tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38059945099958803782023-11-16T02:58:46.409-08:00Insurgents' InkA Feminist Dialectic of Contemporary IssuesAutumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-76723648239153178252016-11-11T08:09:00.003-08:002016-11-11T08:09:29.215-08:00White PeopleYou<br />
who paint the world red to explain the blood on your hands<br />
You<br />
who call the earth flat to maintain the ground where you stand<br />
You<br />
who walk in the sun to proclaim that it never can rain<br />
<br />
You <br />
drinking deep cuz there’s always enough<br />
You<br />
humming tunes declare crying to rough<br />
You<br />
gripping chains insist slavery is through<br />
<br />
You<br />
holding life<br />
now what will you do<br />
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-25778914734065132852016-05-10T17:40:00.001-07:002016-05-10T17:40:31.861-07:00Why Racism (and the Violence it Engenders) Is Every Feminists' Problem"In a real sense all life is interrelated. All [people] are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly." ~ MLK "The Man Who Was a Fool" from <i>Strength to Love</i>. <br />
<br />
"Since all forms of oppression are linked in our society because they are supported by similar institutional and social structures, one system cannot be eradicated while the others remain intact" ~<a href="http://www.notablebiographies.com/He-Ho/Hooks-Bell.html">bell hooks</a> "The Significance of Feminist Movement" from <i>Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center</i>.<br />
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Feminism, at its core, is about unequal power distribution. It's not about men against women; it's about power and subjugation. If one takes this concept seriously, it is easy to see how sexism and racism are inextricably linked. <br />
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I don't think there is enough conversation about the "inescapable network of mutuality," particularly within social justice movements. The history of the feminist movement itself is rank with elitism and racism. It's time to realize, and to act in a manner consistent with this awareness, that these issues are not separate. That we are not separate. That one kind of hatred and oppression is the same as another, comes from the same place and is, therefore, likely to be eradicated similarly. <br />
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So, if you call yourself a feminist, you've got plenty to be outraged by...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMxi_qnAd7OmxfPNmdmQF8ttWbwZxUkkWbUaDOHMRldtkdgW8Rwrq-WVrngd8Qb0M9nqsMIvoaZKHuNu7rl05yPYeK_12kjmjH20q6nwzwwwKAK09AUmaqs8_Aw_Oo_AnMY6bUU7cg44/s1600/We+are+all+trayvon+martin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMxi_qnAd7OmxfPNmdmQF8ttWbwZxUkkWbUaDOHMRldtkdgW8Rwrq-WVrngd8Qb0M9nqsMIvoaZKHuNu7rl05yPYeK_12kjmjH20q6nwzwwwKAK09AUmaqs8_Aw_Oo_AnMY6bUU7cg44/s320/We+are+all+trayvon+martin.jpg" /></a></div>Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-14071444818599175012016-04-19T19:40:00.000-07:002016-04-19T19:43:05.384-07:00DialecticOne thing my chronic illness has taught me is that I cannot do this alone. The same goes for feminism (or any social justice movement). That's why when my friend and I conceived this blog, we subtitled it "A Feminist Dialectic..." We wanted our posts to be conversation starters, and I (we) still want that. If anything posted here gets you thinking, talking, and acting, excellent! Remember too that you can post comments to enter into the conversation. I encourage other view points, light shed on gaps in my thinking, questions, additions...bring it. Bring your feminist dialectic to my yard. It's our yard after all; we're all sharing this world. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6_UF6asxqDewdM8p0avWa1x43JF9FQRW4Ylie_A3l2_8Qkge4274k-JBggYHCGPFrDztWuWjoAR42Kq2G9diwO1h16-ftcmFAOH35daWiaJ9olQ-aKwPyfbMlFCwB0AUgi42FakapTY/s1600/Dialectic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6_UF6asxqDewdM8p0avWa1x43JF9FQRW4Ylie_A3l2_8Qkge4274k-JBggYHCGPFrDztWuWjoAR42Kq2G9diwO1h16-ftcmFAOH35daWiaJ9olQ-aKwPyfbMlFCwB0AUgi42FakapTY/s320/Dialectic.jpg" /></a></div><br />
P.S. This is also why we accept submissions of essays, poetry, fiction...I'm currently looking for anything on the intersectionality of racism and sexism. Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-29047536840702341792016-04-09T11:06:00.001-07:002016-04-09T11:06:42.549-07:00European vs. WhiteThe importance of names has been on my mind lately--see my last post, "<a href="http://insurgentsink.blogspot.com/2016/04/call-me-by-my-true-names_5.html">Call me by My True Names.</a>" It began with something I had never seen before at my latest trip to the doctor, a new doctor. On the forms for new patients was a term I'd never seen or considered for myself: European. There was no "White," just as there was no "Black" or "Yellow" or "Brown" or "Red."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOchtCoFYp-21JV9u28NVhpP4w_QaGUc3kyWLs6YlnHe_kZJffTCyJcsenFJlA69tA4HtE9D9RE7Tqc5GcDJhsipntuGpo5C2D9NGUFoxGzpV2-BQhb-Rp4FqZU5VgInobdjWvTEU_hys/s1600/Europe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOchtCoFYp-21JV9u28NVhpP4w_QaGUc3kyWLs6YlnHe_kZJffTCyJcsenFJlA69tA4HtE9D9RE7Tqc5GcDJhsipntuGpo5C2D9NGUFoxGzpV2-BQhb-Rp4FqZU5VgInobdjWvTEU_hys/s320/Europe.png" /></a></div><br />
I think this is an important change and have been using it since on all forms I complete. Not checking "White" but writing in European in the "Other" box. My reasons? <br />
<br />
1) The current PC terms for racial categories are based on geographical location, not color. <br />
<br />
2) Why should white people be the only exception to this? I'm not offended at being called white and am not, therefore, seeking a kinder, gentler term for myself. I simply think we should have consistency because... <br />
<br />
3)Race is social, not scientific. <a href="http://www.pbs.org/race/000_About/002_04-background-01-07.htm#top">There is no biological basis for race</a>. <a href="http://harvardmagazine.com/2008/05/race-in-a-genetic-world-html">Race is an entirely social construct</a>. That being the case, it makes much more sense to use the geographical categories to classify ourselves as people. <br />
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4) White being the only non-geographical identifier, sets us--as ever--apart from. This distinction reinforces the idea that White is the standard. That Whites have no country, no race, no culture. Whites are then positioned as "normal," the standard against which all others are compared. Non-Whites, then, become the only ones of place, culture, and color. The truth is, of course, that Whites do have countries of origin, have a socially constructed race, and have just as much culture as any other group of people. White people simply have the privilege, and incredibly powerful advantage, of not having to notice it because it is everywhere. It is The Norm. We never push against it or disrupt it because of our race...though we may based on other things such as wealth--or lack thereof--gender, gender classification, sexuality, immigrant status, language, education, region...<br />
<br />
What say all of you? Am I right? Should European be the term we use and is that change as important as I think it is? <br />
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-71155726467350245862016-04-05T18:31:00.000-07:002016-04-05T18:31:46.998-07:00Call Me by My True NamesI owe so much to the peoples of the East. We all do. <a href="http://www.buddhanet.net/e-learning/buddhistworld/buddha.htm">Siddhartha Gautama</a> (India) taught people how to find peace on earth. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6y-Ik3HB6fQ">Thich Nhat Hanh</a> (Vietnam) explains how to practice nonviolence and mindfulness within ourselves in order to find that peace whenever we need it. <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/basho">Matsuo Basho</a>(Japan) gave us the Haiku, and four centuries later <a href="http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/2/the-art-of-fiction-no-182-haruki-murakami">Haruki Murakami</a> (Japan)has already given us over 10 books of the most beautiful, disturbing, mythical, fiction ever written. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0118694/?ref_=nm_knf_i1">Kar-Wai Wong</a> (Hong Kong) created In the Mood for Love AND the best sequel ever made, 2046. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0190332/">Ziyi Zhyang</a> (China) showed me my first real movie and performance. Muslims created public education. <a href="https://www.malala.org/malalas-story">Malala Yousafzai</a> (Pakistan) taught us that young girls can fight terrorists with such education and win even when they're shot point-blank in the head...<br />
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I've always been quite disturbed by the phenomenon of English names,which are particularly common among Eastern peoples living in the U.S. I first encountered this as a teacher when a student--so obviously not christened Charlie--told me his name was Charlie. This, he explained, was his English name as opposed to his birth name, that birth name being the one his parents worried about, argued over, and finally penned at his birth. The reason given for English names is that they are easier to pronounce, are less trouble for U.S. citizens who typically speak only one language and can choose not have exposure to unfamiliar languages. <br />
<br />
I've had many thoughts on this over the years, ranging from outrage to acceptance...maybe it's not a big deal, maybe I would decide to do the same rather than hear people repeatedly mispronounce my lovely name. After all, this isn't my fight. Why am I even writing about this on a feminist blog? Because feminism is about unequal power structures, and unequal power structures overlap. Racism intersects with sexism, homophobia, classism...and unequal power structures are bad for everyone.<br />
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I recently saw a friend who has an English name that I had once asked her about. Her birth name is lovely--it's even spelled phonetically. Now, I make no judgement on anyone who chooses to use or not use an English name. That, I would guess, is an extremely personal decision. But as the person with the power in this situation of unequal power, I do see it as my responsibility to inquire about someone's birth name, and to learn how to say it correctly, and to use it if that is what that person wants. It's my responsibility to ask, to open that conversation, to recognize the situation for what it is (unequal, unfair, advantaged in my favor), to acknowledge that people have the right to be called by their true names. Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-24765909734415746232016-03-23T19:01:00.000-07:002016-03-23T19:02:56.104-07:00Out of the Chronic Closet<blockquote>You are not obligated to hide your illness to make other people comfortable</blockquote><br />
I came out today in the Daily City target, and it felt amazing. A large part of my illness is that I go into states where I lose, to varying degrees, speech and muscle control. Depending on the degree of loss, I have tics, for lack of a medical or diagnostic term, that I can suppress with difficulty. For example, it feels good to moan or repeat sounds. It also feels good to rock back and forth or to tap my hands in a certain way. In combination with the dazed expression on my face and lack of coordination and/ or speech, I look like someone with a serious mental disability. I look like a "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2D9u291VVY">retard</a>." So, in public, I hide it as much as possible. <br />
<br />
Until today in Target. I had read the above quote (the full quote is below) and it occurred to me that I didn't have to hide. It meant people stared. It meant I made them uncomfortable. It meant they wished I was different. I could not have cared less. It felt wonderfully free to just let myself be as sick as I actually am. It was so much easier than hiding! <br />
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It felt much like when I was in my early twenties and dressed like a dyke in a very small town where the women all had fake tans, nails and boobs. Where Tri-Tip is God and so is Jesus. People stared. People were uncomfortable. Some people were mean. I could not have cared less. I was me and they were them. People are different; get over it. <br />
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It felt much like the times have I shaved my head too. People stared. People were uncomfortable. People told me I would be pretty if I were different. I could not have cared less. I loved my shaved head. I loved defying my gender role in such a public way. <br />
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I think, as women, we often put other people's feelings before our own. We are socialized to do just that and it becomes "natural" behavior. Well, there is nothing natural about trying to hide who I am. Partnered with a woman or a man, bald-headed or long-haired, healthy or sick...this is me. And with that, I'm out. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80ilSHAkmdNr_lNAqXMw565BfEsh5d8OMwhR0q5oO3-rzJKNayxfBtUKLyqOawio1wdWbbo_dMZt48QWPB6BL8ZbdWh-_YJ4BXY6WgGZ80UxaSqkE5fbpqTpsCtBFJesnJLIweMW4slw/s1600/Illness+Quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80ilSHAkmdNr_lNAqXMw565BfEsh5d8OMwhR0q5oO3-rzJKNayxfBtUKLyqOawio1wdWbbo_dMZt48QWPB6BL8ZbdWh-_YJ4BXY6WgGZ80UxaSqkE5fbpqTpsCtBFJesnJLIweMW4slw/s320/Illness+Quote.jpg" /></a></div><br />
How do you hide? In what ways do you make yourself uncomfortable for the sake of other people or for cultural norms? <br />
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-71133622486382724722016-03-13T10:34:00.000-07:002016-03-13T10:34:43.324-07:00Gilding the LilyWith very few exceptions, I have chosen not to wear make-up most of my adult life. Make up was for special occasions only. It was a very conscious choice; I knew that if I got into the habit, I would start to feel ugly without it. I did not want, what I felt, was an unhealthy, confidence-draining dependence. I was proud to explain my decision if I was ever asked about it. Granted--and I do NOT take this lightly--I've had it easy, blessed with qualities mainstream society considers beautiful: white, thin, tall, blond hair, blue-eyes, clear skin. Had this not been the case, I'm sure I would have made different decisions...but as it was, I didn't feel the need to and that choice was easy to make. Here's a picture of me in graduate school:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1OVU07kyQiAbTIg4_XECeNlMUiuOX-wZxLKrdD11TDkREkx3poBXLpVsLbgyBvVxl7j_HzXBCPL56ZzETYcwUaN5qH6Jt3y5dlvh3pa-D6ncijtBbU9erkhf8Qc_kqE9CDnwmfD94CA/s1600/PICT0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1OVU07kyQiAbTIg4_XECeNlMUiuOX-wZxLKrdD11TDkREkx3poBXLpVsLbgyBvVxl7j_HzXBCPL56ZzETYcwUaN5qH6Jt3y5dlvh3pa-D6ncijtBbU9erkhf8Qc_kqE9CDnwmfD94CA/s200/PICT0015.JPG" /></a></div><br />
When I was hit with a chronic illness a few years ago, this began to change. My face began to be nothing short of ugly most of the time. My palor sickly greenish, my lips lost all color, the circles under my eyes dark and pronounced like bruises. Here's a picture of me in the midst of my illness: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMk7BeEreLt7wH6yDxWuF04ozdOqO1YkEQd-glsioZKiR4DAkb_JC1lM-pkWf1urkP7rX49PwGmMC6FaplPK9fjaZFGr_dMmYiWmE-3N2u5mHAYutbBlWbRLQjeXUpMFSfVWZlW_htX0/s1600/At+Home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMk7BeEreLt7wH6yDxWuF04ozdOqO1YkEQd-glsioZKiR4DAkb_JC1lM-pkWf1urkP7rX49PwGmMC6FaplPK9fjaZFGr_dMmYiWmE-3N2u5mHAYutbBlWbRLQjeXUpMFSfVWZlW_htX0/s200/At+Home.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Because of this, I now wear makeup on a daily basis, often not leaving the house without it. As I expected in younger days, I feel ugly without it. I also take great care to dress myself very fashionably. I have a list of outfits on a ring by my bed, so that when I get up for work I can be sure to be best dressed in the office. I don't work without make-up on. Here's a picture of me at work:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiH8hGe3iKyG8F-FOBIpcaEAIHMciU_GtjaPD_NVZgDqBinhDj4SdkFog-BJVOwcyL2SsnJtivTYp7-Oc_I341Onwm3EyVUozFRqYN8Z3fezkEO1InIHpzMFLurlWLcCkZf0L_rYK-o9s/s1600/At+Work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiH8hGe3iKyG8F-FOBIpcaEAIHMciU_GtjaPD_NVZgDqBinhDj4SdkFog-BJVOwcyL2SsnJtivTYp7-Oc_I341Onwm3EyVUozFRqYN8Z3fezkEO1InIHpzMFLurlWLcCkZf0L_rYK-o9s/s200/At+Work.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I've learned that this costuming, one could call it, is very common for those of us with chronic illness. We want so badly to hide our illness, to be seen as more than our illness, to be seen as capable, that we spend a great deal of our most precious and most limited resource (energy) on beautification...at least many women with chronic illness do. <br />
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I have no idea if men perform similar rituals with the limited beautification supplies available to them. I would hazard a guess, however, that they do not simply because men are not judged by their appearance as harshly, and with as many consequences as women are. <br />
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So, while I am grateful for my make-up each day as I apply it, I also feel a tinge of remorse, regret, guilt? I'm not sure what it is, but part of me knows I'm doing something that doesn't quite align with my own sense of something. Part of me feels like a phony. Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-58689770026776556632016-03-08T18:38:00.001-08:002016-04-19T19:29:30.792-07:00I'm Still Minding the Fucking Gap<br />
Wage inequality has just increased, according to a recent article by <a href="http://fortune.com/2016/03/08/gender-wage-gap/">Forbes</a>. They report the findings of <a href="http://iwpr.org/publications/pubs/the-gender-wage-gap-2015-earnings-differences-by-race-and-ethnicity">The Institute for women's Policy Research</a>, which tell us that <blockquote>Controlling for inflation, women’s earnings increased by 0.9 percent, while men’s earnings increased by 2.6 percent since 2014.</blockquote><br />
When I was in college, my sociology teacher told us that one reason for this was that women don't usually negotiate their salaries. Well, I'd be damned if that was going to be me! Fast forward a decade or so and you'd find me ankle deep in confusing stacks of full-time, tenure-track teaching new-hire paperwork. I was already intimidated. In the teaching world, there is a chart: X degree + X number years experience = X salary. My professor had mentioned this too as one of the reasons women don't think they can, and therefore don't, negotiate. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSHW1gyPr7_0hOzlH06g2QiNlNrW6-bOy-tquSqddztPuSJsQOoHvXGsP8B6FGzupsBkYTvxHkEPFknAmmTD_QkAW9UXPwNw_kgj0w7faiGc16YcKj087d6PC5J3JZNjaUmHLJ3m0kiQ/s1600/negotiate.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSHW1gyPr7_0hOzlH06g2QiNlNrW6-bOy-tquSqddztPuSJsQOoHvXGsP8B6FGzupsBkYTvxHkEPFknAmmTD_QkAW9UXPwNw_kgj0w7faiGc16YcKj087d6PC5J3JZNjaUmHLJ3m0kiQ/s320/negotiate.png" /></a></div><br />
Despite ALL of this, I thought I should check and be sure. I asked a fellow teacher at a different college and was told that some unions allow and some don't allow negotiation. I asked my union representative via email if I was allowed to negotiate for my salary. His response was not a simple "yes" or "no," but (are you ready for this...sitting down?) "Why would you negotiate?" Emails were exchanged where I tried to state my case for earning more (moving to a much more expensive area, beating over 200 other candidates, publications... "None of these," my union representative said, "would be convincing to the administration." I was defeated. If I couldn't even get the support of my union, I wasn't about to try with my new employer.<br />
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When I sat down to sign my formal contract next to my salary it said "or as negotiated." I could have cried right there in the office. Instead, I signed and have held a resentment for that dope of a union rep. ever since. <br />
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BUT, I want this to be INSTRUCTIVE for others who have yet to negotiate at that first "real job" or any job. Here's what I learned:<br />
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1) You don't have to ask if you can negotiate. JUST NEGOTIATE. It's always negotiable. <br />
2) Ask someone for help with negotiating. My husband had negotiated his salary several times, but not once did I ask his advice. I thought I had to do it all on my own. BIG mistake!<br />
3) It ain't over until you sign that contract. I could have told the HR person that I actually wanted to speak to X about my salary. I didn't have to sign it right then. <br />
4) Believe in what you're worth. Then, ask for it. Men do, and that's part of why they get more money than us.<br />
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Insurgents, what advice would you give a young woman about to negotiate her salary for the first time?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVx0v0TfmqQGMQLaTnrjIXMJBT5-p5o9RlqYN6WxleQ8rBOYTroJXIsdXjupbVXtB7I_GGnYudtlPsSgqDt1QynbO2IEo8tDjdxQ_ZpxgyQMViYZDiEZWXwz8AwhvLLP2g0iTQDN3d2w/s1600/negotiation-clipart-l_068.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVx0v0TfmqQGMQLaTnrjIXMJBT5-p5o9RlqYN6WxleQ8rBOYTroJXIsdXjupbVXtB7I_GGnYudtlPsSgqDt1QynbO2IEo8tDjdxQ_ZpxgyQMViYZDiEZWXwz8AwhvLLP2g0iTQDN3d2w/s320/negotiation-clipart-l_068.png" /></a></div><br />
P.S. I forgot to put in my original posting that taking my own advice above, I successfully negotiated my salary at my next job! <br />
<br />
P.P.S. Here is a helpful article for current job-seekers/ interviewers: <a href="https://www.themuse.com/advice/get-the-salary-you-deserve-4-steps-to-figuring-out-what-youre-really-worth?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=daily_20160321_are-you-getting-the-salary-you-deserve-here-s-how-to-find-out&utm_source=blueshift&utm_term=bsft_&utm_content=daily_monday&bsft_eid=d7069068-38f5-453d-addc-d863324b8997&bsft_uid=a20ab9b4-97e3-4e32-97be-86af52d17191">"Get the Salary You Deserve: 4 Steps to Figuring out What You're Really Worth." </a><br />
<br />
And another one on <a href="https://www.dailyworth.com/posts/4260-why-do-we-need-equal-pay-day?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=DW-tue12_datafeed&utm_term=DailyWorth">Equal Pay Day</a> (and why we still need it)Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-43518098252926500152016-03-08T17:51:00.000-08:002016-03-08T17:51:11.064-08:00The Way BackTo be honest, never thought I'd write on this blog again, but life keeps surprising me in wonderful, and sometimes cruel, ways. My counterpart, Amber, is unable to join me at the moment, but I find myself able and needing to write. So, welcome, once again, to Insurgents' Ink.
As life has changed drastically for me, some of the content too may change but you can always count on a feminist lens of everything. I will start off, though, with something strictly political...Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-11109458790168319422011-09-21T23:25:00.000-07:002011-09-21T23:26:18.615-07:00New blog!A full year has passed since Autumn and I posted anything on Insurgents' Ink. And although we still love the project, and each other, we aren't able to devote enough time to keep it up.<br />
<br />
I've started a new blog on my own, though, and I hope you'll check it out:<br />
http://lupinelife.com<br />
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You can also follow me on twitter:<br />
http://twitter.com/#!/diknatureseries<br />
<br />
Thanks for following!Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-46612880152216764582010-08-20T22:29:00.000-07:002010-08-20T22:53:46.347-07:00Art, for Fuck's Sake: An Interview with Julia BergenThe term "crafts" has become yet another branch on the increasingly knotty family tree of Art, but it has been relegated to one of the lowest, least regarded branches. Why is this? What makes art Art? Should it inspire? Should it perplex? Should it confront? Should it convey a message? Should it be pretty? Could it ever include an afghan lovingly crocheted by Nana? <br />
<br />
The artwork of Julia Bergen prompts many of the questions asked above by using traditional female crafts in subversive ways. She has also received formal training in a number of other media that fall under the traditional definition of fine arts. I had the pleasure of interviewing this East Bay native a few weeks ago, during which she explained her philosophy of art.<br />
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<b>AD: You paint, you sketch, you cross-stitch—what’s your favorite medium? Why?<br />
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JB:</b><i>Print-making. It’s the process, but mostly the community that’s built around it. It’s really expensive. [With print-making,] you get this community of artists who are interested in this medium [because they share materials and work space], so it’s really good for artists; it takes you out of this really solitary environment. You’re seeing what other people are doing, and how they’re doing it. You build friendships. It’s like collective knowledge.</i><br />
<br />
<i>[Also,] lithography. You use limestone. It’s all a chemical process that is based on the concept that water and oil don’t mix. You get this chunk of limestone, and it’s quarried in Bavaria, and you’re working off of these slabs of limestone. You grain the stone (make the stone flat, the right smoothness to draw on).<br />
<br />
[As a student] at UC Santa Cruz, I focused on "intaglio": etching. But I fell in love with lithography because it was much more conducive to the way I think, my drawing style. It’s additive: Everything you draw will be marked on the stone. It’s not reductive [like etching]. <br />
<br />
It’s a beautiful process. You build a relationship with the stone. Each one is a different size. Based on the age of the stone, it gets thinner and thinner. You grain the stone each time you use it. The stone has a history. You get what’s called a ghost image. That’s after you’ve printed, and you’re done with that image. There’s a tool called a levigator, what you use to grain the stone. You’re manually sanding it down. You see the decline of what was your image. So it’s in that you start to see the ghost image, so even when all the ink is removed, you can see it [the image] in the stone.</i><br />
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<b>AD: Going back to cross-stitching, the image on the business card you gave me is of a cross-stitching with two cakes—each with a cherry on top—and the word “lovertits.” This is a medium typically thought of as more of a craft than a legitimate art form. Why have you chosen to use cross-stitching in such an unexpected way?<br />
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JB:</b><i> I learned how to cross-stitch when I was very young. It was something my mom and grandmother did. The subject matter was never relevant to my life. [But] I enjoy the process of it, the skill, the patience, the history. But I was not interested in the subject matter, [such as] Winnie the Pooh. I got more into cross-stitching when I was around 20. Subversive cross-stiching, writing sayings—I thought, That’s a cool idea. I was inspired by that. My first one just said: “Fuck.” Around it were very delicate flowers. I liked the juxtaposition: your grandmother would never have anything that said “fuck” in her house. </i><br />
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<i>It’s also about sitting in a place, putting in your energy and time. I love folk art; I think it’s kind of ridiculous that there’s a distinction between craft and fine art. Anything you make with your hands is fine art. You’re still using a material that you didn’t make from its infancy. What is art to you? That’s art. It’s never the same across the board.</i><br />
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<b>AD: How has your cross-stitching been received? Any skeptics?<br />
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JB:</b><i> I’ve had really positive reaction because it’s not a type of art or craft that a lot of people my age are doing. Most people don’t know what I mean by “cross-stitch.” There’s something very old-time about it, like banjos and the South. They [people my age] like that it’s swear words. I’ve made some custom ones for friends, like “Cunt.” A lot of my friends are like, if that was on the street, I’d totally buy it. It lends itself well to my generation. I’m not charging a lot for them [my cross-stitching]; it’s something you</i> can <i>collect.</i><br />
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<b>AD: Do you find that your artwork shares a common theme?<br />
<br />
JB:</b><i> I guess it’s more about my style as an artist. I’m always interested in color, pattern. It helps me process memory, seeing what images come to mind, people, places. If I draw a certain pattern, it’s like remembering that time in my life. It’s nice to express myself not in words. I’m translating that through my hands. I’m affecting. It’s something you’re viewing. It’s like sharing in a different way. You’re going to have your own interpretation of this [particular artwork], but you’re experiencing a certain side of my reality.</i><br />
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<b>AD: As an artist, do you feel that your work is a way to convey a message to people, or is it simply a creative outlet—without any conscious attempt to communicate with the viewer?<br />
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JB:</b><i> I think it’s more creative. If I were the only person on the planet, I’d still be creating. I expect to share most of my art. Whereas my journal is very private, my art is not something I hoard. But it’s not creating with the explicit intent to sell it.</i><br />
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<b>AD: What do you feel is your biggest artistic achievement at this point?<br />
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JD:</b><i> I had been working my ass off the entire year for the print sale [at UC Santa Cruz]. I wanted to accomplish something for myself, see how much I could dedicate myself. Seeing how far I had come, it was so much. Wow, look at this community I built! Look how I’ve been able to express myself better, and sell my art! To have someone else acknowledge that... I probably had between 600-700 prints. I’ve never counted. </i><br />
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<b>AD: Last question: What does “feminist” mean to you, and do you consider yourself to be one?<br />
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JB:</b><i> It’s [feminist] when females acknowledge the power in being a female, and kind of reveling in that. We’re all human, but it’s a different experience being a woman than a man. History has portrayed women as the inferior sex. It’s not about “men are shit,” but being like, “Yes, I experience life differently.” Women process things differently a lot of the times. The way we express/process our emotions is different. [Being a feminist is] not being ashamed of that, [and it’s about] women building community around that. Women often separate themselves [from one another]: Oh, you’re thinner. Let’s get together and connect on an emotional level. Yeah, [laughs] I consider myself a feminist.</i><br />
<br />
Julia Bergen is having an <b>artist’s reception</b> on <b>Friday, August 27th</b> at Café Zoe, located at 6000 College Ave. in the Rockridge neighborhood of Oakland, California. Her artwork will be for sale at Café Zoe for a month following the reception. <br />
<br />
To view some of her cross-stitches and make purchases, click on the title of this interview.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-57815065079191820762010-06-28T21:52:00.000-07:002010-06-28T21:52:23.506-07:00Feminism Under the KnifeDoes plastic surgery automatically exclude one from the circle of (feminist) trust? That's what some are asking now that major news outlets are covering the story of the so-called Too-Hot Banker. <br />
<br />
Her real name is Debrahlee Lorenzana, and she was fired from Citibank, according to Lorenzana, for being too hot. The photos online depict a long-legged brunette who is, well, hot. So what's a pretty girl to do? Citibank says she was fired for not doing a very good job; Lorenzana says she was fired because of her looks.<br />
<br />
She also says that she has gone under the knife several times in an effort to look like a Playboy model. <br />
<br />
This admission has garnered just as much attention as the lawsuit Lorenzana is bringing against her former employer. Her comment problematizes an otherwise fairly straightforward case of sexual harassment: Does her decision to augment her body through plastic surgery (the goal of her fourth breast enlargement is a 32-DD) make any claim of sexual harassment null and void? Or is this question akin to saying a provocatively dressed rape victim "asked for it"? <br />
<br />
It's also worth noting that Lorenzana has sparked a related debate regarding feminism and self-image. What happens when a woman is so concerned with her ability to be attractive to the opposite sex that she is willing to have several surgeries in order to change her appearance, but then she objects to being objectified? <br />
<br />
I don't know where I stand on this one. What say you?Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-49197904720611869032010-06-01T21:43:00.001-07:002010-06-01T22:01:43.055-07:00Palin's Muliebrity<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE3E02gHgx9knEbnh43d67A8u0CTYFDqH5o2rcFLhAsmyHGjIffhQEMOSxCIFFmpr0M1mj7J9hyphenhyphenbZWlGeADNvKQR7whbNrNGX8z7vIfkICtZAo_RkF_dxccHaDhc6uE8ehVVNE5UwxpM/s1600/Resize+Feminist.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE3E02gHgx9knEbnh43d67A8u0CTYFDqH5o2rcFLhAsmyHGjIffhQEMOSxCIFFmpr0M1mj7J9hyphenhyphenbZWlGeADNvKQR7whbNrNGX8z7vIfkICtZAo_RkF_dxccHaDhc6uE8ehVVNE5UwxpM/s200/Resize+Feminist.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478036149167204546" /></a><br />I had no idea that Sarah Palin was reading our blog!Palin has joined our discussion of muliebrity and declared herself a feminist. Oh yes, she dropped the "f" bomb. You can click on the title of this post to read npr's discussion with Meghan Daum and hear what some callers had to say. <br /><br />I think Daum has a very interesting point of view on Palin's use of the word. Daum defines feminism as someone who believes in equal rights for men and women and who wants to call themselves a feminist, and I agree. I also think that Palin is being an "opportunist" and simply trying to get more media attention. But, I think that Daum is correct in saying, "that we cant just in a very reactionary way sort of disallow Sarah Palin from using certain vocabulary." <br /><br />Most importantly, I think that this may stir all of us into a meaningful discussion of what feminism means. (And I thought nothing good would ever come of Palin!)<br /><br />What say all of you?Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-71133462583082574082010-05-13T10:13:00.000-07:002010-05-14T14:05:25.126-07:00Muliebrity<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKLijQ16f8_stwktk1WcPAZCZXZ6plFWkLrzi8NT1fIc2Uu8hZf-bhsrPkWlwGiK20ZY6POZej5K_SVTUDAH1w3DRkHoHha6kRNEtxOGl2v_fy2L0bprsvEeRksIyqbyMbTuaCaNdDGE/s1600/women-restroom-0304-lg-49130332.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKLijQ16f8_stwktk1WcPAZCZXZ6plFWkLrzi8NT1fIc2Uu8hZf-bhsrPkWlwGiK20ZY6POZej5K_SVTUDAH1w3DRkHoHha6kRNEtxOGl2v_fy2L0bprsvEeRksIyqbyMbTuaCaNdDGE/s320/women-restroom-0304-lg-49130332.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471234701540097090" /></a><br />Alright, kids! Are you ready for the word of the day? Say it with me: <b>"Muliebrity"</b> (myoo-lee-EB-ri-tee, <i>noun</i>). Dictionary.com defines it as "The state of being a woman." Intriguing, no? But the following example of the word in action is even more so: <br /><br /><blockquote>"She was one of those women who was waiting in--what is the word?--muliebrity; she had courage and initiative and a philosophical way of handling questions, and she could be bored by regular work like a man." --H.G. Wells, <i>The New Machiavelli</i></blockquote><br />What does "muliebrity" mean to <i>you</i>? Define it in <b>one sentence</b> by commenting on this posting.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-75306871905603284292010-04-07T09:47:00.000-07:002010-04-07T09:50:59.349-07:00Part 2: Living with Lupus, Seeking Well-Endowed HealthcareAs my fingers became more rigid, I lost the ability to open jars and push the dispenser button for the laundry detergent. As my toes became more rigid, I began shuffling around the house in slippers, going to work in sneakers. I applied for, and was denied, Medi-Cal because I didn’t have children. I knew I was going to be denied for that very reason, but I had to apply anyway in order to apply for county assistance. I was denied that, too, on the basis that my husband was a full-time, unemployed student; that, and we both owned cars with a combined worth of $14,000. If I was to get medical attention, I needed to sell our cars, and my husband needed to quit school and get a job. <br />
<br />
The process of application and denial was degrading and time-consuming. For the first time, I experienced poverty as a class distinction, rather than as a college-student’s income level. In my attempt to get medical care, I waited in lines that snaked around large buildings, I waited in rooms filled with people who stared at me as if I were from another planet, I waited for hours only to be told: You’re too poor to afford health insurance; you’re not eligible for assistance—sorry. All I kept saying to anyone who would listen was, I’m a human being! I don’t deserve to be treated like this.<br />
<br />
I applied for private health insurance, for which my in-laws paid high premiums. More blood was drawn. More tests were run. I was officially diagnosed with lupus. <br />
<br />
I hated my body. I felt betrayed by it. I had no control over what was happening to me. Positive thinking had no effect. My doctor had no miracle drug for me, only more Motrin. My arthritis became less severe, but I was exhausted and my thoughts were jumbled. My boss was having none of it. I was assigned fewer and fewer classes. As my financial situation worsened, my stress increased, leading to worsening symptoms. <br />
<br />
I gave up teaching in favor of a full-time job with benefits, one that required being on my feet eight hours a day and working with my hands. Time passed, and I became despondent. I felt that I was a failure. I felt like I brought nothing but misery into the lives of my husband, mother, and friends. I became fixated with my gas oven. The day came when I realized that I no longer feared death. I began researching women in psychiatric hospitals for an article for Insurgents’ Ink, and on a whim, took an online depression test. An orange box popped up, imploring me to call a suicide hotline number. <br />
<br />
I cried. I hyperventilated. I paced the house. I read the words: Remember, suicidal thoughts will pass, but suicide is forever. I breathed. I waited for my husband to come home. I told him everything. I called my doctor. Drugs, therapy, yoga—it’s working pretty marvelously, actually. The only side-effect has been vivid dreams: Sometimes my husband accidentally leaves the gas on after cooking, and we blissfully drift off and never wake up. Other times I’m sitting in a huge Catholic church and am asked by the priest to take the collection plate around to each individual person, and they look at me in a creepy, cultish way as they place their money in the plate. Still other times I’m relaxing in a tub filled with blood. <br />
<br />
Although I’m no good at interpreting dreams, I can say that this experience has changed me. I used to feel secure in the fact that I am an American. I assumed that laws existed that protected me from falling through the cracks if I ever needed assistance. But when I actually fell through the cracks, I lost my sense of security. I wasn’t a lucky American citizen: I was expendable. <br />
<br />
I still have moments when I feel isolated, discarded. And I have a lot of questions, like: Why is the only treatment for lupus a malaria drug developed in the 1960s that can cause color blindness? Why is the information on lupus vague and variable depending on the source? Will my symptoms get worse? Will they get better? <br />
<br />
Each doctor and specialist seems to have different answers, or none at all. There’s just not a lot of research currently being done. But the act of writing has helped me to counter my feelings of powerlessness and frustration, and I hope that my story can help others in some way. <br />
<br />
The Lupus Foundation of America website has been a great source of information: <b>http://www.lupus.org</b><br />
<br />
There are also a number of books on the subject, including Flannery O'Connor's posthumously published collection of letters to a friend in which she writes about her own experience with lupus.<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=insink-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0374521042&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align:left;padding-top:5px;width:131px;height:245px;padding-right:10px;"align="left" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-51123831907948442132010-03-20T21:57:00.000-07:002010-03-20T21:57:03.492-07:00Living with Lupus, Seeking Well-Endowed Healthcare (Part 1 of 2)With a topic as broad as “medicine,” I had difficulties pinpointing a specific topic to write an article on. An obvious choice was the current healthcare bill being pushed, but there was another topic lurking in every corner of my life that I hadn’t considered: living with lupus. <br />
<br />
Lupus is an autoimmune disease that manifests itself in a variety of ways, including: arthritis, fatigue, sensitivity to sunlight, and kidney failure. Most sufferers of the disease are young women in their early thirties. I was diagnosed with lupus about a year and a half ago at age twenty-nine. <br />
<br />
Mild arthritic symptoms began meekly presenting themselves about a year before I was diagnosed, in the form of stiff shoulders, neck, and elbows. As a part-time teacher, I didn’t have health insurance, so I dismissed my stiffness as part of getting older and tried to go on with my life. Over the course of a couple of weeks, however, my symptoms quickly progressed to my wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and then toes. One November morning, I found myself unable to sit up in bed. <br />
<br />
My husband drove me to the emergency room. The doctor heard my complaints and forebodingly said that I needed to get health insurance. He didn’t say what he suspected was wrong with me, stating that I wouldn’t be able to get health insurance if I had a preexisting condition. He ordered blood tests, and while I waited for the results, the medical bills for my emergency room visit and lab work arrived. The hospital’s charitable program for low-income patients covered some of it. I had to come up with $700. <br />
<br />
I picked up my indecipherable lab results and went to a doctor at a private practice to have them translated. This was a feat in itself since many doctors are loathe to see cash patients—those without insurance who are willing to pay upfront with cash. The doctor reviewed my lab results and heard my complaints. It was either rheumatoid arthritis (RA) or lupus. If it was RA, there was medication I could take to diminish the symptoms. If it was lupus, I could be dead in three months from inflammation of the brain. <br />
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I knew that the doctor was giving me the worst-case scenario for lupus, but to hear the doctor say those words—“dead in three months”—filled me with indescribable fear. He failed to mention that lupus affects the major organs of only a very small percentage of people. Most people live long, relatively healthy lives.<br />
<br />
After the doctor’s brusque diagnosis, he stated that I needed to get health insurance immediately no matter how much money it cost (implying that I hadn’t had insurance because I chose to use that money for frivolous things). In the meantime, he said, Take 800 mg of Motrin every four hours. He walked out the door without saying another word. <br />
<br />
I left the office with a friend who had been in the waiting room, and we walked to my car. I broke down and sobbed, telling her what the doctor had told me. My friend tried to comfort me while I tried to understand what was happening to my body.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-48577350743823838842010-02-22T17:47:00.000-08:002010-03-20T21:02:32.461-07:00Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Birth Control: Why the Pill Is a Controlled Substance<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlXjfA6HQwj-pDZA74uNLgmccR8ZkHKedIo9n6nRnuiv1elFugNOybpESwYTB-Mh7U7rL-yB9Gp9th1bs6BzeES2uEO0KlkuylJwcfA5fu_8dipIS0MHRyQ7usQQtVhlQU3af1wWdODc/s1600-h/birthcontrol.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441249909425175090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlXjfA6HQwj-pDZA74uNLgmccR8ZkHKedIo9n6nRnuiv1elFugNOybpESwYTB-Mh7U7rL-yB9Gp9th1bs6BzeES2uEO0KlkuylJwcfA5fu_8dipIS0MHRyQ7usQQtVhlQU3af1wWdODc/s320/birthcontrol.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 278px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 245px;" /></a> <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(This article is dedicated to the women of Puerto Rico who, unknowingly, were the test subjects of the first birth control pill in the 1950’s. Some of these women were given placebo pills and told that they would not get pregnant. Some of these women died from contaminated pills. None of these women were in control of their medical decisions. Every woman who takes the pill is indebted to these women. Find out more about this <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/pill/peopleevents/e_puertorico.html">here</a>.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After taking the birth control pill for almost half my life, I took my last pill today. I’ve looked forward to this day for years, but now that it’s here, I feel an odd sense of loss instead of the euphoria I had expected. Could it be that I feel my youth receding into an ever more distant past? Not likely. Youth for me was high school, minimum wage customer service jobs, and bad sex with people I didn’t really like. So what is it? Am I mourning the loss of control that comes with more permanent methods? There is something comforting about the tangible aspect of popping a pill each morning, but then again it’s also a pain in the ass. I think the pill is so hard for me to let go of because it was so fucking difficult to get. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You can buy condoms at drug stores, grocery stores, gas stations, even liquor stores. I haven’t checked hardware stores, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find them on an end-cap next to some ridiculously large stainless steel screwdrivers. Yet, birth control pills must be prescribed by a physician and purchased from a drug store. You can get pills at most low-income clinics, such as Planned Parenthood or county health offices, but you cannot walk into a gas station at 3 am and buy a pack of pills. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All those years of waiting in line at Planned Parenthood, listening to the screaming toddlers and the woman with the yeast infection pleading with the receptionist for an immediate appointment, gave me ample time to ask myself: Why is the pill a controlled substance? Why isn’t it an over the counter medication? Other drugs are controlled because they are addictive or dangerous if used incorrectly, but birth control is neither. If used incorrectly, you get pregnant and end up in the same damn clinic getting booster shots for your toddler. I suppose there could be dangerous side effects if you overdosed on your pills. If you were really nervous and took the entire pack in one morning, maybe you’d grow a third breast or lose one. Even if the pill was dangerous, there are plenty of dangerous medications available over the counter. An overdose of acetaminophen (Tylenol) can be, and often is, fatal. The pill is not addictive or dangerous, but it is controlled. Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">More to the point, why are some forms of birth control (condoms) readily available while others (the pill) are controlled? They both prevent pregnancy and are the two most effective methods of birth control available. So what is the difference? Any guesses? I’ll give you a hint: who uses each one? That’s right, men use condoms—well sometimes we help put them on—and women use the pill. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now before you discount me as a conspiracy theorist, consider the reaction to birth control on the shelves of your local Rite Aid. What do you think people would say? I imagine, and have heard, statements similar to, “well anybody could go and buy it, even minors!” Minors can already buy birth control, so what are we really afraid of? We are afraid young <i>girls</i> will go buy birth control because when we think of condoms we think of men and when we think of the pill we think of women. I think a discussion of our cultural attitudes about sex, youth and gender is necessary if women, of any age, are ever to gain easy access to birth control.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We have some calamitous expectations about sex, youth and gender. It is generally acceptable and expected for young men to experiment with sex, but it is inappropriate, obscene in some circles, for young girls to think of participating. Yet our society does not condone homosexuality, so there is a problem here. Now of course this is not everyone’s opinion on the matter, but it might as well be because we condone young men’s sexuality by having their method of birth control readily available to them. While simultaneously forcing our young women to make appointments and wait in clinics just to gain control over their bodies. This isn’t fair, and it certainly isn’t smart if we want to reduce teenage pregnancy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I know that young women can also buy condoms, but I used to be a young woman, and I know that very few of us had the self-confidence to buy condoms, ask our boyfriends to wear them and make sure they put them on and took them off correctly. What do you suppose a teenage girl is more likely to do: pop a pill each morning in the privacy of her bedroom, or hand her boyfriend a condom and demand that he put it on? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Youth is so overrated. At least the pill was much easier to get once I was an adult, right? Wrong. Even as an adult, I had to go to Planned Parenthood for my pills. There were two reasons for this. First of all, for a long time I didn’t have health insurance or the money to go see a doctor. So I went where I could get them for free. I dreamed of the day I would be a fully-insured adult! Once I had a decent health insurance plan, I learned a new term: “medically necessary.” That’s right, my wonderful health insurance plan, which paid for dental, vision and even $100 for smoking cessation treatment, refused to pay for my pills. When I looked further into the details of my plan, I found that they would pay for me to have a baby or an abortion, but they wouldn’t pay for birth control unless it was deemed medically necessary by my doctor. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Back at Planned Parenthood, I explained my situation and the frustrated receptionist finally whispered over the counter to me “just lie and say you don’t have any health insurance.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After years of pursuing the pill, I guess it shouldn’t be any wonder that I have a hard time giving it up. I know I should be happy, and I would be if I knew I could just swing by the gas station and get more should I ever need it again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-51229801403735766102010-02-11T08:30:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:32:17.100-08:00New Short StoryIt's finally happened--the first short story has been posted on Insurgents' Ink! It's fantastic, it's brief, it's here just for you. Brandi McEvoy has helped us officially kick off our newest topic: Medicine.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So click on the link to "The Dragon" page to your right, and enjoy! And as always, feel free to comment.<br />
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Have a short story (or poem or medicine-related article) of your own? Submit it to insurgentsink@gmail.com. Review the submission requirements on this page for more details.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-19141828576516180412010-02-02T20:43:00.000-08:002010-02-03T20:36:11.060-08:00Oscar BuzzWith multiple Femme Film Festivals in the works, I can't help but be delighted by the news that <b>the "Academy" has nominated a fourth female for Best Director</b>. The director is Kathryn Bigelow; the film is <i>The Hurt Locker </i>and is centered on American soldiers in Iraq.<br />
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If anyone has seen this film or plans to, please write a review and email it to us at InsurgentsInk@gmail.com so that we can post it on the blog. Remember, this blog is a forum for many voices--so let yours be heard!<br />
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And in a first for the Academy, they've nominated <b>the first African-American</b> for Best Director. Lee Daniels has been nominated for (also Oscar-nominated) <i>Precious</i>.<br />
**Uh-oh: I just got word that this info is incorrect. John Singleton was the first African American to be nominated for Best Director for <i>Boyz in tha Hood</i>. Thanks to Simone Youngblood for the correction. I'm concerned about the implications of the AP's erroneous info...<br />
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All of the Oscar-nominated films this year sound amazing. Perhaps we should hold a Femme Film Fest <i>Oscar Edition</i>...Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-59727911052606365882010-01-05T09:33:00.000-08:002010-01-05T09:43:11.544-08:00Femme Film Fest Prize<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgLT9J0Pi8YEd2o7W5aAfFIFx3hneSPU6vYZ2R_MsUUl8B5hpU28LiHkLuIvRzu4lrh5JtvUodAe7nMniDyxpjMbN0UQz94IFCBpwHwOT6k47znPn-vH9U8gI4A-QNdSSzqdj61H1tT0/s1600-h/MV5BMTY3NDIzODYzOF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDU0MTYyMQ@@._V1._SX91_SY140_%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423312075262529906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 90px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgLT9J0Pi8YEd2o7W5aAfFIFx3hneSPU6vYZ2R_MsUUl8B5hpU28LiHkLuIvRzu4lrh5JtvUodAe7nMniDyxpjMbN0UQz94IFCBpwHwOT6k47znPn-vH9U8gI4A-QNdSSzqdj61H1tT0/s320/MV5BMTY3NDIzODYzOF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDU0MTYyMQ@@._V1._SX91_SY140_%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Thinking of hosting a Femme Film Fest in your town? Here's an extra incentive--as if you needed one to watch a great movie with your friends--the host who gets the most guests to follow Insurgents' Ink will win a DVD of <em><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0335266/">Lost in Translation</a></em> by Sophia Coppola. So start emailing your friends, buy lots of popcorn, and set a date for your local Femme Film Fest!</div>Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-92096102408516033602009-12-21T08:34:00.000-08:002010-01-05T11:22:29.766-08:00Femme Film Fest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6JA_3mC2vug4ad-UVNoePAjzoCE5AnYl3S_x3EE-3ppZtZ2lDRIRosAnTXqWY-3Z8s78TGagRyAmTNOYFQJbWzNYr8RO7DjQW0Lil8KtQ7hH24-_xF05qgpWVLf7uH6F8aXDuo9JVGPF/s1600-h/boys.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417942973950430290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6JA_3mC2vug4ad-UVNoePAjzoCE5AnYl3S_x3EE-3ppZtZ2lDRIRosAnTXqWY-3Z8s78TGagRyAmTNOYFQJbWzNYr8RO7DjQW0Lil8KtQ7hH24-_xF05qgpWVLf7uH6F8aXDuo9JVGPF/s320/boys.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We received some excellent film suggestions when Autumn posted a list of her favorite female directors not that long ago, and it sparked an idea: Let's actually watch some of these movies! And what's more, why not enjoy the films and the subsequent discussion with friends? <div><br /></div><div>If you'd be interested in hosting your own Femme Film Fest, please respond to this posting with the movie you'd like to show from the list below:</div><div><br /></div><ol><li>Jane Campion - (she has a number of films available through Netflix)</li><li>Sophia Coppola -<i> Lost in Translation</i></li><li>Cheryl Dunye - <i>Stranger Inside</i></li><li>Patty Jenkins - <i>Monster</i></li><li>Deepa Mehta (she has a trilogy as well as a fourth film through Netflix)</li><li>Jocelyn Moorhouse - <i>Proof</i> (there are two films by the same name; be sure to get Moorhouse's)</li><li>Mira Nair - <i>Monsoon Wedding</i></li><li>Kim Pierce - <i>Boys Don't Cry</i></li><li>Lynne Ramsay - <i>Ratcatcher</i></li><li>Marjane Satrapi - <em>Persepolis</em></li><li>Penelope Spheeris - <i>Wayne's World</i></li><li>Julie Taymor - <i>Frida</i>; <i>Titus Andronicus</i></li><li>Agnes Varda - <i>Cleo from 5 to 7</i></li></ol><p><em></em> </p><div>Some of the films are well known, while others are hidden gems just waiting to be discovered; I believe watching the lesser-known films will hit closer to the mark in terms of what we hope to accomplish. Afterwards, post a brief synopsis of the film you watched and your (and your friends') impressions of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is a great way to practice what Autumn preached: Recognize great female directors by watching and discussing their films.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, Christmas is just days away, so I suspect everyone's very busy right now. If the Femme Film Fest interests you, simply consider hosting one at this point; I'll send out a reminder via Facebook in a few weeks, at which point you can post your movie choice. The goal is to view and comment on a movie by mid to late January. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*The photo above was used without permission. </span></div><div></div>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-15547355147036292162009-11-20T07:54:00.000-08:002009-11-20T08:09:38.304-08:00Sinew: A Modern American Indian Story<i>S</i><i>inew: A Modern American Indian Story </i>is a short film (28 min.) about Betty Cooper, a member of the Blackfeet Nation. The film highlights the U.S. government's impact on her life as it tried to colonize her as a child, hardships that she experienced as an adult, and her achievements--she is only 1 of 4 females elected to the Blackfeet council.<div><br /></div><div>The film is being shown in the Laurel neighborhood of Oakland, California, on Friday, November 27th, at "The Space" (also known as Laurel Jujitsu), located at 4148 MacArthur Blvd., Oakland, CA, 94619.</div><div><br /></div><div>Doors open at 6:30 p.m.; the film starts at 7 p.m. <i>Sinew</i> will be preceded by a few other shorts and a break. A $5 donation is requested, but no one will be turned away. There will also be some refreshments available for purchase. </div><div><br /></div><div>Two worthy organizations have put this together: Laurel Independent Film Exploration (LIFE--"A Salon for Women's Indie Films") and San Francisco Women's Film Festival. I encourage anyone who can make it to come and support this endeavor, as well as enjoy the film and company!</div>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-80114315030336624422009-10-22T16:11:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:34:38.408-07:00How Many Female Directors Can You Name?I recently realized that almost all of the movies I watched were directed by men, so I turned to my favorite film critic Mick LaSalle, of the San Francisco Chronicle, <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/columns/askmicklasalle/archive/">http://www.sfgate.com/columns/askmicklasalle/archive/</a> and he gave me a list that started me down the path of several great films and film makers.<br /><br />One of the names he listed was Jane Campion. Campion has a new film, <em>Bright Star</em>, and was interviewd in the Chronicle a few weeks later. <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/09/13/PKU719EBUF.DTL">http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/09/13/PKU719EBUF.DTL</a><br /><a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/09/13/PKU719EBUF.DTL"></a><br /><br />After reading the article, I realized why I knew so few female directors. As Campion states, in the 82 year history of the Academy Awards, only 3 women have been nominated for best director and none have received it.<br /><br />Female directors will not receive credit unless we watch their movies, and we can't watch their movies until we know about them. Here is a short list of my favorite female directors. See how many you can come up with and write back...<br /><br /><ol><li>Jane Campion</li><li>Sophia Coppola</li><li>Deepa Mehta</li></ol><p></p><p></p>Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-2334278603407673972009-10-13T09:45:00.000-07:002009-10-13T10:17:10.781-07:00Top 10 Jobs According to ComcastLet's play a game! It's called "Which gender best represents the top 10 jobs according to Comcast?"<div><br /></div><div>Here's how it works: First, click on the link below (or click on the title of this posting); then as you scroll through the top 10 jobs, guess which gender represents each job. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.comcast.net/slideshow/finance-bestjobsinamerica/Sales-Director/">http://www.comcast.net/slideshow/finance-bestjobsinamerica/Sales-Director/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>When I played, I guessed correctly 100% of the time! This, unfortunately, means that the majority of the best jobs are filled by men (they seem to be especially adept at technology and leadership), and the few instances of women filling the best positions involve some kind of nurturing, care-taking role (but certainly not as doctors!).</div><div><br /></div><div>I know I was often told by teachers and family members that I, as a female, should focus on English and stay away from math and science (technology had only come as far as "Oregon Trail"). And I also know that there are people who scoff at the idea that our society plays any part in the male-dominated technological and scientific fields. But there have been serious efforts lately to attract more females into these male-dominated fields as early as junior high school, suggesting that there is a general acknowledgment of society's influence on females' career choices. But Comcast's slideshow seems to be undermining these efforts and instead promoting the old "Women as Nurturers / Men as high-powered corporate executives" model. </div><div><br /></div><div>Side note: How can they say that being a college professor is one of the best jobs right now? Furloughs, long hours, increasing expectations to both teach and publish, and diminishing funds for such basic supplies as paper--how is this job in the top 10?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04050923376152070174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3805994509995880378.post-67437190838800800322009-10-09T21:25:00.000-07:002009-10-10T13:01:54.251-07:00Losing it All? A Feminist's Film Review of Taken (SPOILER ALERT)It probably <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">doesn</span>’t come as a surprise to most feminists that mainstream Hollywood movies promote a fair amount of sexism, misogyny, and nasty stereotypes of both women and men, just as I’m sure it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">doesn</span>’t come as a surprise to most people of color that the same pop-culture vehicle promotes racism and vicious racial stereotypes. The 2008 movie Taken, with Liam <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Neeson</span> and Maggie Grace, is no exception; it’s both sexist and racist. But the specific misogyny in this movie has led me to a surprising epiphany as to how I, and perhaps other women, have allowed sexist dogma to take control of my body.<br /><br />As the camera slowly pans out from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Neeson</span> holding his daughter, Grace, in her white negligee, the golden sheeted round bed, the dead non-specific-rich-Middle-Eastern-man on the floor, I was already contemplating a post-movie cigarette and the rare, “well that was a waste of time” conversation with my husband. But the credits failed to roll. The next scene shows Grace bumbling like a deer on new legs to her mother with the same smile plastered on her face as when she boarded the plane to France one hour and thirty minutes earlier--before she was sold to the sex-slave trade and nearly raped by said non-specific-rich-Middle-Eastern-man. But again, the credits failed to roll. In the final scene, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Neeson</span> gives <a style="mso-comment-reference: AD_1; mso-comment-date: 20091009T2126">a surprise to Grace: a music lesson with her favorite pop singer. </a>Smiles a la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">carte</span>. Problems solved. Credits roll.<br /><br />My feminist verbosity was muted. Hollywood had truly outdone itself. Where was the trauma? Where was the scarring? Then, three post-movie smokes later, it hit me: there was no trauma for Grace to contend with because she had not been raped. Her body, though stolen and sold, had never been physically penetrated so, of course, she was fine.<br /><br />Never before had I seen such a dramatic portrayal of the stereotype—of one of the foundations of misogyny—that the female body is a holy sacred vessel. From this ideal comes the conundrum that women still face today. We are either whores or virgins. There is no in between. In <a style="mso-comment-reference: AD_2; mso-comment-date: 20091009T2126">Christian mythology</a>, Mary, Mother of God, must maintain her virginity in order to remain holy because the female body once entered physically becomes unclean, unholy. This ideal<a style="mso-comment-reference: AD_3; mso-comment-date: 20091009T2126"> </a>continues to affect women worldwide, from the legally mandated physical covering of the body by some Islamic groups in the Middle East, to female genital mutilation in Africa, to good old fashioned sexual abuse, rape, and domestic violence epidemics here in the States. I wonder if the myth of the female body and the catch 22 it creates is the reason that Hollywood, and we as consumers of Hollywood, are so fascinated with stories of female rape and abduction? Is our collective unconscious still attempting to understand and solve the whore/ virgin conundrum? Perhaps.<br /><br />And, perhaps, there is nothing revolutionary about my discovery, but it led me to a more tangible and, hopefully, more useful question: are we, as women, unconsciously allowing ourselves to be more traumatized by sexual abuse and violence than necessary because we have bought into this idea that our bodies are sacred vessels? Do we believe ourselves to be either whores or virgins?<br /><br />I do not speak accusingly; I speak from experience. I am a member of the not-so-elite statistic: “1 in 6 women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime.”<a title="" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=3805994509995880378#_edn1" name="_ednref1">[i]</a> I know that rape, and all forms of sexual abuse, are extremely traumatic. I am not suggesting that rape is “no big deal,” and that we should all just “get over it.” On the contrary, I wonder if women could recover from the trauma of rape more quickly and, at the sake of sounding detached, more efficiently, if we realized that this misogynistic, illogical, and unreasonable stereotype/archetype is ingrained in our subconscious.<br /><br />Taken made it clear to me that I have been hanging on to something intangible for too long. I have been clinging to the idea that something has been taken from me that I can never get back. But that is the virgin/ whore ideal speaking. I was a virgin. Then I became a whore, and my life was over. I have been living as if my body constitutes my entire identity, while simultaneously fighting this perception as a feminist. I have been viewing my experiences as if my body had not been violated, had I been Grace, I would not have any trauma to deal with.<br /><br />The reality of what happened to me, and to many other women, is not sexual or even physical. What happened to me was about power. Rape is an abuse of power; it is the physical representation of the male power that exists in our society. That is what has lingered. That is what hurts. My body is just my body, and it has healed. What I am left to deal with is my position as a woman in a society where men have power over me. The root of this problem lies in unequal power dynamics, not sexuality. That is why Taken is so shockingly unrealistic. Everything is taken from Grace, except her virginity. Had it not been for her father’s divine intervention, she might have lost it all…but thanks to Grace, and the movie Taken, I have come to realize that I haven’t lost anything, except, perhaps, time.<br /><a title="" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=3805994509995880378#_ednref1" name="_edn1">[i]</a> http://www.rainn.org/statistics<br /><a name="_msocom_1"></a><br /><br /><a name="_msocom_2"></a>Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390349149864992874noreply@blogger.com7