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Wednesday, May 31, 2006

There is no War on Terror


posted by bitchphd
Go read Apostropher's post, and follow the links. Really well said.

What's actually terrifying is this:
It's the opening shot in a resource war, and everybody knows it, even if they won't admit it to themselves. And, like it or not, they aren't our resources. We don't have any right to insist the world petroleum market be conducted in dollars. We don't have the right to pick and choose other peoples' governments for them.
We can go down fighting, or, you know, we can sink the money and manpower into finding ways not to go down. I like civilization. I'd like to keep it. I don't wanna rush headlong into a Hobbesian state of nature.

Still more on Cecilia Fire Thunder


posted by bitchphd
Arg. The background to yesterday's editorial wasn't just postcolonial theory: Tribal Council Outlaws Abortion President Suspended for Alleged Donations. Love how she's now the "Abortion President."
The Oglala Sioux tribal council banned all abortions on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and suspended President Cecelia Fire Thunder on Tuesday,

Will Peters, a tribal council representative from the Pine Ridge district. . . . made a motion to suspend Fire Thunder indefinitely, and when that failed, voted to suspend her for 20 days until an impeachment hearing could take place. That motion passed.

Today, the tribe banned abortions on the reservation.

"I do not feel comfortable telling a woman what she can or can't do with her body," Peters said. "Yet at the same time, I share the cultural viewpoint that life is sacred."

"she is a hard gal to look after," Peters said.
I'm not surprised. Saddened, but not surprised. I'm well aware that in communities with a history of ethnic or racial oppression, the patriarchal tensions around issues of women's autonomy are complicated by fears that abortion, specifically, constitutes a form of genocide. In fact, I think the combination of racism and sexism is particularly toxic when it comes to women's reproductive rights--it isn't just historically oppressed groups that worry about genocide; there have also been arguments that white women need to make more babies, and if not, we need to accept Mexican immigration to keep America's population "Judeo-Christian" and stave off "Islamic . . . militant[s]." When one starts thinking in racialized terms, it's easy to slip from seeing childbearing as a women's prerogative to seeing it as a (white/black/Indian/Christian/etc.) woman's responsibility.

So, once again, ensuring the rights of all women means we have to recognize that the oppression of women intersects with, and is perpetuated by, other forms of oppression: racism, poverty, fundamentalism, and so on. We need to keep finding ways to come together across this shit, to lend one another support, and to figure out ways to cope when women's solidarity generates backlash.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

A couple of random announcements


posted by bitchphd
1. If you were so kind as to send a book to me or PK sometime last fall, I can only say that I completely suck for not having thanked you in person. I hope to rectify my negligence, but in the meantime allow me to explain, if not excuse myself. All the Amazon stuff gets sent, as you probably know, to the boyfriend, and when I visit him about once a quarter I pick it up, along with the packing slips, which of course tell me who the sender is. When I visited last January I brought all the slips home intending to respond to them, and then what with the end of holidays and the new semester and guilt over my holiday cards (still not sent!), I didn't do it in a timely fashion and now I can't find the darn packing slips and have forgotten who sent what! I'm so sorry. Please forgive me and don't interpret my silence up to this point as a lack of appreciation. My bad manners poorly reflect my actual feelings, and I am (as always) really touched and gratified by your generosity.

2. The comment moderation was, as it's been in the past, a troll-handling device. But it's also about something that's been starting to get to me. I really love discussion and debate in comment threads, and think that's the best part of blogging. But for whatever reason, maybe just b/c I'm cranky or not handling it well, comment threads have seemed to me to be deteriorating into fairly simple binaries and arguments, rather than really constructive discussions. This probably has something to do with the topics I've been writing about; part two of this confession is that I'm finding myself a little dissatisfied with my own blogging and would like to get back to some of the issues that initially compelled me to start it in the first place. I never really intended to become Teh Feminist Voice of Teh Internets, though I've been flattered and pleased to play that role. But I'm starting to feel a kind of responsibility and associated anxiety there that's a bit inhibiting in terms of some of the other, more personal (and yet, as always, still political) thinking-through of the Big Issues of ambition and equanimity. I suspect this has something to do with my ongoing ambivalence about my own public voice, and how much it expresses (how much I want it to express, how much I allow it to express) my more personal thoughts. 'Tis something I have to ponder a bit.

Not sure what this means, other than that I'll probably leave moderation on for a while while I think it through. I think I'd like to nudge things a bit more towards thinking aloud, and away from simple dichotomies. So please don't take it too personally if I decide to delete comments that seem to me quarrelsome (or merely flattering, though being only human I'm probably less likely to kill those). It's really not personal; I like quarrels and flattery both. It's more that I think I'm ready to move on to more thoughtful, cooperative seminar-style discussion, if we can manage it.

Maybe we can make it more like summer school. Summer school really should be more fun and relaxed than the rest of the academic year--no less interesting, but perhaps a little more accomodating.

Cecilia Fire Thunder--followup


posted by bitchphd
Do make a point of reading this editorial from Indian Country Today, which a reader/lurker passed on to me. It says a lot of things I agree with about women's reproductive freedom being a power and a responsibility, rather than simply a "choice," and reminds everyone that for Indians in particular, the realities of colonialism, violence, racism and poverty create a context in which abortion is only one part of a much larger problem of women's power and tribal cultural sovereignity. Speaking to an Indian audience, the author says
we need to be careful that our particular cultural perspectives are not represented shallowly in support of a largely non-Native political agenda that does not necessarily respond to the priorities and values of Indian country.
I'd say that the challenge to a predominantly non-Indian audience is to listen and learn: to be careful that our particular cultural perspectives don't just appropriate Fire Thunder's voice on this one goal, but hopefully respond to her support of our needs by learning a bit more about the needs she represents, and offering our support in return.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Goddamn pop culture


posted by bitchphd
Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, what if there were a hundred billion mice?
Me: That would be a lot of mice.
Pseudonymous Kid: A mouse army!
Me: Mmm.
Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, could Daisy destroy the whole mouse army?
Me: Nah.
Pseudonymous Kid: Why not?
Me: Well, mice and mouse-like animals have been around for a long, long, long time. Longer than cats. And none of the cats that have lived has ever managed to kill all the mice.
Pseudonymous Kid: But Daisy is like, the Darth Vader of mice!
Me (finally getting it): What? Silly.
Pseudonymous Kid: She is! She's evil!
Me: Noooooooo! My kitty is not evil!
Pseudonymous Kid: She's on the Dark Side!
Me: Noooo! She's a good kitty!
Pseudonymous Kid (more seriously): Well, she's dark. So that means she's bad!
Me: !!!!!!!!!! Um, no. . . .

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Woot!


posted by bitchphd
First Amendment Ruling for Online Journalists
A California appeals court ruled Friday that online reporters are protected by the same confidentiality laws that protect traditional journalists, striking a blow to efforts by Apple Computer to identify people who leaked confidential company data.
....
the appeals court said online and offline journalists are equally protected under the First Amendment. "We can think of no workable test or principle that would distinguish 'legitimate' from 'illegitimate' news," the opinion states. "Any attempt by courts to draw such a distinction would imperil a fundamental purpose of the First Amendment."
....
If upheld, the ruling could have far-reaching impact in California courts on other writers who publish electronically, including bloggers who regularly publish news and opinion online without the backing of a mainstream news operation.

Attn: NYC readers


posted by bitchphd

(Click for a larger, more legible/printable image.)

Friday, May 26, 2006

Pointless memery


posted by bitchphd

Which Classic Female Literary Character Are you?

You're Elizabeth Bennett of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen!
Take this quiz!




Dorcasina's Jane Eyre.

Insomniac Night of Gothic Terror


posted by Mr.B
3:00 am: I, Mr.B, surf still the web, the good Doctor tries and pretends to sleep:

Daisy : Meow, meow, meeeow.
Dr. B : She wants to be fed.
Mr. B : Ok I'll feed her right after I finish downloading this...
10 minutes later your humble narrater goes and feeds the cat.


3:30 am:
Daisy: Meo-off-wer, mee-ough, merf
Dr. B : (mumbling) Dayz-zee, go show Mr. B whatever you've got.
Mr. B : Here Daisy.

By the pale light of the dimmed down powerbook screen held over the bed's edge, the approaching Daisy is seen to be without prey. Relief.


4:30 am:
Now it's I that tries and pretends to sleep when I feel a sudden clawed pounce at my feet. More clawing and pouncing follow as I sit upright and see the shadowy fight move to the window screen where Daisy is scrambling to catch a winged creature, a not-moth-small winged creature, a brown bat.

I shoo Daisy and the bat flies up and begins its flit flit flitting figure 8 of the bedroom. I close the closet doors one and two. Make the hall door wide open. Put on some clothes. Grab a yesterday's tee shirt from the laundry hamper and manage after several minutes to use the tee shirt as a sail-wall to re-direct the bat's flight toward the hall, closing the bedroom door. I turn on the hall light and get my first good look at the creature. I estimate an at least 10 inch wing span, as its circuit is now going from one end of the short hall to the other repeatedly. Into the good Doctor's study to remove the screen from the window. (I built custom screens last summer to prevent, among other things, bat intrusions. ) Back to the hall where Daisy is excitedly making that "it-it-it" sound cats sometime make at prey as the night flyer passes overhead. Now toro toro and the bat comes unavoidably to land on the tee shirt now quickly folded once to contain the protesting, twitching, squeak-chattering fledermaus. To the window and out with you.

Replacing the screen I realize I'm fully awake, it is closing in on 5 am, and I am sooo hungry.

There was much oversleeping and latenesses later.

The cat's going to the vet.

For your insomniac gothic horror nights, I recommend Nosferatu freely downloadable as well as much else at Internet Archive.

Larry Summers isn't the only (former) university administrator who needs to bone up on feminism, apparently


posted by bitchphd
Some Indian Universities want to institute dress codes--but only for women (sorry, link is for Chronicle subscribers only). "Anna University is the only higher-education institution in India with a strict dress code, but the idea has gained supporters across the nation."
Last June the dean of University of Delhi's Kirori Mal College blamed "revealing dresses" for inciting the off-campus gang rape of a student from northeastern India. He said northeastern students — perceived by some as more Westernized than students from other parts of India — should wear salwar kameez to prevent rapes.
What this statement means is, it seems, even more fucked-up than you'd think:
In February, Farah Aziz Khanum, a graduate student at Aligarh Muslim University, told reporters she was receiving death and rape threats from other students at the university because she wears T-shirts and jeans on the campus. . . . She complained to the vice chancellor, who, she says, did not initially take any action and asked her not to tell anyone about the threats. . . . When Ms. Khanum decided to make her case public, she says a member of the student union threatened her with rape.

Malik Fazle Rab, vice president of the group, flatly denies that. "No member of our union has threatened or harassed Ms. Khanum," he says. "If we talk amongst ourselves or give advice on any issue, that is not harassment."
Aligarh Muslim University doesn't even have a dress code--apparently this is just harassment by conservative students. And yet the vice-chancellor delayed an investigation? What the fuck?

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Still can't find a bra in your size?


posted by bitchphd
You could try making one. Damn impressive and nifty blog, that. These three posts talk in great detail about fit--that first one even tells you the different criteria that different major brands use in sizing their bras. (!)

If you can sew, you could obviously use the info on that site to make a swimsuit, and even if you're not much of a seamstress, you can use it to figure out how to repair or modify bras to get a li'l more wear out of 'em. She's got a short but really good bra blogroll, as well.

Este es America! Aprendes some español, cabrón.


posted by bitchphd
And mientras que lo estás haciendo, how about some Cherokee, Navajo, Pueblo, Snohomish, Zapotec . . . ah, puta madre, how about all of 'em?

Porque otherwise, how can you possibly comprehend nuestra political discourse?

Como? Nos dicen que hay such a thing as . . . translation? Nos dicen que aunque no hablar una lengua, you can still entender complex ideas?

Well. No chingues.

(Gracias á mi hermanita for help with el español.)

Cross-posted at The American Street

We interrupt your day to report that


posted by bitchphd
Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling are going to jail. Hallelujah.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Go tell Norbiz happy fucking blogversary


posted by bitchphd
The inimitable Norbiz writes:
Simply for your information, to pass along if you wish. I think I've commented enough in all y'alls websites that swift, brutal, pent-up reciprocation with extreme prejudice is warranted from you and/or our overlapping readerships. Three years of my shit, without a chance to get even? Good God! What the fuck was I thinking? The "fun" starts at 12:01 am on Thursday and doesn't stop until I decide the experiment completely bombed some 10 hours later.


So getcherself on over there and try your mocking skills against Norbiz. God knows I'm nowhere near as funny as he is, so after hours of pondering, I'll come up with something stupid around 6 p.m. tomorrow. But the man deserves at least one good insult, doesn't he?

(How the hell does anyone blog for three years???)

The Mommy Party


posted by bitchphd
I am so behind the idea that we need to start putting women out in front and promoting a real live feminist platform. This "Mommy Party" label is one we can take and run with, I'm telling you. Blah blah single women, blah blah soccer moms, blah blah security moms, blah blah NASCAR dads? Wanna know how to motivate those folks and get them to the polls? Talk about issues that matter to women and mothers. Talk about issues that matter to families. Cultivate the image of the sitcom mom who knows how to run her damn house, as opposed to the bumbling-ass sitcom guy (::cough::GWB::cough::) who, yeah, sure, he's nice and all but he's a fucking idiot. If the right wants to attack the left as weak and soft and emasculated, run some candidates who don't have to prove their manhood: run some women. Get behind the politically-minded moms (and trust me, few things politicize you like having a kid), talk to the women who know how to organize, read the book, think about how to organize, remind yourself that the March for Women's Lives (which is what that last link is about) was the biggest civil rights march in D.C. history, and cop a fucking clue.

Thus endeth today's political diatribe. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Ask a bitchy feminist!


posted by bitchphd
Let's institute a new ongoing series: Ask a Bitchy Feminist! Yours truly occasionally gets email asking about bra advice, or "how do I get my wife to think about an open marriage" advice, or "omg, I'm pregnant and on the job market, now what?" kind of advice. Usually I write back and say, "well, in my opinion blah blah blah." This might surprise you, except of course that I always love to give my opinion and boss people around.

But anyway, I have been getting bored with some of my own blogging lately, and what the hey, maybe the folks who email me might get better advice from some of you all. And I've always admired Dean Dad's "Ask a Dean" posts.

Wait. Excuse me just a minute. I realize I never properly thanked Dean Dad, or Chris Clarke, for their recent guest-blogging. Thank you guys, both, from the bottom of my heart. Being able to sit on my butt and not worry about political rants or academic "issues" for a couple of weeks was fabulous. Of course, once I got home, I started having to deal with academic politics again, so I forgot to thank you. Please forgive my poor manners.

And let that be a lesson to everyone: academia makes assholes of us all.

Okay, so, where were we? Oh yes, Ask A Bitchy Feminist! Here is the first installment. Feel free to hold forth in comments if you have an opinion. Or even if you don't.

A reader writes:

Dear Bitch,

What do you have to say about underwear for men? I'm getting sick of boxers, and they don't work so well with the low-rise jeans I've taken to wearing lately. Do you have any insight?

Thanks,
Commando?


Dear Commando?,

Good question! What do those hot skinny punk boys wear under their hip-hanging jeans, anyway? Methinks the answer is probably nothing. So there is, as you realize, the commando route. But for all I know there are days when that's not a great plan, or maybe you just like underwear or something, hell if I know. Do boxer briefs have a lower waistband than regular boxers? Whatever you do, don't go for men's bikini underwear or anything awful like that. Even tighty-whiteys are better.

Probably the people to ask here are gay men, not me. But fwiw, my advice is, commando, or boxer briefs. Other than regular boxers (preferably not cut too big), those seem to be the only really acceptable straight guy underwear choices. IMHO.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Don't congratulate me, please


posted by bitchphd
Because, in defiance of all the crappy advice out there about how to quit smoking, I did not set a "quit date"; I did not get rid of my lighters (or even the empty packs, which are still sitting in the porch); I did not tell anyone I was doing it. (Mr. B. didn't notice for three days.) In fact, I did not decide to quit, and I don't think I actually am quitting.

What I think is this. 1) Having run out of the brand of cigarettes I prefer last Wednesday; 2) being unable to get them in Tinytown; and 3) not having a car that's reliable enough to drive to Big City, I am A) too goddamn lazy to take a bus in order to buy fucking cigarettes; B) too goddamn picky to continue to spend money on crappy smokes; and C) too stubborn to allow myself to smoke for any reason but pleasure. Oh, and PK started bugging me to quit a while back, and I told him I would.

So I need to get myself back to the point of being a "social smoker." Which means not smoking lame cigarettes just for the sake of smoking. Only smoking one or two occasionally, when I'm out with someone who happens to have my brand (yes, I know that "social smokers" are the bane of real smokers everywhere, but tough shit: I've always been a generous smoker to my "non-smoking" friends, so now my smoking friends can be generous to me). Only buying a pack my own goddamn self once in a blue, blue moon and then making it last for a couple of weeks.

And not smoking in front of PK, ever.

Or you know, maybe I'm quitting. But I'm not going to admit it. Because I like smoking, darn it. And if I thought the only options were continuing to smoke a couple-three packs a week, or never smoking again, well, I'd stick with a couple-three a week.

So don't congratulate me. Because I'm not quitting. Even though I'm cranky enough--in fact, apparently, I'm crankier than most, lucky me--that I might as well be.

How do you teach people to teach writing?


posted by bitchphd
So my university is currently working on getting more writing into the non-English disciplines, and I'm all for it. In my own department, we're thinking about what this means in terms of training our TAs; we want to give them more information about teaching and assessing writing than we've given them in the past (read: none). Guess who volunteered, like the idealistic dolt that she is, to be in charge of this?

I know that I want the TAs (and undergrads) to think in terms of process; one thing our department doesn't do nearly enough of (read: none, except for me) is have students revise their written work. And I want them to think rhetorically, as well--that is, in terms of the effectiveness of a piece of writing, rather than mechanical crap like grammatical correctness and spelling (I know, I know, but I swear to you that there are profs in my department for whom those are the primary criteria they use to grade student writing). So, in training the TAs to assess student writing, I'm pushing uphill a little bit, because they're going to need (among other things) to assess the content even though some of their supervising faculty are going to want them to be correcting grammar, grammar, grammar.

So. Help me out, oh blogosphere, especially those of you who teach writing or specialize in comp/rhet. What are some good, basic readings on composition and assessment that I can give my TAs in a 2-3 week training course? I need at least one good article demonstrating that correcting grammar isn't the be-all and end-all; I remember learning this myself, and have found it to be true, but since comp isn't my field, I don't know what a good source on it is. (None of our students are ESL, so that's not an issue.) What are the good composition readers that will work for graduate students to give them a basic handle on writing pedagogy without expecting them to have any background in it? Is there a good practical text that discusses things like developing assignments and grading schemes (not that the students will be doing much of this, but I think it would be helpful for them to think about)?

And finally, if anyone has run a program like this, and has advice, feel free to lay it on me.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

La gente unida jamás será dividida


posted by bitchphd
If you missed the piece on Mexican/US immigration in the NYT Week in Review yesterday, check it out: 100 Years in the Back Door, Out the Front. The audio slide show that goes along with it is quite good, too.

Spring can really hang you up the most


posted by bitchphd
Is it just me? Or is anyone else feeling the airless ennui of late spring? Is it an academic affliction--this realization that yay, now the semester's over! Only shit, now I have so much crap to do!--or is it weather-related, or is it just that the novelty's worn off? Am I the only one who feels bored and slightly cranky? Maybe this is just my cruddy little personality, and my delusion that these moods are aberrations merely a demonstration of my assholishness.

Or, whatever. Maybe I'll just put on some Ella Fitzgerald. Wouldn't it be splendid if Madeleine Peyroux covered that tune?

Saturday, May 20, 2006

On the internet, no one knows you're a dog.


posted by bitchphd
A reader recently sent me a link to an online radio show (scroll down to the May 10 episode) about a study done at the University of Maryland that found that internet chatters with feminine names get 25 times more shit than those with masculine names. In fact, "Female usernames, on average, received 163 malicious private messages a day." Here's a link to a .pdf of the article, which will come out in June. (I hope I'm not screwing their server by linking to it--but it's the Institute for Systems Research. They've gotta have a good server, right?)

As I write this, I'm printing up the hundreds of pages of responses I got from my surveys of women and men about gender, pseudonyms, and blogging for an article which is now about a month overdue. (I so suck.) I'll post a little more detailed and proper summary later, once I've finished the article (which is currently at the very top of my "to do" list, so y'all will have to wait. Suck it). But since everything is printing right now and I have to wait for it to finish, the (very) general rundown is this:

Most guys don't think about the gender of their pseuds (or real names) as much as women do. Most women *have* thought about it, whether or not they've chosen to use a pseudonym, and whether or not they've chosen to use one that's gender-neutral. A surprising (to me) number of people, men and women alike, hadn't thought much about their gender presentation on the blog itself--my sense is that this was truer of men than of women, but since I had way more women than men responding, I can't say that this is in any way definitive. Interestingly, women bloggers, at least (as opposed to chatters--or maybe this is just the women who read Bitch, who knows), seem to worry about being harassed more than they actually are harassed. But while one might say, "aha! Women are way more self-conscious about gender shit than they need to be!" the results of Cukler's and Meyer's study cited above suggest to me that 1) women may learn to be self-conscious about gender in other online venues and bring that self-consciousness into blogging; 2) maybe there's a difference when women control the floor of the discussion, so to speak.

It's that second possibility that's the most interesting to me, of course. That and the fact that the results show what I expected them to show, which is that, despite the frequent arguments/worries that people pretend to be something they're not online, in fact, most of the people surveyed do not make any attempts to hide their gender online, even if they use a pseudonym. Most of the people who hadn't thought about it much said in the survey that, upon thinking about it, they had said things that reflected their gender identity; and even those who had thought about it enough to deliberately choose gender-neutral pseudonyms often said that the actual content of their blogs reflected their gender.

I've long suspected that this is often true of anonymous writing, but of course it's impossible to say for sure unless the "anonymous" writing isn't really anonymous--that is, unless you've figured out an attribution. (I have no idea if the same would hold true for things like race, ethnicity, age, or whatever, although it would be very interesting to start to try to find out.) But of course part of the point of asking the question is to draw attention to the facts that we can't assume it, and, hopefully, to begin to figure out some set of text-based criteria to investigate the presumption that "anonymous was a woman," as the saying goes. Because actually I suspect that anonymous was often a man, but that anonymous men eventually get "outed," while anonymous women tended to fade into obscurity.

And on that note, little Miss Buck-the-System will be presenting a paper at the MLA this year, along with Comrade Bérubé, Mr. Kaufman, and Professor Holbo (who also contributes to some obscure thing called Crooked Timber). So if y'all wanna find out, you'll just have to go to Philadelphia next year between Christmas and New Year's.

Woof.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Angry Disapproval of Difference


posted by Mr.B
You may or may not know that my son has beautifully long hair. In any case, now you do and so may better understand at least part of what happened to us today in Value Village.

Me, "scuse me Ma'am. Can you point me to where I might find a raincoat for my son?"

Value Village Woman looks at PK.

VVW, "You mean for her?"

Me, nodding, "For him."

VVW starting to frown, "For HER?"

Me, "This is my son. It is for him."

VVW is now scowling, as though she's been insulted, and curtly directs me to the kid's coats.

PK, "Papa, some people don't believe that I am not a girl even after you tell them."

Me: "Indeed, this is true."

Save Nazanin


posted by bitchphd
Apostropher mentions (in a post you should read for other reasons) the case of Nazanin Mahabad Fatehi. She's an 18-year old Iranian who has been sentenced to death. For stabbing a man to death. Because he and two other men were trying to rape her and her niece.

If they'd succeeded, she could have been subject to prosecution for extra-marital sex.

Her case is being reviewed by the Iranian Supreme Court this week.

Things you can do:

Help spread the story about Nazanin! Tell everyone you know, family, friends and others who might be interested. Direct them to this web page and ask them to take action for Nazanin.

Contact newspapers, TV-channels, blogs and other media and ask them to report this story.

US residents can contact local or national media via NOW.

Write about Nazanin in your own blog, homepage, or in internet forums or chat rooms you frequent.

Put a link to this page in your email signature or at your homepage.

Put one of these banners on your website.

Write the Iranian government or the Iranian embassy of your country , and demand that Nazanin's death sentence is commuted immediately. Read more.

Contact politicians/representatives and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in your country and ask them to pressure Iran to commute the death sentence and free Nazanin. US representatives can be contacted via NOW.

Contact the United Nations Office of Human Rights and ask them to protest.

Sign and spread this petition, started by the Canadian model Nazanin Afshin-Jam.

Buy a T-shirt in support of Nazanin, designed by Lily Mazahery.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

"Feminists are just entitled white women with too much time on their hands."


posted by bitchphd
Has anyone picked up the latest issue of Ms. Magazine? If not, get it; in case you haven't noticed, Ms. has become a fabulous news source for international feminism: this issue's got stories on Israel, the Juárez murders, and the U.S. Mariana Islands, as well as a good overview of Coretta Scott King's career, actual scholarship about the history of Mary Magdalene (as opposed to that appalling DaVinci thing), and a really thought-provoking interview with Deborah Tannen about her latest book, which apparently studies mother-daughter communication. (Their server appears to be down, or I'd link directly to the Ms. website. Anyway, it's not like you don't know what the magazine looks like.)

But the big draw is the cover story, excerpted here. The situation in the Mariana islands has been on the radar since 1998, but it's gotten only spotty coverage at best--and Ms.' article is the latest. The outline, to refresh your memory, is this:

The Marianas are a U.S. commonwealth. Its citizens are Americans, and subject to American laws--mostly. They're not, however subject to U.S. minimum wage or immigration legislation.

What this means, in practice, is that there are garment factories in the Marianas whose products get labelled "Made in the U.S.A.," although the factories that make them might be owned by anyone--often by Chinese companies. More importantly, their workers are largely Asian women who pay "recruiters" thousands of dollars to be brought in without the protection of U.S. immigration law as "guest workers." They have to pay back their "debt," and they also have to pay for housing and food (often supplied by the company they work for)--all out of their sub-minimum wages. Ms. points out that "a worker who owes, say, $5000 to her recruiter has to work" 58 weeks/year, at 40 hours/week, to pay back her debt. Of course, in actual practice, "workers [often] labor six days a week, sometimes up to 20 hours a day," and the incidence of "formal complaints that they have not received their wages, with some women going without paychecks for over five months" is on the rise. Because the Marianas is not subject to U.S. immigration law, however, workers who complain can just be shipped back home; there's no labor protection for these "guest workers."

Nice, huh? The political hook here, so far, has been twofold. First, despite repeated Congressional votes to raise the minimum wage and/or force the Marianas to abide by U.S. immigration law, Jack Abramoff (who was hired as a lobbyist for the Marianas) and his buddy Tom DeLay (scroll down to the bottom of the article for the relevant info) managed to block the legislation. Second, one of the many fucked-up realities of the women workers in the Marianas is that it appears that, if they become pregnant, they're forced, explicitly or implicitly, to have abortions:
According to a 1998 investigation by the Department of Interior Office of insular Affairs, a number of Chinese garment workers reported that if they became pregnant, they were "forced to return to China to have an abortion or forced to have an illegal abortion" in the Marianas.

So the "hook" for this story so far has been Tom Delay supports forced abortions on U.S. territory, more or less. Which is a pretty good hook, and a pretty vile thing to do. But it seems to me that in light of the current immigration debate, there's something else about this story that we really need to be paying attention to: that "guest worker" thing. As Ms. puts it,
The guest worker designation means that these foreign laborers can remian on the islands for an indefinite period but are not eligible for U.S. citizenship. If workers complain about conditions, not only can they be terminated at the whim of their employer, but because they're exempt from U.S. immigration law, they can be summarily deported (36).

In other words, this "guest worker" bullshit is totally not about helping immigrants who want to come to this country and make a decent wage to support families back home. It's about protecting employers from being prosecuted for hiring undocumented workers, while also protecting them from giving up the exploitative power they have over undocumented workers. In fact, what struck me most forcibly about this article was the similarity between the women profiled in it and the family profiled in Enrique's Journey, a book I just finished reading (which, coolness, is also available in Spanish).

Ms.
Of the nearly 30 workers interviewed by Ms., almost all had left children back home with relatives, hoping they'll earn enough in Saipan to finance their offspring's education.
Enrique's Journey
. . . she tells me about four other children. . . . in Guatemala. She left them there, when she ventured north as a single mother to work in the United States.

She has been separated from them for twelve years.

Twelve years? I react with disbelief. How can a mother leave her children and travel more than two thousand miles away, not knowing when or if she will ever see them again? What drove her to do this?

Carmen dries her tears and explains. . . . "They would ask me for food, and I didn't have it."

Immigration, legal or not, is going to happen. Because if you are faced with a choice between feeding your child, teaching it to read, or breaking the law, you're going to break the law. Any decent parent would. The Abramoffs and the DeLays and the Bushes know this perfectly well. They bank on it to put money in their own pockets. That's what this "guest worker" program is all about, what the Marianas sweatshops are all about: figuring out ways to make desperately poor people into profitable commodities--which means keeping them desperately poor. The Abramaoff lobbying scandals, the bribery and corruption scandals that connect Abramoff to DeLay, the Texas redistricting bullshit, the forced abortions in the Marianas, and the National Guard being sent to guard the Texas/Mexico border aren't actually particularly complicated. You don't need to be an expert on fairness to immigrants, or global free trade, or protecting life, or protecting U.S. borders, or any of that high political rhetoric and its popular jingoistic simplification.

All you need to do is pay attention to what women and kids all over the world actually need, and to who, or what, is keeping them from getting it.

Cross-posted at The American Street

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Be still, my beating heart


posted by bitchphd
Thanks to the Knickers blog, I've found a lingerie maker who will custom make bras in your size, if they don't offer it on their web site. AND they seem to make most of their underwear in boy short styles as well as the ubiquitous thong and the ass-crawling bikini.

Now, they're not cheap. But they are pretty. And for a proper fit, hey. And they have a 60-day return policy. Very, very worth bookmarking.

Forever Pregnant update: CDC good, WaPo evil


posted by bitchphd
Okay. Thanks to the commenter who pointed us all over to Pandagon, where Amanda actually bothered to look up the CDC report the WaPo article talks about, we find out that it is not the CDC, but the WaPo, which is evil and sexist. In fact, it seems to me that the CDC report is probably the kind of thing they come out with all the time, without anyone bothering to pick it up, and that in this case the WaPo picked it up in order to be deliberately inflammatory--as well as, to be fair, because public concern for "prepregnant women" is at an all-time high right now.

Amanda points out that
the recommendation is not to scold all women between 12 and 60 never to drink or smoke or own a fucking cat. In fact, while there’s not a lot of language in the actual report condoning social control of all women as a health care initiative, there’s a whole shitload of suggestions to doctors that they discuss the importance of spacing children and preventing unplanned pregnancies. Prepregnancy visits are also encouraged, which again indicates that these guidelines are more about doctors telling women to take conception and pregnancy seriously than they are trying to imply that doctors should assume all women are equal pregnancy risk.

And the report specifically singles out the fact that many women can’t afford to see a doctor on a regular basis as a factor contributing to infant health problems."
In fact, the first paragraph of the report states clearly that "The goal of these recommendations is to improve the health of women and couples"--an unimpeachable goal. Women's health good! And notice the language w/r/t a couple of specific recommendations:
Isotretinoins. Use of isotretinoins (e.g., Accutane®) in pregnancy to treat acne can result in miscarriage and birth defects. Effective pregnancy prevention should be implemented to avoid unintended pregnancies among women with childbearing potential who use this medication (65--67). . . .
Anti-epileptic drugs. Certain anti-epileptic drugs are known teratogens (e.g., valproic acid). Recommendations suggest that before conception, women who are on a regimen of these drugs and who are contemplating pregnancy should be prescribed a lower dosage of these drugs (74--78).
They are not saying that women shouldn't use Accutane, or teratogens. What they're saying is that if you use Accutane, it's important to use reliable birth control, and if you have epilepsy and want a kid, your doctor should try lowering your teratogen dosage to lower your risk of birth defects. Basic common sense.

Although I do have a bit of a problem, still with the statement that "No time during pregnancy is safe to drink alcohol, and harm can occur early, before a woman has realized that she is or might be pregnant. Fetal alcohol syndrome and other alcohol-related birth defects can be prevented if women cease intake of alcohol before conception." While factually true, it's rather misleading in presenting alcohol use as an all-or-nothing proposition.

But that's really a minor quibble. It seems to me that the biggest news here isn't the CDC; it's the interpretation of this document in the broader context of increasingly conservative ideas that women are primarily baby-factories and mothers, rather than actual human beings whose health care matters for its own sake. Luckily the CDC (and, in my experience, most health care providers, especially in women's health) still belong to the reality-based community.

I'd fail him


posted by bitchphd
Case in point: Mark Steyn.

Compare this post, and this one, both by Geoffrey Pullum, to this review, ostensibly "by" Mark Steyn. Or, if you're lazy, just read this post, by Geoff's co-blogger, Mark Liberman, which points out the similarities and parallels for you.

Geoff, whose work Steyn obviously copied, wrote to Steyn asking only for credit and acknowledgment. Steyn's assistant wrote to Geoff threatening a lawsuit, apparently, if Geoff pursued it. Pursued what? Asking politely for credit for his work? Why do these right-wing assholes always threaten to sue the people they're offending?

Anyway, this story seems to me tailor-made for the blogosphere and the court of public opinion. As a friend of mine pointed out when I was talking to him about this case, while blogs aren't all that great about original reporting, usually (bloggers lacking both the resources and the training of journalists), we are often extremely good at textual analysis. And we're also good at soliciting the court of public opinion.

So you tell me: is Mark Steyn a plagiarist?

Oops. Ironically, my original post neglected to say that I heard about this at Unfogged.














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Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Forever Pregnant


posted by bitchphd
Holee Mother of god, pray for us.
New federal guidelines ask all females capable of conceiving a baby to treat themselves -- and to be treated by the health care system -- as pre-pregnant . . .
....
The idea of preconception care has been discussed for nearly 20 years, experts said, but it has drawn more attention recently. Progress toward further reducing the rate of unhealthy pregnancy results, including premature birth, low birthweight and infant mortality, has slowed in the United States since 1996 "in part because of inconsistent delivery and implementation of interventions before pregnancy to detect, treat and help women modify behaviors, health conditions and risk factors that contribute to adverse maternal and infant outcomes," according to the report.

Nearly 28,000 U.S. infants died in 2003, according to the National Center for Health Statistics (NCHS). The infant mortality rate increased in 2002 for the first time in more than 40 years to seven deaths per 1,000 live births, but it did not change significantly in 2003. Birth defects, low birthweight and sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) were the leading causes of infant death in 2003, according to NCHS.
Yes. "Healthier women have healthier pregnancies." But healthier women are also healthier. Not that we give a shit about women's health. How many women died in 2003 from inadequate health care?

Who gives a rat's ass?

God this pisses me off so fucking much.

For the record: I got pregnant in my mid-30s. I didn't know I was pregnant for two months, during which time I went out drinking with my girlfriends every Friday night. I did not take folic acid or any kind of vitamins at all. I smoked. After I found out I was pregnant, I shopped around until I found an ob/gyn who would tell me what the actual risks of drinking, etc., were, as opposed to saying simply "well, you shouldn't." Informed with actual knowledge of the risks (really quite minimal--FAS happens, basically, if you drink daily and/or binge drink weekly), I had a glass of wine or a beer when I felt like it throughout the pregnancy. I also ate sushi, almost daily in the last few months (no such thing as too much protein, apparently). I dyed my hair. (Did you know there's no evidence that dying your hair can harm a fetus? No, neither did I, givevn the way people tell you not to do it. But apparently, there is no evidence for that. Women who work in salons wear gloves if they're pregnant, but their exposure is way, way higher than yours is if you dye your hair once a month, obviously.)

I did quit smoking, although since PK weighed over 10 pounds, I told the nurse who helped wheel me into the operating room that obviously that had been a mistake (she was snippy about it and had no sense of humor, which I thought was quite lame of her, considering that I was the one going in for a C-section and I could still appreciate a joke).

Have you ever noticed, by the way, the health warnings on the sides of beer bottles and on the walls in bars? Drinking "may impair your ability" to drive--here you go (implied) man, here is some information with which you can make a responsible decision. In contrast, pregnant women "should not drink." That's right, little lady, we're just gonna tell you what to do, even though the risks of FAS are less than the risks of drinking and driving. Hell, maybe because the risks of FAS are less than the risks of drinking and driving--after all, if we admitted that, we'd have to admit we don't have a lot of grounds for bossing you around.

Dear god almighty. The federal government thinks all "females"--that's what we are, ladies, biological specimens, not people. Not women. All females who are "capable of conceiving a baby"--not becoming pregnant, "conceiving a baby"--are to treat themselves, and be treated, as "pre-pregnant." The federal government. From pubescence through menopause. Throughout highschool, college, and most of one's career.

My 50s can't come soon enough.

Update: Since this post is getting linked, please see the update as well.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Pseudonymous Kid thinks for himself


posted by bitchphd
Not that that's always good. Or charming.

Scene: 1:00 a.m.

Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, I'm Thirsty! And hungry!
Me: PK, go to sleep.
Pseudonymous Kid: I can't! I'm too thirsty!
Me (a little thirsty myself, to be fair): Oh, god, all right.
Pseudonymous Kid: Get me a snack too!
Me: NO. (I go into the bathroom to look for the water cup. It's not there.) Shit. Is the water cup gone? (I go look in the bedroom. No cup.)
Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, if you have to go downstairs anyway. . .
Me (heading downstairs): PK, don't push your luck.
Pseudonymous Kid (calling after me): Mama! Get me a snack, too! Some cheese!*
Me: (grumble, grumble.)
Pseudonymous Kid: Please...?
Me: Oh, okay.

I bring up a cup of water and a slice of cheese.

Me: Here. Eat this and then go to sleep.
Pseudonymous Kid: Thank you.

Five minutes later.

Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, some cheese went up my nose!
Me: Drink some water.
Pseudonymous Kid: What? It's up my nose!
Me: Well, drink some water, maybe that'll wash it down.
Pseudonymous Kid: No, it didn't go up my nose that way. I put it up my nose.
Me: You what?! (Turning on the light.) Damn it. Next time you tell me at one a.m. that you are hungry and want a snack, PK, I am going to say, "remember last time you wanted a snack at one a.m.? And you put cheese up your nose?" And I will not bring you a snack.
Pseudonymous Kid: What's wrong with cheese up your nose?

*We have allowed cheese as the authorized post-tooth-brushing snack, on the grounds that the bacteria in the cheese will take on any bad, tooth-decay type pieces of leftover food. I have no idea if this is strictly true, but I like it in theory.

Springtime, and a young lady's thoughts turn lightly to poetry


posted by bitchphd
God bless JP, who is having another poetry contest festival--this time, haiku, which is way better than limericks. Go on over and try your hand at it: remember, 5/7/5, although JP prefers haiku with a slight imperfection in one line, and says that real Japanese haiku is all about terseness, not a specific syllable count. Or you can do a senryuu, which is the same as haiku, except funny instead of all about the beauty of nature. I'm going to go with terseness, b/c I can't be bothered with scansion.

Spring, thank god.
I may survive
next winter.

Spring means
cat puke
underfoot.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Why I didn't post anything for Mother's Day


posted by bitchphd
I actually kind of find this holiday annoying. Usually it means spending all day with PK, because he of course adores his mama and wants her Mother's Day to be special. Which is very sweet, but exhausting. And often Mr. B. is engaged in making some kind of surprise (in this case a really quite delicious lemon chiffon cake) which means that PK is at loose ends, i.e., completely free to spend all day with me.

I know, I know, I'm an ungrateful, awful, wretch of a human being. I didn't even call my own mother today, though I suppose there's a remote chance I'll do that before the day is out (don't count on it, though). I also found out today that my dear aunt, who has M.S., is really entering what look like the terminal stages of the disease--she called 911 the other day to report that she'd been kidnapped because she couldn't figure out what she was doing in the assisted living home she's been in for months now. Sigh. I should call her too.

Even cheerier news: Orange reported today that Jessica of Cancer, Baby--who really, really, really wanted to be a mother--died on Friday. Of ovarian cancer. At the age of 33.

Bleah. Happy Mother's Day, indeed. Mama would just as soon have skipped it.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Pseudonymous Kid, literalist


posted by bitchphd
Pseudonymous Kid wakes up from a (rare!) nap a little fussy, comes and climbs in my lap, and I rock him a bit while he recovers from the groggies.

Me: PK, did you have a bad dream?
Pseudonymous Kid: No. Yes, sort of.
Me: What was it about?
Pseudonymous Kid: It's too complicated to tell.
Me: Was it a sad dream, or a scary one?
Pseudonymous Kid: Scary, kind of.

We rock some more.

Pseudonymous Kid: My dream was kind of like a printout of my day.
Me: Ah. Yeah, sometimes dreams are like that; just processing things that have been happening in real life.
Pseudonymous Kid: Sometimes I kind of knew I was dreaming, I think.
Me: Isn't it odd when that happens?
Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, are you sure that I'm not dreaming now?
Me: Do you mean, is this real? Am I really rocking you?
Pseudonymous Kid: Yeah, that's what I mean.
Me: Yes, this is real. You're not dreaming.
Pseudonymous Kid: Are you certain?
Me: Yes.
Pseudonymous Kid: Good.

We rock some more.

Pseudonymous Kid: Mama, how come people sometimes think dreams are true?
Me: Well, dreams are kind of your brain thinking about things while you sleep. So sometimes if you're worried about something, or you're trying to make a decision, your brain tries to solve those things for you while you're sleeping. Sometimes you dream about things you want, or things you like, too.
Pseudonymous Kid: Like, give me an example.
Me: Well, hm. Okay, here's one. A long time ago, I remember having a dream where I was trying to play golf on the side of a mountain. And there were red and gold dragons flying overhead. And I was scared of the dragons, and scared of not doing well playing golf, because the mountain was steep. But the dragons were beautiful, too, and in fact I was playing pretty good golf. I was just scared. When I woke up, I told your Papa about it, and he said it was a dream about applying to graduate school, because I had this dream many years ago, when I was applying to graduate school to learn how to be a professor. He said that the dream was about me wanting to do it, because the dragons were so beautiful, but being scared of it, too. And that in the dream, I was reassuing myself that it would be okay because I was playing golf well, despite being scared.
Pseudonymous Kid (after thinking for a minute or two): I don't think those things are true. I think dreams are just like television you watch when you're asleep. They don't mean anything. They can't tell you what will happen. They're just dreams.
Me (chuckling): Okay.

Fun book


posted by bitchphd
So one of the perks of being an Important Blogger is getting books and stuff to review. Of course, one of the downsides of being a neurotic academic is that getting stuff to review makes me feel a crushing sense of obligation, which means that I get all stressed out about "having" to write a review. Sometimes I end up so wrapped around the axle that I blow it off, but I keep telling myself that the whole review thing, like blogging in general, is good practice for me on the writing front and that hopefully repeated exposure to the source of my stress will teach me what I already know, which is that reading books and writing about them is not exactly a life-threatening activity.

Anyway. In addition to its many other virtues, Alison Bechdel's Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic seems purpose-written for the angsty reviewer. There's no question that pretty much everyone who reads this blog already loves Bechdel; graphic novels don't count as "serious" reading, so one can just enjoy the damn thing already; and of course, before y'all jump my shit, Fun Home, in fact, does some "serious" things seriously well. (Although if, like me, you have a hangup sometimes about "serious reading," you can ignore the literary/artistic virtues of the thing and just enjoy the pictures and the plot. Nuthin' wrong with that.)

Fun Home has an explicit debt to Charles Addams. Most of it takes place in Bechdel's childhood home, a hyper-historically conscious restored 19th-century Victorian ("Gothic revival"), or in the funeral home her family owned (really!). The plot is autobiographical: a memoir of her childhood and her father, "a manic-depressive, closeted fag" who either killed himself or died in an accident shortly after Bechdel came out to her parents and her mother asked for a divorce. I mean really, who wouldn't want to read a gothicy story about repression, family secrets, and playing in a funeral home?

What's neat, though, is that as you're reading it, you become more and more aware of the particular virtues of the visual medium for this particular story--which is all about doubling, reflections, what's seen and unseen, surfaces and depths. Bechdel's dad is a closeted gay English teacher whose passion is home restoration: Bechdel is a famous lesbian author whose métier is illustrating domestic life. He tries to dress her like a Victorian doll; she wants a custom-made men's shirt with French cuffs. In addition to Bechdel's drawings, Fun Home contains reproductions of her father's letters to her mother, in what I suppose is his actual handwriting. It's also got pieces from Bechdel's own childhood diaries, newspaper clips, and passages from books they shared, including the books' marginalia. For a picture book (oh, all right, "graphic novel"), it ends up being remarkably text-conscious: Ulysses (and its lesbian publishers), Camus, Colette, Fitzgerald, the Icarus legend--all end up as key symbols and touchstones in the course of the narrative. There's a good case quietly made here for the literary role of graphic novels and the marriage of words and images, along with and underlying the thoughtful musings on the relationships between various dichotomies like masculine and feminine, gay and lesbian, queer and straight, children and adults, families-of-origin and families-of-choice, appearances and labels, stories and history, signifiers and the signified.

In other words, Fun Home tells us new stuff about Bechdel herself, but at the same time reminds us of why we all like her already. She's really fun, and really smart; she tells a good story and makes you think at the same time.

You can catch her reading from Fun Home at one of these places.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Didja miss me?


posted by bitchphd
Pseudonymous Kid sure did! He's been on his sweetest behavior. I'd say he's also been at his clingiest, but in fact he's been trying hard not to cling in part because he's so happy to have me home he doesn't want to annoy me.

PK: "Mama, did you notice that when you came into the bus station, I was really excited, but I didn't run at you and grab your legs?"
Me: "Yes, sweetie, I did notice. I'm glad you didn't knock me over. And I really missed, you, too."

It was a bit of a "deal" getting him off to school this morning--"Mama! Come with me!" "PK, I'll be here when you get back in a couple of hours!"--but off he is, and now my attention turns to overdue recommendation letters, overdue articles, overdue social correspondence, backed-up email. Sometimes one wishes writing had never been invented.

But I'd better get to it, b/c Mr. B. has asked me to pick PK up from school in a scant three hours so that he (Mr. B.) can get something going with painting the hallway and stairwell something other than the hideous pea-soup green we've been living with since we bought this place. I figured I'd check in with y'all first, though, to say yes, I'm finally back--a couple days behind schedule (such being the consequences of living without a car and thus having to spend the night in Big City with friends before busing home the following day) but well-rested and with a couple-few post ideas, even, percolating. Stay tuned for:

- a review of Alison Bechdel's new book;
- a review of a documentary about the March for Women's Lives;
- a review of the latest issue of Ms.;
- a formal public thank-you and run-down of who I met, how it was, and what we did;
- a proper thank-you and acknowledgement of the hard-working guest-bloggers (thanks guys!);
- perhaps some musings on the boyfriend and/or the long-distance relationship in general;
- more PK cuteness;
- probable mild kvetching about my job;
- hopefully, Mr. B.'s permission pending, some thoughts on domesticity, work, blah blah;
- podetre some drafty ideas for possible Things I Want To Write this summer.

I'm just hoping that I can retain my currrent mood, which is surprisingly relaxed despite a busy mind that, for once in my life, doesn't rise to the level of anxiety; merely a comfortable sense that there are Many Good Thoughts to Process and the hope that I'll be able to structure my time so as to process them while re-entering (and helping recreate) an orderly pattern of home life.

Wish me luck.

Someone's On the Phone...


posted by Dean Dad
Via Scrivener, Matt Yglesias said it better than I could...

One thing the Bush administration says it can do with this meta-data is to start tapping your calls and listening in, without getting a warrant from anyone. Having listened in on your calls, the administration asserts that if it doesn't like what it hears, it has the authority to detain you indefinitely without trial or charges, torture you until you confess or implicate others, extradite you to a Third World country to be tortured, ship you to a secret prison facility in Eastern Europe, or all of the above. If, having kidnapped and tortured you, the administration determines you were innocent after all, you'll be dumped without papers somewhere in Albania left to fend for yourself.


Of course, the Bush administration would never use trumped-up evidence to go after someone, so that's good.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

It is not a choice: it is a shitty, dangerous job


posted by Chris Clarke
A month ago I was headed for the Mojave through Kern County, California — any Kern County readers here? Buttonwillow, Bakersfield, Boron: Represent! — and driving up over the long slope of the Tehachapi Mountains in the early evening I almost got smeared by a big rig whose driver decided to change lanes suddenly without signaling.

I was too busy turning my truck back to an orientation parallel to the flow of traffic to get the complaint number off the back of the semi, but the place I stayed in that night had Wi-Fi. I googled the company to see if I could find a complaint number.

It was Covenant Transport out of Chattanooga, Tennessee. If you've logged more than six hours driving on highways in the US you've seen a Copvenant Transport truck. They're the ones with the anti-abortion slogan on the back: "It is not a choice: it is a child!" Naturally, I was predisposed to hate them even before they tried to kill me.

But a funny thing happened when I Googled Covenant Transport. I found The Ripoff Report, a consumer and employee protection site. And my goodness! Was I ever shocked to hear that a fine, upstanding Christian firm such as Covenant Transport of Chattanooga, Tennessee has been accused of treating its workers like disposable tools.

For instance, there's Andrew from Neoga illinois, who reports:

I had the displeasure of working for Covenant Transport as a driver for 6 months and I can tell you first hand and my feelings are that they are the worst trucking company you can ever work for. ... I had trouble with them right after training, they put me with another student for my 30 day teaming. They gave us a truck in the New Jersey terminal and it was in horrible shape, we had 7 bad drive tires with the wires exposed and the only reason it wasnt 8 was because they had us go get a flat tire replaced. On top of the tires we had no air conditioning, the roof leaked, and the injectors were bad. When they finally dispatched us on a load after 6 days they told us to drive the truck back to Chattanooga in that condition. Me and my partner refused to drive the truck like that and they finally gave us a bus ticket to Youngstown to pick up an abandoned truck to drive.


A colleague, Jeff from Fort Wayne, responds:

People talk all the time about Swift, Werner, England, and J.B. Hunt, but I'm convinced that Covenant Transport is the lowest outfit to work for. It's amazing that a company that goes out of its way to advertise its religious affiliations would resort to lies & deception to bleed the last nickel from a former employee. Covenant Transport is the embodiment of all that is wrong and corrupted within the trucking industry itself. This company is a cancer that should be removed.


There's more there too, about pay shorting and tolerating of sexual harassment and dangerous working conditions.

I am tempted to quote a cliché from Casablanca — tempted to quote a cliché from Casablanca! — to hear that a Christian pro-life firm's employee policy would be so far out of line with the alleged teachings of that Christ guy. I guess it''s true, what Carol Rose Livingstone wrote in her song. Because it couldn't be true that the owner is just milking the fundy schtick to drum up business, could it?

Anyway, I didn't narc on the driver. I figured he or she had enough problems.

The Two Inexorable Laws of Academia


posted by Dean Dad
1. No change shall be effected without extensive, thorough, and painstaking inclusion of faculty.

2. Faculty shall be left alone at all times.

There's a larger lesson here about politics, actually...

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Food post


posted by Chris Clarke
I get pretty tired of reading bad news for a living, and so I've been stoked to hear about the spread of a new environmental and political direct action campaign that provides a positive solution to a serious problem in a fun way.

Most of the food that most of us eat travels farther than you might think from farm to table. I'm not just talking about ripe fruit from Chile in the winter here. I myself have unwittingly bought tomatoes that were picked in California, shipped to Massachusetts for packaging, and then brought back to California for sale. Figuring a diesel semi gets around 5 miles per gallon, that's about 1200 gallons of fuel for one truckload's round trip. The US burns millions of gallons of fuel each year just moving food cross-country, and the notion of eating seasonal produce seems to be dying out with the local family farm. And produce picked early eanough that it can travel cross country before it ripens just tastes bad. Compare the best supermarket tomato you can find with an ordinary one from a backyard garden. The difference is astonishing.

There's more information on this issue available at the WorldWatch Institute site, including a link to Brian Halweil's book on the subject.

So what's got me stoked? More and more people are trying to eat food grown as close to locally as possible. Some of them have issued the Eat Local Challenge, which runs through May. I've been surprised to see a number of people jumping on the produce wagon. Kimberly in Seattle is one of them, and she's got recipes.

With the number of readers Dr. Bitch has and the general political sensibilities among us, I'm betting some of you have given this issue a bit of thought in the past. Is anyone here taking part in this, either as part of the Eat Local Challenge or as part of a general ethic or aesthetic?

Eating seasonally is easy where I live: it rarely freezes, and the only foods I eat regularly that I'd have to go without if I ate totally locally would be coffee, bananas, and durian. How do you folks in the frozen East and North contend with seasonal lack of fresh food? Does the eat local movement consign cold-climate women to slaving over hot canning jars? (I mean get real. It's not like men are gonna leap up and volunteer to do it.) Hungry minds want to know.

The Boy, Protest Singer


posted by Dean Dad
Appropos of yesterday's discussion, The Boy seems to have a head start on the 'musician' thing. Last night at dinner:


"Daddy, I made up a song. It’s called 'Chicken Stir-Fry? Nah!'"

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack


posted by Mr.B
Fun. PK was not allowed to watch. It is not for kids.

Heroine of the week


posted by bitchphd
Matt, who says he got it from Anita, sent me a link to Diana's blog. Diana is apparently the Feminist Academic Scandal of the Moment, because a couple of sophomoric students (full disclosure: I have no idea if they were actually sophomores) told some hard-up NBC affiliate that she, Dr. Blaine, had--omg!!!--pictures of her breasts on her Flikr site! Up where Impressionable Young Minds and The Public and God and Everyone can see them! Tsk, tsk, Dr. Blaine. (Needless to say, the "news" article linked saves its readers the trouble of looking through her entire Flikr photo set and gives us the naked pictures directly, nipples airbrushed out for the better protection of God and Everyone.)

Shameless hussy that she is, though, Diana posts on said blog (why do people think that academics with blogs won't, in the end, have the last word?) a remarkably self-possessed "Boring Lecture from the Naked Lady." (Don't miss her earlier post about growing up while you're over there.) I'm too lazy, and my internet connection is too dialuppy, to bother to check out her no doubt fine naked self, but I think I'm a little bit in love.

Nice Guys and Bad Boys, or, "You're Like My Brother!"


posted by Dean Dad
Aunt B has a characteristically thought-provoking post over at tiny cat pants about the need for white men to be able to consider themselves (ourselves) ‘nice guys,’ and how limiting that need is when you’re actually trying to make some rhetorical or political progress.

Taking it in a different direction, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the bane of my teens and twenties, the ‘nice guy’ vs. ‘bad boy’ syndrome. (It’s sort of a second cousin to madonna/whore.)

Since the collective wisdom of the blogosphere dwarfs my own, and I won’t have the chance to reach this many readers for much longer, I’ll pose a topic to the group and see what happens. In those crucial formative years, ‘nice guy’ equates to loser, wimp, the guy whose shoulder the girl cries on when the selfish bastard she really wants cheats on her with her best friend. Nice guys out there – you know who you are – is there a more deflating phrase in the English language than “you’re like my brother”?

Nope. Thought not.

The dichotomy becomes more nuanced and easier to negotiate with age. Eventually, traits like ‘not being a complete dick’ come to be seen as positive. With maturity, it becomes possible to integrate confidence with consideration, to aspire to something like mensch-hood. But it takes a while, and attitudes formed early die hard.

Wise readers of Bitch – what’s the appeal of the Bad Boy? And is there a way to prevent the formation of really destructive attitudes in those crucial early-teen years? Kids that age are the shock troops of gender conformity, among other things, and not prone to nuance. And as The Boy reaches school age, I shudder to imagine him going through what my friends and I went through. I don’t want him to be a complete dick, but I don’t want him to endure the eunuch-like existence of the ‘nice guy,’ either. And if I can prevent The Girl from developing all-consuming crushes on felons, all the better.

The nearest I can come up with is the lack of avenues to individuate oneself in a positive way at that age (other than sports). If you aren't a gifted jock, the most effective and available avenue for guys to stand out is random defiance, which is most convincingly carried out by complete jerks. At fifteen, good grades are not sexy. So if you're not a sports star and not a complete jerk, you just kind of blend into the wallpaper. With age, this problem fades as life becomes fuller and the opportunities for self-definition greater, but by then the psychic damage has been done.

Your thoughts?

Monday, May 08, 2006

Can't resist


posted by bitchphd
Quotation of the day, from Inside Higher Ed: "being hot and easy don’t necessarily go together."

You know it, baby.

Your elevated blood selenium levels indicate a preference for long walks on the beach


posted by Chris Clarke
At Punkassblog, which has an oddly familiar masthead, Kyso K. fills out an online dating form so that you don't have to.

“You know,” you’ve said to me a hundred times if you’ve said it to me once, “I’m really interested in looking into online dating. But those sites are so uninspired! Age, appearance, location, education…are those the only things that matter about a person? Is there any way to take current online dating techniques and cross them with the SAT, a pseudo-scientific personality exam and maybe some graphic sliders? Match.com and the Onion’s personal ads didn’t do it for me, and I’d like to believe it was because they never saw the *real* me.”

Why yes! Match.com combines the fun of making an online dating profile with the tedium of taking an inexplicable standardized test-they call it Chemistry.com, because calling it SameCrapDifferentMarketing.com didn’t get past the focus groups.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

And on the subject of writers not fully aware of their talent


posted by Chris Clarke
I give you Strawberry Shortcake And The Wolves And The Bats, by Mona.

Caveat Bloggor


posted by Chris Clarke
The folks at Medgadget have posted an interesting warning about BlogBurst, which bills itself as "a syndication service that places your blog content on top-tier online destinations." BlogBurst's business plan is straightforward. Bloggers who want their content syndicated sign up and agree to give BlogBurst:

... a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual license to reproduce, distribute, make derivative works of, perform, display, disclose, and otherwise dispose of the Work (and derivative works thereof) for the purposes of (a) modifying the Work without substantially changing its original meaning, and (b) distributing the Work (and derivative works thereof) to Publisher electronic web sites or corresponding printed editions, whether now known or hereafter devised.


BlogBurst then sells the bloggers' content to publishers. At this writing, papers in San Francisco, Washington DC, Houston, Austin, and San Antonio have signed up, as well as Gannett and Parade.com. The material appears with the bloggers' bylines and a link back to the originating blog. BlogBurst and its publishers split any advertising revenue generated by the content.

What does the blogger get out of this? A link. The promise of traffic. Um, that's pretty much it. And that promise, in the experience of a couple people who've signed up with BlogBurst, a bit optimistic. The clients republish the blog posts in full. Without a "read more" link, there's little incentive for readers to click through to the originating blog. What's worse, the nature of Google ranking pretty much ensures that participating blogs will show up well below the republishers in Google searches. This means signing your blog up with BlogBurst could actually lead to a drop in traffic.

There's a rather nasty feature of the syndication which I assume is an unanticipated glitch. Syndicated content includes any images in the original post. BlogBurst doesn't mirror the image files: they remain on your server. In essence, BlogBurst sets up extremely high-volume hotlinks to images on your site, and if you're not using an image-hosting service like Flickr, you might find yourself running out of bandwidth a couple hours after Gannett publishes your photo of the pad thai at the new restaurant in Cedar Rapids. Or you might wind up with an extra hundred bucks on your bandwidth bill. Especially if you don't take care to reduce the file size of your images. Great deal, huh? Run out of bandwidth without anyone knowing your site is there.

BlogBurst's executives say that they hope someday to be able to offer remuneration to participating bloggers. They may well be sincere in saying so. Maybe you can get your web host to accept second-hand hope as payment for your bandwidth.

I edit a magazine for a living. For the most part, we don't pay writers. I'm continually having to ask people to donate their writing. One of the things I use as a selling point in asking for donations of writing is increased exposure. Most of the time I don't have to point that out: people who write want their work read. But all I ever ask for is one-time print and web publication, and I'm flexible on that second one.

BlogBurst is taking advantage of bloggers who're so eager to get their names out there — and, often, unnecessarily uncertain of the worth of their writing — that they'll hand over a lifetime license to their work for nothing.

This pisses me off. If your writing is good enough for a major daily or chain to want to put it on their website, it's good enough that they'll pay you for it rather than BlogBurst. (I speak from experience here, having parlayed a cold call to my local paper's Home and Garden section editor into a brief and ridiculously underpaid, and yet still paid, nationally syndicated garden column a few years back.)

No writer should ever sign a contract like the one BlogBurst offers unless they're being paid. I don't care how uncertain you are of your writing, how nervous you are about asking for money. Don't do it.

Hat tip: Grrlscientist at Living the Scientific Life.

The Mind of The Boy


posted by Dean Dad
Today we made the trek to see Grandma, since we can’t go next weekend for Mother’s Day. The Boy insisted on making a storybook for Grandma. I know I’m biased, but for a four-year-old, I think it was pretty cool.

He took two sheets of paper, and taped them together on the short sides so they’d fold in like a book. On the first page, he colored a black background with planets and stars of various colors, and wrote underneath “Explore the Universe with [TB].” On the next page, a similar picture with TB and Grandma standing on a rocket, and the caption “I Hope We Get Back!”

As soon as he learns to type, we have to get The Boy a blog.

Dogs Playing Poker


posted by Mr.B
What do prostitutes do at a poker game?

Obviously you've never been to Singapore.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

The Hooker Resurgence


posted by Mr.B
Wonkette loves this story.

So does the blogosphere in general, 40,600 google hits as I write this.

But the Press? Only 23 GoogleNews hits.

Lots of fun reading with anticipation of scandal revealing greater scandal.

Hell, some folks are trying to link CIA chief Goss' resignation to this. I say that's a stretch, but we'll see.

Goss' appointment of Foggo to the Agency's #3 position and Foggo's ties to Wilkes (best friends, or some such closeness) and Foggo's being under investigation by the CIA Inspector General for suspect contractor deals some of which may have been with firms related to Wilkes, and Foggo's reportedly self announced upcoming resignation all seem pretty ripe to burst with revelations. But, again, we'll see.

But as to the way this is being reported, I'm slightly surprised to see so much use of the word "hooker." "Prostitute" is still the leader in my informal unscientific survey. Followed by a, to me, unexpectedly strong showing by "hooker". It's as if many suddenly and simultaniously found a new funnest-word-to-say. And so they say it, repeatedly. "Hooker."

Now the other parties at these parties are high power players, bribed/extortionist Congressmen, lobbyist/briber businessmen, and possibly corrupt deputy director level bureaucrats. And the sex workers are picked up in limos, delivered to expensive hotels. Is it just me, or does this context not suggest the word "escort?" Yet I can find that only in the context of "women working for escort services."

Of course, the good doctor herself has here oft referred to some of her favorite footwear as "hooker" boots, so maybe this is a small part of the resurgence of "hooker", ( though, for my money, I think "prostitute boots" has a nice ring to it, and the advantage of potentially being shortened to " 'tute boots." Put that in your mouth and say it. Fun, ain't it? )

What do you think?

Sad for the CIA


posted by Mr.B
I feel for the poor CIA.

Beat down by 9/11 failures and pre-war intelligence failures including the whole Iraqi WMD fiasco, and newly subjugated to the Director of National Intelligence, the CIA needed change.

Heads were gonna roll. People were gonna get pissed off. Some people with vital skills would have to go because presumably some would not be able to adjust to the necessary institutional changes. But change was necessary, strike that, improvement was necessary.

I mean it was like any other gaping hole in national security that had to be mended, put right, like disaster preparedness and response, and airport, seaport, and border security. Money was and is pouring out from the federal government to fix all these issues, including the CIA.

And what the CIA needed most was new strong leadership, to restore morale and ethics, ensure operations were unreproachably within the law, improve interoperability with other agencies, improve procedures, carefully manage the rebuilding of HUMINT capabilities, and insist on carefully requiring multiple source confirmations of even the tastiest source.

What they got instead was Goss and his coattail riding cronies like Foggo who, when they weren't partying with "defense" contractors, were fucking up what remained of the CIA. This has apparently led to the resignations of vital people who weren't, after all, put off by too-hard-to-adapt-to improvements, but rather, by having to work for disasterously incompetent ignorant asshole bosses.

Goss resigned yesterday. Now there will be a new Director of the CIA. Think Bush will appoint someone who can do the job? I'd guess that's highly unlikely.

Of course, it'll likely take years for us to know whether the next Director does a good job, or, a bad one.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Frontiers of Mom-Blogging


posted by Chris Clarke
A little advance pointer: The folks at ClubMom, a portal for all things maternal and online, are apparently going to launch a few paid blogs by blogger-moms. They've had the good sense to snap up Janeen a.k.a. nina of destinations (nee nina turns 40), and Janeen says the list of other women they've tapped is rather impressive. It'll be interesting to see what they do with the idea, which is rather reminiscent of Seed Magazine's recent foray into the world of science blogging.

If the rest of the bloggers ClubMom has tapped are anything like Janeen, the site is gonna earn some serious feminist cred. Should be fun.

Backyard Astronomy with PK


posted by Mr.B
Last night and again tonight, PK and I climbed out the living room window onto the roof of the tool shed in the backyard. There we set up the little 3 inch reflector telescope we got last month and gaze at the moon and stars. We shot this image tonight with an iSight web cam mounted with a couple of inches of pvc pipe to the eyepiece of the telescope. Our Mark 1 eyeball views are much more clear than this, but this way, you at least get a picture. PK said, "I'm seeing the moon like an astronaut!" We talk about the hills and craters revealed at the terminator.

Can we talk?


posted by Chris Clarke
Sorry for the quiet on my end the last couple days: I had a deadline for a short piece for Orion that I had to meet yesterday, and today I'm spending at the vet. I'll have something substantial later in the day, I think.

But I do have something insubstantial now. You may recall, back long, long ago in March, when our lovely and talented hostess was nominated for "Best Expert Blog" in the Koufices, that she turned to us her loyal readers with a plea for votes. My loyalties were torn, of course, as it was such a crowded field with diverse and talented bloggers expert in a range of topics, and so I said

Dude, you're really gonna make me choose among you, PZ, and Neiwert? This is not fair. Couldn't one of you suck at least a little?


Gracious, right? I thought so too. To which our hostess replied with a vile, ugly threat:

Vote for me, Chris, or the bunny gets it.


This is Thistle, the hostage to which she referred:

bun

I emailed in my vote.

My point in bringing this up is to let you all know, at long last, the heights of depravity to which Dr.B. will stoop to achieve blogging fame and recognition.

thistle wants something

Think about it, won't you? Thank you.

Update

In a chilling variant of the "s/he was just asking for it" trope, Dr. B. claims in the comment thread below that Thistle "has a mean streak a mile wide," which claim is apparently intended as a justification for her lapicidal threats.

Bun holding

I ask you. Does that little piece of cuddly fluff look like a bunny with a mile-wide mean streak? Or how about this:

bun2

Mean? Come on now. Some people just take the Koufices too seriously.

Worst Plagiarism Defense Ever


posted by Dean Dad
A student was busted for plagiarism. The professor found the paper, verbatim, on the internet. The student’s defense:

“It’s not my fault the guy I bought the paper from copied it!”

Alrighty then.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Frog Sex


posted by Mr.B
PK and I went down to the river to see the toads and/or frogs mating. There were about 20 of them actively mating, singing, fighting, or lazily resting at the surface or just below it. PK drew this picture.

Let's Play...Spot the Glass Ceiling!


posted by Dean Dad
Last week:

Monday – left home 6:30, got home 5:30
Tuesday – left home 7:30, got home 5:30
Wednesday – left home 6:30, got home 10:30
Thursday – left home 7:30, got home 9:30
Friday – left home 6:30, got home 5:30
Saturday – left home 8:30, got home 2:30
Sunday – home!

This week:

Monday – left home 6:30, got home 5:30
Tuesday – left home 7:30, got home 10
Wednesday – leave home 6:30, home around 8
Thursday – leave home 7:30, home around 10
Friday – leave home 6:30, home around 5:30
Saturday – home!
Sunday – leave home 6:30 p.m., home around 10

I’m sure it’s entirely coincidental that I’m the only dean here with kids under 12. And that of our several vice presidents, there isn’t a parent in the bunch. And that the college evicted its onsite day care center a few years ago.

The sheerest coincidence.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Notes on "The Real World"


posted by Dean Dad
“The Real World” is a commonly-used phrase in academia. It usually functions as a conversational trump card when somebody feels boxed in by academic standards or rules or folkways – that’s not how it’s done in the real world, in the real world you’d last about ten minutes, we need less theory and more real world applications, etc. It’s a cheap and easy way to disparage professional expertise, without actually knowing very much.

It plays/preys on the guilt and self-blame that are, for whatever reason, endemic to academics. It’s a variation on the grade-school standby, “this will go on your permanent record.” It invokes an unknown but all-knowing, scary deity that will, eventually, prove your angry interlocutor right.

It’s a shame that the phrase has come to be used that way, since, properly used, it could be a valuable corrective.

To my mind, a proper use of “the real world” as a concept would be to stress the infinite possibilities out there. Einstein was once quoted as saying “the world is so full of possibilities that dogmatism is simply indecent.” I like that; to the extent that we stress the many-faced nature of the real world, as opposed to the discipline- or fad-driven narrowness of academic pursuits, we can improve both our mental health and the usefulness of our disciplines. This is all to the good.

I saw that when The Wife and I first started dating. Before her, I had a history of girlfriends who were also academics. The academic tunnel vision was stifling, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. When I met The Wife, she showed me parts of my adopted home state that I had never even heard of in many years here surrounded by academics. She has concerns that academic types never acknowledged in my presence, and a sense of perspective that I found liberating. She had a life.

In fact, in my dealings with the real world, I’ve found a much greater willingness to accept diversity of presentation styles, etiquette, etc., as long as what you had to offer carried (perceived) value. It’s not necessarily more judgmental than academia, and in many ways, it’s much less. More accurately, the criteria are different. People with weak academic credentials can be very successful in the real world, and vice versa.

The real world is much broader, more forgiving, and harder to contain, than a simple morality play. I prefer to respect it as such.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Wheelchair invisibility


posted by Chris Clarke
What follows is a simple story, its essentials so familiar to some people as to have become, to them, trite, and yet still regrettably relevant.

In my early twenties I worked with a guy named Herb. When I say "worked with," what I mean is that Herb was my job. Herb was a very smart and compassionate man, father to three adult sons, an athletic guy who told stories of his early life as a Merchant Marine, and who had settled into life as an aging hippie, unremarkable on a crowded Berkeley street except for his use of a particular accessory: a power wheelchair, which Herb drove with a chin lever.

Herb suffered from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, a.k.a. Lou Gehrig's disease, a degenerative condition in which the neurons associated with voluntary muscle control die slowly. Voluntary muscle control includes breathing. The disease is uniformly fatal. The mean survival after diagnosis is about three to five years: Herb beat the odds by more than a decade, and continued learning new skills and socializing and political activism pretty much right up until the end.

I was Herb's morning attendant for about a year and a half. When I met him he was a quadriplegic, still able to move his hands slightly, but otherwise with no motor control below his shoulders. I'd bathe him in bed, change his Texas catheter and piss bag, dress him, lift him out of bed and into his chair, and then make breakfast. Once a week or so we added climbing into the shower together to the routine. There's something about getting naked in the shower with your boss on a regular basis that makes the workplace dynamic a bit different from the usual. Herb was much more friend than employer. I miss him.

That's the background. This is the story.

We went out to dinner. Herb had a date with some friends and asked me along, partly to socialize, partly to feed him. It was a small Vietnamese restaurant in Berkeley, a few years before they became as common in the Bay Area as they are today. Somewhat incongruously by today's standards, the place had a largely white service staff. The six or so of us went to our table, I got Herb situated at the section where his chair could slide underneath, and we chatted for a while until the bright college kid waiter came to take our order.

Twenty bucks says that any disabled folks reading this know exactly what happened next.

Bright College Kid took orders around the table, got to me. I ordered eel. Funny what you remember after 24 years. BCK wrote on his pad, looked back up at me and said "and what is he having?" I shrugged and looked at Herb. Herb looked at BCK and ordered an entrée. BCK, looking at me the whole time, nodded, wrote, and then asked me "does he want something to drink with that?"

Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis has little if any effect on cognition, excepting during that last part where you suffocate to death. Herb looked alert and focused at all times, even at six in the morning the night after a party. He was often short of breath — his lung function had already taken a pretty big hit — but aside from that, there was nothing to indicate that he couldn't hold up his end of an argument on Wittgenstein, much less a drink order.

"I don't know," I said.

Today is Blog Against Disablism Day. If things had gone just a little differently about three years ago — if the camper shell on my pickup had collapsed just a little more when a distracted driver ran a red light, and my truck came to rest upside down in the intersection — I might have been typing this story out with a chin stick the way Herb wrote his letters in 1982. The cliché is that "The Disabled" is the only disempowered group with an open admissions policy. By this time tomorrow you could be looking at a life in which waiters ask your attendant whether you want home fries or hash browns. The fact that this will be the least of your problems doesn't make it any less obnoxious.

I wonder sometimes if my friend Carla had this in mind when she steered her wheelchair onto those late-night train tracks last year. The life with cerebral palsy wasn't enough: the doctors had told her that her bones were weakening, and it increasingly hurt to get out of the chair and walk. If a waiter had ignored her in a restaurant, every single person in the place would have heard her upbeat, outraged "hey!" Even she had an edge past which she could not go. She rafted the West's wildest rivers, howling delight: she taught herself to ski steep Sierran slopes, and inspired a generation of athletics programs for the disabled, and yet the notion of being in the chair for good took the life out of her, her mother told me.

I cannot imagine that it was the mere obstacle the looming paraplegia offered that made her quit. When she stood she was visible, a raucous presence, the life of the party, a comet trailing jokes and crumbs and passion. Her family told us at the memorial of the loneliness swelling in her, the longing for love. I can't help but wonder if the prospect of wheelchair invisibility was too much for her to bear.

Crossposted at Creek Running North

A bunch of cells


posted by Chris Clarke
When she got here I could tell she had been crying for hours. Her eyes were puffy and her skin was blotchy, and as soon as I gave her a sympathetic, "what's wrong?" she burst into tears again. She literally fell to her knees and crawled across the floor to me, laying her head in my lap and sobbing, while I stroked her hair and let her cry. Finally she sat up and buried her face in my neck while I hugged her.

She'd been pregnant.

Now she wasn't.

And she was having nightmares about being a murderer.


From a short but stunning post by Kactus. Read the rest.

Giving Something Back: An Academic Snark


posted by Dean Dad
Why is it that whenever I hear someone use the phrase “I want to give something back,” my skin crawls?

This being rubber chicken season, I’ve been running a gauntlet of events for the last few weeks, with another week to go. These events usually involve acting as a sort of ambassador for the college, schmoozing with parents, donors, and big political muckety-mucks.

Other than being a largely-absent Dad for a while, it’s generally worthwhile. These are people who don’t work for the college, but who have been supportive of it, and it’s all to the benefit of students. So I suck it up, put on my game face and yet another suit, and dive into the scrum.

Still, there’s just something about that phrase...

It’s patronizing, certainly. “Now that I’m terribly important, I will also show that I’m virtuous by deigning to divert a tax-deductible sliver of my ill-gotten gains to a good cause. Aren’t I wonderful?” “Now that I’ve retired from my absurdly-lucrative real job, I’m willing to go slumming in that low-paying hellhole in which people like you work.” “See? We wealthy types are so naturally generous that you don’t need to tax us!”

That’s not to deny that, say, scholarships actually do accomplish good things. They certainly do. Nor is it to deny that contributions to the college are helpful, welcome, and yes, optional. And the few wealthy people who support us are obviously making a choice that other wealthy people aren’t making. No argument on any of those counts.

Still, it seems to me that flattery as the road to empowerment is, well, a limited strategy.

Maybe it’s the phrase itself. “Give something back” implies that something was first taken. Not earned; taken. If someone steals my car and sells it, am I supposed to feel better that he tithed ten percent of his booty to his church? I’m still down one car.

As grating as it is from donors, it’s much worse from prospective employees. It’s not unusual for downsized or early-retired professionals to show up asking for faculty positions, thinking that we’ll be tripping all over ourselves for the opportunity to bask in their reflected glory. They present themselves as willing to take one for the greater good by settling for a job I spent years in poverty to prepare for, and felt damn lucky to get. In the few occasions in which folks like that have been hired, when I’ve been around to see it, they’ve ranged from acceptably average to constant-pain-in-the-neck. They’ve never excelled, or even risen above average. They don’t want to; as far as they’re concerned, they paid their dues in ‘the real world,’ and they’re coasting across the finish line by teaching. No, thanks.

Don’t even get me started on ‘the real world.’ I’d like to give something back to the people who drop that phrase...
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