Although she always claimed her birthday was May 1st--International Worker's Day, Mary Harris "Mother" Jones was born on August 1st, 1837 (although she also claimed to be born years earlier, in part to maintain her grandmotherly public persona).
The majority of my life has been spent inhabiting a body deemed too fat. While I spent my early childhood and elementary years as a "normal" sized child, I soon started the upward climb towards "fat" and when I reached that particular mountaintop, my body built a house, bought the furniture, put in a pool and declared that this was where we were to stay. My mind, however, was a different story.
Welcome to Push(back) at the Intersections, an exploration of responses to feminist responses to pop culture.
Yes, that's right. Bitch very kindly invited me back to guest blog about one of my favorite things: meta-analysis of pop culture critiques. I'm interested in how people interact with feminist critiques of pop culture, and I'm not just looking at nonfeminist responses, but also feminist ones. Some of the strongest pushback when it comes to feminist explorations of pop culture comes from within the feminist community, rather than from outside it.
Some music for your weekend: I was thrilled to recently learn about Jhameel, a pop-orchestra musician who covers T Pain songs and whose lyrics (according to his bio) "revolve around such topics as Middle Eastern womanhood, homosexuality, and urban prostitution, giving voice to the silent margins of society."
"Snarky's Cinemachine" is riding off into the sunset for now, and I am honored and humbled by the engaged and supportive Bitch media readerships. Your comments have challenged, entertained and informed me. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here blogging. Thank you for creating a space for me and making me feel so welcome.
When a jury basically says "you were asking for it" in legalese, you know it's bad. That's what Jane Doe heard when last week a St. Louis court that decided that "playing to the camera" meant revoking her right to privacy.
The "three-date rule" is stupid. So's the five-date rule, the six-month rule and any other rule that someone's told you should govern the time in your relationship that you choose to engage in physical intimacy. The problem is that, in sorting through all the messages of when you should or should not submit to what the other person apparently wants from the get-go, not enough people get around to considering what feels right to them.