Huh.

I really like this secret from this week. Yay PostSecret.

hahaha.

You Are 93% Feminist

You are a total feminist. This doesn't mean you're a man hater (in fact, you may be a man). You just think that men and women should be treated equally. It's a simple idea but somehow complicated for the world to put into action.

Are You a Feminist?

Are we surprised? Not really.

Vindication

So today I was in my Lit and Film class, and we had a discussion questions that was something about the character of Jane Eyre and why she's so appealing and whether or not she's a feminist. Now, I think Jane's actions go beyond feminism, but I was a little annoyed when some of the members of my group got a little scared of the word "feminism." Some of the girls started saying things like, "Well, she's not a man-hater" and "she's not a bra-burner . . ." Who are these people and how did they get into a 300 level English class? Feminism did exist before the 1970s, kids, even if it didn't have the name yet, and it is still evolving. Not all feminists are crazy extremists.
What really bothered me was that these were all upper-level English majors who should have known the other definitions of the term. The only person who supported me when I started defending it was the only boy in the group. I was very grateful that he, at least, was familiar with A Room of One's Own and some ideas beyond so-called "Nazi-feminism." But how sad that the girls didn't know that feminism can be more than man-hating! The first class I took that gave me any kind of good understanding of contemporary feminism was taught by a male professor.
Phil Snyder: "Don't you ever get an icky look on your face when you hear the word "feminism."
Thank you Phil. Please spread the word, because I think we had some people who missed the memo, and apparently they were some of our own.
It's so important for women to read and listen to what other women have to say. I think it's time to start listening.

Footbinding for the 21st Century

Miri just got these pictures from her dad in an e-mail, and it made me want to throw up...and also share the joy. Check out these amazing shoes and marvel at the brain of the person who could invent such fashion atrocities.

These remind me of toe shoes. Just the way I want to dance through life.

Could someone please find me a whip?

I think you might need a stool to get into these shoes, and good luck finding anyone who can kiss you up there. (That is what they're going for with these, right?)

Why?


The 70s are back with a vengeance!

For the little girl who always wanted to be a tap dancer. Or a horse.

Why do they need to bind feet when women seem to be having a jolly old time handicapping themselves? I hope we all have the good sense to shun these they way we didn't shun the stiletto.

Naming the Problem is the First Step

Since Jolly reads my blog but never comments, I thought I would share the following with you, because it made me laugh. I received the following text messages on Saturday:
Jolly: "So I just finished reading your blog about your trip to the "prom" and I want you to know that I don't think you're crazy (unlike some guys who obviously do."

Thanks, Jolly. I appreciate that. Then I got this:

"I do think you're a hopeless romantic trapped in a feminist's psyche, but that's a different story."

So now we know. I've been labeled and categorized and y'all don't have to worry about me anymore.

Meanwhile, happy Mother's Day. I have pretty much the coolest mom ever and I'm not kidding. I made her a CD and I tried out all kinds of stuff because she's pretty darn open minded - I gave her some Shins, Ben Kweller, Keane, Relient K... all kinds of good stuff, and even if she only likes half of it, she's pretty darn cool, yes? :) Awesome. We'll have to wait and see what the verdict is. I hope I'm still finding and learning to love new music when I'm a mother and grandma. Anyway, yay Mom.

The end. Enjoy the super flattering picture of us with blue faces.

Lauda

At our choir concert this week we sang a baroque set, complete with baroque organ (tuned down) and cello. I didn't think I really liked "Lauda Jerusalem," partially because it was ridiculous trying to memorize the words. However, I changed my mind after we heard the story on Thursday.
If you are a history buff, forgive me, because I'm just going by what I heard from Ruth, our organist. Apparently, "Lauda Jerusalem" was written for an orphanage for girls in Italy, an orphanage established specifically for girls who were the product of their fathers' philanderings. (Good word, eh? If that's not a euphemism...) Anyway, at the door of this orphanage there was a drawer, and the mothers of these illegitimate girls could just drop them off and push in the drawer. Naturally, the orphanage was only for girls, because the fathers were willing to endure a little shame to claim their strapping boys. (Sorry, the feminist in me shudders.)
So the thing is, they taught these girls to sing, and some of the best composers in Europe wrote for them. It was better than the Italian opera, and the girls sang like angels, but no one ever saw them because there was a metal grate between the girls and the audience. Once Rousseau visited and asked why no one ever got to see the girls. It seemed to him to be the perfect opportunity for them to find husbands and get out of the orphanage. He was invited to eat dinner there and meet the girls.
The first girl came in and she was hideous, horribly disfigured. The next was missing an eye, and another's face was covered with pockmarks. Nearly every girl had been abused and bore the scars of her past, but Rousseau talked to them, and he said that when he left he was nearly in love with all of them.
The girl telling the story asked us all to think about these girls as we sang, we, the girls of the 21st century who get to go to college, hold jobs, live our lives. Suddenly, "Lauda Jerusalem" became a more beautiful song, and I sang for those girls who never had a chance. I do.