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Apr. 17th, 2008 @ 07:44 pm exist essential Boleyn alley
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  • She opened a strip cub and named it knee cheese
  • they opened her to examine her hymen and broke it in the process, it ruined her in their world
  • she had vision
  • at age 8 she walked to the court house alone to ask for a divorce from her adult husband
  • she is 11 years old and reads at the level of a college graduate
  • One day she'll grow up and marry a happy man
  • she wont be happy
  • she is 52 and loves feeling hot then cold then hot- better than she loved roller coasters and climbing trees as a child even
  • Her sister stayed at riverbend with their children while she went into the Quarters to work the Mardi Gras tourists
  • She recalls being chained with other women, forced to dance, forced to do other things she wiped from her memory as easily as it came up. She recalls teaching them to move in silky silence, chains n all- to their escape
  • She remembers running away, in the desert, she collapsed finally and drowned in a sand storm
  • She remembers slipping off the ship into the cold water that would kill her
  • Her memories are past lives of her patron saints that live in no book written by any man
  • She secretly learned to read. Secretly she taught the other girls and the slaves to read. She read the word revolutionary and it made her laugh
  • Her near death experience was beautiful for her, it was hard on her loved ones
  • She asked, "what do you re-member? what do you re-member?" every morning in the mirror
  • She was more brilliant in every way, than any of those that surrounded her.  She seduced power and lost (her head).  Or so it seemed, until her daughter was born a queen.
  • That queen would not be branded by a man
  • She could not pray to their oppressive god, she knew god was her eternal omnipresent mother.
  • she learned to make lists. it was in the 7 steps of the very successful
  • did you see how her child cried and cried as she painted, jealous of the medium that could pull her focus so
  • after working in the office of Panavision for 6 years, they finally let her pull focus (AC)
  • she was allowed to work with her passion and fell in love with the man who made it possible for her to do so
  • all day she listens to boys who say they are too creative to type, to answer phones and make appointments. At night she paints, dances, makes films and falls in a heap laughing about the boys who say they are too creative.  they just don't know survival.
  • She knows, you gotta have a visceral knowledge of survival, to truly thrive in all worlds
  • She refused to pay taxes for killing when they were not using taxes to alleviate suffering
  • she watched men overthrow kings, watched revolution after revolution replace one oppressor with another- all the while whispering life into the girls,
  •  whispering,   "e v o l u t  i o n"
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Apr. 13th, 2008 @ 07:29 am PANTS! a choice that was fought for.
Tags:
This site
reminds me to be grateful
for the work of women before me.

This might seem sort of ridiculous, but this Thursday I’d like to take a moment of gratitude that I get to wear pants. It blows my frickin’ mind that there was a time when women like me—smart, ambitious, creative—were stuck wearing skirts seven days a week. Don’t get me wrong, I love me a princess-sleeve dress with a bell skirt, but I love it because I get to choose it.

Women first started wearing pants during World War II when they also filled in on jobs traditionally held by men. But when the men returned and the gender backlash commenced, women were back in skirts until the 60s when feminism’s second wave started to take hold and Audrey Hepburn made those black capris famous in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961).

As I’ve been on the road speaking at colleges, I frequently get a question like, “Can you be a feminist and wear lipstick or high heels?” Hell yeah, and you know why? Because you can CHOOSE to wear those things. Or CHOOSE not to wear those things. Or CHOOSE to wear them on every second Sunday.

Now if we could only expand the clothing options open to men…

shared from
Feministing
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Mar. 29th, 2008 @ 11:46 pm raven
Right now I am beaming.  I happened across live African Music from the Congo tonight.  Live music that carries a message (dolphin) makes me beam.

As I left I called my son (deer).  He heard it in my voice (crow).  I exclaimed gleefully, " The music!  The spirit!  We must go to Africa again, see more of it, stay even longer!" 
"Yeah, I was thinking that too mom."  He was thinking that for me (racoon).

Then I found myself in traffic at 11 PM on the 405.  People were driving rude as usual, cutting each other off.  One had his brights on, another sped up to prevent someone from fitting in the space...rookie driver still actually believes  signaling will help him change a lane in L.A. - hah (fox)

I begin wondering again.  A question I should take out of my loop comes up, "what the fuck am I doing in this town with hardly any opportunity for the working class to happen across good, live music?!?!?!"  (chick'n little) Live music makes me glow...Of course there is music here...I was spoiled living in a culture (New Orleans) where I heard it just walking and running errands...

Then I read this story  (deer,crow, raven) that made me hummm like a woman older and wiser than my years ...nodding yes yes yes  and humming while reading, "mmmhmmm"... witnessing, attesting...Stand by me is one of my sons all time favorite movies...I'm here to  bring stories like our stand by me into this world.  I'm here to here to tell herstory. I've learned so much here (swan) about storytelling with moving pictures.  I'm here to share stories lived that don't compare to any a story any male has ever lived and yet it is universal...the one Tara, Davka , Fork, Lasca, Jane, Avalon, Sean, Asia, Sara, Nikki, Pearl, Patti, Sam, Octavi, Ayanna, Nzinga, Katina, Joanne, Lillith, Eve, Anahita, Inanna, Magdalene, and Mary really lived and are still living.

Yesterday at work, I gently defended women's perspective in film (otter) and listened patiently to a 23 yr. old boy (coyote) say, "Woman do not have the funny gene.. like white men can't box like black men".  I told him about my son and I laughing so hard we couldn't take it anymore while watching Ellen's HBO special for the third time..The 23 yr old boy  doesn't know about less opportunity and fewer chances of actually hearing a female overcoming social stigma to make people laugh at her.   He doesn't understand .  No one has illustrated it yet.  He is a writer /director whose film is being made by the boys club...He doesn't even come from privilege other than being a white male...In response to his beliefs about women, I made that sound old women on the porch make when a youngster goes by dressed like a hoochie..Mm mm mmmm (nodding no no nooo)
(armadillo, ant)

I hear the music in my heart. (dolphin)

I know what I am doing here. (whale)

These are exciting times. (hummingbird)

My purpose (lion, horse) makes me glow...Soon enough (white buffalo) , I'll be able to come in and out of this town (beaver), work anywhere (badger, skunk), making film (eagle).

That music is with me all the while, in my heart,
in my soul...
I keep my chin up (black panther), let my hips sway once in awhile (grouse) and above all

I thank the ancestors.
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Mar. 23rd, 2008 @ 10:01 am Eostre, Esther, Astarte, Ishtar
This year, Easter  (not the Orthodox Christian's Easter) is happening during Women's History Month.
What a convenient time for people to study the origin of spring festivals...or maybe just imagine it differently.  What was the spring time celebration before Christ like?  Why does it change date from year to year?  Does it have to do with the Goddess religions and they way they kept time with the moon phases?

It's quite possible that we celebrated the season, as spring equinox, just for being itself.  A relief  from winter, a promise of things to come, a time when tiny cute green, purple and yellow plants start to shoot out from the ground.  It's possible some honored the Goddess Eostre and maybe that's where the name Easter came from?  Or is it Astarte?  Perhaps Queen Esther?  It's possible bunny's came out of their winter holes and hopped around in the abundance.  It's easy to see the connection of eggs and fertility.  I recall looking for the eggs in the bible when I was a teeny bopper and full of the rebellious energy it takes to demand family take notice of  questions, concerns and all out disbelief...Instead of bunnies and eggs in the bible, I found Ishtar at the library.

Ishtar,
Esther, Eostre, Astarte, Snake Goddess, Flora, Persephone, Maia in May... some started calling the research her story.  But,  it hasn't been that long that women have been allowed to read and write. There are still many places where women are not allowed to go to school.  Her story is not represented equally in uor libraries of books.  There are cave drawings to interpret where published books and articles may have left off, but, it's considered amateur speculation.  There are stories handed down orally and even stories written by men, but, we call them Mythology.  There are dreams and beliefs women have today that are no less in left field than the Christ myth, but, it's not called the Christ myth is it?

So, in honor of those bold enough to believe in Eostre in all her vague-ness, and in Persephone, Demeter and the likes

Happy Spring


pictured: Julia Arenson as Aura dancing to Queen Esther.

Let's untie the knots and untwist the stories.  Let's look at it from the feminist perspective, if just for today.   This day when Easter lands in Women's History Month.  It's your day.

 

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Mar. 22nd, 2008 @ 08:36 am
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the Feminist movement contains within it work towards equality for all human beings, animals and the environment.
It includes economic considerations that affect adults and children INCLUDING: male female and GLBTQ ,  of any skin tone and religious choice.
So please, save your fit comparing isms for another. To quote Re-re, "you better think!"
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Mar. 16th, 2008 @ 09:49 am I'm not always pretty, I am straightforward though.
Real life, full of stopping and smelling flowers, is not always so  pretty.  It is mostly easy.

I wont always comfort people in my life when we're working through something, whether it is me helping them, us working together or  them helping me.
I wont always comfort, especially if I honestly feel there is an issue that all the comforting only propagates.

That is part of being authentic.

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Mar. 4th, 2008 @ 08:39 am HEIDI!
I was 21.  My boyfriend, his brother and I  moved out of the Seyburn house, where they were 2 of my 12 male house mates, to the house behind the Kraut funeral home in Hamtramick.    We turned the Kraut house into an art piece.  By the time we finished painting and decorating the space, it looked like a cowboy on acid ran away from the circus and got lost in Turkey.  I had also just disassembled one of the largest interactive installations of my career.  The 6 months previous had been consumed by performance art, public ritual and an installation with occasionally scheduled free time spent going out on the “scene”.  The installation was both alive and dead, recycling and re-birthing.  Live and recorded images and sounds intertwined as participants strolled through the Michigan Gallery.  It took months to create the installation and only days to disassemble.
 
Back then, when I completed an installation or a performance, I could take time afterward to just “veg out”. The atmosphere we created in the Kraut house  was exactly what I needed to rest in.  I was home listening to Robert Johnson 78’s when my boyfriends brother stormed in disturbing my bluesy, semi vegetative state with his working man woes.   He was earning his way as a hair stylist and his salon was in some sort of a fix.  His working man's panic was making me dizzy.  I wanted him to slow down, "shhh get quiet" and melt into the atmosphere I’d created.  Instead he was begging me to come in and play receptionist for a day at his trendy, expensive, salon known as "HEIDIS". "You're  the only one I know with classic pieces in your wardrobe, just dress like an actress from the 40's or 50's.."  He was in a pinch.  After much convincing that it would be an “experience” I decided to pitch in.  Spending the day with the mainstream world in a shopping center hair salon would be a performance and a social experiment.  It was going to require a costume.  Back then, my hair was 1/4 inch short, growing back from bald, I wore fishnets that were old and tattered, held up with garters, with high heeled combat boots, mini skirts, and a black bra showing through my shirt, under a leather jacket (somehow, I was magically immune to the brittle cold of Detroit winters).  I did have pieces in my wardrobe that were classic: pencil skirts, black slacks, turtle necked little black dresses, and several Audrey Hepburn ensembles.
I channeled my mother the make-up artist and applied make up as she would- Viola!  I was Chic/hip.

When I arrived at the salon a bleached blond, flamboyant, stressed out hair stylist threw a pen at me, handed me the phone and pushed me into the spot he had been occupying behind the desk, in front of a large desk sized calendar.  He sighed in loudly, clutched his pearls and let out his breath as he  exclaimed, "Oh! thank GOD you're here! This is not my job, I'm an artist, people are waiting for me!!!" and off he went.  I started right away, no application, no interview, and only 20 seconds of training.

Half way through the day, a whirlwind of a woman made her entrance.  She had straight, shoulder length black hair, bright red lipstick, sharp clothing & an Israeli accent she spoke succinctly with.  She entered the Salon, stopped in her tracks, scanned the scenario, did a double take on me and announced in my direction, "YOU ARE MANAGEMENT MATERIAL".
I was startled, "Oh... uhh, no, no. I'm just pitching in for a friend.....just here today."
'OK, WE TALK IN A MOMENT" hand extended "I AM HEIDI! OF HEIDIS SALON"  We shook hands and the whirlwind continued on her path.
Later, she came to the desk with one of the stylists who was in training.  As that trainee took over my reception duty, and I was barely into my break from catty, hair styling, diva traffic control,
HEIDI!  took me aside to ask me what changes I would make in this salon if it were mine?
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Feb. 29th, 2008 @ 11:14 am SHOWGIRL
We ran into each other at a Samba Dance Class. She was friends with the instructor, I was there for the live drums I craved.
My breathing was OK that day, so I was up at the front of the huge class for Parade style Afro Brazilian Samba.

M recognized me first and reminded me of the gig she offered when she saw me dance at Cafe' Brazil in NOLA 5 years before. She had a performance group that she managed well enough to tour the world with and eventually landed a gig in Vegas at the Rio. Once again, she offered me a gig.
Of course, I was having a good breathing day, but, I explained, "...Often, I'm not breathing well enough to stand up, let alone dance at this level."
I went on to explain to her that I could breathe well if I took meds that had severe side effects, but, I tried not to take them too often. I swear I saw a light click on in her head. In her rhythmic accent, she exclaimed, "Perfecto! You can share the job with Graciella. How many days do you take the medication to work?"
Turns out Graciella's boyfriend was a boxer and she wanted to travel with him to his fights overseas. As long as I had two days notice, I could be in Vegas, breathing and dancing - no prob. Graciella could travel,  I could make a living and M didn't have to find a replacement.  That is how inclusive, circular, spirit rich, feminine business works.
And so my work at the Rio, in Las Vegas, began.
I met Graciella and it was like looking in my Brazilian mirror. She was a tan version of me with more hair. Actually, everyone in the group sort of looked alike. We weren't like the typical 5'7", 110 lb. Showgirls in Vegas. We were all 5'4" and weighed between 115-120lbs with big rear ends and strong thighs. We were the Sambista's.

My experience with the women I danced with at the Rio was incredible. That industry is said to be highly competitive. It's said to only be open to anglos who got too tall for ballet. It's said to be cut throat and full of all the evil that competition is supposed to create between women...Who says?
My experience was not at all like that.
When the Man who produced the shows at the Rio Hotel and Casino scoffed at the idea of two women sharing a gig, the dancers conspired to hide my identity. She/we even had a solo in the show. On the nights when "the man" was in the audience, someone else performed the solo so I could be more inconspicuous. Funny thing is, we must have all looked alike to him. He came backstage once, looked directly at me, and spoke to me as if I was Graciella....

The other dancers could have screwed up my gig, they could have screwed Graciella over too. They didn't.  When it was revealed that I could do aerial work, they made sure I tried out for the "Parade in the Air" show. Dancers who had been the more typical Showgirls (physically) that were  part of the air show helped me train. They helped me with my audition and never told anyone that Thomai was occasionally Graciella....The Showgirls and the Sambista's were amazing women. They were a miracle in my life.

The experience I had with Showgirls in Vegas, was the most feminist work experience I've ever had.

©Thomai Hatsios,  o8
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Feb. 23rd, 2008 @ 07:23 am
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He is accustomed to the kind of woman or girl who treats him better and wants him more as he treats her worse and wants her less.

Homey don't play that.
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Jan. 21st, 2008 @ 07:20 pm
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Jan. 10th, 2008 @ 04:01 pm Excerpt from Greek Un Orthodox, a book I'm writing.
I left the church when I was 12. It wasn’t for lack of spiritual interest, I certainly enjoyed the ritual. Its influence showed later in my installations and performance art, hence affecting all senses with scent, sound, visuals, something to touch, something to eat…a part of the art taken into the body. Perhaps art was my way of getting around the fact that Greek girls aren’t invited or allowed to become Greek Orthodox Priests. But, the day I left the church it was a simpler, more personal matter. 
 
After asking enough questions they couldn't answer in Sunday School class, the teachers had banished me to the services upstairs, with the adults.  I was sitting with my mom, the weekend after Thanksgiving, glad to be with the adults, experiencing the ritual.  The warm glowing reverent energy of Greek Orthodox Services can still bring me to tears. During service, Greeks sit or stand at the appropriate times without making more than a shuffling sound, affording scent and sound the opportunity to realize their glory. The scent of Frankincense and Myrrh being waved in a censer with the tiny bell gently ringing, mixed with the scent of  candles burning, cologne, the scent of dressy clothes, new leather or freshly polished shoes, Masticha (Greek chick lets) coming from an older aunts handbag that smelled like a new car lined with perfumed handkerchiefs all together, created a unique church service scent. We sat holding perfect posture longer than any other time in the week, in dress clothes that were always too warm or too cold, on slippery, cool pews, hearing prayers. Prayers sung in a nasally voice that perks our ears, in a language few of us know (ancient Greek and Latin) watching for the elderly women show us when it is time to “do our cross” the “right way”, the Greek way. As if affirming the priests song, we place thumb, pointer and middle finger together, press the last 2 fingers into palm, then cross: moving our right hand from 3rd eye to sternum, to right shoulder to left then close with a serious open hand to our sternum. The cantor’s operatic voice would bellow, enveloping us. Listening to his song, I felt as if I had been soaked in wine and dipped into a tub of warm mud. When the choir voices descended from above and behind us it felt like heaven clearing a path, welcoming our tired souls. After more than an hour of this holy water spraying, incense waving, and song, the father (priest), his altar boys and brothers (priests in training) would work quietly behind the magnificent ornate altar.

Under the supervision of the 12 Apostles depicted in the larger than life size Byzantine icons, Father Dova presented the climax of the show. He stood at the front of the aisle between the pews, on a step separating audience from performance. He stood holding an ornate golden chalice filled with holy, blessed wine and bits of bread, a red cloth (for dripping chins) and a tiny silver spoon to serve it with. I was always excited about accepting communion, to me it was feeling based, not so much thought about it being anyone’s blood and body. It was the well choreographed, audience participation, end to a great show. Still with good posture, we rose quietly to line up in the aisle. When it was our turn, our gray haired, delicately old world, regal Father Dova, the man who dipped our whole bodies when we were infants into the marble baptismal tub, same man who married my parents, took our chin into the palm of his hand that was covered in red cloth.  He whisper/ sang a blessing to us individually, using our Greek Baptism names, performed a mini cross blessing at our third eye, and served us a taste of the bread and wine from the spoon. It tasted and felt like melting wood, that little bit of taste warmed my insides immediately. We then walked across to where an altar boy was serving chunks of holy bread to our fasted bellies from a basket. We made our sudden shift as we exited stage right, out the door to the side of the altar.


Exiting that quiet area to the noise approaching from the basement, I felt like a naked Pagan streaking. I ran downstairs where the donuts, coffee and coliva(yummies from someone’s memorial) were being served. Where the little Greeks ran screaming from Sunday school classrooms, in patent leather shoes sounding on the marble floors (until a mother or aunt got a hold of their ears or a bit of thigh to pinch and brought them back to the reality, that yes you can make some noise now, but it has to be within some reason. That quieting lasts only until another adult distracts the adult administering the pinching to speak of fashion or share gossip… kids ran wild with powder sugar on their nose.


Thomai Hatsios, © o4
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Sep. 28th, 2007 @ 08:37 pm
Tags:

Yes, You Are

feminism n (1895) 1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes 2 :feminist n or adjfeministic adj organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests —

Above, the dictionary definition of feminism — the entire dictionary definition of feminism. It is quite straightforward and concise. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist.


Yes. You are. You are a feminist. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. Period. It's more complicated than that — of course it is. And yet…it's exactly that simple. It has nothing to do with your sexual preference or your sense of humor or your fashion sense or your charitable donations, or what pronouns you use in official correspondence, or whether you think Andrea Dworkin is full of crap, or how often you read Bust or Ms. — or, actually, whether you've got a vagina. In the end, it's not about that. It is about political, economic, and social equality of the sexes, and it is about claiming that definition on its own terms, instead of qualifying it because you don't want anyone to think that you don't shave your pits. It is about saying that you are a feminist and just letting the statement sit there, instead of feeling a compulsion to modify it immediately with "but not, you know, that kind of feminist" because you don't want to come off all Angry Girl. It is about understanding that liking Oprah and Chanel doesn't make you a "bad" feminist — that only "liking" the wage gap makes you a "bad" feminist, because "bad" does not enter into the definition of feminism. It is about knowing that, if folks can't grab a dictionary and see for themselves that the entry for "feminism" doesn't say anything about hating men or chick flicks or any of that crap, it's their problem.

It is about knowing that a woman is the equal of a man in art, at work, and under the law, whether you say it out loud or not — but for God's sake start saying it out loud already. You are a feminist.

I am a feminist too. Look it up.

September 30, 2003

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Sep. 14th, 2007 @ 11:07 am eliminate stone throwing from the movement
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People who claim to be subverting the dominant paradigm while using techniques for oppression developed in Patriarchal systems make me say hmmmmmm...
To be more invested in how a person found oneself in a situation than how a person is processing, learning, growing, experiencing, reclaiming it from within the situation is absurd.
It's not all duality. There is a non-dual realm within each  us that transcends these black white male female binaries.

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Jul. 16th, 2007 @ 09:47 pm
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First some street art I'm happy about
Side Walk Stories


Would you
fight for the right to speak the truth?
fight against sexual discrimination in a court of law?
Would you want your daughter to?
What would you do about that Judge if it was you, your mother, your daughter?
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Jul. 9th, 2007 @ 11:33 am Indian woman strips in dowry row
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A woman in western India has stripped to her underwear in public to protest over alleged abuses from her husband's family for not providing a dowry.

Her in-laws were questioned by the police and have been released on bail.

The Hindu woman shocked residents of the normally conservative city of Rajkot in Gujarat state, by her half-naked parade through the street.

Women's groups say her case highlights the plight of women who continue to face abuse at the hands of males.

'Extreme steps'

There are reports that the 22-year-old tried to set herself on fire a few days ago demanding the police take immediate action against her husband and in-laws, who she alleged had been physically torturing her for a dowry.

In an interview to a local TV channel, Pooja Chauhan justified her action saying she did it to embarrass her husband and in-laws.

Although paying and accepting a dowry has been illegal in India for more than 40 years, it still goes on.

Official estimates show that every year almost 7,000 women are killed by their spouses and in-laws because of inadequate dowry payments.

Ranjana Kumari - who runs a refuge for victims of dowry and domestic abuse - says the law enforcement authorities need to be more active in tackling the problem.

"It's a shame that women are driven to take such extreme steps. The law enforcing agencies must be more active," she told the BBC News website.

A police inspector in Rajkot, SS Jhala, told the BBC that "swift action" had been taken against Ms Chauhan's family, who had been arrested and were now on bail.

Police have denied reports that they charged her for indecent behavior.

full article
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Jun. 8th, 2007 @ 12:57 pm
There is a reason for this:


nothing scares a woman who continues to choose an unhealthy relationship more
than a woman who would rather be alone
it's even scarier for abusive men to contemplate such an independent woman

stones get thrown
pyres lit

fear is ugly
and is easily overcome

Fear is anger in another dress.
Anger is sometimes just what a person needs be motivated out of an unhealthy
situation. If you're feeling angry or afraid, stop and meditate on what you can change about
your current situation.
Look to the people who anger or frustrate you the most for aspects of self that you would choose
to eliminate. Look to compassionate role models, community, a friend, elder or counselor to share your dream of transformation with. Set yourself free.
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Mar. 3rd, 2007 @ 08:32 am
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I'm reading
Rosi Braidotti

here is her
main page
for anyone interested in this nomadic philosphor
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Feb. 25th, 2007 @ 06:40 am No Woman Director has EVER won an Oscar
A friend is taking me out to dinner for my b-day today, it'll be the 4th celebration of my b-day this month. I have been invited to several Oscar Parties...and listened to one friend explain how important this day is to her, how she sets up on the couch with blanket and tissues....she is a film maker....I am confused by her enthusiasm. Has she not noticed that no woman has won an award for Director? How many have won as Cinematographer, Producer or Writer?? ...Does she realize how  few women have been nominated for anything outside of female actress?
To some extent I admit sharing her enthusiasm and I'm a bit embarrassed. I do so enjoy great film making and it is the only awards show i really have watched. I would love an Oscar, I would love my favorites to win

As women in film, things are getting better, right? I am grateful that we are allowed to work outside of acting, make-up and wardrobe...at least i like to tell myself things are getting better:

"...Yet just as quickly as the opportunities for women to control their own creative product had opened, they began to close. Large studios became the only economical method to churn out these new high budget "talking" films. Sound required a massive influx of capital and Wall Street invested. The hundreds of production companies that had flourished at the beginning of the decade fell victim to consolidations, mergers, and bankruptcies, reducing the number of profitable studios to only a handful by 1930. New layers of bureaucracy were added, jobs were tightly delineated and with production and distribution controlled by only a few, women were pushed aside. Movie making was now big business..."


I'm getting a camera -things are better for me.



"I was talking to a man in the business and he said: 'Well, you don't expect me to hire women just because they're women do you?'" says Kollwitz. "And I said: 'Actually, yes. Things won't change until you do'".
Oscars.
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Dec. 30th, 2006 @ 10:35 am U.S. ranked 29th!
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      Nordic Europe is the guiding light for gender equality in the world, topping a global list of 115 countries and laying claim to the world's best maternity leave, the best political participation rates and an education system in which women now outnumber men.


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Nov. 10th, 2006 @ 03:50 pm
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after seeing this
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
and learning that many women DO Not believe they are feminists or choose to identify themselves as feminists, I devised my own list.

Reasons I consider myself a feminist

Adapted from a post in [info]sassy_red_head  
and [info]feminist 

1. I can choose what I do with my life (school, career, marriage, children etc) and want those choices for all females.

2. As a feminist who appreciates all sexes and all gender choices  I live in support of  gender equality.  Many of the extreme standards that women are held to have  opposite extremes that men are held to.  Ideally, all have the right  to choose who they want to be, without having to try and fit into these extremes. An individuals purpose is defined individually rather than by genitalia or sexual orientation. I want people growing up in the future to be even less restricted by gender stereotypes than I was.

3. Personally, I love being a woman/ embrace my womanhood.

4. Whether I am the only female in a situation or not, I want my intelligence, talent and skill level to be appreciated at face value.

5. I know that insisting explicitly or complicitly that females are not equal to males is gender chauvinism. I continue to study the origins of chauvinism and develop compassion and awareness by being vocal about it. Being vocal about these issues is a right I can thank past feminists for.

6. I  rise above sexist stereotypes and change them.

7. I am putting an end to the myth that my gender is an obstacle towards any accomplishment.

8. I want an end to violence against women. I would at  least create awareness about the issue of  gender specific crimes. Crimes against females specifically are hate crimes.

9. Regardless of what I survived/survive, I can live without people questioning what I did/wore or where i went that   "brought it upon" myself. I would like questions insinuating the survivor is to blame to end in every area of the world.

10. I  want female heroes acknowledged by the mainstream. I am a female hero in process.

11. Humanitarian and ecological issues are important aspects of my feminism.

12. I am proud carry the same title that those who fought for my right to work, vote, receive higher education, and have power over my own body and lifestyle carried.

 How about you?  Do you think anything should be added to or removed from this list? 



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