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See that lady in the chair up there? Long story short: she’s more awesome than you, she’s more awesome than me, she’s more awesome than fried bacon Nutella, and she is more awesome than Florence Nightingale.

That lady is Mary Seacole, and this is a

Mary Seacole Appreciation Post

When the Crimean War broke out, Mary Seacole signed up as a nurse. Unfortunately, she was the daughter of a Scotsman and a Jamaican free woman in the Victorian British Empire, which meant she was treated with the kind of respect we reserve for shoplifters and murderers.
Well, actually, we still allow murderers and shoplifters to vote, so scratch that and let’s just say fuck Westminster and everyone in it in the 19th century. Except John Stuart Mill, John Stuart Mill was alright, but only because of Harriet Taylor.

Mary Seacole wants to go help out soldiers fighting for the government, the government gives her a big fat middle finger. What does Mary Seacole do? She says “fuck that noise” and goes to the Crimean Peninsula by her goddamn self.  When she gets to the war, she goes to see Florence Nightingale: “Hey, Florence, I want to make people stop dying.” Nightingale says, “no, you’re not white enough and you’ll probably run a brothel or something” and sends her off. So what does Mary Seacole do? She builds a hotel.
And I don’t mean, “she buys a shack someone left behind,” no, she builds a hotel, out of wood and iron scraps, on a motherfreaken battlefield, with the help of a few locals who aren’t dead yet. Take a couple of seconds to realize just how much of a badass you have to be to pull that off.

So, she’s got a hotel for British soldiers, all is fine and dandy, right? She’s safely away from the front-line serving tea to officers in her lovely little inn, right? Wrong! Every morning she makes like a gallon of food, loads it on donkeys and goes TOWARDS the explosions, because a bit of murderous artillery isn’t gonna stop  her being awesome. She spends basically the ENTIRE war getting shot at, bringing food to soldiers and dealing with bullet-wounds. And because she’s NOT a nurse or a British doctor, she understands that it’s a really good idea to wash her hands when dealing with sick people, and that keeping wounds clean is the no. 1 way of not putting ten tons of infection in them. Hell, while she’s out on the battlefield anyway, she even heals the ENEMY soldiers because a little bit of war isn’t a good enough reason to make her stop being the badassest lady for twelve million miles around.

Over where Nightingale is messing around, basically if you weren’t infected when you got in, you were GONNA be once you’d been there a while. Soldiers are croaking left and right and all around because they’re stuffed wall to wall and no-one knows how to spell the word “hygiene” yet. Not Nightingale’s fault, really, so much as all the stupid male doctors who didn’t understand how to listen to really smart Hungarians. You got shot in the Crimean, you wanted to go see Seacole. Cholera, yellow fever, dysentery? Seacole’s got your back. Hungry? Seacole makes, like, the BEST rice-pudding.

I want you to understand that when the Crimean War breaks out, Seacole is 48 years old. This at a time when people had a serious tendency to die before they were 30. It’s basically the equivalent of a 70-year old going to Afghanistan to help topple the Taliban!
And then, after the war is over, not only is she one of the last people to go home, she’s also dirt poor because she spent all her money buying food and medicine for the soldiers and when the war was over she had to sell it to the freaken Russians just to get the creditors off her back. Poor and outliving like 80% of the general population ALREADY, she goes home to live another 25 years, as if she had yet to prove how much tougher she was than absolutely everybody else alive on the planet.

She’s impoverished, old and living in a society that mostly hates her for reflecting slightly less sunlight than they do, so what does she spend her time doing? Raising funds for charity. Like, obviously! Then, in 1857, the Indian Rebellion breaks out and people start dying again. At this point Seacole has spent over 3 years in war and poverty, basically having a footrace with Death, but the first damn thing she does is try and go to India to help people out. It takes the freaken Secretary of War to get her to stay home.

In 1881, Seacole dies at 76, and for the next 100 years, all anyone can talk about is how awesome Florence Nightingale was. It’s not until now in the 21st freaken century that anyone is particularly bothering to remember the single most awesome Scottish-Jamaican super-nurse ever, or include her in textbooks and history-classes. My point is this: let’s remember her on Tumblr.

"I have witnessed her devotion and her courage … and I trust that England will never forget one who has nursed her sick, who sought out her wounded to aid and succour them and who performed the last offices for some of her illustrious dead."—William Howard Russel, one of the first modern war-correspondents. 

Because how can I NOT reblog such awesome history?

Mary Seacole was a bamf! I’m so glad Horrible Histories (a show for kids) did a cute little song in her honour! 

There’s also this that Horrible Histories did, and the song linked to above has a video though that doesn’t seem to be on YouTube.



this must be what tumblr looks like irl

This is exactly what tumblr looks like IRL


whenever i’m leaving a conversation i say “bi” to remind and tell people i am bisexual. for some reason this has not been working very well and most people think i’m straight despite my reminders. however, they do sometimes praise me and say “good bi” in response.



We lost Earl Ragnar, our favorite Beta fish. 

& we were sure to give him a viking’s funeral as such a magnificent fish as he deserves. 

See you in Valhalla my friend. 

Sail, Ragnar. Sail. 

you set your little girl’s dead fish on fire in front of her eyes this is incredible

Conversation I heard in the club.

  • Shy Guy: Hey there..
  • Random Guy: Hey what's up?
  • Shy Guy: Nothing much, just wanted to say you are really cute.
  • Random Guy: Thanks dude!
  • Shy Guy: So, are you here with anyone?
  • Random Guy: Yeah, my girlfriend just went to the washroom.
  • Shy Guy: Oh God, I'm sorry, didn't know you were straight.
  • Random Guy: That's alright it's cool.
  • Shy Guy: You don't mind me calling you cute?
  • Random Guy: A compliment is a compliment no matter who it comes from.


“you shouldn’t be walking alone at this time of night”



people shouldn’t fucking attack other people at any time of day


"We should eat whatever those things are." [via]


Me lying.