Who taught you, please, who taught you to hate the texture of your hair? Who taught you to hate the color of your skin, to such extent that you bleach, to get like the white man? Who taught you to hate the shape of your nose, and the shape of your lips? Who taught you to hate yourself, from the top of your head, to the soles of your feet? Who taught you to hate your own kind? Who taught you to hate, the race that you belong to? So much so, that you don’t want to be around each other. Oh no, before you come asking Mr. Mohamed, does he teach hate, you should ask yourself who taught you to hate being what God made you.
—Malcom X (via thechocolatebrigade)
“We’re friends?”
“I’m not sure if there’s an exact definition for what we are, but I do think it falls somewhere in the bizarro friend-ish realm.”
(Source: softkakumei)
