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Rondo: The world is a complicated place, Riff. Riff: Whenever it seems that way, I take a nap in a tree and wait for dinner.
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aobashi · 2 years
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AOBASHI HOUR 20220521 24:00- #AOBASHI
talk and select: hide shino
VAPERROR - FUNK TYPE R
米光美保 - あなただけ感じて (EXTENDED FULL POWER DIGITAL MIX!!)
Allegra - He Ain't You (Remixes) - 01 He Ain't You (Sebastian Perez Remix)
Homma Honganji - Fishbone - 03 Fishbone (Boom Merchant's Lost In Tokyo Mix)
Justin Shawn Hobbs - Trip 2 - 01 Trip 2
織田哲郎 - 5月の風景
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01sentencereviews · 4 years
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koleiedoscope · 3 years
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all the books i’ve read this year
-circe by madeline miller
-you can only yell at me for one thing at a time: rules for couples by roz chast and patricia marx
-the bell jar by sylvia plath
-eat my heart out by zoe pilger
-lavinia by ursula k. le guin
-the testaments by margaret atwood
-the ash family by molly dektar
-moral disorder by margaret atwood
-love’s executioner by irvin d. yalom
-my year of rest and relaxation by ottessa moshfegh
-the house of the spirits by isabel allende
-love in the time of cholera by gabriel garcia marquez
-unaccustomed earth by jhumpa lahiri
-the language of flowers by vanessa diffenbaugh
-just kids by patti smith
-family furnishings by alice munro
-paradise park by allegra goodman
-like water for chocolate by laura esquirel
-sirens of titan by kurt vonnegut
-good bones and simple murders by margaret atwood
-hope was here by joan bauer
-sex and death edited by sarah hall and peter hobbs
-bird by bird by anne lamott
-it chooses you by miranda july
-wise blood by flannery o’connor
-we never asked for wings by vanessa diffenbaugh
-the beggar maid by alice munro
-the japanese lover by isabel allende
-no evil star by anne sexton
-to bedlam and part way back by anne sexton
-all my pretty ones by anne sexton
-live or die by anne sexton
-watching you without me by lynn coady
-the goldfinch by donna tartt
-the robber bride by margaret atwood
-the stone diaries by carol shields
-the lives of girls and women by alice munro
-a little life by hanya yanagihara
-too much happiness by alice munro
-saints of big harbor by lynn coady
-delta of venus: erotica by anaïs nin
-life before man by margaret atwood
-walking to martha’s vineyard by franz wright
-the secret history by donna tartt
-the song of achilles by madeline miller
-fresh water for flowers by valérie perrin
-operating instructions: a journal of my son’s first year by anne lamott
-i love dick by chris kraus
𓆏𓆉𓆈𓆨𓆜𓆌
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laurenwilford · 4 years
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“The writer-influencer’s identity must be quickly identifiable by the consumer, distilled to a meme-like essence in which content is the same as form. The writing is lifestyle, and vice versa. Tolentino as a cool girl who plays beer pong and smokes a lot of weed. Prickett as an aloof and modelesque bohemian socialite. Fry as a funny and enviably fun-natured lover of all things lowbrow, proclaiming her obsessions with reality shows and random celebrities. Cat Marnell as a romantically messy party girl, a blonde and waifish Bukowski. Olivia Nuzzi as a shoeleather politico, the hot girl in a boy’s club with the establishment boyfriend to match. Taffy Brodesser-Akner as likable and liked, relatable and intellectual at the same time, the woman who, right now, has it all. Taffy’s (she can only be Taffy) enthusiasm is even raised as a curious anomaly in journalism; a Punch profiler described her as ‘buoyant – a palpable, energetic presence that’s difficult to square with the typical image of a lurking or inconspicuous reporter.’ In other words: she doesn’t even seem like a writer!
“I consider also how the women whose work I most admire, whose careers I most want to emulate, are also women who I want to be. Whether or not that is by design, I can’t help but feel it is no small part of what continues to drive me to click on their links and buy their books.
“It does not escape me that I have been considering only women, that the question of how to optimally present oneself online feels distinctly feminine, and this feels unfair even as the skill is somewhat advantageous, but mostly it feels inevitable. We are socialized to be highly attuned to making ourselves palatable for an audience, to be pleasing to the eye and the ear. This is the case as much on Twitter and Instagram as the physical world. And so we are slotted into this category, seen as much for our apartments and outfits as our writing, left to compete on every level at once.”
Allegra Hobbs, “The Journalist as Influencer,” The Guardian
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for: @joe-lambe
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It had been a few weeks since Joe proposed to her, and at first Allegra was excited at the prospect of planning their wedding. She had already found the perfect dress and they even nailed down a date, and were already working on getting ‘save the dates’ out. But when one thing was nailed down, it seemed like five more things popped up. 
And now she was close to grabbing Joe, dragging him to the nearest courthouse, and just getting married there. But she wanted it to be special...for the both of them. 
So Allegra sat on the couch with her laptop on her lap, looking for caterers that didn’t cost a ridiculous amount. She also had to find a venue, a photographer, and decide on music, and so many other things. She could feel a stress headache coming on and she put her head in her hands and groaned audibly, not hearing the door open until Hobbes got up and ran over to greet Joe. 
“Hey, babe,” she said as she looked at him with a small smile, clearly stressed out. “How was work?” 
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thirtysecondsmilano · 3 years
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PILLOLE DI STORIA DEL CINEMA ITALIANO
IL CINEMA DEI TELEFONI BIANCHI
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In questo articolo vi vogliamo parlare del Cinema dei Telefoni Bianchi che nel mondo del Cinema Italiano e' storicamente noto anche per la sua caratteristica di rifiuto di qualunque problematica sociale, ponendo al centro della scena esili commedie sentimentali.
Se non fossi un aficionado delle sale cinematografiche o semplicemente non ne hai mai sentito parlare, continua a leggere per una spolverata di storia.
Innanzitutto partiamo dal nome, che deriva dalla presenza di telefoni di colore bianco nelle sequenze dei primi film prodotti in questo periodo (in voga in Italia tra il 1936 ed il 1943): uno status symbol atto a marcare la differenza dai telefoni "popolari" in bachelite, più economici e dunque maggiormente diffusi, che invece erano di colore nero. Altra definizione data a questi film è cinema déco per la forte presenza di oggetti di arredamento che richiamano lo stile internazionale déco, in voga in quegli anni.
La produzione dei cosiddetti telefoni bianchi o cinema Decò descrive gli anni trenta e i primi quaranta attraverso gli arredamenti degli ambienti, oltre alle già dette moda e costume. L'epoca traspare dai particolari: gli oggetti ci fanno capire e datare con verosimiglianza l'epoca storica e l'ambientazione del film. Generalmente è resa manifesta la diffusione, almeno nelle città, del "prodotto di qualità", cioè non quello fatto a mano, bensì avanzano le proposte industriali di massa, i prodotti fatti in serie.
L'ambientazione borghese si rifece esteticamente alle commedie cinematografiche statunitensi, in particolar modo a Frank Capra. Le speranze dei piccolo-borghesi non poterono che divenire realtà: film come Mille lire al mese, così come l'omonima canzone, passarono alla storia per la loro esplicita spensieratezza ed evocazione altrettanto irriverente. L'elemento melodico ritornava spesso a far capolino, molti tra questi film contenevano infatti almeno una canzone di successo (basti pensare alla celeberrima “Parlami d'amore Mariù” composta per il film “Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... “ divenuta poi molto più famosa della pellicola stessa.
Tale rappresentazione di benessere e progresso era però ben lontana dalla realtà italiana di allora; la rappresentazione di una società benestante (in alcuni casi anche molto ricca), progredita, emancipata ed istruita era enormemente contrastante con la situazione reale dell'Italia, la quale, a quell'epoca, era invece un Paese sostanzialmente povero, materialmente e moralmente arretrato e con la maggior parte della popolazione analfabeta, così come anche l'atmosfera entusiasta, allegra e spensierata di queste pellicole appariva cozzante con la cupa situazione della nazione, soggiogata dalla dittatura fascista che pero' agevolava il genere cinematografico per far dimenticare la poco rosea realtà della vita quotidiana della gente comune.
Tra i numerosi film del filone, si impone il giovane attore Vittorio De Sica, reso celebre da Mario Camerini nel film del 1932 “Gli uomini che mascalzoni” È un genere che si basa molto sugli errori di identità, come il film con De Sica, dove fa credere ad una commessa di essere un ricco uomo d’affari, mentre in realtà è solo un autista. Ma questi errori di identità permettono il confronto tra le classi. Si può trattare di una promozione sociale definitiva, come in Dora Nelson di Mario Soldati, o può invertirsi il movimento, come nel geniale film di Mario Camerini Il signor Max, con De Sica che conduce una doppia vita, corteggiando come conte una nobildonna e come giornalaio la cameriera di quest’ultima. Il perfetto esempio di cinema dei telefoni bianchi. Anche se questi film si divertono a risvegliare il mito di “Cenerentola” e de “La bella addormentata nel bosco”, dai primi anni ’40 le prospettive mutano. Con Teresa Venerdì, Vittorio De Sica, al suo terzo film da regista, impone una visione diversa dei mitici collegi rappresentati nei film dei telefoni bianchi, con una robusta virata in direzione neorealista. Rimane certamente ancorato ai cliché del genere, ma lo stile dolce – amaro del film denota, ad esempio, la sua futura attenzione per i bambini e l’insoddisfazione per il rigido schema delle commedie spensierate con cui aveva comunque costruito inizialmente la sua fama d’attore.
Maggiore sarà la crisi della quotidiana vita degli italiani e maggiormente amplificate saranno le scenografie. In questo genere non saranno i registi ad imporre il loro marchio, ma gli attori e gli sceneggiatori.
Ben presto i soggetti cominciarono a diventare ripetitivi e ovviamente sempre più scontati, prevedibili e banali; in seguito, con l'aggravarsi del conflitto, la produzione di questo filone divenne sempre più rada e discontinua fino a scomparire del tutto con il crollo del regime fascista, anche se nel filone decò rientrano anche alcune opere girate nel Cinevillaggio di Venezia durante la RSI, come ad esempio Fiori d'arancio, di Hobbes Dino Cecchini con Luigi Tosi ed Andreina Carli.
E qui arriviamo al Neorealismo:
“Con l’avvicinarsi della fine della seconda guerra mondiale, nella prima metà degli anni ’40, nasce un nuovo tipo di cinema, dagli studios ci si trasferisce in strada. (…)
                                              -TO BE CONTINUED-
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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years
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‘It Was a Losing Fight to Write Anything That Wasn’t “Ethnic”’
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White food writers are often allowed to be generalists, while BIPOC creators are limited to their personal histories, their cultures, and the foods their grandmothers made
In this age of the cook-turned-influencer, Bon Appétit’s video content found astonishing success by capitalizing on the colorful world of the quirky characters featured in its test kitchen. In many cases, the employees’ personalities were turned into their personal brands. This strategy, actively pursued by now-former editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport, piggybacked off an evolving relationship between audiences and celebrity chefs like Alison Roman, whose “authentic” lazy-girl cooking hacks jolted her into almost instant fame. Branding oneself as the creator of a viral dish (“the stew,” “the pasta”) or crafting an identity around a quirk or personality trait, all but eliminates the need for bona fide experts, allowing the internet-friendly celebrity chef to take their place.
But as the casual viewer noticed — and as stories about Bon Appétit’s corporate culture have revealed in recent weeks — it is almost always only white food writers, chefs, and recipe developers who get to adopt personas that go beyond their ethnicity. For every Brad Leone, who gets to be goofy and charming, for every Claire Saffitz, who becomes a sensation for being hyper-competitive and neurotically orderly, you have a Priya Krishna or a Rick Martinez, whose ethnicity, and the “expertise” in a certain cuisine that comes with it, is often framed as their most useful contribution to the team.
Martinez, former senior food editor and current BA contributor, was branded the “resident taco maestro” in the pages of the magazine, yet, as he recounted to Business Insider, then-deputy editor Andrew Knowlton asked if he was “a one-trick pony” for focusing on Mexican cuisine. Argentinian test kitchen manager Gaby Melian’s only solo video on YouTube is of her making her family’s empanada recipe. Fan favorite Sohla El-Waylly, who managed to veer out into more generalist territory with beloved recipes for dumplings, cinnamon buns, and even a carbonara dessert, started her career at BA talking about her riff on a family biryani recipe on the Bon Appétit Foodcast podcast and made an “updated” version of a Bengali snack, piyaju, for her first solo video. Even after expanding out of her “niche” and producing some of the channel’s most creative recipes, El-Waylly’s expertise was considered external to her identity, and — as she revealed in an Instagram story on June 8 — she was compensated as such. Other BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) at BA, including contributing editor Priya Krishna and research director Joseph Hernandez, also spoke out against BA’s pay disparities and its pervasive racist culture that, as Business Insider wrote, “does not provide nonwhite employees the same opportunities on the brand’s video side that white employees enjoy.”
The feeling of being slotted into a niche is all too familiar for Martinez. “There’s this idea in food media that it’s somehow easier to cook the food of your culture because you grew up with it or that it’s a part of you,” Martinez tells me. “It completely discounts the skills that it takes to build a recipe for an American audience. To recreate or even create an homage to the original dish requires a lot of creativity, skill, and work.”
The recent changes at BA — Rapoport’s resignation, white BA staffers’ refusal to put out content until their BIPOC colleagues are paid fairly — are a start. Yet the simultaneous compartmentalizing and marginalization of BIPOC in food media goes far beyond one organization or one editor-in-chief. Allowing BIPOC to have more agency within the food media system will require reimagining the relationship white America has both to “other cuisines” and to the people who grew up on them.
There’s this perception in food media, which publications like Bon Appétit subscribe to and perpetuate, that all that nonwhite writers really want is to have their cultures represented “authentically.” But the premise of authenticity is rooted in a white gaze that selectively acquires aspects of nonwhite cultures to package as just exotic enough to remain accessible. In late June, the New York Times published a story about “Thai fruit” that frames common fruit in Thailand as foreign and difficult to understand. The week before, tofu was labeled “white, chewy, and bland” in a since-deleted tweet by Bloomberg Asia. And who can forget the infamous Bon Appétit pho fiasco, which called the Vietnamese dish “the new ramen” and enlisted a white chef to give a “PSA: This Is How You Should Be Eating Pho”? Stories like these serve as reminders that foods outside of whiteness are at odds with an imagined “American” readership, for whom these foods remain distant and other.
“Our white colleagues think that we are speaking out about representation or appropriation because we want to be seen as experts on the subject,” says travel and food writer Dan Q. Dao. “[But] what we are [really] fighting is a long battle for inclusivity and equity in our workplaces.”
“I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist.”
Those workplaces, it should be noted, are overwhelmingly white. In June, Leah Bhabha noted in a Grubstreet piece, citing a 2019 Diversity Baseline study, that 76 percent of all publishing industry professionals are white. “In my own experience, as a biracial Indian writer, I’ve never had more than one coworker of color on my team,” she wrote, “and frequently it’s just been me.” The social media age — and the branding pressures inherent within — exacerbates that experience. Social media allows for real-time feedback that makes creators accountable to an audience that often acts as ad hoc sensitivity readers for people writing about their own cultural backgrounds. Writer and chef Samin Nosrat recently tweeted her frustrations with that pressure: “Instead of criticizing the systems that refuse to allow for greater diversity and inclusion, desis, Iranians, whoever, just pile on individual cooks for our perceived failure to represent their ideal versions of their entire cuisines. (Or even more frustratingly, for failing to cook something *exactly* like maman did it back home. I am not your maman!)”
But as media writer Allegra Hobbs pointed out in October 2019, “in the age of Twitter and Instagram, an online presence, which is necessarily public and necessarily consumable, seems all but mandatory for a writer who reaches (or hopes to reach) a certain level of renown.” In curating this online presence, writers and other creators are often pushed to flatten themselves into an easily legible extension of their identity.
Like many, food writer and chef Lesley Téllez has struggled with the expectations that come with being Mexican in food media. “There’s more pressure on BIPOC to find a niche that makes us stand out,” she says. “Over and over, the faces who look like us are people who specialize in food from their particular countries or backgrounds. It sends an overt message that stepping out as a generalist is hard, and that you will not be hired as such. I have definitely felt pressure to keep non-Mexican-cooking stuff off of my social media, and my old blog.”
For all the claims organizations in food media have made of diversifying their rosters and cleaning up the more egregious offenses in their treatment of nonwhite writers, there is still an association between nonwhite writers and their ethnicity, which is treated as tantamount to other aspects of their identities. BIPOC in food media are routinely not considered for assignments about things that don’t directly relate to their ethnicity or race. “I became a food writer 20 years ago when it was not really a profession,” says Ramin Ganeshram. “Yet, despite my qualifications as a reporter, editor, and chef, it was a losing fight to write anything that wasn’t ‘ethnic.’... I was discouraged and prevented from writing about generalized food technique or profiles, despite French culinary training.”
These assignments are often handed off to white writers, who are seen as “generalists” with the ability to stick their hands into any cuisine and turn it into something palatable (or, more importantly, into pageviews). Ganeshram says, “I was directly told regarding a job I didn’t receive at a New England-based national cooking magazine that they thought of me as more of an ‘ethnic’ writer.”
Instead, BIPOC get stuck with work directly related to their ethnicities. “I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist,” says food writer Su-Jit Lin, “or frame things from a point of greater expertise than I actually have. It’s assumed I’m fully indoctrinated into the culture and more Chinese than American (not true — my lane is actually Southern, Italian, and kind of Irish food).” Even when chefs push back against this compartmentalization, they are turned into caricatured ambassadors for their backgrounds. Chef (and Eater contributor) Jenny Dorsey wrote on Twitter that even though she demonstrated a dish on video that had nothing to do with her heritage, the result was ultimately titled “Jenny Dorsey talks about how her Chinese-American heritage influences her cooking.”
Often, the addition of a “cultural slant” to stories leads to one of the more egregious ways that nonwhite food is pigeonholed and othered — through what writer Isabel Quintero calls a lust for “Abuelita longing.” The term speaks to the way immigrant and diasporic writers (both within and outside food media) are frequently expected to add a dash of trauma or ancestral belonging to anything they write. As a Trinidadian-Iranian chef, Ganeshram finds this association particularly limiting. “When I’ve tried to write stories about my Iranian heritage, not being a recent Iranian immigrant or the child of a post-revolution immigrant has been an issue,” she says. “The editors I dealt with only wanted a refugee/escaping the Islamic Republic story. They decided what constituted an ‘authentic’ Iranian story, and that story was based in strife and hardship only.” These markers of authenticity can only come from the wholesome domesticity presumed of the ethnic other.
The extreme whiteness of the food industry, and of food media, places undue pressure on nonwhite writers and chefs. As food writer and founder of Whetstone Magazine, Stephen Satterfield wrote for Chefsfeed in 2017: “In mostly-white communities, you become an ambassador for your race. The stakes are high, and you try hard not to screw it up for the ones behind you…. Black chefs know this well: we must validate our presence, where others exist unquestioned. And what does it mean to be a black food writer? It means that you’ll never just be a food writer, you’ll be a black food writer.”
In other words, being designated as “ethnic” chefs put far too many BIPOC working in food media in a bind. Either they work against being pigeonholed by pitching stories that mark them as generalists, but lose out on assignments as a consequence, or they double down and tell stories of their culture and cuisine, but risk being limited both career- and compensation-wise.
Martinez was aware of this predicament while signing on to write a regional Mexican cookbook. “Writing a love letter to Mexico is so important in these times, but I had to seriously consider whether it would be a career-limiting move,” he says. He chose to write the book, but others, like Caroline Shin, food journalist and founder of the Cooking with Granny video and workshop series, have had to push against the expectation that anything they publish will be about their ethnic cuisine. “Last year, literary agents told me that I couldn’t sell diversity,” she says. “[I]f I wanted a cookbook, I should focus on my Korean culture.” While Shin chose to start her own program as what she calls an “‘I’ll show you’ to white-dominated institutions,” it raises the question of whether BIPOC in food media can taste mainstream success without operating as spokespeople for their ethnic cuisines.
But if you continue to pigeonhole and tokenize your BIPOC employees, seeing them primarily as products of trauma or perpetuating their marginalization by refusing them fair pay and workplace equity, then your calls to diversify the workplace mean very little, if anything at all.
Mallika Khanna is a graduate student in media who writes about film and digital culture, diaspora and immigrant experiences and the environment through a feminist, anti-capitalist lens. Nicole Medina is a Philly based illustrator who loves capturing adventure through her art using bold colors and patterns.
from Eater - All https://ift.tt/39Jaxcc https://ift.tt/3ffOn2G
Tumblr media
White food writers are often allowed to be generalists, while BIPOC creators are limited to their personal histories, their cultures, and the foods their grandmothers made
In this age of the cook-turned-influencer, Bon Appétit’s video content found astonishing success by capitalizing on the colorful world of the quirky characters featured in its test kitchen. In many cases, the employees’ personalities were turned into their personal brands. This strategy, actively pursued by now-former editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport, piggybacked off an evolving relationship between audiences and celebrity chefs like Alison Roman, whose “authentic” lazy-girl cooking hacks jolted her into almost instant fame. Branding oneself as the creator of a viral dish (“the stew,” “the pasta”) or crafting an identity around a quirk or personality trait, all but eliminates the need for bona fide experts, allowing the internet-friendly celebrity chef to take their place.
But as the casual viewer noticed — and as stories about Bon Appétit’s corporate culture have revealed in recent weeks — it is almost always only white food writers, chefs, and recipe developers who get to adopt personas that go beyond their ethnicity. For every Brad Leone, who gets to be goofy and charming, for every Claire Saffitz, who becomes a sensation for being hyper-competitive and neurotically orderly, you have a Priya Krishna or a Rick Martinez, whose ethnicity, and the “expertise” in a certain cuisine that comes with it, is often framed as their most useful contribution to the team.
Martinez, former senior food editor and current BA contributor, was branded the “resident taco maestro” in the pages of the magazine, yet, as he recounted to Business Insider, then-deputy editor Andrew Knowlton asked if he was “a one-trick pony” for focusing on Mexican cuisine. Argentinian test kitchen manager Gaby Melian’s only solo video on YouTube is of her making her family’s empanada recipe. Fan favorite Sohla El-Waylly, who managed to veer out into more generalist territory with beloved recipes for dumplings, cinnamon buns, and even a carbonara dessert, started her career at BA talking about her riff on a family biryani recipe on the Bon Appétit Foodcast podcast and made an “updated” version of a Bengali snack, piyaju, for her first solo video. Even after expanding out of her “niche” and producing some of the channel’s most creative recipes, El-Waylly’s expertise was considered external to her identity, and — as she revealed in an Instagram story on June 8 — she was compensated as such. Other BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) at BA, including contributing editor Priya Krishna and research director Joseph Hernandez, also spoke out against BA’s pay disparities and its pervasive racist culture that, as Business Insider wrote, “does not provide nonwhite employees the same opportunities on the brand’s video side that white employees enjoy.”
The feeling of being slotted into a niche is all too familiar for Martinez. “There’s this idea in food media that it’s somehow easier to cook the food of your culture because you grew up with it or that it’s a part of you,” Martinez tells me. “It completely discounts the skills that it takes to build a recipe for an American audience. To recreate or even create an homage to the original dish requires a lot of creativity, skill, and work.”
The recent changes at BA — Rapoport’s resignation, white BA staffers’ refusal to put out content until their BIPOC colleagues are paid fairly — are a start. Yet the simultaneous compartmentalizing and marginalization of BIPOC in food media goes far beyond one organization or one editor-in-chief. Allowing BIPOC to have more agency within the food media system will require reimagining the relationship white America has both to “other cuisines” and to the people who grew up on them.
There’s this perception in food media, which publications like Bon Appétit subscribe to and perpetuate, that all that nonwhite writers really want is to have their cultures represented “authentically.” But the premise of authenticity is rooted in a white gaze that selectively acquires aspects of nonwhite cultures to package as just exotic enough to remain accessible. In late June, the New York Times published a story about “Thai fruit” that frames common fruit in Thailand as foreign and difficult to understand. The week before, tofu was labeled “white, chewy, and bland” in a since-deleted tweet by Bloomberg Asia. And who can forget the infamous Bon Appétit pho fiasco, which called the Vietnamese dish “the new ramen” and enlisted a white chef to give a “PSA: This Is How You Should Be Eating Pho”? Stories like these serve as reminders that foods outside of whiteness are at odds with an imagined “American” readership, for whom these foods remain distant and other.
“Our white colleagues think that we are speaking out about representation or appropriation because we want to be seen as experts on the subject,” says travel and food writer Dan Q. Dao. “[But] what we are [really] fighting is a long battle for inclusivity and equity in our workplaces.”
“I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist.”
Those workplaces, it should be noted, are overwhelmingly white. In June, Leah Bhabha noted in a Grubstreet piece, citing a 2019 Diversity Baseline study, that 76 percent of all publishing industry professionals are white. “In my own experience, as a biracial Indian writer, I’ve never had more than one coworker of color on my team,” she wrote, “and frequently it’s just been me.” The social media age — and the branding pressures inherent within — exacerbates that experience. Social media allows for real-time feedback that makes creators accountable to an audience that often acts as ad hoc sensitivity readers for people writing about their own cultural backgrounds. Writer and chef Samin Nosrat recently tweeted her frustrations with that pressure: “Instead of criticizing the systems that refuse to allow for greater diversity and inclusion, desis, Iranians, whoever, just pile on individual cooks for our perceived failure to represent their ideal versions of their entire cuisines. (Or even more frustratingly, for failing to cook something *exactly* like maman did it back home. I am not your maman!)”
But as media writer Allegra Hobbs pointed out in October 2019, “in the age of Twitter and Instagram, an online presence, which is necessarily public and necessarily consumable, seems all but mandatory for a writer who reaches (or hopes to reach) a certain level of renown.” In curating this online presence, writers and other creators are often pushed to flatten themselves into an easily legible extension of their identity.
Like many, food writer and chef Lesley Téllez has struggled with the expectations that come with being Mexican in food media. “There’s more pressure on BIPOC to find a niche that makes us stand out,” she says. “Over and over, the faces who look like us are people who specialize in food from their particular countries or backgrounds. It sends an overt message that stepping out as a generalist is hard, and that you will not be hired as such. I have definitely felt pressure to keep non-Mexican-cooking stuff off of my social media, and my old blog.”
For all the claims organizations in food media have made of diversifying their rosters and cleaning up the more egregious offenses in their treatment of nonwhite writers, there is still an association between nonwhite writers and their ethnicity, which is treated as tantamount to other aspects of their identities. BIPOC in food media are routinely not considered for assignments about things that don’t directly relate to their ethnicity or race. “I became a food writer 20 years ago when it was not really a profession,” says Ramin Ganeshram. “Yet, despite my qualifications as a reporter, editor, and chef, it was a losing fight to write anything that wasn’t ‘ethnic.’... I was discouraged and prevented from writing about generalized food technique or profiles, despite French culinary training.”
These assignments are often handed off to white writers, who are seen as “generalists” with the ability to stick their hands into any cuisine and turn it into something palatable (or, more importantly, into pageviews). Ganeshram says, “I was directly told regarding a job I didn’t receive at a New England-based national cooking magazine that they thought of me as more of an ‘ethnic’ writer.”
Instead, BIPOC get stuck with work directly related to their ethnicities. “I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist,” says food writer Su-Jit Lin, “or frame things from a point of greater expertise than I actually have. It’s assumed I’m fully indoctrinated into the culture and more Chinese than American (not true — my lane is actually Southern, Italian, and kind of Irish food).” Even when chefs push back against this compartmentalization, they are turned into caricatured ambassadors for their backgrounds. Chef (and Eater contributor) Jenny Dorsey wrote on Twitter that even though she demonstrated a dish on video that had nothing to do with her heritage, the result was ultimately titled “Jenny Dorsey talks about how her Chinese-American heritage influences her cooking.”
Often, the addition of a “cultural slant” to stories leads to one of the more egregious ways that nonwhite food is pigeonholed and othered — through what writer Isabel Quintero calls a lust for “Abuelita longing.” The term speaks to the way immigrant and diasporic writers (both within and outside food media) are frequently expected to add a dash of trauma or ancestral belonging to anything they write. As a Trinidadian-Iranian chef, Ganeshram finds this association particularly limiting. “When I’ve tried to write stories about my Iranian heritage, not being a recent Iranian immigrant or the child of a post-revolution immigrant has been an issue,” she says. “The editors I dealt with only wanted a refugee/escaping the Islamic Republic story. They decided what constituted an ‘authentic’ Iranian story, and that story was based in strife and hardship only.” These markers of authenticity can only come from the wholesome domesticity presumed of the ethnic other.
The extreme whiteness of the food industry, and of food media, places undue pressure on nonwhite writers and chefs. As food writer and founder of Whetstone Magazine, Stephen Satterfield wrote for Chefsfeed in 2017: “In mostly-white communities, you become an ambassador for your race. The stakes are high, and you try hard not to screw it up for the ones behind you…. Black chefs know this well: we must validate our presence, where others exist unquestioned. And what does it mean to be a black food writer? It means that you’ll never just be a food writer, you’ll be a black food writer.”
In other words, being designated as “ethnic” chefs put far too many BIPOC working in food media in a bind. Either they work against being pigeonholed by pitching stories that mark them as generalists, but lose out on assignments as a consequence, or they double down and tell stories of their culture and cuisine, but risk being limited both career- and compensation-wise.
Martinez was aware of this predicament while signing on to write a regional Mexican cookbook. “Writing a love letter to Mexico is so important in these times, but I had to seriously consider whether it would be a career-limiting move,” he says. He chose to write the book, but others, like Caroline Shin, food journalist and founder of the Cooking with Granny video and workshop series, have had to push against the expectation that anything they publish will be about their ethnic cuisine. “Last year, literary agents told me that I couldn’t sell diversity,” she says. “[I]f I wanted a cookbook, I should focus on my Korean culture.” While Shin chose to start her own program as what she calls an “‘I’ll show you’ to white-dominated institutions,” it raises the question of whether BIPOC in food media can taste mainstream success without operating as spokespeople for their ethnic cuisines.
But if you continue to pigeonhole and tokenize your BIPOC employees, seeing them primarily as products of trauma or perpetuating their marginalization by refusing them fair pay and workplace equity, then your calls to diversify the workplace mean very little, if anything at all.
Mallika Khanna is a graduate student in media who writes about film and digital culture, diaspora and immigrant experiences and the environment through a feminist, anti-capitalist lens. Nicole Medina is a Philly based illustrator who loves capturing adventure through her art using bold colors and patterns.
from Eater - All https://ift.tt/39Jaxcc via Blogger https://ift.tt/3jV5hXH
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instantdeerlover · 4 years
Text
‘It Was a Losing Fight to Write Anything That Wasn’t “Ethnic”’ added to Google Docs
‘It Was a Losing Fight to Write Anything That Wasn’t “Ethnic”’
White food writers are often allowed to be generalists, while BIPOC creators are limited to their personal histories, their cultures, and the foods their grandmothers made
In this age of the cook-turned-influencer, Bon Appétit’s video content found astonishing success by capitalizing on the colorful world of the quirky characters featured in its test kitchen. In many cases, the employees’ personalities were turned into their personal brands. This strategy, actively pursued by now-former editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport, piggybacked off an evolving relationship between audiences and celebrity chefs like Alison Roman, whose “authentic” lazy-girl cooking hacks jolted her into almost instant fame. Branding oneself as the creator of a viral dish (“the stew,” “the pasta”) or crafting an identity around a quirk or personality trait, all but eliminates the need for bona fide experts, allowing the internet-friendly celebrity chef to take their place.
But as the casual viewer noticed — and as stories about Bon Appétit’s corporate culture have revealed in recent weeks — it is almost always only white food writers, chefs, and recipe developers who get to adopt personas that go beyond their ethnicity. For every Brad Leone, who gets to be goofy and charming, for every Claire Saffitz, who becomes a sensation for being hyper-competitive and neurotically orderly, you have a Priya Krishna or a Rick Martinez, whose ethnicity, and the “expertise” in a certain cuisine that comes with it, is often framed as their most useful contribution to the team.
Martinez, former senior food editor and current BA contributor, was branded the “resident taco maestro” in the pages of the magazine, yet, as he recounted to Business Insider, then-deputy editor Andrew Knowlton asked if he was “a one-trick pony” for focusing on Mexican cuisine. Argentinian test kitchen manager Gaby Melian’s only solo video on YouTube is of her making her family’s empanada recipe. Fan favorite Sohla El-Waylly, who managed to veer out into more generalist territory with beloved recipes for dumplings, cinnamon buns, and even a carbonara dessert, started her career at BA talking about her riff on a family biryani recipe on the Bon Appétit Foodcast podcast and made an “updated” version of a Bengali snack, piyaju, for her first solo video. Even after expanding out of her “niche” and producing some of the channel’s most creative recipes, El-Waylly’s expertise was considered external to her identity, and — as she revealed in an Instagram story on June 8 — she was compensated as such. Other BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) at BA, including contributing editor Priya Krishna and research director Joseph Hernandez, also spoke out against BA’s pay disparities and its pervasive racist culture that, as Business Insider wrote, “does not provide nonwhite employees the same opportunities on the brand’s video side that white employees enjoy.”
The feeling of being slotted into a niche is all too familiar for Martinez. “There’s this idea in food media that it’s somehow easier to cook the food of your culture because you grew up with it or that it’s a part of you,” Martinez tells me. “It completely discounts the skills that it takes to build a recipe for an American audience. To recreate or even create an homage to the original dish requires a lot of creativity, skill, and work.”
The recent changes at BA — Rapoport’s resignation, white BA staffers’ refusal to put out content until their BIPOC colleagues are paid fairly — are a start. Yet the simultaneous compartmentalizing and marginalization of BIPOC in food media goes far beyond one organization or one editor-in-chief. Allowing BIPOC to have more agency within the food media system will require reimagining the relationship white America has both to “other cuisines” and to the people who grew up on them.
There’s this perception in food media, which publications like Bon Appétit subscribe to and perpetuate, that all that nonwhite writers really want is to have their cultures represented “authentically.” But the premise of authenticity is rooted in a white gaze that selectively acquires aspects of nonwhite cultures to package as just exotic enough to remain accessible. In late June, the New York Times published a story about “Thai fruit” that frames common fruit in Thailand as foreign and difficult to understand. The week before, tofu was labeled “white, chewy, and bland” in a since-deleted tweet by Bloomberg Asia. And who can forget the infamous Bon Appétit pho fiasco, which called the Vietnamese dish “the new ramen” and enlisted a white chef to give a “PSA: This Is How You Should Be Eating Pho”? Stories like these serve as reminders that foods outside of whiteness are at odds with an imagined “American” readership, for whom these foods remain distant and other.
“Our white colleagues think that we are speaking out about representation or appropriation because we want to be seen as experts on the subject,” says travel and food writer Dan Q. Dao. “[But] what we are [really] fighting is a long battle for inclusivity and equity in our workplaces.”
“I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist.”
Those workplaces, it should be noted, are overwhelmingly white. In June, Leah Bhabha noted in a Grubstreet piece, citing a 2019 Diversity Baseline study, that 76 percent of all publishing industry professionals are white. “In my own experience, as a biracial Indian writer, I’ve never had more than one coworker of color on my team,” she wrote, “and frequently it’s just been me.” The social media age — and the branding pressures inherent within — exacerbates that experience. Social media allows for real-time feedback that makes creators accountable to an audience that often acts as ad hoc sensitivity readers for people writing about their own cultural backgrounds. Writer and chef Samin Nosrat recently tweeted her frustrations with that pressure: “Instead of criticizing the systems that refuse to allow for greater diversity and inclusion, desis, Iranians, whoever, just pile on individual cooks for our perceived failure to represent their ideal versions of their entire cuisines. (Or even more frustratingly, for failing to cook something *exactly* like maman did it back home. I am not your maman!)”
But as media writer Allegra Hobbs pointed out in October 2019, “in the age of Twitter and Instagram, an online presence, which is necessarily public and necessarily consumable, seems all but mandatory for a writer who reaches (or hopes to reach) a certain level of renown.” In curating this online presence, writers and other creators are often pushed to flatten themselves into an easily legible extension of their identity.
Like many, food writer and chef Lesley Téllez has struggled with the expectations that come with being Mexican in food media. “There’s more pressure on BIPOC to find a niche that makes us stand out,” she says. “Over and over, the faces who look like us are people who specialize in food from their particular countries or backgrounds. It sends an overt message that stepping out as a generalist is hard, and that you will not be hired as such. I have definitely felt pressure to keep non-Mexican-cooking stuff off of my social media, and my old blog.”
For all the claims organizations in food media have made of diversifying their rosters and cleaning up the more egregious offenses in their treatment of nonwhite writers, there is still an association between nonwhite writers and their ethnicity, which is treated as tantamount to other aspects of their identities. BIPOC in food media are routinely not considered for assignments about things that don’t directly relate to their ethnicity or race. “I became a food writer 20 years ago when it was not really a profession,” says Ramin Ganeshram. “Yet, despite my qualifications as a reporter, editor, and chef, it was a losing fight to write anything that wasn’t ‘ethnic.’... I was discouraged and prevented from writing about generalized food technique or profiles, despite French culinary training.”
These assignments are often handed off to white writers, who are seen as “generalists” with the ability to stick their hands into any cuisine and turn it into something palatable (or, more importantly, into pageviews). Ganeshram says, “I was directly told regarding a job I didn’t receive at a New England-based national cooking magazine that they thought of me as more of an ‘ethnic’ writer.”
Instead, BIPOC get stuck with work directly related to their ethnicities. “I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist,” says food writer Su-Jit Lin, “or frame things from a point of greater expertise than I actually have. It’s assumed I’m fully indoctrinated into the culture and more Chinese than American (not true — my lane is actually Southern, Italian, and kind of Irish food).” Even when chefs push back against this compartmentalization, they are turned into caricatured ambassadors for their backgrounds. Chef (and Eater contributor) Jenny Dorsey wrote on Twitter that even though she demonstrated a dish on video that had nothing to do with her heritage, the result was ultimately titled “Jenny Dorsey talks about how her Chinese-American heritage influences her cooking.”
Often, the addition of a “cultural slant” to stories leads to one of the more egregious ways that nonwhite food is pigeonholed and othered — through what writer Isabel Quintero calls a lust for “Abuelita longing.” The term speaks to the way immigrant and diasporic writers (both within and outside food media) are frequently expected to add a dash of trauma or ancestral belonging to anything they write. As a Trinidadian-Iranian chef, Ganeshram finds this association particularly limiting. “When I’ve tried to write stories about my Iranian heritage, not being a recent Iranian immigrant or the child of a post-revolution immigrant has been an issue,” she says. “The editors I dealt with only wanted a refugee/escaping the Islamic Republic story. They decided what constituted an ‘authentic’ Iranian story, and that story was based in strife and hardship only.” These markers of authenticity can only come from the wholesome domesticity presumed of the ethnic other.
The extreme whiteness of the food industry, and of food media, places undue pressure on nonwhite writers and chefs. As food writer and founder of Whetstone Magazine, Stephen Satterfield wrote for Chefsfeed in 2017: “In mostly-white communities, you become an ambassador for your race. The stakes are high, and you try hard not to screw it up for the ones behind you…. Black chefs know this well: we must validate our presence, where others exist unquestioned. And what does it mean to be a black food writer? It means that you’ll never just be a food writer, you’ll be a black food writer.”
In other words, being designated as “ethnic” chefs put far too many BIPOC working in food media in a bind. Either they work against being pigeonholed by pitching stories that mark them as generalists, but lose out on assignments as a consequence, or they double down and tell stories of their culture and cuisine, but risk being limited both career- and compensation-wise.
Martinez was aware of this predicament while signing on to write a regional Mexican cookbook. “Writing a love letter to Mexico is so important in these times, but I had to seriously consider whether it would be a career-limiting move,” he says. He chose to write the book, but others, like Caroline Shin, food journalist and founder of the Cooking with Granny video and workshop series, have had to push against the expectation that anything they publish will be about their ethnic cuisine. “Last year, literary agents told me that I couldn’t sell diversity,” she says. “[I]f I wanted a cookbook, I should focus on my Korean culture.” While Shin chose to start her own program as what she calls an “‘I’ll show you’ to white-dominated institutions,” it raises the question of whether BIPOC in food media can taste mainstream success without operating as spokespeople for their ethnic cuisines.
But if you continue to pigeonhole and tokenize your BIPOC employees, seeing them primarily as products of trauma or perpetuating their marginalization by refusing them fair pay and workplace equity, then your calls to diversify the workplace mean very little, if anything at all.
Mallika Khanna is a graduate student in media who writes about film and digital culture, diaspora and immigrant experiences and the environment through a feminist, anti-capitalist lens. Nicole Medina is a Philly based illustrator who loves capturing adventure through her art using bold colors and patterns.
via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/21347367/food-media-flattens-ethnicity-into-identity-bipoc-creators-bon-appetit-rick-martinez-alison-roman
Created July 31, 2020 at 01:26AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF
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trendingnewstracker · 4 years
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Civil, which began with the intent to launch dozens of sites supported by a blockchain-based platform and the CVL token, fell short of fixing media funding woes (Allegra Hobbs/Patreon)
Allegra Hobbs / Patreon: Civil, which began with the intent to launch dozens of sites supported by a blockchain-based platform and the CVL token, fell short of fixing media funding woes  —  In 2017, Civil funded a fleet of new publications with the promise that its CVL cryptocurrency would create a sustainable model for digital…
https://is.gd/HeOlma
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harlemcondolife · 7 years
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Steve Croman's 9300 Realty was given one more chance to move out of its Broadway office space by Monday. View Full Caption DNAinfo/Allegra Hobbs NOHO — A controversial landlord being investigated for tenant harassment was given one last chance to clear out of his real estate management office after it had overstayed its lease seven months past its expiration date, according to court documents. [ 34 more words ] http://bit.ly/2iHrxJo
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01sentencereviews · 4 years
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“new-to-me” - oct 2019
cecil b. demented (2000, john waters)
slumber party massacre ii (1987, deborah brock)
afro samurai (2007, fuminori kizaki)
memories of murder (2003, bong joon-ho) 
bloody birthday (1981, ed hunt)
honorable mentions:
cat people (1942, jacques tourneur)
darkman (1990, sam raimi)
rapado (1992, martín rejtman)
scarlet diva (2000, asia argento)
speed (1994, jan de bont)
wild rose (2018, tom harper)
new releases:
3 from hell (rob zombie)
gemini man (ang lee)
jenny slate: stage fright (gillian robespierre)
joker (todd phillips)
the lighthouse (robert eggers)
little joe (jessica hausner)
pain and glory (pedro almodóvar)*
this is not berlin (hari sama)
readings:
"gemini man: tax credits at 120fps" (vadim rizov)
“the journalist as influencer: how we sell ourselves on social media" (allegra hobbs)*
“the size of your love: the psychological effects of violence in the horror films of rob zombie” (willow catelyn maclay)
“you're not going to remember any of this shit: joker, reviewed” (felix biederman)
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newyorknewyorknews · 7 years
Text
1.25 Percent Hike on Rent Stabilized Apartments Approved by Board - DNAinfo
1.25 Percent Hike on Rent Stabilized Apartments Approved by Board - DNAinfo http://ift.tt/2t1ZjdF
DNAinfo
1.25 Percent Hike on Rent Stabilized Apartments Approved by Board DNAinfo Tenants and advocates called for a freeze or rollback for rent stabilized units. View Full Caption. DNAinfo/Allegra Hobbs. MANHATTAN — The city's roughly 1.6 million rent-stabilized tenants will soon see modest rent increases — which are more than ... After Two Year Freeze, Board Approves Hike On Rent Stabilized New YorkersGothamist NYC rent board approves 1.25% increase after two-year freeze - NY ...New York Daily News NYC Rent Guidelines Board votes to increase rent 1.25 percent for 1 ...WABC-TV New York Times -Curbed NY -CBS New York all 22 news articles »
June 28, 2017 at 12:19PM
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tuseriesdetv · 7 years
Text
Noticias de series de la semana: Episodio musical también en 'Once Upon A Time'
Habrá episodio musical en Once Upon A Time
Jennifer Morrison decía ya en 2011 que todos saben cantar y que un episodio musical sería posible. Se ha cumplido la profecía; Horowitz y Kitsis, los creadores de la serie, que ya daban vueltas a la idea en 2015, confirmaron en el Atlanta aTVfest que habrá un episodio musical en la actual temporada, que vuelve el 5 de marzo. [Fuente]
Crossover MacGyver - Hawaii
En el episodio del 10 de marzo de MacGyver, sus protagonistas viajan a Hawaii e investigan un caso junto a tres de los personajes de Hawaii Five-0: Chin (Daniel Dae Kim), Kono (Grace Park) y Kamekona (Taylor Wily). Peter Lenkov, productor ejecutivo de ambas, dice que unirlas en algún momento era inevitable, ya que comparten el mismo universo. [Fuente]
Charmed 2018
El reboot de Charmed tendrá que esperar. The CW tiene muchos pilotos y pocos huecos; con seis ya encargados, han decidido posponer un año el desarrollo de Charmed y The Lost Boys -dicen que el guion de Charmed no cumplió expectativas-. Si llegase a buen puerto, Black Lightning sería la quinta serie de superhéroes DC y de Berlanti en la cadena a partir de septiembre. [Fuente]
Renovaciones de series
Amazon ha renovado Mozart in the Jungle por una cuarta temporada
Amazon ha renovado Red Oaks por una tercera y última temporada
NBC ha renovado The Good Place por una segunda temporada
ITV ha renovado Endeavour por una quinta temporada
BBC Three ha renovado Murder in Successville por una tercera temporada
BBC One ha renovado Death in Paradise por una séptima temporada
Cancelaciones
ABC1 ha cancelado Please Like Me tras la cuarta temporada
Incorporaciones y fichajes de series
Eva Longoria (Desperate Housewives) participará como invitada en varios episodios de Empire. Será Charlotte Frost, directora de la comisión de juego del estado.
Teri Hatcher (Desperate Housewives, Lois & Clark) y Kevin Sorbo (Hercules, Andromeda) serán recurrentes como villanos en la segunda temporada de Supergirl.
Edie Falco (The Sopranos, Nurse Jackie) interpretará a Leslie Abramson, la abogada defensora de los hermanos Menendez, en la primera temporada de Law & Order: True Crime.
Jamie Chung (Once Upon A Time, Dragonball: Evolution) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de Casual.
Ernie Hudson (Oz, Grace and Frankie) será el padre de Angie Tribeca en la tercera temporada.
T.R. Knight (Grey's Anatomy, The Good Wife) será recurrente como J. Edgar Hoover, el primer director del FBI, en Genius: Einstein.
Emma Caulfield (Buffy, Once Upon A Time) se une a la tercera temporada de Fear the Walking Dead. Se desconocen detalles del personaje.
Michael Nouri (Damages) será Bob Guccione, fundador de Penthouse, en Manifesto. Ben Weber (Secret Life of the American Teenager) será Andy Genelli, director de la unidad de caza de Unabomber.
Ann Cusack (Multiplicity, Private Practice), Scott Lawrence (JAG, Rectify) y Robert Stanton (Striptease) se unen a Mr. Mercedes. Serán Olivia Trelawney (la dueña del Mercedes robado), el detective Peter Dixon y Robi Frobisher, dueño de una tienda de aparatos electrónicos.
Isaiah Washington (Grey's Anatomy) y Vanessa Bell Calloway (Shameless, Saints & Sinners) serán recurrentes en Survivor's Remorse.
Kurt Krause (Hidden Figures) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de American Crime.
Chelsea Hobbs (Make It or Break It) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de UnREAL como Charlie, una ayudante de cámara que aún ama su trabajo.
Gary Young (The Shannara Chronicles) y Charlie Hiett serán Mr. Willoughby y el capitán Thomas Leonard en la tercera temporada de Outlander.
Olivia Holt (I Didn't Do It, Wasabi Warriors) y Aubrey Joseph (The Night Of, Fading Gigolo) serán los protagonistas de Cloak and Dagger.
Serinda Swan (Chicago Fire, Graceland) se une como recurrente a la tercera temporada de Ballers. Será Chloe Day, exprometida de Spencer Strasmore (Dwayne Johnson) y mánager de un hotel de Las Vegas.
Jodie Whittaker (Broadchurch, The Smoke) protagonizará Trust Me, sobre una enfermera que es despedida por revelar secretos y, para poder mantener a su hija, usurpa la identidad de su mejor amiga y empieza una nueva vida como doctora en Edimburgo. Le acompañarán Emun Elliott (The Paradise), Sharon Small (Stonemouth), Blake Harrison (The Inbetweeners), Nathan Walsh, Lois Chimimba, Michael Abubakar y Cara Kelly.
Leven Rambin (The Hunger Games, True Detective) protagonizará Gone junto a Chris Noth. Es un procedimental adaptación de la novela 'One Kick' de Chelsea Cain.
Ardal O'Hanlon (My Hero, Father Ted) sustituirá a Kris Marshall (Humphrey Goodman) como protagonista de Death in Paradise a partir del 9 de febrero.
Charlie Rowe (Red Band Society) y Jacqueline Byers (Roadies) protagonizarán Salvation.
Aleks Paunovic (iZombie, Van Helsing) será Dallas, líder de un grupo que intenta evitar que se propaguen los híbridos, en dos episodios de la tercera temporada de Zoo. Hilary Jardine (Van Helsing) y Athena Karkanis (Low Winter Sun, The Expanse) también serán recurrentes.
Gregg Sulkin (Faking It, Wizards of Waverly Place), Rhenzy Feliz (Casual), Virginia Gardner (The Goldbergs), Ariela Barer (One Day at a Time), Lyrica Okano (The Affair) y Allegra Acosta (100 Things to Do Before High School) protagonizarán el piloto de Runaways.
Rachel Bloom (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) ha escrito 'Superfriends', la canción original que cantarán a dúo Melissa Benoist y Grant Gustin en el crossover musical de The Flash y Supergirl. Benj Pasek y Justin Paul, autores de canciones de La La Land, Smash, Trolls o el musical de Broadway Dear Evan Hansen, han escrito 'Runnin' Home To You', cantada por Grant Gustin.
Malese Jow (The Vampire Diaries, The Flash), Vanessa Morgan (Finding Carter), Gentry White (UnREAL, Turn), Caroline Chikenzie (Footballers' Wives) y Desmond Chiam se unen a la segunda temporada de The Shannara Chronicles.
Pósters de series
      -En nuestro Facebook, pósters de la segunda temporada de Underground-
Fechas de series
SS-GB, la miniserie de BBC One adaptación de la novela, se estrena el 10 de marzo
Ingobernable (Netflix) se estrena el 24 de marzo
La décima temporada de Doctor Who (BBC One), la última con Peter Capaldi, llega el 15 de abril
Genius: Einstein se estrena en National Geographic el 25 de abril
Tráilers de series
Claws
youtube
Will
youtube
The Walking Dead - Temporada 7b
youtube
Reign - Temporada 4
youtube
The Moorside
youtube
Broadchurch - Temporada 3
youtube
Bates Motel - Temporada 5
youtube
The Handmaid's Tale
youtube
Genius: Einstein
youtube
Star Trek: Discovery
youtube
Otras imágenes
Stranger Things - Temporada 2
Bates Motel - Fin de grabación
McMafia
Paula
0 notes
easyfoodnetwork · 4 years
Quote
White food writers are often allowed to be generalists, while BIPOC creators are limited to their personal histories, their cultures, and the foods their grandmothers made In this age of the cook-turned-influencer, Bon Appétit’s video content found astonishing success by capitalizing on the colorful world of the quirky characters featured in its test kitchen. In many cases, the employees’ personalities were turned into their personal brands. This strategy, actively pursued by now-former editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport, piggybacked off an evolving relationship between audiences and celebrity chefs like Alison Roman, whose “authentic” lazy-girl cooking hacks jolted her into almost instant fame. Branding oneself as the creator of a viral dish (“the stew,” “the pasta”) or crafting an identity around a quirk or personality trait, all but eliminates the need for bona fide experts, allowing the internet-friendly celebrity chef to take their place. But as the casual viewer noticed — and as stories about Bon Appétit’s corporate culture have revealed in recent weeks — it is almost always only white food writers, chefs, and recipe developers who get to adopt personas that go beyond their ethnicity. For every Brad Leone, who gets to be goofy and charming, for every Claire Saffitz, who becomes a sensation for being hyper-competitive and neurotically orderly, you have a Priya Krishna or a Rick Martinez, whose ethnicity, and the “expertise” in a certain cuisine that comes with it, is often framed as their most useful contribution to the team. Martinez, former senior food editor and current BA contributor, was branded the “resident taco maestro” in the pages of the magazine, yet, as he recounted to Business Insider, then-deputy editor Andrew Knowlton asked if he was “a one-trick pony” for focusing on Mexican cuisine. Argentinian test kitchen manager Gaby Melian’s only solo video on YouTube is of her making her family’s empanada recipe. Fan favorite Sohla El-Waylly, who managed to veer out into more generalist territory with beloved recipes for dumplings, cinnamon buns, and even a carbonara dessert, started her career at BA talking about her riff on a family biryani recipe on the Bon Appétit Foodcast podcast and made an “updated” version of a Bengali snack, piyaju, for her first solo video. Even after expanding out of her “niche” and producing some of the channel’s most creative recipes, El-Waylly’s expertise was considered external to her identity, and — as she revealed in an Instagram story on June 8 — she was compensated as such. Other BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) at BA, including contributing editor Priya Krishna and research director Joseph Hernandez, also spoke out against BA’s pay disparities and its pervasive racist culture that, as Business Insider wrote, “does not provide nonwhite employees the same opportunities on the brand’s video side that white employees enjoy.” The feeling of being slotted into a niche is all too familiar for Martinez. “There’s this idea in food media that it’s somehow easier to cook the food of your culture because you grew up with it or that it’s a part of you,” Martinez tells me. “It completely discounts the skills that it takes to build a recipe for an American audience. To recreate or even create an homage to the original dish requires a lot of creativity, skill, and work.” The recent changes at BA — Rapoport’s resignation, white BA staffers’ refusal to put out content until their BIPOC colleagues are paid fairly — are a start. Yet the simultaneous compartmentalizing and marginalization of BIPOC in food media goes far beyond one organization or one editor-in-chief. Allowing BIPOC to have more agency within the food media system will require reimagining the relationship white America has both to “other cuisines” and to the people who grew up on them. There’s this perception in food media, which publications like Bon Appétit subscribe to and perpetuate, that all that nonwhite writers really want is to have their cultures represented “authentically.” But the premise of authenticity is rooted in a white gaze that selectively acquires aspects of nonwhite cultures to package as just exotic enough to remain accessible. In late June, the New York Times published a story about “Thai fruit” that frames common fruit in Thailand as foreign and difficult to understand. The week before, tofu was labeled “white, chewy, and bland” in a since-deleted tweet by Bloomberg Asia. And who can forget the infamous Bon Appétit pho fiasco, which called the Vietnamese dish “the new ramen” and enlisted a white chef to give a “PSA: This Is How You Should Be Eating Pho”? Stories like these serve as reminders that foods outside of whiteness are at odds with an imagined “American” readership, for whom these foods remain distant and other. “Our white colleagues think that we are speaking out about representation or appropriation because we want to be seen as experts on the subject,” says travel and food writer Dan Q. Dao. “[But] what we are [really] fighting is a long battle for inclusivity and equity in our workplaces.” “I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist.” Those workplaces, it should be noted, are overwhelmingly white. In June, Leah Bhabha noted in a Grubstreet piece, citing a 2019 Diversity Baseline study, that 76 percent of all publishing industry professionals are white. “In my own experience, as a biracial Indian writer, I’ve never had more than one coworker of color on my team,” she wrote, “and frequently it’s just been me.” The social media age — and the branding pressures inherent within — exacerbates that experience. Social media allows for real-time feedback that makes creators accountable to an audience that often acts as ad hoc sensitivity readers for people writing about their own cultural backgrounds. Writer and chef Samin Nosrat recently tweeted her frustrations with that pressure: “Instead of criticizing the systems that refuse to allow for greater diversity and inclusion, desis, Iranians, whoever, just pile on individual cooks for our perceived failure to represent their ideal versions of their entire cuisines. (Or even more frustratingly, for failing to cook something *exactly* like maman did it back home. I am not your maman!)” But as media writer Allegra Hobbs pointed out in October 2019, “in the age of Twitter and Instagram, an online presence, which is necessarily public and necessarily consumable, seems all but mandatory for a writer who reaches (or hopes to reach) a certain level of renown.” In curating this online presence, writers and other creators are often pushed to flatten themselves into an easily legible extension of their identity. Like many, food writer and chef Lesley Téllez has struggled with the expectations that come with being Mexican in food media. “There’s more pressure on BIPOC to find a niche that makes us stand out,” she says. “Over and over, the faces who look like us are people who specialize in food from their particular countries or backgrounds. It sends an overt message that stepping out as a generalist is hard, and that you will not be hired as such. I have definitely felt pressure to keep non-Mexican-cooking stuff off of my social media, and my old blog.” For all the claims organizations in food media have made of diversifying their rosters and cleaning up the more egregious offenses in their treatment of nonwhite writers, there is still an association between nonwhite writers and their ethnicity, which is treated as tantamount to other aspects of their identities. BIPOC in food media are routinely not considered for assignments about things that don’t directly relate to their ethnicity or race. “I became a food writer 20 years ago when it was not really a profession,” says Ramin Ganeshram. “Yet, despite my qualifications as a reporter, editor, and chef, it was a losing fight to write anything that wasn’t ‘ethnic.’... I was discouraged and prevented from writing about generalized food technique or profiles, despite French culinary training.” These assignments are often handed off to white writers, who are seen as “generalists” with the ability to stick their hands into any cuisine and turn it into something palatable (or, more importantly, into pageviews). Ganeshram says, “I was directly told regarding a job I didn’t receive at a New England-based national cooking magazine that they thought of me as more of an ‘ethnic’ writer.” Instead, BIPOC get stuck with work directly related to their ethnicities. “I’m often asked to add a cultural slant even when one does not exist,” says food writer Su-Jit Lin, “or frame things from a point of greater expertise than I actually have. It’s assumed I’m fully indoctrinated into the culture and more Chinese than American (not true — my lane is actually Southern, Italian, and kind of Irish food).” Even when chefs push back against this compartmentalization, they are turned into caricatured ambassadors for their backgrounds. Chef (and Eater contributor) Jenny Dorsey wrote on Twitter that even though she demonstrated a dish on video that had nothing to do with her heritage, the result was ultimately titled “Jenny Dorsey talks about how her Chinese-American heritage influences her cooking.” Often, the addition of a “cultural slant” to stories leads to one of the more egregious ways that nonwhite food is pigeonholed and othered — through what writer Isabel Quintero calls a lust for “Abuelita longing.” The term speaks to the way immigrant and diasporic writers (both within and outside food media) are frequently expected to add a dash of trauma or ancestral belonging to anything they write. As a Trinidadian-Iranian chef, Ganeshram finds this association particularly limiting. “When I’ve tried to write stories about my Iranian heritage, not being a recent Iranian immigrant or the child of a post-revolution immigrant has been an issue,” she says. “The editors I dealt with only wanted a refugee/escaping the Islamic Republic story. They decided what constituted an ‘authentic’ Iranian story, and that story was based in strife and hardship only.” These markers of authenticity can only come from the wholesome domesticity presumed of the ethnic other. The extreme whiteness of the food industry, and of food media, places undue pressure on nonwhite writers and chefs. As food writer and founder of Whetstone Magazine, Stephen Satterfield wrote for Chefsfeed in 2017: “In mostly-white communities, you become an ambassador for your race. The stakes are high, and you try hard not to screw it up for the ones behind you…. Black chefs know this well: we must validate our presence, where others exist unquestioned. And what does it mean to be a black food writer? It means that you’ll never just be a food writer, you’ll be a black food writer.” In other words, being designated as “ethnic” chefs put far too many BIPOC working in food media in a bind. Either they work against being pigeonholed by pitching stories that mark them as generalists, but lose out on assignments as a consequence, or they double down and tell stories of their culture and cuisine, but risk being limited both career- and compensation-wise. Martinez was aware of this predicament while signing on to write a regional Mexican cookbook. “Writing a love letter to Mexico is so important in these times, but I had to seriously consider whether it would be a career-limiting move,” he says. He chose to write the book, but others, like Caroline Shin, food journalist and founder of the Cooking with Granny video and workshop series, have had to push against the expectation that anything they publish will be about their ethnic cuisine. “Last year, literary agents told me that I couldn’t sell diversity,” she says. “[I]f I wanted a cookbook, I should focus on my Korean culture.” While Shin chose to start her own program as what she calls an “‘I’ll show you’ to white-dominated institutions,” it raises the question of whether BIPOC in food media can taste mainstream success without operating as spokespeople for their ethnic cuisines. But if you continue to pigeonhole and tokenize your BIPOC employees, seeing them primarily as products of trauma or perpetuating their marginalization by refusing them fair pay and workplace equity, then your calls to diversify the workplace mean very little, if anything at all. Mallika Khanna is a graduate student in media who writes about film and digital culture, diaspora and immigrant experiences and the environment through a feminist, anti-capitalist lens. Nicole Medina is a Philly based illustrator who loves capturing adventure through her art using bold colors and patterns. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/39Jaxcc
http://easyfoodnetwork.blogspot.com/2020/07/it-was-losing-fight-to-write-anything.html
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