It’s all very depressing, we agreed. But lately it seems the only way to fight back is to empty your wallet. Give $25 here, $12 there, go to this $40 fundraiser, get a bus to DC and take off a day of work to go to this event. Even if I did have that kind of money, it still feels so defeatist to be funding (or defending) a revolution piecemeal. And all those 60s activists didn’t need a penny to just get their asses to local rallies and organizations in their area.

Well, I wake up this morning and what do I see: there’s a real, life PROTEST in New York City planned to fight against all these measures on Saturday, February 26. As Vanessa from Feministing succintly said today: Enough of this anti-choice bullshit.

Both online activism and microdonations are important, but it can’t be the only way we fight. We need to be visible. We need to be angry in front of TV cameras, radio mics, and flip-phones. If Egypt, Tunisia, Iran, and all the rest taught us anything, it’s that the old cliche still holds water: The people (physically) united shall never be defeated.

Sadly, I will be flying to Chicago that day  to move my stuff back to New York, which will prove to be about the 800th time I move this year. (Hopefully this will be the last time for a while!) But for New Yorkers who will be there: please, please do me a favor and get your (literal) ass out there next Saturday. And for non-New Yorkers, which yes I realize there are many, kindly follow suit and plan something similar in your area.

UPDATE: There are also planned rallies in L.A., Boston, Chicago, Minneapolis, Alaska, D.C., the U.K., and Pakistan. So maybe I can go after all!

via.

Note: The blog Fair and Feminist held a “This is What a Young Feminist Looks Like Blog Carnival” last Friday. The carnival was in response to a recent

As I wrote in my first guest post for Girl-Drive, I am very grateful for the concept of feminism because it has allowed me to not have my life path dictated by my gender. I self identify as a feminist and at this moment, I’m still fairly young.  So I am what a young feminist looks like.

There are thousands of us who self identify as feminist and not only take on the title, but take on the mission. As a women’s studies major, employee at a women’s equity nonprofit organization, and an online feminist activist on issues like street harassment, I am surrounded by strong women and men who are fighting for the rights of women. And many of them are young. It is a shame when the work we do every day is negated or made invisible because people with power and a voice (such as New York Times writers) wonder why we don’t exist.

In addition to the negation of the work of young feminists, I am frustrated by the obsession with rumination about whether or not people use the term feminist. Does it really matter if someone calls themselves a feminist if they support and actively work for women’s rights? Why waste time squabbling about titles when we have the same goals?To expand on that, let me share my experiences from the National Conference for College Women Student Leaders, a conference cosponsored by my employer AAUW each June. Five hundred college women from around the country (as well as a handful of international students) come together to network and learn how to be better leaders on their campus (photo to the right).

In the opening session, all attendees can stand up or sit down if they agree with various statements. Microphone-spotters help a few of the women share their reason why they have that stance. I’ve attended this session for the last three years and one of the questions always is, “Do you identify as a feminist?”

Each year only about half or a little over half of the room stands up. I learn the most from those who say they do not identify that way. While one year, one common theme seemed to be an inability to coincide religious teachings with feminist goals (e.g. women made comments like, “As the Bible says, I believe that men are the heads of the household, so no, I’m not a feminist”), the other two years I found myself sympathizing with the women’s reasons.

One common reason for not identifying as a feminist was racism and exclusion. Young women of color were the primary speakers. They felt that the racist history of feminism excluded them and made them uncomfortable taking on the title. Totally understandable; in the overall feminist movement there has been racism (and in some ways it continues) and too much focus on the issues that solely impact white women.

Another common reason for not identifying as a feminist was a dislike of labels. Women would say, “I don’t want to be tied to a label,” or wonder, “What does a title like ‘feminist’ really mean?” Others felt that taking on that label alienated them from people who otherwise support feminist goals and so it was better not to identify as a feminist in order to have more allies in achieving those goals. Again, I support and get that perspective.

Then, throughout the conference, all of the women who identified and did not identify as feminists worked together to discuss their common goals: helping more women run for student government, addressing body image issues, sexual assault, and a better inclusion of LGBQT students on campus, advocating for more reproductive rights and fair pay, strengthening self empowerment, and figuring out their life goals and career aspirations. The energy at the conference is intense and by the last day, many young women feel their life has been changed and they are more committed than ever to helping improve the rights of women and to make the most of their life.

It never matters that some of them called themselves feminists and others didn’t.

So while I write this post to say, “hey, young feminists are everywhere and we do exist,” I also write it to say, “I’ve never met a young woman who wasn’t interested and engaged in some women’s rights issue and improving the opportunities and happiness of women.” So if the question, “Where are all the young feminists?” was expanded to ask, “Where are all the young people who care about women’s issues, women’s rights?” the answer would be much more obvious, because they are everywhere you look.

My older sister was born with severe disabilities and because of her, my parents raised me to be sensitive to the needs of those who are discriminated against and treated unfairly and to not be afraid to stand up for human rights.

It took me a while to realize that I was part of a group that faces discrimination, too: sex discrimination.

I was raised in a Mormon household. When I was growing up, a high-ranking church leader declared feminists to be one of the three biggest threats to the church (and to families). While my parents were in many ways open-minded for Mormons, the anti-feminist beliefs of our religion were still part of the context for my upbringing. For example, I was not given a middle name because I was supposed to marry, take my husband’s last name, and turn my birth last name into a middle one. I was expected to have children, probably not work outside the home unless circumstances required it, and obey my husband.

Fortunately, I was raised in various states outside the Mormon stronghold of Utah, so I saw other ways to live. By my early teenage years, I was questioning the gender roles and restrictions I was increasingly being forced into. I did not delve into feminism, however, until I chose to leave the religion at age 17.

For me, feminism has come to mean that women can and should have the same opportunities to live and thrive that men have (though of course both women and men can face other forms of oppression that prevent this). Feminism means people should not have their life stifled or dictated by their gender or sex.  Women and men are equally intelligent, capable, and worthy of respect and so the laws, societal attitudes and customs, and division of labor should reflect this.

For several years I thought my life’s mission would focus on helping persons with disabilities, but my older sister’s death has left me emotionally incapable of this; I miss her too much. In high school I thought I would become an architect and in college, an historian. But then during college, volunteer work with domestic violence centers, summer internships with women’s nonprofits, and women’s studies classes led me to another path.

Today I work as a program manager for AAUW, one of the oldest and largest women’s organizations in the country. I volunteer with RAINN, the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network. And I spend a lot of my free time addressing women’s unequal access to public spaces through my website and blog Stop Street Harassment (you can share your story for inclusion on the blog). This month my first book Stop Street Harassment: Making Public Places Safe and Welcoming for Women, is available.

I’m 27 and I have most of my career ahead of me. I don’t know if I always will devote my full time to feminist causes. But I do know that feminism helped save my life by opening up the number of paths I could take and ensuring that my sex would not determine my destiny. And for that I am grateful.

When I came home to St. Louis for Thanksgiving break last fall, I found my sister’s copy of GirlDrive sitting on the coffee table in the living room.  I flipped through a few pages and quickly got hooked on the idea of traveling, woman-focused journalism —marauding through the country in search of women’s stories.

I was living in Arkansas at the time, in a house with eight fellow students – all young women.  One of them, Ashley, was in my Gender and Sexuality in American Politics class.  We’d spent all our free time that semester sitting around the house, discussing our readings and asking our roommates all sorts of brazen questions about womanhood, femininity, sexuality, love, faith, self-esteem, and sex.  Inspired by the book and by our roommates’ openness, Ashley and I decided to take on our own GirlDrive: Southern Edition for two weeks in January.

I sent out a flurry of Facebook messages to friends from Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee, asking for connections.  Although Ashley and I called our plan the “Southern Feminist Road Trip,” we didn’t seek out feminists.  In fact, our only qualification was that the person be a woman raised in the South who was willing to talk with us.  And with little more than the promise of a free hot beverage and a thoughtful conversation, more than a dozen women in ten cities and towns across the South agreed to meet with us.  We started in New Orleans’ famous Café du Monde and ended in a series of Starbucks, with a few local coffee shops in between.

My classmates had warned me that Southern women are famously prudish and private; they’d make my Missouri upbringing seem like a beacon of liberalism.  In a way, the friends were right.  I was blown away by the sexual and social conservatism of many of the women we met with.  But the interviewees were generally receptive to the broad range of personal questions we posed.  The women were also strong, independent, thoughtful, open, and likeable.  Most were deeply, deeply religious, and although their faith unsettled me, I felt connected to each of them by the time our conversations ended.Here’s a snapshot: A gorgeous, quirky journalist made us turn off the tape recorder before she admitted, hushedly, that she supported abortion – although not divorce.  Two tennis teammates from a community college discussed their marriage prospects.  A 29-year-old virgin told us how her family’s harsh religious views led her to believe, until age 16, that having a boyfriend was a sin.  A misfit at Ole Miss explained that her gay male friends served as her chastity belt.  A sorority sister from Mississippi told us that the best thing about Southern men was that they were expected to “take care of” their wives and daughters – by paying for frequent manicures and hair colorings for them.

Our conversations were like speed dating in a way, or CouchSurfing: moving past the BS of everyday chit-chat to discuss deep issues with people from vastly different backgrounds.  As the trip wore on, Ashley and I found ourselves in lengthy, personal conversations with practically everyone we met, male of every gender.  At a dinner stop in Starkville, Mississippi, our Mexican-American waiter told us his life story, by way of explaining his unexpected Minnesota accent.  It was like Ashley and I flicked on an internal empathy switch and started emitting high-frequency “tell me everything” signals.

Our interviewees’ candor was an honor to us, even when they told us things we didn’t like to hear.  (The classic, from one of the tennis teammates: A woman can’t be president because she would get PMS and be unstable.)  We relished the conversations, even when we they said things that didn’t make sense at first, like the Mississippi woman’s definition of “care”.  It took three full minutes of explanations, with Ashley’s cultural translation services, before I understood that the kind of “care” in question was primarily financial and aesthetic.  But having the opportunity to discuss grooming rituals with a true Southern Belle – and to discuss abstinence with a 29-year-old virgin, and to discuss liberal politics with a closeted Democrat – let me get a peek behind the wall of stereotypes that guided my understanding of the South.

Our trip was funded as an experiential learning project by Hendrix College, so our lodging and food – not to mention all the cups of coffee we bought during interviews – were paid for.  But I would have waited tables and scrounged pennies (as it sounds like Nona and Emma did) for months in exchange for those conversations.

Cross-posted at Women’s Glib

You might have heard about the Reproductive Health Act. In fact, I hope you have, because I’ve been writing about it incessantly since the creation of my blog. It’s an awesome and necessary bill that I, personally, me, this person right here who is in high school and not a paid lobbyist, have been invested in for the past two years.

The bill will update New York State’s abortion law for the first time since Roe. It will remove abortion from the criminal code, where the right to choose is stated as an exception to homicide, and put it into the public health code where it belongs. Perhaps most importantly, the bill will permit late-term abortions not only if a woman’s life is in danger, but also in cases where her health is threatened. When the RHA is passed, New York’s women will no longer have to rely on federal legislation to protect our fundamental right to choose; no matter what happens on the national level, our rights will be covered.

People have been talking about the RHA a lot recently because the state legislative session is likely to end soon, as soon as the state budget is passed. (Once the session ends, the senators won’t come back to work until January.) Though the budget is top priority, the senators have been discussing and passing other legislation in the meantime, so it’s not unfeasible that the RHA might be introduced before the end of the session.

There’s another layer of complexity with this bill: different advocacy groups have different ideas about the most effective lobbying methods. Some groups, like NARAL Pro-Choice New York (which — full disclosure — I volunteer with and love), are calling for the bill to be introduced as soon as possible, even if it doesn’t get passed during this session. The idea behind this is that pro-choice organizations and voters will know where their representatives stand on choice issues, and hold accountable those who say they are pro-choice but vote otherwise. This is especially important because this fall is election season. Other groups, most notably Family Planning Advocates of New York State, would rather wait to introduce the bill until it is very likely to pass.

Interesting, yes! Very political, slightly exhausting, undeniably nuanced.

Nuance! It is great. Here is something that is not nuanced: the title of Nicholas Confessore’s New York Times City Room blog post on this issue.

Abortion Rights Supporters Squabble Over Bill.

Squabble.

Squabble.

Here, if you are wondering, is a reliable dictionary definition of that heinous word, squabble: “to engage in a disagreeable argument, usually over a trivial matter.” Fascinating! Because do you know what is not, in fact, a “trivial matter”? WOMEN’S AUTONOMY AND CONTROL OVER OUR OWN BODIES. And do you know who, in fact, might agree with me? MORE THAN HALF THE POPULATION OF THIS FINE STATE.

Fuck this shit.

The media loves to focus on “squabbling” women because it is so easy! It is so fucking easy to get a reader’s attention by writing “Hey! Look at these silly catfighting ladies!” instead of delving into complex political issues. That’s lazy journalism, and entrenched sexism. It’s part of a larger social pattern of framing conflicts between women as desperate and catty, while positioning male conflicts as stoic and totes serious. It’s part of a widespread attempt to delegitimize women’s extremely legitimate political frustrations.

I find this article absolutely hilarious. Because do you know who is actually squabbling? The fucking State Senate! You know, the people who we pay to get important shit done, like, you know, the budget for the entire state of New York. And who we rely on to keep their shit together, not, you know, act like “feuding junior high schoolers.” Have people forgotten about that outrageous, embarrassing, and illegal COUP that happened last June? I remember. I can’t forget.

New York’s women have waited long enough for the Reproductive Health Act. We’re not squabbling. We’re demanding what we deserve.

Irin and Steph hatched the idea of this happy hour when a similar fundraising effort was sparsely attended, due to the high price tag. This one is more affordable for the young and/or struggling: a sliding fee scale starting at $15. Donations benefit Trust Women PAC, an organization that works to protect the rights of abortion providers and fights anti-choice legislation.

Here are the deets:

When: Tuesday, June 29, 6-9pm
Where: 4th Ave Pub, Brooklyn (76 4th Ave, between Bergen St & St Marks Pl)
Subways: B/Q/2/3/4/5 (Atlantic Ave Station), D/M/R/N (Pacific St Station).

Buy your ticket here. See yall there.

Well, Therese Schechter, of whom I’ve been a fan since “I Was A Teenage Feminist,” is hard at work doing just that in filmic form. Her new doc, “How To Lose Your Virginity,” examines our culture’s obsession with being virginal. The journey kicks off when Therese herself starts planning her wedding and realizes that, “like many modern brides, I have no business wearing white.”

Check out the trailer:

From the website:

[The film's] true target is idealized, fetishized virginity: its historical role in U.S. culture, its power to mold and damage a girl’s self-image and self-worth; its commodification as something manufactured, sold, given away, taken…

…What is behind this strange American cultural moment where Disney starlets flaunt purity rings while writhing on stripper poles, brothels hold million-dollar virginity auctions, and artificial hymens can be had for $30 on Chinese websites?

Therese plays the audience’s navigator, decoding a landscape of conflicting and hypocritical messages about what it means to be a ‘good girl’ or a ‘bad girl’ – and why it matters. In the end, she follows the white organza road, not only to her own non-white wedding, but also to a place where young women can have open, non-judgmental conversations about their own sexuality.

I’ve been waiting for this movie to come out for a while–I talked about it on Girldrive back in 2008. The doc is THISCLOSE from having all the funding it needs, and Therese is busting her ass to raise all of it before July! Go here to help out. Even $10 will make a difference–they’re missing less than $2500.

We direly need more people questioning our blinding worship of the intact hymen (or whatever virginity is). So let’s make sure this film gets finished!

ALSO: Check out the companion blog, The American Virgin.

Aphra’s note: As a guest blogger on Girldrive this week, I’ll share an interview I did with three young women that I met at our last Guerrilla GALa – the annual networking event for women in theatre in New York City.  They are playwright Mariah MacCarthy; actress and producer Chance Parker; and performer and director Drae Campbell.

APHRA: I’d like to get a sense of your background – Do you have a degree in theatre and if so, do you think having a degree helps?

MARIAH: I have a BS in theater from Skidmore College. A degree in theater isn’t a must, but pretty much everything I’ve done in New York was as a result of the connections I made at Skidmore (mostly with alumni who graduated long before I attended) and my training definitely affected my style – for the better, I think.  Also, most of the plays I’ve had professionally produced started as projects at Skidmore.  I think college is important for theater as long as it gives you an environment to take risks without the monetary/time constrictions of professional theater. But not many people will give a crap about your theater degree once you’re out, so if you’re just doing it for your resume, don’t bother (unless you’re going to Yale or something).

CHANCE: I have an advanced diploma in acting and theater from The National Conservatory of Dramatic Arts in Washington, DC.  I don’t know if a degree is 100% necessary, but having a strong foundation is.

DRAE: I have a BFA from the University Of The Arts in Philadelphia. I don’t think a degree is a must if you’re serious about learning, listening and paying your dues. But I think some kind of degree is practical and helpful.APHRA: When did you move to New York City?  Why did you come here…was it to work in theatre?

CHANCE: I moved to NYC in 2003.  I moved here to “make it” as an actor.

DRAE: I came to New York to perform, yes. I moved here in 1996.

MARIAH: I moved here in September 2007. I came here for theater, and because I always kind of knew I’d live here at some point.

APHRA: What’s been the hardest thing about theatre in New York City for you so far?

DRAE: Not getting paid. Having to do everything yourself has been good and bad. It’s exhausting, but you learn a lot and have more control over what you’re doing.

MARIAH: #1 = NYC is expensive.  #2 = Networking.  If you’re doing it to the fullest it’s practically a full-time job.  #3 is really #1 + #2.  I mean there is no time to actually do the work I came here to do (write). I’m too busy seeing my friends’ plays, emailing people about my plays, and making a living.

CHANCE:  For me the hardest thing has been finding roles as an artist of color.  It has been very difficult.  Making myself take all of the necessary steps to get those few roles (i.e. – mailings, workshops, etc.) hasn’t been easy either.

APHRA:  I’d like to hear about some surprising successes or failures since you’ve been here.

DRAE: I had a bad experience with a theater company once, but most of the people I’ve met have been my trusted collaborators and artistic community.

CHANCE:  I got a chance to tour the US for 3 months with a show and that was amazing.  It’s a little unfortunate to say, but failures, or setbacks, are part of the game, so they really aren’t that surprising.

MARIAH: I was shocked at how well my full-length NYC debut, THE ALL-AMERICAN GENDERF*CK CABARET, went. We sold out every show, and even with only a two-week run got several rave reviews. I think the short run/small space allowed us to sell out and we had an awesome PR rep (Morgan Lindsey Tachco).  Also, people like sex and shows with bad words in them. I knew most of this ahead of time, but still didn’t expect the response we got.

APHRA:  The annual Tony Awards are coming up (on June 13^th) so let’s talk about Broadway for a moment.  What do you think about Broadway with regards to women?  Do you think women are well represented on Broadway?

MARIAH: As far as parity in number of female playwrights/ directors/ designers/ composers, no, women are absolutely NOT represented on Broadway. Yes, the men who dominate Broadway write good roles for women from time to time for which I thank them. But we’re plenty capable of writing those good roles ourselves and it’s a shame we aren’t given the chance to do so more often.

CHANCE: For the most part, no, women are not well represented on Broadway.  As actors they are but in all other areas they are not.  And that’s sad, because we are the one’s buying the tickets.

DRAE: Not enough women are really represented in most of the arts on a large scale. I tire of seeing women raped, violated and oppressed…There are just too many other stories for those to be so prevalent. Obviously, there are important stories about women being oppressed, but well…. you know? I’d like to see more women of color being produced and represented.

APHRA:  Are any of you going to watch the TONY awards?

CHANCE: No.

DRAE: I tend to miss them. I usually read about them the next day.

MARIAH: I don’t have a TV and since Broadway isn’t affordable, I often haven’t seen most of the nominees.

APHRA: What advice would you give to young women in theatre coming to New York City for the first time?

DRAE: Don’t be afraid to make your own stuff using whatever resources you have. Encourage talented women that you know, try to avoid the jealousy thing. You’ll probably work together some day.  Many people, often men, have a sense of entitlement.  Develop that as much as possible.  Take risks within reason. Know when to say no – there will be other opportunities. Allow yourself to make mistakes onstage.  Change your mind about stuff sometimes.

MARIAH: If you went to college, hit up as many fellow theatre alumni as you can and ask if they need any help with projects. People love free labor. Find theatres that match your style/groove and help with mass mailings, help with load-in and strike, usher (which also means seeing the show for free), offer to read scripts, etc. Eventually you’ll run out of energy and time to offer free labor, so offer as much of it as you can now; you’d be surprised how many connections you can make by just showing up and working for no money. Also, remember that networking is often as simple as making friends.  Chat up your fellow minions, because you’ll probably collaborate with them later. Yes, still try to chat up the artistic directors and literary managers, but if they’re too busy/ snobby/ whatever for you, don’t sweat it; go get coffee with a fellow intern and fantasize about the great art you’re going to make together.

CHANCE: Create your own theatre company and be supportive of each other.   Write plays and produce plays written by women.  Direct plays written by women and attend theater written and directed by women.  Also, audition for EVERYTHING!   Even if you don’t fit the criteria, audition for it.  It helps to break down stereotypes.

APHRA Are there any resources that have been helpful to you in your career?

MARIAH: Yes!

WomenArts

En Avant Playwrights

Playbill (occasionally)

NYC Playwrights: http://www.nycplaywrights.org/

NYFA Classifieds: Jobs in the Arts

NYC Theatre Spaces:

and the aptly named Playwriting Opportunities

CHANCE: Backstage, of course.  Attending the Guerrilla Girls On Tour’s annual Guerrilla GALa was one of the best career moves I ever made.

DRAE: I hate to say it, but Facebook. Also YouTube, nowcasting.com and Myspace back in the day. And Craigslist. I got jobs and interest from all of those. I booked a SAG commercial through Craigslist. But you know you have to be a bit wary too.

APHRA: If you could change one thing about theatre for women in New York what would it be?

DRAE: That if something happens to be about a woman or women, that it’s not ghetto-ized. . I wish that in general there was even more diversity.

CHANCE: I would change the minds of people who believe that women cannot create amazing theater by scheduling a season, on Broadway, of plays created only by women.  Who knows?  That one season may lead to a gender equal Broadway.

MARIAH:  That more of us would be doing it (particularly directors/ designers/ playwrights), and would be treated with the same respect/consideration that our male peers get.

APHRA:  How do you feel about the fact that when you get to the highest paying jobs in theatre you find the smallest number of women?

MARIAH: I feel pretty crappy about it, but feeling crappy isn’t going to fix it.  For now, I’m so far from the highest paying jobs in theatre that I’m just grateful that at the level where I currently work – indie theatre, that is – there isn’t nearly the same gender disparity, and therefore I’m getting something closely resembling a fair shake. When I get to the point where I can expect, and deserve, one of those highest-paying jobs, I’ll probably pound my fist and gnash my teeth if I don’t get it; but, for the moment, I’m just concentrating on paying my rent.

CHANCE: I think that it’s a shame that we have to work so hard with so little recognition.  But every oppressed group of people has had to work extra hard.  Unfortunately, the playing field is never level.  We have to be that much stronger for it.   Patience, positivity, and persistence are key.  We have to be supportive of one another, not fight against our sisters.  I have hope that there will be equal representation of women (50/50) by the year 2020.

APHRA: Are there any specific things that the theatre has led you to discover about being a woman/feminist/person?

CHANCE: Through theater I have learned how to be less introverted and stand up for what I believe in.

MARIAH: 1. Doing, not whining, makes the biggest impact. The Lilly Awards are a perfect example.  2. Not every feminist has to use her art as a place to make the social change she wants to see in the world, but it’s what I’ve found to be the most gratifying.  3. Yes, there’s a glass ceiling but it’s not impenetrable. While I know it’s not fair that I have to work harder than some men in my field have to I believe strongly enough in my work and in myself to work as hard as it takes to get my work out there; and hopefully I can set some precedents that will make some woman in the future not have to work as hard.

DRAE: That I can use my talent to do all kinds of different things. That being an artist is important and relevant to our culture.

Thanks to Drae Campbell, Chance Parker and Mariah MacCarthy for participating in this article.

Fast-forward to 2010: Channelling Robyn Okrant, an 18-year-old from Pennsylvania named Jamie is spending a month following all the advice that Seventeen doles out to young women. Purpose: to “shed some light on the modern teenage experience.” (Jamie admits she’s probably too self-aware for it to actually affect her. Just think of this as a SuperSize Me for teen girls.)

From the blog:

I got to thinking about the role of beauty/fashion magazines in society, and the industry’s intentions. Obviously, teen magazines are not intended to serve as manuals for better living. An informal poll of my friends indicated that roughly 0% of the girls I associate with actually apply the advice they get from magazines to their daily life. Save for the occasional “My-Ear-Got-Deformed-From-A-Cartilage-Piercing” horror story, however, these magazines offer little more than exhaustive lists of how to become cuter/hotter/thinner/fitter/healthier/more popular/etc. So if nobody is applying these supposedly life-changing tips, why are people still buying these magazines? (Cue inevitable: “They’re not… print media is dead!”) Are we really entertained by lists of makeup tips and pictures of girls in intensely-layered ensembles that we aren’t likely to wear? (Guilty pleasure answer: Yes?)

Jaclyn Friedman on Feminist Wednesday

Molly, Brian and I talk feminism and lady news every Wednesday at 9 a.m. on 89.5FM in Chicago–stream the show at Vocalo.org.