Want to know the story behind the Story of Stuff? In this interview, Annie Leonard talks about how the original Story of Stuff came about, how she got into activism, the backlash she got for covering cap and trade from within the environmental movement, and why its important for celebrity activists to push the envelope. Check out The Story of Stuff website on the truth about cap and trade, bottled water, and cosmetics.
Anyone who spends time on the web has seen the words FAIL splashed
across pictures of cats with their heads stuck in empty cans or dogs dressed by their humans
as Oompa Loompas. Don't get us wrong, those can be pretty funny. But
you know what's even better? Making the digital bombast of FAIL less
associated with the minor humiliations of pets, and more so with the
project of media reform -- which just may involve a more pointed, and
meaningful, kind of humilation.
Since we're already piling up the posts about both mothers and
pregnancy, now seems like a good time to issue a call to action on an
issue that doesn't usually come up when we talk about reproductive
rights: home birth.
The 2007 documentary The Business of Being Born
was, for many women (and men) an eye-opening look at the increasing
medicalization of birth in America and a compelling illustration of the
way midwife-assisted home birth can be a powerful alternative to the
standard hosptial delivery. The film—which was produced by home-birth
advocate Ricki Lake—along with books like Jennifer Block's powerful and
well-researched Pushed: The Painful Truth About Childbirth and Modern
Maternity Care, brought the subject of home birth out of the fringes
and into the mainstream. Soon enough, home birth was a hot topic in the
pages of the New York Times, Ricki Lake and BoBB director Abby Epstein's book Your Best Birth was published, celebrities like Cindy
Crawford, Demi Moore, and Lisa Bonet were testifying to their own
home-birth experiences, and birthing tubs were flying off the
Internet's virtual shelves.
Writing history is a radical act. I'm going to say it again. Writing history is a radical act. The process by which historians choose to deify, demonize, or emulate individuals and events is a malleable and contentious undertaking. As I'm sure you savvy readers out there know—with this retelling comes power. Sure, narratives can be retold, historical 'facts' reformulated, and legacies reclaimed. But whose voices get heard? Which versions get told? Who gets remembered and why? (For far too long 'our' Nation's history consisted overwhelmingly of the male, pale, and stale variety.)
As the American calendar rolls around to another historically-dubious holiday, it's comforting to know you can celebrate the righteous kind of history year-round with People's History posters from Just Seeds. At four bucks a pop, you can afford to load up on your favorite activists, or give them as presents to remind folks of the heroes that History-with-a-capital-H (not to mention present-day media) tends to conveniently forget. Click through for more posters...
Doris Walker worked throughout her life protecting and defending leftist causes and activists. She participated as an activist and legal counsel throughout almost every major America progressive social movement in the twentieth century, from denouncing Jim Crow laws and McCarthyism, to being a labor lawyer and labor organizer, to helping to successfully acquit Angela Davis, and even challenging the Bush Administration's invasion of Afghanistan in Iraq.
"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 illustrator and writer Cristy C. Road on Assata: An Autobiography, by Assata Shakur.
I'm originally from Miami, where I felt frigidly alienated for a billion reasons, many of which were ignited by the republican Cuban-American community, which seems to run the social consciousness of every Cuban community there—despite class, neighborhood, etc. I left when I turned 18 and hung out around northern Florida in the punk rock community, and I felt very alive, but sincerely in denial about a lot of the new prejudices I was seeing in this new territory.
When I was about 20, I began feeling completely isolated from the punk rock community as well. I used a lot of denial-based tactics to feel "sane" back then, because I was so romantic about this community since it had salvaged me from preteen turmoil. As I grew older, it was becoming clearer that there was still sexism and racism clouding the positive effects of punk rock.