The Dr. Suess nature of this is great, but unfortunately I have to offer a bit of criticism. You’ve done a lot to reinforce standard gender stereotypes.
The section for guys reinforces the idea that it’s ok to ogle girls, and masturbate. The section for girls is all about “be careful because you might be pregnant. Really? Is that the message you want to be sending?
How about teaching girls that masturbating is a good thing and not something to be ashamed of? And what about teaching guys the importance of being respectful and mature about birth control?
Also, where’s the safer sex message? With the millions of euphimisms about condoms, there’s gotta be a way to put at least one of them in a Dr. Suess fashion. Don’t you think that’s an important message to put out there?
Maybe this was all done in fun and games, and you were just amusing yourself with it. Great! I’m glad you had some fun and put together an awesome piece in the style of Dr. Suess. However, there’s a much bigger picture here as well, and I hope you’ll take a few minutes to consider it.
Be well.
Despite her “Be well,” Ms.JayLynn was, of course, bashed for not having a sense of humor.
Hey, Ms.JayLynn, come on over here where we understand that sometimes inequality just isn’t funny. Sometimes even jokes and humorous pieces when just left to their own comedic devices do more than inspire giggles — they perpetuate the stuff that makes us insane. Like treating women as problems not people entitled to their own pleasures. Like not discussing the health concerns by omitting condoms — but still pointing out pregnancy, as if it were “the worst” and something women are responsible for. Ugh.
As for those leaving nasty comments to MsJaylynn, here’s something for you to consider: Now that you’re big, stop being a sexist pig.
This edition is the forty-third printing of the revised U.S. edition of the official RCAF fitness plan, published in 1962. It’s two books in one, as it contains both XBX (Ten Basic Exercises), the twelve minute a day plan for women, and 5BX (Five Basic Exercises), the eleven minute a day plan for men, which were previously published separately. (Note, the “X” in XBX does not refer to the two x-chromosomes of women.)
The plans enable you, the common folk, to get fit just as the fancy airline folk do — by yourself, at home, in your spare time, at your own rate, without any equipment.
I can’t speak to the effectiveness of the fitness plan; however, the exercises, created by Canada’s “pioneer” of physical fitness, William A. R. Orban, look like the general movements, tasks, and poses I’ve found in so many publications over the years (none as bad as beating your fat against a wall). But I can and will speak to the quirky fact that the two fitness plans differ greatly in terms of how the exercises are depicted by gender.
The women’s exercises are shown with step-by-step photographs of women in leotards:
While the men’s are shown with cool, graphic, iconic, illustrations:
While it’s true that the men’s fitness plan predates the women’s by a couple of years, I still find the differences striking… Was one gender thought to be confused by less-than realistic images? Is the female form just more acceptable, if not titillating, when shown in photographs? Or was continuity broken because greyscale printing became cheaper or otherwise de rigueur?
Before you decide, let me just show you one more thing…
While the men get a great phallic graphic, we women are sans a powerful ovarian homage.
Last week I watched The Republican Debate at the Reagan Library. I found myself astounded by the fact that these people with limited intellectual reasoning, if not limited intellectual functioning, were in positions to actually be running for President of the United States of America. I’ve more to say on that subject (expect another post soon), but for now, I’m just going to focus on the one subject in which I found myself even more shocked: the one time when I found myself agreeing with some of the things the potential candidates said.
Faux Vintage Gardasil Ad
The subject was mandatory use of the Gardasil HPV vaccine; something I’ve long considered dangerous — especially as it’s equated with crony capitalism. Now, to be clear, I’m not one of those who thinks that preventing a disease which is linked to sexual behavior is akin to giving young women (or anyone) a Go Out & Screw card; you should know by now I’m not that kind of silly. But I’ve been concerned for a long time about the dangers of Gardasil, a drug pushed through quickly and forced upon young women and their families who are kept ignorant of the dangers — including deaths — of the vaccine. However, as I was soon to be traveling, I decided I didn’t have time to write about this subject again. Until…
Not long after I arrived home last night, my father in law called me. A reporter, Kristin Helgeson from Valley News Live, had left a message for him, asking if he was related to a Deanna Dahlsad. Yes, he is; yes, I called the phone number Helgeson left, and left her a message. But it wasn’t until this morning that the reporter and I connected.
Seems Michelle Bachmann stepped in it again, this time taking one individual and unverified comment and making the claim that “Gardasil led to mental retardation,” and Helgeson, having found my coverage of Gardasil at my other blog, wanted a comment from me. However, now that it was the next day, the story is “over.” While Helgeson was interested in pursuing the information I had, her boss, News Director Griff Potter, felt new and more accurate information wasn’t warranted — at least not enough to continue the story on air. Instead, Potter feels that I should just add a comment to the news story on their website.
It’s here that my story turns, for the moment, from one of the dangers the Gardasil vaccine, to that of the problems of The Media.”
On their website, the Center for Disease Control (CDC) has a review page for this vaccine. None of the serious side effects have been linked to the vaccine and there have been no reports of mental disability. In fact, the most serious side effect they found was fainting. They now ask patients to sit down for 15 minutes after they get vaccinated.
This may be true — but it’s clearly not the whole story! As I’ve uncovered, there are deaths linked to Gardasil — in the US and India. While Valley News Live may not find their omission “retraction worthy,” surely they should present the other information that the public ought to be informed about. And they should do so in the same format as their original coverage. One hopes that the folks at Valley News Live know that their television viewers are not necessarily those who will turn to the Internet and look for updates on earlier stories (or trust the comments left by some “kook” like me); if there was something important to add to the story, they’d show it on the news right? Wrong.
I want to be clear here and state that Helgeson wanted/wants to proceed with the story. And I did call Mr. Potter to voice my concerns too; as of this writing, he has not returned my call. I hope he is out to lunch in the literal sense, not metaphorically, and that I will hear from him — or from Helgeson, saying Potter has reconsidered. But until then, this whole thing just makes me so angry.
How long will the arbitrators of news continue to dismiss the issues in this story? How long will they continue to discount women — not just as part of their audience, but in general? For cutting or ignoring the facts from stories like this only perpetuates the problems of poor ethics in everything from medicine and politics.
For more, see my other related posts, at varying sites:
Well, there’s more to the story. I found the link in this week’s Girlie Girl Army newsletter (shouldn’t you be subscribed?), which is too cute to read, even if the update (at BUST) is even more confusing…
Like cupcakes, Hello Kitty, and wearing dresses on occasion? Then this girl hates you. Ps. She’s a baker. Pps. She’d definitely hate us. Ppps. We sort of love parts of her article.
So much to absorb here… A sexist display of Native American stereotypes, awesome funky neon signs that appear to highlight the pinup on parade here (“Stump” Hardware, the heat of the Holland Furnace Company, and a V.F.W. post), a big ol’ tuba and an even bigger car… And does that sign mean this display was to promote voting for a senator?
In No Sex, Please, We’re Literary!, author Karen Essex discusses the double-standard which goes past the roles and experiences of the characters, to the limitations of the authors. Here’s a quick snippet; but please go read the rest.
The point of my books is to give voice to otherwise voiceless females from history and myth; to unlock what has been secreted away in women’s hearts and minds for thousands of years; to express what has been unutterable. Historically, women have either been reduced to nothing but their sexuality, or stripped of it entirely; the Madonna or the whore. Are those two options not more degrading to a female character than allowing her the full range of human experience?
Karen Essex has also just earned a permanent link on the blogroll for that post; but she’s an achiever. You should also read Women: Is it our own fault? — which is in response to her earlier post, Take Back The Tit, which also rather addresses the icky HuffPo post too. See? Now we’ve come full circle!
Image credits: Katharine, Marion and Peg Hepburn photo taken by Martin Munkacsi, August 1939, via.
Unsolicited Advice To Adolescent Girls With Crooked Teeth And Pink Hair
When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boys call asking your cup size, say A, hang up. When he says you gave him blue balls, say
you’re welcome. When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you’re a boy, explain that you keep
your hair short so she won’t have anything to grab when you head-butt her. Then head-butt her. When a guidance counselor teases you for handed-down
jeans, do not turn red. When you have sex for the second time and there is no condom, do not convince yourself that screwing between layers of underwear will soak up the semen. When your geometry teacher posts a banner reading: “Learn math or go home and learn how to be a Momma,” do not take your first feminist stand by leaving the classroom. When the boy you have a crush on is sent to detention, go home. When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boy with the blue mohawk swallows your heart and opens his wrists, hide the knives, bleach the bathtub, pour out the vodka. Every time. When the skinhead girls jump you in a bathroom stall, swing, curse, kick, do not turn red. When a boy you think you love delivers the first black eye, use a screw driver, a beer bottle, your two good hands. When your father locks the door, break the window. When a college professor writes you poetry and whispers about your tight little ass, do not take it as a compliment, do not wait, call the Dean, call his wife. When a boy with good manners and a thirst for Budweiser proposes, say no. When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boys tell you how good you smell, do not doubt them, do not turn red. When your brother tells you he is gay, pretend you already know. When the girl on the subway curses you because your tee shirt reads: “I fucked your boyfriend,” assure her that it is not true. When your dog pees the rug, kiss her, apologize for being late. When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Jersey City, do not move. When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Harlem, do not move. When he refuses to stay the night because your air conditioner is broken, leave him. When he refuses to keep a toothbrush at your apartment, leave him. When you find the toothbrush you keep at his apartment hidden in the closet, leave him. Do not regret this. Do not turn red. When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
I don’t ever claim to be first with the reviews (I deal in old stuff, so why even rush to hop on the bandwagon with films about retro bands?), so you’ve likely already heard about, read reviews of, or even seen 2010’s The Runaways, starring Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning. Anyway…
The Runaways is an incredible film. You should see it. My only real comments are really about my impressions of myself…
I wasn’t actually going to write any sort of a review, but then I stumbled onto Susie Bright’s commentary:
“What is this Little Debbie BULLSHIT?” I said. “This is a disgrace.”
Director Floria Sigismondi’s “pretty-in-glam” Runaways promo wasn’t the underground punk scene I remember from Los Angeles in the 1970’s.
And then I thought, “Hey, someone needs to speak for the rest of the un-cool kids here in the Midwest.”
You see, I didn’t know of The Runaways until after there was Joan Jett and the Blackhearts’ I Love Rock and Roll. That made it on the radar — and radio waves — in Midwest suburbia. Heck, my mom was a HUGE fan of that song! (Rock on, Mom!)
Before Bright’s commentary, I’d viewed the relationship between Jett and Currie as a more complicated version of the college lesbianism experience, mixed with drugs, celebrity-too-soon, and, sure, what looked in the film like a bit of opportunistic, if not predatory, moves on Jett’s part — which seemed more natural and less creepy than it sounds, really. And I don’t suppose Bright’s commentary really changes any of that. ( Or that my interpretation of the film is accurate; or even that the film was entirely explicit about many intimate aspects of their personal lives. It was, after all, a film; not a documentary.) But I feel it’s worth noting that Los Angeles is, and was, a million miles away from my Milwaukee suburban experience. Or even my imagining.
I was in gay bars in the 80’s. However, I’m sure they weren’t anything like the punk scenes you big coastal cities had. I’m sure even the leather and dungeon rooms would have seemed comical (at least by comparison at the time). But my point is that even though I wasn’t phobic, wasn’t ignorant, and therefore wasn’t shocked or put-off by anything in The Runaways that would have freaked my version of the world at that time, the sort of cultural context Bright feels was a necessary part of the story has me thinking… Maybe too much.
Yes, it may be accurate to say, as Bright does, that, “The Runaways band would not have happened, could not have been conceived, without the Underground Dyke Punk Groupie Slut culture that stretched from the San Fernando Valley to the bowels of Orange County,” but is it necessary to understand or appreciate the film, the story of (at least two of) the girls in the all-girls band?
Maybe it’s some sort of “ism” for a heterosexual chick to say it doesn’t matter; or at the very least, I’m being insensitive and dismissive to a movement. I certainly don’t mean to be. Yet, I thought the film was about forging ahead against the odds, the isolating experience of individuals — of female individuals — and maybe all that cultural context wasn’t integral? Then again, I’m always harping on the context of things, and certainly the counter-culture is as important in the story of where this band, these women, sat as the cultural norms I was carrying in my own head.
I just can’t decide.
Because fundamentally, I felt the tidal waves of emotion of abuse (self, drug, management, the industry, etc.), dreams gained and lost, friendships, trust, creativity, and being a woman with little respect through it all… And I’m not sure that being more precise in the documentation or depiction of what Bright described as the scene at the time is would have enhanced that ride. Though I guess I’ll never know because that film hasn’t been made.
At the end of The Runaways, I was left wanting to discover what others already had; the music of the band itself. (And the music each made with other bands and in solo careers — save, perhaps, for Lita Ford. Hubby had a crush on her, so her discs are around… Plus, at the end of The Runways, I didn’t like her. Sure, I understood what motivated her snits; but ick.) Though, what Susie Bright said now not only colors my thoughts about the film, but thoughts about the music as well.
Such is the plight of one who thinks too much, I suppose.
Can I continue to rock to Crimson & Clover without having any such thoughts of celebrating a “dyke rock’n’roll legacy” — and not have that be dismissive or exclusionary, not have it be a political or social statement at all? Yes, I think I can. So I think I can enjoy The Runaways as a film without any of that too.
I think that’s the question, and the answer. For me.
I’ll tell you how that works as I listen to more of the music. …Maybe watch the film again.
PS The end of the movie left you rather feeling like Cherie had relegated herself to, or was even happy with, some sort of boring mainstream life after the band split. Clearly the film focused on Jett. (Odd because the movie was based largely on Currie’s autobiography, Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway — originally published in 1989; reprinted to coincide with the film.) But Currie’s life indeed went on. Cherie also went on to play more music; to marry and divorce from Robert Hays (of Airplane! — what an odd pairing in my mind) — they even had a son, Jake Hays, who accompanied his mom and dad at The Runaways premier, and to rock the art as a chainsaw chick.
In describing this retro image from the 70s, the seller refers to all the women on the band’s bus as “groupies.” The seller isn’t comfortable stating who the band is, but they are comfortable enough to label the women.
Talk about crunk. Bambara gives the side eye to the notion that you can attack capitalism, racism, or other systems of dominance out in the world without challenging those same systems (especially hetero-patriarchy) within one’s own relationships. That, in fact, leaving your own house “out of order” not only jeopardizes but it, in fact, undermines both your potential for good work and your potential for intimacy and happiness. Indeed, for me, Bambara’s call for us to essentially get our ish together charges us to recognize how important—how revolutionary—it is for us to love (and love on) each other and ourselves fiercely and fearlessly.
I started a group for just this sort of thing at Bliss Connect. It’s called Seeking Progressive Social Bliss; so far it’s a circle of one. *sigh*
2.) I was meaning to write about the horrible Summer’s Eve “Hail To The V” Campaign, but then Stephen Colbert did this:
The review, conducted by Reg Bailey, chief executive of the Mothers Union, was published in June. Bailey’s report, ‘Letting Children be Children,’ looked at cultural influences on children and children as consumers but particularly significant for the clothing sector was its examination of clothing, products and services for children.
The report stated that the marketing of “sexualised and gender-stereotyped clothing, products and services” for children were “the biggest areas of concern for parents and many non-commercial organisations contributing to the review.”
[sic]
As the report was published, the British Retail Consortium (BRC) unveiled a set of guidelines governing the design, commissioning and marketing of clothing ranges for children under 12 years old.
The article continues to discuss the practical and impractical issues involved. As citizen of the USA, I’m left wondering if such clothing prohibition is the answer. After all, the problem isn’t the garments glutting the market; it’s the consumers with horrible judgement who pay for clothing in such poor taste. At what point does the law need to protect us from our bad choices? Or, more pointedly, at what point does the government need to protect children from the bad choices of their parents?
We all know comic book art, pinups, and many other art forms exaggerate the human form; especially the female form. However, if you want any sort of realism at all — let alone to avoid complaints about body image, statements that comic book nerds have never seen nude chicks, etc. — check out this illustrated tutorial by Ovens (aka Unconventional oven), of Effort Comics (18+ webcomic):
In case you don’t have a pair of your own, haven’t ever seen naked boobs before, or simply forget about physics, this is an excellent reminder. It also pleases me as it points out that our female finer points move, are affected by position & gravity, may not point at all, and may even sag — all of which is natural and beautiful.
I say, exaggerate away, artists, as long as you get the most simple basics of flesh and physics right.
See also: The seventh in the I Draw the Line series by Tom Nguyen. (Sadly, this archive of the series is sans illustrations.) In his “how to draw boobs” entry, Nguyen provides the ultimate artistic breast advice:
Boobs have a general shape, yes, but keep in mind that they are soft and have weight. Therefore, their shape changes to work with gravity and clothing.
I’m too old to claim to have logged hours of watching She-Ra or He-Man — or any childhood memories from that MOTU period. But that won’t stop me from having an opinion.
As adult, I can look at She-ra and still appreciate the positive role that she filled for some young girls. I say some, because as a WOC, She-ra is not a show that I would particular encourage my children to watch, and even more so if I had a daughter. You, see when feminists start talking about women’s advancement, my first question is which women are we talking about? If we’re honest, no matter how many times the great unified sisterhood is pitched by feminism, there are always going to be some women, who somehow don’t fit the mold, because they are poor, of colour, trans, lesbian, older, disabled etc.
…I love her even though she is flawed and continues the erasure I feel as a marginalized woman in many spheres, but I will not dismiss her, because I don’t have the right to take away heroes from little White girls, who need their heroes too. Even though their challenges will be much different than mine, I will not deny that these challenges exist, and by so doing erase the threat that they pose to me. There are very few positive role models for young girls of colour to look up to but erasing the few White images will not change that.
When I read Martin’s post, I found myself nodding my head in understanding and agreement; however…
Interestingly enough, I started somewhat backwards. He-Man predated She-Ra by quite a few years and as a kid I just LOVED He-Man. I had quite a few of the toys. But when the spin-off show, She-Ra came out, my parents decided that since there was now a “girl version” that I had to give all my He-Man figures to my brother and that he would play with them and I would get the She-Ra. God, was I bitter about that. I think there is some feminism lesson in there.
I can’t help but wonder, then, if She-Ra was a means of sexual or gender segregation.
She-Ra was part of the Master Of The Universe world but she was relegated to her own corners of it, kept out of the “Males Only” areas just because they had lady parts. (The usual over-emphasized comic book figure lady parts, of course. He-Man had his own exaggerated maleness too; it’s the earmarks of such works.) I can’t say that watching the complete She-Ra series and all the He-Man episodes, we could count how many bubblers water fountains She-Ra and crew couldn’t drink from, how many buses these sheroes rode in the back of; it’s far worse than that.
The simplicity of making an “all female version” of the popular Saturday morning cartoon series completely removes coexistence. Women on one side; men on the other — the original side. Almost like parallel universes, really. What does that say about gender equality? Not much. Especially if parents, the kids’ overlords, were interpreting these two shows and their accompanying toy sets as “one for boys, one for girls.”
(If there were any super-cross-over MOTU episodes, those might be more interesting; but I doubt I’d be surprised.)
That’s maybe (partly) why I liked Thundarr The Barbarian. There may not have been complete equality, but at least Princess Ariel and Ookla the Mok existed along side leading man Thundarr.
Sadly, there were no Thundarr The Barbarian toys. *heavy sigh* Which means I cannot discuss the parental interaction. Nor can I collect the toys.
PS For the record, I was — and forever remain — an Ookla fan. Ookla was a formerly enslaved a leonine humanoid with fangs and yellow eyes. Whatever a Mok may be in this cultural equation, I guess that’s how I’m identifying.
While Ookla’s guttural, growling language may seem unintelligible, and therefore not appear well suited for blogging writing, “he” is also, according to those who know, “the most likely of the heroes to charge right into an enemy attack or to be enraged by unusual nuisances or threats.” And that, my friends, is how I see myself. (Plus, I will also go quite out of the way to avoid water on my face as well.)
Two photos from the 1920s featuring women and their motorcycles — vintage Indian motorcycles & sidecars. But the ladies don’t just sit in the sidecars. …Maybe little girls do. But not women. Photos via Lynnstudios.
Message in Washington, D.C., July 28, 1922; message to Washington, D.C. today.
Don’t let the tea party-ers or republicans fool you: the hold-up on the debt ceiling has nothing to do with balancing the budget or creating smaller, less intrusive government. Despite running on such slogans, or “jobs,” those who were swept into office also swept in their own dirty under-the-rug ideologue agendas. Look at restrictions on abortion, for example. Fear, misogyny and racism rule; using legislation to create more government intrusion to benefit wealthy white men. Meanwhile, these elected conservative officials pass on the lies and deny the reality of the Bush tax cuts which, by the way, blew-through Clinton’s surplus and, along with deregulation and cronyism, created this mess.
Other shades and shadows from the 1920s which are today’s boogeymen:
The Immigration Act of 1924 places restrictions on immigration. National quotas curbed most Eastern and Southern European nationalities, further enforced the ban on immigration of East Asians, Indians and Africans, and put mild regulations on nationalities from the Western Hemisphere (Latin Americans).
Growth and general acceptance of the Ku Klux Klan in America.
The Scopes Trial (1925) which declared that John T. Scopes had violated the law by teaching evolution in schools, creating tension between the competing theories of creationism and evolution.
I haven’t read the works under discussion and, embarrassingly, my knowledge of George Eliot wouldn’t fill a thimble — but that doesn’t put an end to my opining. For it’s not the “did she or didn’t she” of the argument which has me most fascinated, but the “how” of it all…
Once there was a school of thought that held that autobiographies were superior to biographies; a person is the only one who really knows their own life, no amount of research can replace that. Along the way, the sub-genre of memoirs was created in order for a person to be able to tell a smaller story, the story of only a chapter or two in their lives as opposed to the whole story. Memoirs were greatly discredited in the whole Oprah-Frey fiasco. None of that memoirs stuff is of importance here; but memory is.
You see, I don’t remember things by dates. I have a linear concept of time, but dates are not my thing. And time itself passes unevenly for me — for most of us. My children, for example, grew up overnight despite those sleepless nights which I thought would never end. Time waiting for a child in a counseling appointment without a book vs. the same one hour appointment with a book, well, you know how that goes. And then there’s the matter of memory…
What I remember and what my husband remembers about things we’ve done, conversations held, etc. clearly exposes problems with perceptions. What I consider significant, he may not; and vice versa. And I, like many people I am told, often walk to the kitchen only to wonder why I went there.
Memory is a twisty thing.
So how reliable am I in terms of writing my autobiography?
I’m guessing not good at all.
So would the biographer be better?
I swore I wrote about (some of) this before, but I write so many places that if I did, I couldn’t find it; if I do find it, I’ll update with a link. [Note to self: you’re loosing your mind.]
But that is, in part, precisely what I’m talking about. If I were writing my own biography or memoir, I might just reference something I believed I wrote. And even upon being unable to produce it, would swear it was misplaced (or, if I’d grow even more paranoid, claim it was stolen). I’m that convinced I did it. Even if I hadn’t included that tidbit in my autobiography, some researcher pouring through my personal effects, correspondence I’d written over the years, etc. might just find that I’d penned a letter in which I swore that I had written on the subject. Perhaps I’d even accuse a person of the theft of it. This poor researcher / author would then have proof of my presumption, but not what actually happened.
And this is only one example which is far more cut and dried than other realities… The article or written work exists or it doesn’t; my faulty memory may be found out due to evidence one way or another. But what of my motivations?
What if I insisted I wrote something, knowing I did not, but wished to claim the work of someone else? What if I hated someone so much I convinced myself the story was true, could even pass a lie detector test because I, in fact, believed what I was saying? Maybe I did believe it so much because I was unable to be truthful with myself about my own actions?
We all tell ourselves lies everyday. Just to get through the day. Most of them aren’t so big and bad as accusing someone of theft. We usually don’t lie to hurt others but rather to protect ourselves. We lie to ourselves about the deeper things we cannot face, little and big vanities alike.
Whatever George Eliot aka Mary Ann Evans aka Mary Anne Cross writes to her friends she is also writing to herself. She has her reasons as much as her denials to motivate her. And so, even a historian with access to public and private works, letters and diaries, is still limited by the memories and motivations of their subject.
Did Eliot consider her last marriage an act of dependence? An independent or vain act that would ensure her legacy? Was it just easier to count on someone in her old age, easier to tell people that, or what?
Who knows.
It’s intellectual fun to pluck at the strings left behind, like clues leading to the the ball of yarn that is a hero’s psyche. But we don’t know. We cannot read their soul.
Marilyn Monroe
This is why we have so many biographies. Even after the memoirs and autobiographies (with and without the help of others), even after hundreds of other biographies, there’s still room for more.
Some people who count such things say there are 600 books on Marilyn Monroe alone — with new releases each year. Because she continues to fascinate me us. Forget the suicide-or-murder debate; forget the motivations, cover-ups, bungles, etc. of other people; we can never know what went on in Marilyn’s head or heart because no one, not even her contemporaries and confidants, knew that.
Marilyn and Mary Anne, and all the others, will continue to fascinate us because we will never ever know. We will never be truly sated by any “definitive” book on a person because we can never ever have the definitive answers.
Whatever the subjects of biographies and autobiographies leave for us, whatever they tell us, remains forever between the memory gaps, what they believed, the stories they’ve told themselves, what they believed they needed to protect when they told others their stories…
That is unsettling.
It’s a realization that we cannot ever really know anyone.
And so we continue to read, investigate, interpret, what we can. …Still hoping we will find The Truth.
On the front of this 5 3/4 X 3 1/2 “snapshot,” which the seller says is circa 1915, someone has printed “AN ARIZONA SUFFRAGETTE.”
As I cannot handle this photograph, I am not certain of it’s age — but I am certain that the “suffragette” it is a man wearing a dress and apron. Something about the photo feels more modern than 1915… Maybe it’s just that men putting on dresses to mock women for being too masculine to be pretty, that equal rights for women is as silly as a man wearing a dress, that the whole thing is just too-too familiar.
In The Washington Post, November 1, 1909, an unidentified “London fashion designer” gets bitchy and judgmental about how suffragettes dress. Yes, even though I don’t know if this possibly fictitious designer is male or female, I say “bitchy.” For even should ye olde fashion designer be both real and male (gay stereotypes aside), the fact that this item appeared at all in the Society pages, is proof of the bitch factor.
But perhaps most importantly are the number of appearances of myths, stereotypes, and general mean spiritedness which are preyed and played upon today:
The worst blow the cause of equal suffrage has received is the charge that its champions are careless in dress. Women who are not neat in attire and care nothing for personal adornment cannot hope to attract or influence men, and the future is gloomy for the British suffragettes at least. A London fashion designer has divided the suffragettes into four classes, each one marked by distinctiveness in dress.
“In the first is the woman of independent means,” says this fashion critic, “who can can and following her habit does dress well, and also the woman of limited income with an instinct for clothes Secondly, there is the working suffragette, who, as a rule, is a typewriter, and goes to the office in neat shirt waist and skirt She does not differ in any way from the woman clerk in any ordinary office, or the school teacher and secretary Thirdly we arrive at the thin, corsetless esthetic type, the modern development of the love-sick maiden who adorned Bunthorne These ‘willowy’ suffragettes adopt the empire and pinafore gown, with strange embroideries and sometimes strange results Last of all comes the suffragette who looks as though she had just returned from the wars and was still in fighting kit She generally wears a green costume of skimp design and rough material, a purple scarf, an impossible complexion, ‘something’ on her head and ‘something’ on her feet Few suffragettes have the faintest idea how to dress their hair Either they have not the time to spare from work for the great cause to give their hair ordinary care or attention, or else the languid drooping style and the straying wisps of hair are meant to illustrate the down-trodden station of women”
All of which should make the most ardent suffragette pause!
This ad, for sale from MAINE-ARTEMIS, shows how products were marketed to suffragettes.
Enoch Morgan’s Sons Company ad for Sapolio cake soap:
A suffragette is Mrs. Brown
Who’s cleaning up in Spotless Town
When she discovers wrongs to write
The mails assist her in the fight
De=voted readers high and low
Are voting for
Sapolio
A news clipping from the New Brunswick Times, October 15, 1915, about Miss Ellen Murray who threw an anti-suffrage party:
The house was decorated in the colors of the antis, pink and white and anti-suffrage posters were in evidence. The girls were given anti-suffrage pencils and the boys anti-suffrage buttons. The prizes were dolls in the dolls in the suffrage colors and the refreshments were also in these colors. One of the games was an election in which the antis won.
I can only assume that there was an error and that the dolls and refreshments were in anti-suffrage pink and white, right? And good heavens, why would girls need pencils?! Silly Ellen; only boys need to write! Plus, buttons are like pins, which is jewelry and more girl-like. Sheesh.
Lauren, can you tell me more about the Carrie Chapman Catt bookmark?
Oh, I loved this one! I bought it because it was beautiful. It is a soft cream-colored silk with delicate fringe on both ends. The woman’s picture is attached with silk ribbon that goes through the bookmark. The words read “We will march on to victory.”
When I first bought this I thought it was a bookmark made by a WWI soldier for his mother (or vice versa), and that it had her picture on it. I can’t remember how I came around to the idea that it might be Catt; perhaps the seller suggested it?
I searched out numerous images of Catt online but nothing like this ever showed up. Since it is a formal portrait it is impossible that it was the only copy of that image. Plus, the picture is of a woman likely to be in her fifties, and by that age she was certainly well known for her work. But the resemblance to Catt is startling. I sent it off the a librarian at LOC, and she agreed that it very much appeared to be her but since they could not find another copy of that image either they had no proof one way or the other.
The saying on it leads to me to wonder if it might in fact be Catt’s mother. The age is likely right since the clothing appears to be from the late nineteenth century. Could it have been an image of Catt’s mother when Catt was in the midst of the battle for women’s suffrage and she made this up for her mother as a kind of promise? If so, it is a very valuable piece of history, one of kind. But again I will never know, which is both sad and compelling.
Well folks, if you can help with identifying the portrait — or have any other information — please let us know! Post a comment here or contact Lauren. Thanks!
Jim Linderman presents this original court document from Williamsport in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania, dated June 3, 1884 in which Mrs. Susan Johnson was arrested and charged with being “addicted to scolding,” including the habit of using profane, vulgar and abusive language.” Given that, it seems obvious — or odd, depending upon your parenting views — that Mrs. Johnson also instructed “her children to insult, abuse and injure children and persons in general.”
At the bottom, or second page, of the court document, it is also noted that Mrs. Johnson dared to keep her business establishment open on Sunday, “the Lord’s day” — in violation of Blue Laws.
Me thinketh the open store, the audacity of a woman to make money on the sabbath, was the real problem.
But I’m a biased feminist.
In fact, without anything else to go on, I daresay Mrs. Susan Johnson was a strong woman, an independent woman with her own business. One who didn’t tolerate crap from anyone and was raising her children to do the same — in a time and place where women were like children and so should be seen and not heard.
But I have no proof of this.
According the arrest warrant, Mrs. Johnson had to pay bail in the amount of $200…
Despite my best attempts at research, I could not find any report of how the court story ends. However, it appears that poor Mrs. Johnson died shortly after tornadoes struck and leveled her house along with several others — “not a timber left standing” — according to a newspaper story in the Daily Gazette And Bulletin, Williamsport, Pennsylvania, on February 23, 1884. I can’t be absolutely certain this is the same Mrs. Susan Johnson, but it’s the only trail I could find. Rest in peace, Susan.
An awesome video from BBC’s Look Around You on The Petticoat 5: The first computer designed just for women. “The computer was created by Patricia (her surname is silent).”
Watch and be amazed.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GThtMAZGYU
While clearly satire, I love how this precisely hits so many key points about products for/marketing to women.
Words like “rape” and “murder” cover a spectrum of activities, and degrees of culpability. Let’s consider a couple of murder scenarios.
First, suppose a kidnapper seizes the son of a wealthy family, and extorts money from the parents. Then after the ransom is paid, he seeks to cover his tracks by deliberately murdering his hostage.
Second scenario: a young husband returns home to find his bride in flagrante delicto with the milkman. In a fit of blind rage, the husband attacks the milkman, who dies of his injuries.
In both cases the assailant is guilty of murder, and deserves to be convicted and punished. But the cases are hugely different. In the first case, the murder is calculated, premeditated, deliberate and undertaken for money. In the second case, none of these comments applies. In the first case, I’d happily hang the murderer (I’m part of that retrograde majority which still believes in the death penalty). In the second case, a much more lenient sentence would be appropriate.
In the same way, let’s consider two rape scenarios.
The first is the classic “stranger-rape”, where a masked individual emerges from the bushes, hits his victim over the head with a blunt instrument, drags her into the undergrowth and rapes her, and the leaves her unconscious, careless whether she lives or dies.
The second is “date rape”. Imagine that a woman voluntarily goes to her boyfriend’s apartment, voluntarily goes into the bedroom, voluntarily undresses and gets into bed, perhaps anticipating sex, or naïvely expecting merely a cuddle. But at the last minute she gets cold feet and says “Stop!”. The young man, in the heat of the moment, is unable to restrain himself and carries on.
In both cases an offence has been committed, and the perpetrators deserve to be convicted and punished. But whereas in the first case, I’d again be quite happy to hang the guy, I think that most right-thinking people would expect a much lighter sentence in the second case. Rape is always wrong, but not always equally culpable.
My two scenarios also give the lie to one of the popular over-simplifications trotted out by the feminist tendency in these cases: “Rape is always about power and control and domination, never about sex”. In the first case, that may well be true. In the second case, it is clearly not true.
Let me make another point which will certainly get me vilified, but which I think is important to make: while in the first case, the blame is squarely on the perpetrator and does not attach to the victim, in the second case the victim surely shares a part of the responsibility, if only for establishing reasonable expectations in her boyfriend’s mind.
All I can say I’ve said before. So here’s a, “Thanks for giving males permission to be dumb animals with no ability to control themselves, jerk,” to Roger — and anyone else who agrees with his dangerous bullshit.
A quick news item found in the May 1, 1944 issue of Pathfinder magazine; with links added by yours truly:
Equal Rights
Pledging support to candidates in the coming election that favor the Equal Rights Amendment, the National Council of the National Woman’s Party has asked President Roosevelt for an early audience for the 27 national organizations that are supporting “woman’s rights,” so the President “may hear their views on this issue.”
You know, by now, that I collect horde vintage magazines, publications, newspapers, and other ephemera. (If not, please send me your recipe for Denial Sauce; the anti-women politics of the time are hard on me.) So I’m completely smitten with Women’s Page History: “A blog devoted to women’s page editors beginning during World War II (when many women were hired by the newsrooms until the war ended) through the early 1970s when the women’s pages were transformed into lifestyle sections.”
Yummy!
The blog is run by Dr. Kimberly Voss, of whom I am more than a bit jealous… I long for some sort of credentials to make my piles of old paper legit. *sigh*
I know, I know; she has a piece of paper, I have a piece of paper. (As in degrees.) And I know that some would argue that (stupid) adage, “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” Let me say again how stupid that adage is — very.
But the word “professor” before your name has more than a cache — it has the clout that opens doors. As in getting your phone calls routed properly, messages and emails returned, etc. Of that, I am envious.
Of course, my biggest problem is not specializing — not narrowing my focus. (Watch comments at this post for a link from my other blog, Inherited Values, on that.)
I know what the sign is, where I found it, and that it’s likely circa the 1940s, but even though the sign reads “No Deception Club,” I have no idea what it’s for… Any ideas?
, starring Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning. Anyway…
— 
. There may not have been complete equality, but at least Princess Ariel and Ookla the Mok existed along side leading man Thundarr.
