Two upcoming films about gay couples feature big name celebrities. Is mainstream film becoming more queer-friendly or are the white, mostly monogamous characters and the straight actors that play them anything but revolutionary?
Three-year-old Jim leaned over and gave his four-year-old neighbor, Ivan, a big smooch on the lips. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" yelled Jim's dad, making no effort to hide his distress. The kids didn't seem to notice Dad's outburst, but it's a message that children, especially boys, hear a lot: "Don't be gay."
When it comes to women and sports, we've got a long way to go before we reach the promised land of gender equity. Still, when you consider that Title IX just passed in 1972 and that we've got some seriously kickass women athletes to look up to in the wide world of sports today, well, it could be worse. So how are we doing when it comes to women, sports, and advertising? Well, let's start on a high note:
I'm proud to be an Indigenous feminist and I'm not apologizing for it. In fact this very statement "Native Feminisms Without Apology" was the title of an incredible conference in 2006 at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign I so wish I would have been at.
So why am I not apologizing for being a Native feminist? Because I get serious flack for it - from all sides. On the one hand I'm not Native enough if I call myself a feminist. On the other hand I'm not feminist enough since I'm pointing out there's a mainstream movement I really don't like.
Now I've written about Indigenous feminism here, here, and here, but based on several recent requests I've received about it, I thought I'd also make a mini reference list of some great resources to check out.
Trivia: Which came first: the Model T Ford or the windshield wiper?
Might seem counter-intuitive, but it was the wiper! Yep, the first successful windshield wiper was invented, and patented, by Mary Anderson in 1903.
Last week, Amanda Hess wrote an excellent and completely infuriating piece for The Washington City Paper called, "Test Case: You're Not a Rape Victim Unless Police Say So" about one woman's unbelievably frustrating struggle to get a rape kit. (I definitely recommend reading the piece, but it could be triggering so keep that in mind.)
Anyway, as one astute Bitch reader reminded us, this woman's story was also covered in issue 38 of the magazine back in 2007 (Lost & Found, p 16), and as the reader said, "It was a small article then but I was so disturbed and had often wondered what had become of the woman mentioned since. I believe it is the same person [covered in Hess' piece], and now knowing the details am even more disturbed and angry at her treatment. I think other readers may appreciate the story as well." Reader, you were right: It is the same woman, and, unfortunately, things haven't improved much.
I hate to break it to you, but we have a sell-by date. We're perishable, dude. Highly perishable.
I spoke these words to a friend as we meandered down the street engaged in another one of our snarky, rapid-fire dialogues about how we ended up here. Here being the waning years of our twenties without being firmly established on solid career paths and without appropriate grown-up milestones (marriage, kids, home ownership) in our cross-hairs. We've known each other forever, so it felt almost as if we were 17 again (but we're both so much cooler now) and wondering what we were actually going to do with our whole lives in front of us. Except we're not 17 and our grace period for a To Be Determined future is rapidly running out. Comforting, non?