A reminder for today that supporting the idea that Oxford or Sir Francis Bacon or whoever wrote Shakespeare’s works is inherently classist and undermines the very essence of what makes Shakespeare great: the universality of his writing.
Shakespeare didn’t write to impress academics or to become reknown in literary circles, he wrote because he loved it and he loved acting and the theater, because he liked showing people up and he liked getting paid.
Shakespeare wrote a lot of plays where the main characters are noble, yes, but he wrote actors too — and teenage kids and poor grad students and nurses. His nobles aren’t memorable because they are grand but because anyone can relate to them, Hamlet’s not special to us because he’s a prince but because many of us can see our struggles in his thoughts and actions.
Do not let Oxfordians or Baconians take away what is special about Shakespeare: that he was an ordinary man writing plays not just for nobles or kings, for landowners or the highly educated elite but for ordinary people — for apprentices and butchers and merchant’s wives and maids. His company performed at court, but they also performed at the Globe, where you could get in for a penny if you didn’t mind standing in a crowd.
The Authorship Question isn’t really about discovering “who really wrote Shakespeare,” it’s about elitists being upset and confused and angry because the greatest works in the English language were written by the son of a well-off tradesman who never went to college.
Of course. Asia and Europe aren’t even a separate landmass, after all.
Here are some links to give you a broader perspective on the kinds of people who would have been in Medieval England, Europe overall, how and why they got there, and how long they would have been there for.
Western Europe via Venice (trade gateway)
Black and Asian Performance in British History (V&A Museum)
P.S. Asian people in Medieval European art are usually “marked” that way via clothing, not physical characteristics.
yeah so i slept with this dude last night and idk we were chatting a bit during the sexy time and for some reason his birthday came up and i was like “wait 25th of september? DUDE me TOO, wtf thats such a coincidence” and he was like “really? we have the same birthday? are u fuckin with me?” and i just looked down at his penis literally inside my vagina and was like “well technically yeah” and he was like haha nice one and high fived me
So I was *about* to message this girl on OKC who seemed pretty interesting when I decided against it because 1) life is stressful enough right now and 2)I wanted to wait until exams were over. Turns oooout, she’s the girlfriend of this guy I met a few times very recently (I suppose we could call it a date of sorts) and like…
this is perhaps the forth couple (at least!) where I end up kinda crushing on all parties and just ughhh
woooow i am an awkward dork
Why can’t there be a male hooter’s equivalent where male servers are shirtless and highly sexualized for their bodies and looks
Male Strip clubs. You’re thinking of male strip clubs.
No. Not a male strip club. A strip club is a strip club. I want a place called Cahones where waiters wear Speedos and are forced to stuff if they don’t fill out their uniform well enough. I want them to giggle for my tips. I want it to be so normalised and engrained in our culture that women bring their daughters there for lunch (because whaaaaaat the wings are good! Geeze sensitive much?) where they’ll give playful little nudges like, “Wouldn’t mind if you dad had those. Heh heh heh.” that their daughters don’t even understand but will absorb and start to assume is just the normal way grown up women talk about grown up men. I want to playfully ask my waiter if I can have extra nuts on my salad and for him to swat my arm with an Oh, you because he knows if he doesn’t his manager will yell at him. I want other men to pretend to like going there so I think they’re cool. I want to go to Cahones during my lunch break at work and when I come back and tell the other women in the office where I went they chuckle slightly and the men around us suddenly feel self conscious and they don’t know why.
It hurts to become someone better. Sometimes literally going through physical and emotional pain and you’re not even sure if you’re even processing or doing it the “right way.”
But fuck that. There probably is no right way, only figuring it out in your own way, and forcing yourself to grow from the pain. And reminding yourself that even if you feel like a shitty person now - who you want to become, that “ideal self” is all within you.
Sometimes “finding yourself” isn’t a journey you need to travel halfway across the world to figure out. Sometimes it’s during a job interview, or meeting someone new at a party, and realizing that all the negative things you said about yourself, weren’t true at all. At least, not now.
This personal growth shit is hard