Certified rambler, uncertified professor
Joined August 2024
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ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
Teach Black children their history? ABSOLUTELY! But teach them ALL of it, not some carefully curated historical narrative designed to leave them perpetually angry, resentful, and convinced that their future is imprisoned by their ancestors’ past.
You want to teach them about slavery? EXCELLENT! Then let’s teach them about the African kingdoms and merchants who captured, enslaved, and sold other Africans. Let’s discuss the Kingdom of Dahomey, the Asante Empire, and the role African intermediaries played in the transatlantic slave trade.
Let’s teach them about the Arab slave trades, which operated across centuries, and the indigenous systems of servitude that existed in Africa before Europeans arrived.
And absolutely teach them about European colonialism, the Atlantic slave trade, the barbarity of plantation slavery, and the laws that systematically deprived Black Americans of their liberty.
But don’t you dare selectively edit history to manufacture an eternal racial grievance.
Let’s teach Black children about Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver, and the extraordinary accomplishments of Black Americans who refused to let oppression define the boundaries of their existence.
Let’s teach them that African history did not begin with slavery and that Black American history did not end with emancipation.
Let’s teach them about African civilizations, scientific achievements, entrepreneurship, intellectual independence, family formation, and the extraordinary resilience of our ancestors.
And while we’re examining historical culpability, let’s examine the American political institutions that defended slavery, enacted Jim Crow laws, and resisted civil rights. Let’s name the politicians, examine their party affiliations, and acknowledge how those parties and their coalitions changed over time. No selective amnesia for anybody.
Here’s where I fundamentally disagree with you.
You appear more interested in teaching Black children whom to resent than teaching them what they can accomplish.
My ancestors endured extraordinary suffering. Their suffering deserves historical accuracy, reverence, and remembrance. It does not require me to surrender my intellectual independence or teach my children that their destiny is controlled by people who lived centuries before them.
History should produce knowledge, not inherited animosity.
Teach the entire historical record, including the uncomfortable chapters that contradict your preferred narrative.
Because a child who knows only the atrocities committed against his ancestors knows only a fraction of his ancestry.
And that is an egregious intellectual disservice.
I will teach my children what happened to their ancestors. But I will also teach them who their ancestors WERE before captivity, what they accomplished afterward, and what they themselves are capable of becoming.
My God did not create my children to spend their lives shackled to the grievances of yesterday.
Teach history. Don’t manufacture helplessness.
#AStoneGroove #SilentMajoritySpeaks
Normalize teaching your children about the twin evils of slavery and colonization.
Teach them who enslaved our ancestors, who colonized our lands, who stole our resources, and how their wealth was built on our suffering.
Black children must know their history — a history written in sweat, tears and blood.
Never let them forget it.
Readers added context they thought people might want to know
Most captives sold into the transatlantic trade were provided by African kingdoms and traders to European buyers. The longer Arab trade enslaved comparable numbers. Modern slavery continues in parts of Africa.
slavevoyages.org
britannica.com/topic/transatl…
walkfree.org/global-slavery…
Singaporean troon overstays his visa for six years and gets arrested at the trackside event, poetry
Global fans yet again getting what they deserve and I yet again getting what I voted for
unavailable
Genuinely, in the whole month plus that Malfoid has existed as a trend, I've only seen Petra Parker brought up once or twice. It was kinda the same when Petra was a trend as well lmao
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
Tired of this
🤖 Made with AI
U.S. bishops are opposing proposed Census Bureau rule changes for the 2030 census, arguing that excluding noncitizens without lawful permanent resident status from the apportionment count would effectively deny them recognition as persons.
ewtnnews.com/world/us/u-s-bi…
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
Samuel Sey blocked me almost a year ago when I commented on the evils behind his rhetoric in which he so easily puts down virgin women while promiscuous women are somehow better as long as they claim repentance.
He is now in the process of getting deported due to overstaying his visa. Some people are acting like he’s a victim.
Funny how things end up working out…it’s all connected. These people that promote wickedness in the name of God have skeletons in their closet and do not live honest lives. They’re bad faith actors.
Below is an excerpt from his article in which he says nothing but positive things about redeemed harlots while painting virginity in women as, at best, not that important, and at worst, more prone to wickedness.
This is what I voted for 🙌🙌🙌
Earlier this week, our dear brother Samuel Sey @SlowToWrite was en route to appear on our podcast when he got detained by ICE. Samuel is from Canada, and has been living here as a legal resident of the United States. We are confident this clerical mistake will be fixed, but this has been a terrible experience for his family.
Please consider supporting his lovely wife Annie and their three small children as they deal with the legal and living expenses of this terrible ordeal.
If you know Samuel, you know what a good man of character he is. So many of us have been blessed by his writing and ministry. Please help! givesendgo.com/support-for-s…
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
BlueChip. Built in America.
America made the first electronic computer to win a war.
Now we depend on our greatest adversaries to build the computers that run our economy and defend our nation.
Today, we bring it home.
I should clarify: this isn't an indictment against women broadly because not all go out of their way to be *that* affrontish at the thought of a male friend catching feelings. It is common enough to warrant condemnation, however
If this is a common enough problem, I question why you let men become friends with you in the first place
"I want male friends because they're good people and-," I don't believe you, frankly. Preemptive clauses like this are more something fitting for the world of law or business, not friendship
Telling someone you've just been acquainted with that you'd never date them is basically a slap in the face if they haven't asked. You presume that they will ask and rather than signal lack of interest in other ways, you slap them before they even get the chance. "No matter the way your brain is wired, no matter how I may seem to you, no matter what qualities you may find attractive to me in the future, I will never entertain romance with you. Nice to meet you, friend"
This is not something that normal people do. Most people handle confessions as they happen so as to give the other person a semblance of decency for the act itself. If you are in the oh-so painful position of consistently getting suitors, I would just avoid the situation entirely. If, despite all this, you still insist on having male "friends," it sounds like you're looking for sources of attention, just not affection
In your own words, if you did want someone to be a source of affection, the "boundaries can be reshaped based on both peoples feelings." You then say that you would respect someone not pursuing you based on the initial no-dating boundary, and thus make the rules unclear to the exceptions and preemptively shoot yourself in the foot. And you wonder why so many men are just frustrated with the dating game entirely and are just bowing out of relationships of any sort with women, romantic or not
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
“Decided who you’re going to the ball with, Draconia?” asked Goyle.
Draconia Malfoid sighed, lying back in the grass with her arms crossed behind her head.
“No, not yet. Too many boys to choose from.”
“Didn’t you say a Durmstrang boy asked you?”
“As if I’d ever go to the ball with one of those troll-brained idiots.”
“Well you’d better pick soon, time is running out.”
Draconia looked up at the sky, fiddling with her wand. The truth is, no one had asked her. Even Crabbe and Goyle, fat as they are, had several prospects.
“Did you hear Harry Potter got rejected?” said Goyle, chewing on some candy.
Draconia shot up.
“What?”
“He asked Cho Chang, and she laughed at him or something.”
“He asked… Cho?”
Draconia suddenly felt very hot.
“The other day, yeah. But she’s going with Cedric, I heard.”
“Might’ve been a tactic to get into Cedric’s head, try to steal his girl y’know?” chimed in Crabbe.
Draconia slowly unclenched her fists.
“I’m sorry, I just realized I’m late for studying.”
“Since when do you study?” snorted Goyle, stuffing more candies into her mouth.
Draconia smacked the box out of her hands.
“Since when do you ever stop eating?”
Draconia walked away in a huff from the courtyard, in no direction in particular. Honestly, the nerve of that Goyle. The nerve of the boys in this stupid school. She walked past a couple sitting on a bench, kissing. Gross.
“Everything alright Miss Malfoid?” asked Nearly Headless Nick, poking his head up from beneath the floor.
“Fine. Thanks.” she replied through gritted teeth, stepping through his ghost head as she walked.
She found herself in the entrance hall, alone with the Goblet of Fire. The cup was empty and lifeless, having served its purpose of spitting out the names of the Triwizard champions. The room was dimly lit by enchanted blue torches along the walls. She sighed, sitting on a bench in front of it. Mother and father would be so ashamed if she went to the ball herself. Especially after all of those letters telling her to make herself known to Cedric Diggory. “A girl of your stature needs to go with a Triwizard champion.” she repeated, sarcastically.
The door creaked open, and Draconia eyed it suspiciously as a figure with messy black hair, round glasses, and Gryffindor robes entered the room.
“What do *you* want?” Draconia sneered.
“Nothing with you, that’s for sure.” Harry Potter taunted back.
Draconia scoffed.
“Come to tamper with the goblet again, Mr. Boy-Who-Cheated?”
“I came to be alone, actually. To think. You ever try that?”
“Didn’t think you had it in you to ever want a break from the attention.”
“It’s hard sometimes, being the greatest wizard who ever lived. I slayed a dragon, you know. Not sure if you saw.”
Draconia rolled her eyes so hard she thought they’d flip into the back of her head.
“Well I’m not leaving. Got to look after the goblet, you know.” she said, gesturing to the cup, “So you may as well join me, so I can keep an eye on you.”
Harry opened his mouth like he had something to say, but closed it, and sat next to her. They both sat in silence for several moments, listening to the crackle of the blue torches along the walls.
“I heard you asked Cho Chang to the ball,” Draconia said softly.
“Yeah. I got turned down.”
Draconia started giggling, and Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Well who are you going with then?” he said.
Draconia’s eye twitched.
“Oh, I haven’t decided yet. Too many suitors to choose from. Thinking of going with a Durmstrang boy, an older one.” Draconia said innocently, eyeing Harry as she said it.
“Durmstrang?” Harry laughed, “The Malfoid I know wouldn’t go to the ball with one of those troll-brained idiots.”
“Well perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think, Potter,” she said, stubbornly.
“Perhaps I don’t.” Harry chuckled.
She didn’t reply, continuing to stare at the Goblet of Fire. He really didn’t. She’d attempted to use the spell that killed his parents. Avada kedavra. Moody was right. If Harry really did know her, he would hate her. Maybe he already does.
“Did you really cheat? You know, to get your name into the cup?”
“You think I’d choose to fight a dragon of my own accord?”
“Don’t play stupid Potter, you wouldn’t have known there’d be a dragon.”
“No, I didn’t put my name in the cup.”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly. I don’t know who did. I thought it was you, for a while.”
“Me?” Draconia laughed, “Why would I do that?”
“I dunno. To humiliate me?” Harry smirked as he said it.
“If I wanted to humiliate you I’d make sure you ended up alone at the Yule Ball,” Draconia giggled, “but I wouldn’t kill you.”
“Yeah well, it seems you’ll get your way then.”
“Since Cho turned you down?”
“I don’t care about Cho. She was my second choice anyway,” he said, defensively.
“Is that so.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve been rejected twice? How embarrassing.” Draconia said flatly, not even looking at him.
“I haven’t, you twit. Only once. I never asked the other girl.”
“Oh?”
Harry looked down at his shoes, and Draconia felt her pulse quicken.
“It’s just… how do you ask someone to the ball that you know will say no?”
“After slaying a dragon is there seriously any vapid, easily impressed girl in this school who would turn you down, Potter?”
“You would.”
“I’m not vapid, or easily impressed.”
Annoyingly, Harry looked like he was stifling a laugh.
“The girl I’m talking about is… well, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated.” she repeated.
“I mean, she’s beautiful. Intelligent, too. Rough around the edges, but… I dunno. I think she hates me, honestly.”
“Well if it makes you feel better, no one could hate you more than me.”
“Exactly.”
Draconia frowned. What did that mean?
“Do whatever you want, Potter. Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, you’re a girl. How would you feel?”
She sighed.
“If someone, somewhere, out there felt that way about me, I would want them to tell me, yes.”
“Even if you hated them?”
“Sure, Potter,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Even if I hated them.”
Harry rolled his wand between his fingertips, nervously.
“Then Draconia… would you like to go to the ball with me?”
Draconia blinked, suddenly feeling very hot again.
“A galleon on the dragon.” Crabbe leaned over, smugly.
“Shut up Crabbe,” Draconia Malfoid replied, clasping her hands together.
A cannon erupted, and Potter appeared, with his messy black hair and his perpetually-cracked glasses, waving to the crowd. The dragon didn’t give him a beat, slamming its tail in his direction. He rolled out of the way, and Draconia yelped involuntarily. Goyle was laughing like an idiot beside her. Didn’t she know this was real?
“Accio Firebolt!” Potter shouted, and nothing happened. The dragon roared, blowing fire in all directions, straining against the chain that held it to the ground. Even from here, in the stands, the heat was almost unbearable. Potter leapt behind a rock, hiding himself from the flame. The dragon pressed harder, blowing more flame in his direction, its spines standing on end.
Suddenly, a broom shot into the arena, and Potter jumped onto it. The crowd erupted, chanting his name. Draconia had to bite back the urge to chant alongside them. Harry was showboating again, flying circles around the dragon. She rolled her eyes, smiling to herself.
“Typical Potter, cheating again.” said Goyle, with a mouthful of popcorn.
“Shut up Goyle.”
The chain snapped. Harry nearly fell off his broom in surprise as the dragon leapt up to bite at him. He zipped around the arena, the dragon hot on his tail, blasts of fire in every direction. The dragon swooped near the crowd, and hundreds ducked. Draconia frantically looked around for Dumbledore. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Potter and the dragon continued to race, each bite and breath of flame just barely missing him. He flew over the stands, headed away from the crowd and towards Hogwarts. The crowd was completely silent, and all she could hear were flaps of dragon wings, fading into the distance.
Without thinking, she started pushing through the people beside her to exit the stands. Running down the stairs, her mind racing faster than her feet, bumping into people on her way out of the arena. Her legs carried her as fast as she could go, the cold wind biting at her face as she ran through the grass toward the front gate of Hogwarts. Harry and the dragon outpaced her, and she lost track of them as they continued their pursuit in between the high towers of Hogwarts.
Draconia reached the front gate, panting. She looked up and gasped. Harry had been knocked from his broom, scrambling on an outcropping with his broom out of reach. The dragon landed with a massive thud, and began slithering up the tower, its claws digging into the brick as it sniffed out its prey.
Draconia pulled out her wand, aiming it at the dragon. Her hands were shaking. She knew the words, her father had taught them to her. It’s not unforgivable to save a life, is it?
“AVADA KEDA-“
“EXPELLIARMUS!”
Her wand snapped out of her hand, landing in the grass. She spun around in a rage to see Professor Moody, pointing his wand at her.
“Don’t interfere, girl.”
“How dare you!” she shrieked, jumping towards her wand. Moody was faster, wrapping his arms around her, holding her in place.
“Let me GO!” she shouted, struggling against his hold, kicking her feet and screaming.
“Watch, girl.”
Harry was on his broom again, outrunning the dragon. But he wasn’t as fast as he was before. The dragon was getting closer, nipping at the back of his broomstick with each flap of its wings. They were headed towards the bridge.
Draconia squirmed out of Moody’s grasp, and leapt towards her wand, landing in the mud. She snatched it, rolled over, and aimed at the dragon hundreds of yards away.
“STUPEFY!”
Harry threaded the needle between the arches of the bridge, and the dragon stumbled in its attempt to follow, knocking itself against the hard stone. It shrieked in pain, slamming its head into the arches before spiraling into the chasm below.
“YES!” Draconia squealed, feeling relief wash over her. Moody gave her a contemptuous glare with that freakish false-eye of his.
“Come with me," Professor Moody growled, yanking her by the arm. She was so relieved she didn’t even care. From behind, she could hear the entire arena erupt in cheers.
They walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts in silence. Draconia couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Everyone else was away, watching the first task. Filch and his mangy cat were probably the only ones here, she thought. Moody took a drink of his flask. He was always doing that, drinking on the job. Another thing she’d have to tell her father about, how far Hogwarts has fallen to allow drunks to teach. Moody’s steps were belabored and uneven, and his false eye darted around in seeming paranoia. Eventually, they reached his office.
“Sit down.” he said, gruffly.
She did, choosing not to say anything.
Moody looked down at her ‘Potter stinks’ badge.
“Made those yourself, did you?”
“I most certainly did not.“
“Happy to wear something with his name on it. Hm? Is that it?”
“Excuse m-“
“Quiet. Dumbledore asked me to look after Potter. And the last thing he needs is some lovesick harpy meddling in the tournament, understand?”
“I tried to save him!” she shouted incredulously, standing as she did. How dare this brutish, ugly, vulgar, piece of-
Moody flicked his wand, and she was thrust back into her chair.
“You just as easily could’ve killed him. Then what, hm? You think of that? If that spell went a wee bit to the left and struck Mr. Potter?”
“I-“
“Think you can aim a spell with any accuracy from 500 yards, do you?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words.
“The killing curse as a first resort. You’re just like your father,” he continued.
She stayed silent. She really could’ve killed him. It would’ve been all her fault.
“I didn’t mean to.” she said, meekly.
“How do you think Mr. Potter would feel if he were to find out about this? Think he’d approve of you attempting to use the spell that killed his parents?”
“I was only trying to-“
“It doesn’t matter. Stay away from Potter.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Whether you want to kiss him or curse him, he’s better off without you.”
Draconia’s jaw dropped in shock. The sheer audacity of this cretin to speak to her this way. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, composing herself as she stood.
“If that’s all, Professor, I will be going now,” she said, with ice in her voice.
Moody took another swig of his flask.
“Tell your father Professor Moody sends his regards.”
She bit her tongue and stood, storming out of the office. Moody only stared at her with that freakish eye of his as she did. Anger bubbled inside her. How dare he. This ugly creature thinks he can tell her what to do. This freak thinks he can lord his meager school authority over her? Her father would hear about this. Her father would take care of him. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor as she strode down the hallway. She entered the girl’s bathroom, brushing the dried mud on her robes onto the floor.
Draconia approached the sink, standing before a broken mirror, and bent down to wash the dirt from her face.
“Stay away from Potter?” she muttered, looking up to glare at herself in the cracked glass.
Never.
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
Half a decade after the war, Harry and Dracaena Potter are forced to deal with the worst of their past.
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
I love the whole "Malfoid" thing, I really do. And i'm not even the target audience. I've enjoyed writing it, and its totally unleashed my muse.
I've been thinking about why the whole Malfoid fanfiction phenomenon is doing so ridiculously well, and I think I've figured something out.
Men are absolutely STARVING for good romance. Plenty of women, too, I guess.
Not pornography. Not harems. Not some elaborate sexual power fantasy. Romance.
Two people who who are confused by their feelings, who make mistakes, who struggle to understand one another, and who slowly, awkwardly, sometimes painfully fall in love.
You know. That thing human beings have been doing to each other for thousands of years. In story form.
Somewhere along the way, the publishing industry decided that men don't like romance. (xitter.cf/ShamashAran/status/210…) The alternatives everyone's been offered for the past couple of decades have been, to put it delicately, a radioactive dumpster fire.
On one side, you've got male-oriented harem fantasies where every woman within a fifty-mile radius is aching for a sexual encounter, in graphicly written detail.
On the other, you've got the darker corners of romantasy, where the height of romantic fulfillment involves being kidnapped, abused (physically, mentally, or both) or literally raped by a seven-foot-tall monster with the emotional maturity of a malfunctioning garbage disposal.
I'm sitting here thinking: CAN TWO PEOPLE JUST FALL IN LOVE WITHOUT SOMEBODY GETTING RAPED OR DEVELOPING A HAREM?
Apparently that's too much to ask.
This brings me back to Malfoid. Here's a huge set of stories written by many different folks, about two fundamentally decent people, raised in very different worlds, struggling with their feelings, their prejudices, their loyalties, and their expectations. Neither is perfect. Neither always knows what they're doing. Sometimes they're absolute idiots.
They have something, and we get to watch it develop in story form.
The romance isn't about sexual conquest or domination. It's about vulnerability, trust, affection, and the terrifying realization that another human being has become extraordinarily important to you.
And people are eating it up. Which brings me to my theory.
Malfoid has caused a false vacuum decay in the quantum field of romantic literature.
For decades, we've been trapped in a metastable state where the publishing industry insists that men don't want romance, and male readers have been conditioned to believe there isn't any romance worth reading. Now, comes along comes a wholesome little love story about two emotionally constipated school-age British wizards, and suddenly the entire field collapses into a new, lower-energy vacuum state.
The resulting energy release is absolutely catastrophic. Instead of gamma radiation annihilating the universe, we're getting seventeen metric gigatons of YEARNING.
Turns out men didn't hate romance.
They just wanted something worth falling in love with.
ProfessorT🇺🇲 retweeted
I saw someone essentially say that pornographic/lewd Malfoid fanart is good because sex is the point of romance. THIS, I fear, is another example of the way pornography has damaged people. 🧵
That idea misses the entire point of the Malfoid trend at large. To be fair, Malfoid has gotten so big it broke containment and now means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. That being said, I think the vast majority of those who enjoy this trend agree that Malfoid isn’t about sex, it’s about yearning.
To yearn for something, to long for it, is to deeply and often melancholically desire it. That sense of melancholy often stems from the understanding that whatever the object of your desire is will be difficult to obtain. Men are yearning for Malfoid because finding a woman like her is incredibly difficult, but she’s worth it. People are writing stories, making art, and changing themselves for the better in an effort to even get close to the feeling of achievement - to get close to her.
Making pornographic art in this movement cheapens all of this. The object of desire becomes not the woman, but her body. The way to express this desire becomes not hard work and effort, but masturbation. Looking at images on a screen and allowing yourself to be titillated will poison your soul against improvement, and you will seek to get your jollies off however you can rather than by becoming the kind of man worthy of a Malfoid, or the kind of woman worthy of a Harry.
Certainly, it is true that Harry and Malfoid are sexually attracted to each other. It’s also true that the vast swaths of wonderful illustrators in this movement depict Malfoid as sexually attractive. But Malfoid being sexually attractive doesn’t innately reduce her to the point of objectification.
Beauty exists, and Malfoid is beautiful. This aspect of her character is a virtue - it’s something that men often find lacking in modern women. To be fair, it’s also a quality that women find lacking in modern men, so there’s blame to go around. But that’s why people have started going to the gym over this trend, in pursuit of beauty.
Beauty may also easily be corrupted. Because beauty is a virtue, it goes hand in hand with other virtues - love, self-control, modesty, etc. - and if any of these other virtues are lacking in a person, so too does their beauty. Portraying Malfoid as a loose woman, exposing herself and engaging in all kinds of indecency, makes her less beautiful. It may make her “hot” or otherwise “sexy”, but this is a pornographic debasing of her. Those depictions are not worth your desire.
Malfoid is modest, in both dress and in mannerism; of course she is, as the heiress to the Malfoy name. And the people who get the trend don’t portray her as a ditz or an airhead, but as a confident, even prideful woman (it’s worth noting that such depictions have her putting down her supremacist pride in her bloodline and accepting her love for Harry, humbling herself, which is a virtue).
Keep Malfoid modest. Yearn for something greater.
