Oh, yay! It's time to demonize Courtney Love! Again! The ever-convenient target for would-be-rock dude misogyny has come under fire, yet again, for Activision's use of an unlockable Kurt Cobain avatar in Guitar Hero 5.
This season has been unofficially dubbed The Summer of Death, and unfortunately this past week was no exception. As pop culture loving feminists, we are all saddened by the passings of Patrick Swayze, Mary Travers, and Henry Gibson, to name only a few. We all grieve in different ways, to be sure, but a couple of LOL tributez never hurt anybody. In order to ease our collective pain, we bring you the I Can Has Feminizm? R.I.P. Edition.
But how shameful is it, how absolutely insane is it, that the major discussion about “standards” for broadcast television today always takes place in the context of “indecency” – and in particular, that women’s bodies are “indecent”? I mean, I don’t know about you, but the only think I found shocking about Janet Jackson’s breast-exposure on live television was that metal thing she had on her nipple. Christ, wouldn’t that hurt?
My point is that I don’t think the half-second or so of nipplage has done nearly as much damage to “the children” (always so undefined) as the notion that crazy people who think Barack Obama is a secret Muslim are deserving of more than two seconds of derisive airtime on cable and network news.
The autumnal equinox is still a few days away (and today is unseasonably warm), but I'm ready to break out the sweaters and hear the leaves crunch under my step. My last mix said hello to summer, so now I'll usher in the next season with these songs that speak to my autumn mood – either through lyrical reference or tone.
In which we explore what Time Magazine dubs "the retrosexual"--when reconnecting via Facebook gives you a second chance to hook up with that hot girl or guy you missed out on in high school, an experience poetically described as springing "from an intense, almost uncontrollable mixture of nostalgia and interest" (and perhaps, horniness).
Also featuring a blatant and revealing overshare about my own retrosexual experience with my high school crush.
You know what's fun about this New York Times article about how the Twilight soundtrack might save the money-hemorrhaging record industry? That it has only one mention of who is most likely to buy tie-in Twilight products.
"Rave On" is the Page Turner series that asks feminist writers, artists, musicians, activists, leaders, and scholars to talk about a book that completely rocked their world. Today we feature writer Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore on the memoir Close to the Knives, by David Wojnarowicz.
In the early '90s, everyone was dying—that's how it felt, it felt like everyone was dying. We were the first generation of queers to grow up knowing that desire meant AIDS meant death, and so it made sense that when we got away from the other death—the one that meant marriage, house in the suburbs, a lifetime of brutality, both interior and exterior, and call this success or keep trying, keep trying for more brutality—it made sense that everyone was dying, because we had only known death.
Queer heroes were dykes, or they were dying—some of the dykes were dying too, but not as fast, unless it was suicide or a cancer they hadn't mentioned, cancer like childhood sometimes you can't say it. So when I found David Wojnarowicz, he was already dead; I didn't find him, I found his words.