In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

Who is Lily Allen?

A rhetorical question, really, because I can put my fingers together and Google as well as anyone else, natch. I just hadn’t heard of her till recently stumbling on these on Youtube, and, well: kind of intrigued.

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Project Guest Blogger – Week Seven

Thanks to the lovely Aishwarya and Belledame for their guest-blogging stint, which wraps up tonight. They were as fabulous as expected, and I’m very grateful that they took the time to contribute here. Thanks, ladies!

Starting tomorrow we’ll have two more incredible guest-bloggers: Nezua and Trailer Park Feminist. Check out their work — I promise you will be very impressed, and will be as excited as I am for the two of them to begin Feministe-ing tomorrow.

*waves goodbye*

It’s been monday here for a couple of hours now, which means my week here is over. The thrilling, insightful post I should have been writing this evening (instead of watching the Wimbledon finals) will probably be up at my blog sometime in the near future.

So before I go, who else watched the finals? Were they not the best in recent years? did anyone notice the attractive umpire? Thoughts?

Er. Bye. It was lovely to meet all of you. 🙂

Maybe they cancel each other out.

Over at Pandagon, Amanda Marcotte fisks–we need a word for when it’s just too ridiculous to require fisking–the argument that Frida Kahlo’s evil communism means that we should assign a historical and artistic value of nada to her life and its artifacts:

Perpetrator of Communism Memorial [John J. Miller]

Less than a month after the dedication of the Victims of Communism Memorial in Washington, D.C., the National Museum of Women in the Arts is opening a new exhibit on Frida Kahlo. She was, of course, an unrepentant Stalinist whose paintings carried titles such as “Marxism Will Heal the Sick.” By the way, the NMWA isn’t in Pyongyang or Havana. Here’s the bizarre part: The museum thinks it will attract visitors because the exhibit includes “a new collection of images … of Kahlo’s private bathroom at the Casa Azul and its contents.” This isn’t an art exhibit—it’s a shrine, to a woman in the thrall of a murderous ideology.

Just what the fuck is a ‘perpetrator of communism?’ I can’t be sure, but it sounds like yet another conflation of saying something and doing something. Maybe if you do it on canvas with brushes, it doesn’t fall into the ‘speech’ category. Are there any lawyers in the house who can help me out with this?

Not just that, but even if we take at face value the claim that Frida and her art supported totalitarianism…haven’t most artists throughout history produced art glorifying oppressive regimes and their authors, as well as the philosophies that legitimized them? The autocrats were the ones with the money, after all.

And over at The Gimp Parade, Blue offers up some insightful, good-faith (on second thought, maybe that’s giving Mr. Muller too much credit) analysis of Kahlo’s life and biography, as well as many links:

For true disability studies analyses of the 2002 film Frida, starring Salma Hayek, read Marta Russell’s CounterPunch review and a wonderful discussion between Harilyn Rousso and Simi Linton at DisabilityWorld. Both movie reviews note the obliteration of any depiction of Kahlo’s childhood polio and it’s early effects, with the tram accident framed instead as the life-altering tragedy to her physical health. Also, her recovery from that accident is made complete in the film so that a tango between Kahlo and another woman is not complicated by what would have been an interesting limp. The Rousso-Linton discussion ranges beyond the movie itself to look at use of the word “cripple,” sexuality, and class and disability.

(There’s also the way that, IIRC, her decision to become a painter is recast as a response to the convalescence resulting from her accident. No one can dispute that her disabilities were an important theme in her art, particularly since she was a self-portraitist. Still, this sort of simplification strikes me as a barrier to any real analysis of her work–and the compensatory moral of the artist’s origin myth seems to have some troubling implications for her life as a woman with disabilities. It reads as though cripple is not the wrong word, that she was someone who had to find some special work-around for fulfillment and self-expression after the tragic accident that took away any simple happiness.)

Anyhow, point, laugh, and then go read.

It’s saturday night and I’m all confessional-y

I recently visited a friend in Hyderabad. A couple of hours after I’d arrived we decided to walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner (this was evening. Eight-ish.) and we were walking along, talking about literature or gender or football or something when a man zoomed past us on his motorbike, going in the same direction as we were. As he passed us, he reached out a hand behind him, grabbed by breast, let go, and went off. Ros was looking at something in the other direction so she hadn’t seen him.

That’s the boring part. The interesting, scary bit is my complete lack of a reaction. Ros hadn’t seen it, and for some reason I didn’t bring it up. I did nothing, I didn’t run after him and yell or swear or anything. I turned to a friend and continued a normal conversation and did it so convincingly that I don’t think she even noticed anything wrong.

And this is what really scares me most about the kind of harassment that one faces for being female in public. I worry that I’ve gotten used to it because I can just shrug it off, or if I’m a bad feminist for just letting it go and not doing more. I need to fix this.

The Revolution Will Not Be Crocheted, Preserved, or Canned. Or, Hey, Maybe It Will, But If So…

Basically, Kim of Bastante Already! has this piece ruminating about her lack of affinity for the traditional womanly arts.

Amid her notes that she hates gardening and cooking and simply doesn’t have the wherewithal for making a beautiful “nest” right now, she asks,

In damn near every feminist periodical (Bitch, Bust) and on many feminist blogs, there’s this big, trendy push to get all Knitty and Crafty and Womanly Arts with our bad selves.
What is up with that?

Well, a few different things are up with that…

Chicago

(This is a casserole post, one I started writing around late April, and never finished, a companion to ‘Key Largo.’)

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