Archive for February, 2010
I am a person who lived through the L.A. riots and saw people accosted, burned and murdered.
I was 18, working a job in Inglewood/Southern Los Angeles border when the riots broke out around 2pm (ish?). I had to travel by car to my apartment in Long Beach where riots also broke out massively.
It was a non-stop 7 day, chaotic fuckwad of violence. When I left work that day, I was the first to leave the office because I KNEW shit would go down. My boss just shrugged.
I get on the 405 freeway at Manchester to find it at a standstill and I kid you NOT, rioters were CLIMBING the freeway embankments down ONTO the freeway and busting in windows of cars, pulling them out!!!
Source: Not Always Right
(I’m a customer in the check out line. I’m buying a box of tampons for my mom, who is bedridden after surgery. One of the two customers standing behind me in line speaks up.)
Other customer: “Ha-ha what a p****. He’s buying tampons.”
(I ignore the two and move forwards to the cashier. She’s an attractive girl of about 20 years old.)
Cashier: “$5.71 after the discount.”
(I have no idea what discount she’s talking about, but I pay her and get my change.)
Cashier: *with a smile on her face* “Here you go baby, I’m taking my break now and I’ll see you at home at 8. Just leave the tampons in my car, please.”
(She leans over the counter and kisses me on the cheek. She then turns the light off on the register number and walks off towards the other side of the store. The two customers watched her with their jaws open and angrily walk off to another register.)
I am a survivor of human trafficking.
I was born in America and given up for adoption at birth. I was adopted by a couple I have no recollection of. From the one photograph I was able to obtain of my adopted mother, she was beautiful with kind eyes. She died from cancer when I was four. My adopted father either could not or would not keep me in his grief, so I was given back up for adoption. At the age of four, I was put in the foster care system. I was in three different foster homes from the ages of four- six. I have little recollection of them. I was transferred to my third foster home when I was five years old. I was abducted when I was newly six years old. I remember very little about my abduction, only that there was some sort of barbeque party- maybe a birthday, going on that day- and the house was full of people. I remember suddenly feeling very nauseous and very tired. I searched for my foster mother, asked if I could go to bed, and headed up the stairs to the bedroom. I remember tripping up the stairs, and I remember desperately trying not to vomit on her cream-coloured carpeting. When I reached the second floor I remembering trying to decide between going to the bathroom to vomit or laying down- I was afraid that I would pass out on the way to the bathroom, so I went to lay down.
Source: ABC News
In 1988, a 15-year-old girl living in the small southern African nation of Lesotho came to local doctors with all the symptoms of a woman in labor. But the doctors were quickly puzzled because, upon examination, she didn’t have a vagina.
“Inspection of the vulva showed no vagina, only a shallow skin dimple,” so doctors delivered a healthy baby boy via Caesarean, the authors wrote in a case report published in the British Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology.
Her birth defect—called Mullerian agenesis or Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser syndrome—didn’t necessarily surprise doctors, but her pregnancy did. Even the 15-year-old girl could not believe she was pregnant.