So, there’s this thing happening in the black American community (and outside it) where women who look like me are supposed to be grateful for any crumbs that happen to fall into our bleak little lives. Apparently, our lot in life is to be miserable
There is an astonishing amount to read at these links, so there won’t be a lot: Blogging against Disabilism Day 2010 Just read everything. No really. Read everything. And then the BP Spill pulls up news about how Western thirst for oil plays out in
I need to wash and twist my hair. I do not feel like twisting it, but it needs washing and if I wash it I have to twist it since it refuses to even think about locing and thus water = losing its shape. So,
A while back I saw this comic strip. Can’t remember the name. The setting was white suburbia, a family, which as my friend Sara points out “really narrows it down.” The female lead of the comic strip (let’s call her Wilma) has a black friend
I bet you don’t remember part 1, do you? Here’s a reminder. I said back then that I was still trying to put my own feelings into words and hadn’t succeeded yet. Considering what’s been going on in the blogosphere lately I think it’s time
So, I had just about decided not to speak on the Amanda Marcotte issue and the Seal Press issue because I figured everyone knew I supported BFP and didn’t think too much of Seal Press or their tactics. And I know I am absolutely not
Hillary Clinton: Bow to the man, and take the vice presidency. Let our country heal. You will run in eight years and be unstoppable as a visionary world leader. You must pass through this filter first though: bow to the man. Now, I’ll bet reading
So, we made it through February. And I feel it was quite a successful celebration of blackness and history. But now we’ve come to March and, guess what? It’s Women’s History Month. Now, had I planned this out from the beginning of the year, I’d