Friendly reminder that Dia de Los Muertos is pretty much a funeral, and the dead being represented in the holiday are actual dead people who had families and friends and hopes and dreams. So just as you wouldn’t throw on black clothes and join a group of mourners because they look so fashionable in black, you shouldn’t paint your face and put marigolds in your hair and make altars because it looks cool to you. Thank.
My Least Favorite Trope (and this post will include spoilers for The Lego Movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Matrix, Western Civilization, and—cod help me—Bulletproof Monk*.) is the thing where there’s an awesome, smart, wonderful, powerful female character who by all rights ought to be the Chosen One and the hero of the movie, who is tasked with taking care of some generally ineffectual male character who is, for reasons of wish fulfillment, actually the person the film focuses on. She mentors him, she teaches him, and she inevitably becomes his girlfriend… and he gets the job she wanted: he gets to be the Chosen One even though she’s obviously far more qualified. And all he has to do to get it and deserve it is Man Up and Take Responsibility.
And that’s it. Every god-damned time. The mere fact of naming the films above and naming the trope gives away the entire plot and character arc of every single movie."
So many men have internalized the lie that they have uncontrollable sex drives, and no way to control their anger. They aren’t ashamed of their abusive behavior because they see it as a something natural to them and maybe even central to their masculinity. It’s scary as hell.