAIDOC Week (Australia) celebrating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander culture

6 - Bi Mexican artist Frida Kahlo born 1907

12 or 13 - Roman emperor Julius Caesar born c.100BCE

14 - International Non-Binary People’s Day

23 - Shelly Bauman, owner of Seattle gay club Shelly’s Leg, born 1947; American lesbian cetenarian Ruth Ellis born 1899; gay American professor, tattooist and sex researcher Sam Steward born 1909

25 - Italian-Australian trans man Harry Crawford born 1875

August

8 - International Cat Day

9 - Queer Finnish artist, author and creator of Moomins Tove Jansson born 1914

9 - International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples

11 - Russian lesbian poet Sofya Parnok born 1885

12 - Queer American blues musician Gladys Bentley born 1907

13 - International Left-Handers Day

22 - Gay WWII Dutch resistance fight Willem Arondeus born 1894

24 - Trans American drag queen and activist Marsha P Johnson born 1945

26 - National Dog Day

30 - Bi British author Mary Shelley 1797

31 - Wear it Purple Day (Australia - queer youth awareness)

September

5 - Frontman of Queen Freddie Mercury born 1946

6 - Trans Scottish doctor and farmer Ewan Forbes born 1912

13 - 1990 documentary on New York’s ball culture Paris is Burning premiers

15-17 - Rosh Hashanah

16-23 - Bisexual Awareness Week

17 - Gay Prussian-American Inspector General of the US Army Baron von Steuben born 1730

23 - Celebrate Bisexuality Day

24 - Gay Australian artist William Dobell born 1889

30 - International Podcast Day

October

Black History Month (Europe)

4 - World Animal Day

5 - National Poetry Day (UK)

5 - Queer French diplomat and spy the Chevalière d’Éon born 1728

8 - International Lesbian Day

9 - Indigenous Peoples’ Day (USA)

11 - National Coming Out Day

16 - Irish writer Oscar Wilde born 1854

18 - International Pronouns Day

22-28 - Asexual Awareness Week

26 - Intersex Awareness Day

31 - American lesbian tailor Sylvia Drake born 1784

November

8 - Intersex Day of Remembrance

12 - Diwali; Queer Mexican nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz born c.1648

13-19 - Transgender Awareness Week

20 - Trans American writer, lawyer, activist and priest Pauli Murray born 1910; Transgender Day of Remembrance

27 - Antinous, lover of the Roman emperor Hadrian, born c.111; German lesbian drama Mädchen in Uniform premiers, 1931

29 - Queer American writer Louisa May Alcott born 1832

December

AIDS Awareness Month

1 - World AIDS Day

2 - International Day for the Abolition of Slavery

3 - International Day of Persons with Disabilities

8 - Pansexual Pride Day; queer Swedish monarch Christina of Sweden born 1626

10 - Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners host Pits and Perverts concern to raise mining for striking Welsh miners, 1984

14 - World Monkey Day

15 - Roman emperor Nero born 37CE

24 - American drag king and bouncer Stormé DeLarverie born 1920

25 - Christmas

29 - Trans American jazz musician Billy Tipton born 1914

#calendar #queer calendar #queer observances #pride days #queer history #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbt history #gay history #trans history #queer #gay #trans #lesbian #lesbian history

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