Fredrich Engels, 1884, The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State. The book was revived as a key text by socialist and Marxist feminists in debates about women’s liberation. Pace the 19th century social Darwinism which clearly took a lead from the Old Testament, it is now quite clear that both pastoralism and slash and burn agriculture appeared after, and not before, the advent of settled agriculture.
 Franz Boas, The Mind of Primitive Man, 1911; Claudia Ruth Pierpoint, ‘The Measure of America’, 2004; Ned Blackhawk and Isaiah Lorado Wilner, Indigenous Visions: Rediscovering the World of Franz Boas, 2018; Rosemary Lévy, Franz Boas: The Emergence of the Anthropologist, 2019.
 Very good examples of this work include Sara Hdry, Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding, 2005; Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, The Old Way, 2001; two articles by Steven Kuhn and Mary Stiner: ‘What’s a Mother To Do’, 2006 and ‘How Hearth and Home Made us Human’, 2019; Loretta Cormier and Sharon Jones, The Domesticated Penis: How Womanhood has Shaped Manhood, 2015; a key paper by Joanna Overing, ‘Men Control Women? The “Catch-22” in the Analysis of Gender’, 1987; two books by Christopher Boehm: Hierarchy in the Forest and the Evolution of Egalitarian Behavior, 1999, and Moral Origins, 2012; every book by the primatologist Frans de Waal; the two chapters by Brian Ferguson in Douglas Fry, ed., War, Peace and Human Nature, 2013; Richard Wrangham, Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human, 2010; and two books by the trans biologist Joan Roughgarden: Evolution’s Rainbow: Diversity, Gender and Sexuality in Nature and People, 2004, and The Genial Gene: Deconstructing Darwinian Selfishness, 2009.
 Our favourites among the ethnographies of our near contemporary hunter-gatherers are Marjorie Shostack, Nisa: The Life and Words of a !Kung Woman, 1981; Jean Briggs, Inuit Morality Play: The Emotional Education of a Three-Year-Old, 1998; Phyllis Kaberry, Aboriginal Women: Sacred and Profane, 1938, Karen Endicott and Kirk Endicott: The Headman was a Woman: The Gender Egalitarian Batek of Malaysia, 2008; Richard Lee, The !Kung San: Men, Women and Work in a Foraging Society, 1978; and Colin Turnbull, Wayward Servants: The Two Worlds of the African Pygmies, 1978.
 Kent Flannery and Joyce Marcus, The Creation of Inequality: How Our Prehistorical Ancestors Set the Stage for Monarchy, Slavery and Empire, 2012; and James C. Scott, The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland South-East Asia, 2009; Scott, Against the Grain: A Deep History of the Earliest States, 2017. Martin Jones, Feast: Why Humans Share Food, 2007, is also very useful.
 Edmund Leach had made a similar argument in 1954 in Political Systems of Highland Burma, and radically changed anthropology. For a brilliant ethnography of one group of anti-class hill rebels at the end of the twentieth century, see Shanshan Du, Chopsticks Only Work in Pairs: Gender Unity and Gender Equality Among the Lahu of Southeastern China, 2003. For Scott’s recent extension of his argument to ancient Mesopotamia, see Against the Grain.
 This is all succinctly described in Brian Hayden, ‘Transegalitarian Societies on the American Northwest Plateau: Social Dynamics and Cultural/Technological Changes,’ in Orlando Cerasuolo, ed., The Archaeology of Inequality, 2021.
 Start with Philip Drucker and Robert Heizer, 1967, To Make My Name Good: A Reexamination of the Southern Kwakiutl Potlatch; and Eric Wolf, Envisioning Power: Ideologies of Dominance and Crisis, 1999, 69-132.
 Jeanne Arnold, ‘Credit where Credit is Due: The History of the Chumash Oceangoing Plank Canoe’, 2007; and Lynn Gamble, The Chumash World at European Contact: Power, Trade and Fighting among Complex Hunter-Gatherers, 2011.
 On the Calusa, see The Dawn, 150-2; Fernando Santos-Cranero, 2010, Vital Enemies: Slavery, Predation and the Amerindian Political Economy of Life, 2010; and John Hann, Missions to the Calusa, 1991.
 Robbie Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall, Mapping the Mississippian Shatter Zone, 2009; and George Edward Milne, Natchez Country: Indians, Colonists and the Landscape of Race in French Louisiana, 2015.
Of course, she went to the police, but after being made to reenact the crime several times by the police officers, she was still unable to catch the perpetrator, and even if she was arrested, she came home only in despair after being told of the burden on the victim to prosecute and the light criminal penalty (only a few years).
She thought she couldn't keep losing, so she didn't quit her job and tried to meet and date me, but it remained painful and the despair didn't go away, but she couldn't tell me about the incident either.
To her, there was nothing she could do about it, and she didn't think that she would be saved by saying it, and it seemed that she was always afraid of being hated by me because she thought I was dirty.
But when she saw the Susukino decapitation case which the whole family killed the rapist, she realized that she wanted to kill him all along, too, and it seems she couldn't stand it any more and ended up speaking out.
No matter how much I hate myself, the fact that I belong to the gender that perpetrates sexual crimes remains unchanged. However, I do have a desire to reduce the number of women who become victims of sexual crimes.
Every time I think that there might be videos of her from the past out there on the internet, the violence of filming, the violence of selling, the violence of creating platforms for selling, the violence of buying and enjoying – it all becomes so frightening, loathsome, and unbearable.
For now, I plan to contact payment companies of voyeurism video trading sites like pcolle, gcolle, and palpis (there are even major ones like Rakuten Bank involved) and urge them to stop facilitating violent profit-making.
Even if nothing changes, I intend to hold onto the fragment of atonement that comes with feeling the responsibility of the gender that doesn't experience any harm or victimization without doing anything.
While there might be opinions urging to separate the realm of 2D from reality, there's no assurance that cognition won't become distorted. Moreover, if it were about the 2D world, if someone were to enjoy animal abuse, the majority of people would feel a sense of repulsion.
But I want to do what I can.
In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.
I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.
My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.
A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.
I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.
I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.
Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.
I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.
The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.
In Nagasaki, kids grow up hearing about the atomic bomb. We were packed like sushi in a gymnasium without air conditioning or even fans during the scorching summer, and we listened to stories about the bomb. It was incredibly tough for me.
I imagine it was even harder for the elderly who spoke about their experiences. As a child, I couldn't fully comprehend their pain, and now, I can hardly remember most of the stories I heard. I can only recall one or two.
Every year during this time, gruesome images that would make PTA elsewhere go crazy were displayed in the hallways. I heard that many of the horrifying exhibits that used to traumatize visitors at the Atomic Bomb Museum have been removed, and the museum has been considerably sanitized. I'm not sure about the current situation, but that's how it was when I was there.
There was one photograph that I could never bear to look at as a child – a picture of Tadashi Taniguchi. You can find it if you search, but it's a shocking image with a viewer discretion warning. Still, I want people to see it.
Even though my grandpa was not a child, I'm sure there were elementary school kids who did similar things. I don't just think they might have been there; they were there. I heard the stories from the people themselves, and I still remember them.
I can't forget the stories I heard as a child, such as the young siblings finding their father's burnt corpse in the ruins and cremating him. They didn't have enough firewood, and their father ended up half-burnt. They ran away after seeing the brain tissue oozing out, and that became their final farewell.
Even someone like me, who experienced such unimaginable trauma, has gone through pain that I can't even imagine being compared to being discarded, forgotten, and ignored. Compared to what those people experienced, my suffering means nothing.
・Pineapple on pizza（new）
・Cult of the Lamb
・DAVE THE DIVER（new）
I have to put in my pocket
I've said this before but I genuinely
stretches centuries okay if you played
have no other merch I've hadn't hadn't
so I had my guard up ready for the worst
foreigners because they think we're like
having those moments but of course
fluent in Japanese
hard language obviously but I don't
know [ __ ]
relaxed approach to YouTube for my
making videos I uploaded videos during
things in life
because a lot of the best stuff about
Japan not the best stuff but a lot of
kovid I'm not allowed to be in the