How I deal with ignorance.
People really don’t believe Ancient Egyptians were ethnically African?
They referred to themselves, not as ”Egyptians” (a Greek term) , but as ”Kemmui’’, meaning, ”the blacks”.
The country itself they called, Kemet, or black nation.
'Kem' is the term for black in the ancient Egyptian language. It is represented in hieroglyphs by a stick charred at both ends.”
"km.t, the name of Ancient Egypt in Egyptian; Egypt (Coptic: Kemi)
r n km.t, the native term for the Egyptian language
(Ref: The Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary, Vols 1&2, E.A. Budge, Dover.)
Note: words inside brackets are the determinatives or word classifiers along with their English meanings.
Kem, kame, kmi, kmem, kmom = to be black
Kememu = Black people (Ancient Egyptians) in both Ancient and modern Egyptian (Kmemou).
Kem [khet][wood] = extremely black, jet-black
Kemet = any black thing. Note: “t” is silent - pronounced Kemé
Kemet [nu][community, settlement, nation] = Black nation = Ancient Egypt.
Kemet [Romé][people] = Black people. Ancient Egyptians.
Kemit [Shoit][books] = Black books, Ancient Egyptian literature.
Kem wer [miri][large body of water] = The Great Black sea (The Red sea). This sea is neither black nor red, this is in reference to which nation, Black or Red, at a particular time, controlled this body of water.
Kemi fer = Black double house; seat of government. Note: by reference to Wolof again, we know that to make a plural of per or house, the “p” becomes an “f” or fer. Thus fero=great houses (double), it is not pero as Budge writes.
In Ancient Egyptian, the ordinary adjective always follows the noun it modifies, whereas a sanctified adjective usually comes before its noun. The sanctified adjectives are:
Kem — Black
Suten - Royal
Nter —- Holy, Sacred
Kem ti = Black image, sacred image : ti oubash = white image
Kem ho = Black face/title of a god : ho oubash = white face
Kem ta = Black land, holy land : Ta deshret = Red land (also; Ta Sett)
This rule does not apply when Black is used as a noun-adjective of nationality:
Hompt Kemet = copper of Black; Egyptian copper : Hompt Sett = copper of the Red nations; Asiatic copper
Ro in Kemet (page 416a) = speech of Black; mute ro n Kemet = word of the mouth of Black; the Egyptian language
Kemet Deshret = Black and Red; good and evil; fertile and barren, etc.; Duality
Deshretu (page 554a,b) = red ones, red devils. Used also to refer to the Namu and Tamhu; not a complimentary label.
The following Ancient Egyptian words acknowledge the origins of Pharaonic Egyptian civilization;
Khentu Hon Nefer (page 554a) = founders of the Excellent Order. Budge: “peoples and tribes of Nubia and the Egyptian Sudan.” For “Hon” see page 586b.
Hon Nefer (page 1024b) = Excellent Order
Kenus (page1024b) = mighty; brave (from Kenu, page 772a)
Ta Khent (page 1051b/page 554b) = land of the beginning.
Eau (page 952b/page 17b) = the old country
Ancient Egyptian’s Worldview:
The Egyptian’s view of the world was the exact opposite of the current Western one. To the Egyptian, the top of the world was in the south (upper) towards the African interior, the bottom (lower) towards the north, hence upper and lower Egypt; upper and lower Syria.”
"Oh yes, the black soil business.
Most scholars outside the modern western cover-up establishment have rejected the false interpretation some have given to Kemet, ostensibly alluding the term Kemet to the alleged ”black soil” of Egypt. There’s nothing in the term, outside the imagination of western myth-makers, to suggest the Egyptians referred to the color of the soil or sand, rather than the people, in naming their country. Our position is consistent with the testimony of the ancient Greek writers, eyewitnesses who unanimously described the Egyptians as a black people, closely related to the ”Ethiopians”.”
And white Hollywood casts white actors and gives them tans.
i will never not reblog this. i know too many people who for real dont think Egypt is a part of Africa.
In case you dudes weren’t sure whether or not it’s easy for us to tell a guy no and have him respect our answer.
I hope this gets all the attention
The satanic leaf tailed gecko with flying fox wings.
Tell me that is not a baby dragon I dare you
is this really real?!
This hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m still feeling a little nauseous after this realization.
This is a wonderful presentation. I just had to add these:
Don’t ever let anyone tell you that gender egalitarianism isn’t possible among humans, or that our species’ “natural” state is one of gender oppression.
Causal reminder that fields of study like anthropology have been heavily influenced by the ideology of the patriarchal, heterosexist white supremacist power structure.
"Forced sexual intercourse is almost unheard of because of the respect females command and because the taboo is so strong”
When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”
When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.
When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”
(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)
When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.
I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.
No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.
I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.
So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:
In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.
Men should be offended when someone claims that women should prevent rape by not wearing certain things or not going certain places or not acting in a certain way. That line of thinking presumes that you are incapable of control. That you are so base and uncivilized that it takes extraordinary effort for you to walk down the street without raping someone. That you require certain dress code be maintained, that certain behaviors be employed so that maybe today, just maybe, you won’t rape someone. It presumes that your natural state is rapist.
you know what the villains call dyson when they’re talking to bo? dog jokes
you know what they call tamsin when talking to bo? valkyrie
you know what they call kenzi? your human pet
you know what they call lauren every. single. time? your lover
I bought this, I must remember to read it.
Zoie Palmer thanks her female partner Alex Lalonde and their son at the Canadian Screen Awards Sunday night, comes out, makes lesbians everywhere rejoice. *insert squeals of delight here*
OMG WHAT DID I DO!?
For mobile just hold the reblog button
I LEARNED A THING
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