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This is amazing.

“Your job — as students who are receiving an education — is to be aware of your privilege. And use this particular privilege called “education” to do your best to achieve great things, all the while advocating for those in the rows behind you.”

source

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Re-watch Recap - Doctor Who - Rose

One of my favourite things to do is to read episode recaps. I'm not quite sure why, but I love reading someone else's thoughts on something I also enjoyed. 

Of those recaps, my favourites are for older shows or older episodes, written from the point of view of someone who is either new to the show, or who enjoys the show and is re-watching the older episodes.

In that light, I'm going to start doing recaps of Doctor Who, starting from the new Season 1. The goal is to improve my writing, have fun watching older episodes of Doctor Who, and maybe notice things I hadn't before.

Here we go...

I miss the old theme. Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with the steampunk-like version now, but I miss the sounds of the strings.

First we meet Rose, a young girl living in modern-day England. She shares an apartment with her mom, works at a department store as a sales clerk and in all respects seems to be an everyday, normal girl. Obviously she's going to be Very Important.

One of the first things that I noticed about the show was how quickly and efficiently it introduces you to Rose - a quick montage of her day shows us her mom, her job, and her boyfriend. I also enjoyed seeing how closely her room resembles mine...

We are shown a typical day in the life of Rose, ending with her taking the lottery money down to the employee presumably "in charge" of running the workplace lottery (which, in my experience, is always a very political position). She wanders through the dark basement of the department store looking for Wilson. An enduring quality of the show is how it makes the viewer afraid of the everyday; here, an absent co-worker, a department store and mannequins all become terrifying.

The mannequins begin to close in on Rose, and I am impressed at her ability to not cower in a pile of tears, as I most certainly would have done were I in her situation. Just as things look like they're pretty much hopeless, the camera zooms in on a hand grasping Rose's and we are introduced to the Doctor via the most appropriate word possible, "run". I really can't think of another word that would have been better. 

Rose immediately begins to blame the whole affair on "students", because it's obviously always the students. I thought that was just a Kingston thing; nice to see that student blaming is universal. 

The next few minutes are intense, and we are introduced to the Doctor's various skills and assets (wit, sonic screwdriver) while we see him rescue Rose from killer mannequins. 

Another thing I quite enjoyed was how she awkwardly, and seemingly without notice, ran the whole way home carrying the deactivated mannequin arm. I mean, I am 99.9% sure that it'll be a plot device later on, but still, that is something that I know I would have done - escaped some unbelievable thing only to have carried part of it home with me in the end. Jackie making the whole situation about her, and repeatedly mentioning how Rose should seek some form of compensation, was also totally relatable. Either Russell and I share parentage, or that too is universal.  

We see Rose start the next morning with her alarm going off, and then her mother reminding her there's no point in getting up since she no longer has a job to go to. I wondered something at this point; why was her alarm even on? I'm pretty sure that if my workplace blew up, I'd leave that in the "off" position the next day. 

The Doctor shows up at her apartment, having traced the plasti-signal there. The Doctor's reaction to Jackie's suggestion that "anything could happen" was priceless, and I reminded me how funny Ecclestone's Doctor could be at times.

As Rose, quite wisely, suggests that they go to the police, the Doctor messes around her apartment, remarking "he's gay and she's an alien" while reading a gossip magazine, commenting on the sad ending while speed-reading The Lovely Bones and checking himself out in the mirror. Popular theory is that this episodes takes place shortly after the Doctor regenerates into this version, something this scene supports. He finds the plastic arm and it begins to attack him, and then Rose. The Doctor manages to disable it. Rose refuses to let him leave, and follows him down the stairs. The ensuing scene shows how well the actors play off each other. After some playful banter Rose asks the Doctor to tell her who he really is and he responds with the first of many Great Doctor Speeches. I am fairly certain that each episode actually begins as a Great Doctor Speech and a plot is then written around it. 

Anyway, he walks away to his blue box and Rose turns around just in time to see it vanish. She later shows up at Mickey's house and wisely uses the internet to search the Doctor, stumbling across a webpage run by a man named Clive. 

Either England is a lot safer than where I am from, or Rose is a lot more trusting than I am, but she insists on going in alone, leaving Mickey to wait in the car. She introduces herself, and not-so-casually mentions that her boyfriend is waiting in the car, so "no murder". Clive responds in the best possible way, agreeing, "no, no murder". It's perfect. 

In another amazingly trusting move, Rose follows Clive out to his shed where he tells her what he knows about the Doctor. While he does get a few facts wrong (i.e. the Doctor is not a title passed down from father to son), it is another good introduction to the character, particularly the darker aspects of traveling with him. Clive warns Rose that the death follows the Doctor, and that if Rose has seen the Doctor, we are all in trouble. It's interesting to see this reflected as a theme as early as the first episode, given how strongly it was emphasized in later seasons. 

While Rose is in Clive's shed, MIckey notices a nearby garbage bin begin to move and he leaves the car to get a closer look. What follows is probably a fine example of some pretty awful special effects. It's nice to see how much better they have gotten throughout the years. The garbage bin eats Mickey, and let's out a burp, which I found to be in poor taste, but then remembered that this is also the season that gives us the farting aliens (honestly) so I suppose they didn't want to set the bar too high. 

Rose leaves the house and returns to the car, where Mickey has obviously been replaced with a plastic replica. Now, I say "obviously" because it is really quite obvious to the viewer that this is a plastic replica of Mickey, but Rose doesn't notice for quite some time, even after she looks directly at him. It speaks volumes about their relationship. Anyway, they head to a restaurant where Rose begins to discuss with plasti-Mickey various career options, still completely unaware that there is anything amiss. Mickey begins to press Rose about the Doctor, but sees to have a malfunction whenever he tries to use a pet name for Rose, which she notices. Thankfully, the Doctor is nearby with champagne, and he and Rose are able to escape. 

In another very cheesy move, they are able to escape because the Doctor pops Mickey's head off, and Rose ushers the stunned patrons out of the restaurant while a headless Mickey chases after the Doctor.

Rose and the Doctor escape to an alleyway containing nothing but a locked door and a blue box, and the scene that follows may be the best introduction to the TARDIS. Rose frantically tries to get the locked door to open, while the Doctor calmly unlocks the TARDIS and invites Rose inside. She eventually gives up on the locked door and runs into the TARDIS, only to run back outside and circle it. She darts back in and stares around in amazement. The soundtrack is perfect and adds exactly the right amount of atmosphere to the scene - a bit other-worldly but not necessarily scary. 

While I do adore Capaldi's TARDIS (especially the bookshelves!), this scene made me quite nostalgic for the old one.

Anyway, the Doctor proudly explains the TARDIS to Rose, and mistakes her sorrow for culture shock. She admonishes him for not caring about Mickey's life, and I wonder what exactly does make the Doctor care about a person? How does he determine who is worth his time and who is not?

Anyway, the Doctor and Rose leave alley and wind up near the water while Rose continues to fight with him about his casual attitude about Mickey. During this conversation the Doctor speaks very condescendingly about humans, a character trait that is shown throughout the series to occur when the Doctor is under stress. Rose begins to quiz the Doctor on the situation they are facing and the Doctor explains that they are looking for a big, circular transmitter, but that it must be invisible because it should be very nearby. The camera frames the London Eye perfectly in the background and through a series of facial expressions, Rose points it out to the Doctor. It seems cheesy on paper, but it doesn't seem so cliche when played on screen. As soon as the Doctor catches on, he uses his famous catchphrase for the first time, "fantastic". Then they are off running, hand in hand. 

I know that this is a science fiction show about a time travelling alien, but I have to wonder how much the actors have to practice to make running hand in hand seem so natural. I shouldn't nitpick, but it seems highly unlikely to me that they could manage that in such a co-ordianted way. But, then again, maybe I'm just really awkward.

Anyway, Rose again cleverly finds the location of the plastic consciousness, and she urges the Doctor to give it the anti-plastic to stop the threat so they can go. The Doctor's response gives some hint to the type of person he is; he tells her that he isn't there to kill it. He obviously believes in redemption.

The Doctor addresses the consciousness, quoting the largely abandoned Shadow Proclamation, and we hear his side of their conversation in which he urges it to "shunt off". I love how proud he is of that pun, and am reminded how funny Ecclestone's Doctor could be at times. What follows is another Great Doctor Speech, in which he states that humanity is capable of so much more - another theme that echoes throughout the series. The consciousness is not moved, however, and the Doctor is restrained by Plasti-men while they locate and seize the anti-plastic. The Doctor and the consciousness speak, and we hear the Doctor defend himself against some unidentified allegations, which give a hint to a sad backstory. Rose, meanwhile, rescues MIckey who encourages her to leave the Doctor there. Rose ignores Mickey, and literally swings in to save the day, freeing the Doctor and causing the Plasti-men to drop the anti-plastic into the consciousness. The three escape in the TARDIS and the audience sees where the show spent their special effects budget, as the consciousness and everything around it explode. 

The TARDIS lands on a street, and Mickey stumbles out, clearly upset by his experience. Rose casually walks out and checks in on her mom. The Doctor stands in the doorway and begins to brag about having saved the day. Rose calls him out on his bullshit, and he thanks her for saving his life. He invites her, but not Mickey, to come with him. Mickey responds by clinging to Rose's legs, and Rose declines. The TARDIS disappears and Rose and MIckey walk away. Even though I know what happens, I still find myself begging Rose to go. Go Rose, go be my Mary Sue! The Doctor returns a moment later, and tells Rose that the TARDIS can travel in time as well as in space, and she fulfils the wish of fans everywhere, and runs in.

#Doctor Who #Recap #Season1 #Episode1 #Rose

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Anxiety and Exhaustion

I read a brilliant quote the other day that I was dying to write about. It was about anxiety, and how the author believed anxiety to be something that was indicative of bravery. The quote was part of a larger article written by Dr. Janina Scarlet called "The Psychology of Inspirational Women: Storm" and was on one of my favourite blogs, The Mary Sue. I thought about that particular quote all afternoon, and how inspiring it was. I thought about making it part of some larger piece of inspiration art and putting it on my wall somewhere. 

Then, I got home and almost immediately lost all energy. My anxiety has been keeping me up at night lately, to the point where I'm positive that panic attacks are waking me up and then preventing me from calming down enough to go back to sleep. The result is that I'm both anxious and exhausted almost all the time. I can't count how many nights out I've had to cancel, how many days of work I've zombied through (or missed altogether), how many Ativan pills it takes me to get through the day. By the time I make it home, I'm so exhausted from both staying awake all day and keeping myself together in the process that I can't even fathom sitting down and putting coherent thoughts on paper. 

I know it won't last long, seems that every time the weather changes it gets worse for a few weeks and then calms down once my other medications get adjusted to account for the lack of sunlight in the winter. It still doesn't seem to make it much easier to deal with. I still wrestle with the temptation to quit my job and move into the psychiatric hospital until I get chronically better. I still go to bed every night wishing that this disorder wasn't part of my chemical makeup; or that some miracle cure will be announced first thing in the morning.

The exact quote was:

I always say that people with anxiety disorders are the bravest people because they face their fears on a daily basis.  

As someone who occasionally (and much more often than I'd like) cannot leave her home because of an anxiety disorder, reading that make me feel like a superhero. I might not have the power to manipulate the weather, like Storm, but I can walk outside, face "the public", face whatever it is that I am afraid of anywhere that isn't "safe", and reading that sentence made me feel proud of every time I have managed to leave the house, of every time I have managed to be in "the public"; immensely so,

So while this is a few days late, this is my thank you to Dr. Scarlet. It might not be as well written as I would like (Ativan-fog will do that to a gal), but it's genuine. Once the anxiety fades, and the exhaustion with it, I will be putting that quote on my wall just to remind me that if Storm can do it, so can I.

#Janina Scarlet #TheMarySue #Anxiety

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If Wishes Were Talent

I want to write. I want nearly nothing more than the ability to put my thoughts into articulate phrases and carefully selected words. I wish I could write well enough that maybe other people would even want to read my work. 

As far back as I can remember writing was always a key aspect of my dream job; whether it be a journalist, a literary critic, or even a lawyer. Being paid to research a topic, put my thoughts down, and then edit them away until only the decent ones are left would be heaven to me. 

Of course I waited until I was over 30, broke, and completely incapable of returning to school for any type of formal training in this field before I realized that this was what I wanted to do with my life. I know there are many who were in a similar position, and who made a career out of writing anyway, but I would argue that those people must have had natural talent. There had to have been something that set them apart from the others vying for those positions, and if it wasn't education, it must have been talent.

I, sadly, am not quite sure where my talent lies; I am pretty sure it isn't writing though. I have passion, sure, and sometimes I even have the knowledge, but when it comes time to put my thoughts down it seems like I either take an overly conversational tone (often overflowing with commas) or I go with some lofty academic tone (equally comma-filled, and equally off-putting). There doesn't seem to be a happy medium. 

If I lived in a bigger city, or if I had more name recognition or if I had more connections, I could probably make a living out of legal research, which is one area in which I excel. I had a very great teacher in college, and that combined with the fact that I hate not knowing makes researching even the most dry legal topics interesting. That being said, there isn't really much of a market for that type of work at the moment. Perhaps one day I'll have the time and confidence to create my own...

I'd also love to be a pop culture writer of sorts. Reviewing or recapping comics, superhero shows, Doctor Who, whatever, would be such an awesome thing to do and get paid for doing. Even to do it in order to simply support said hobby would be wonderful. 

I guess in the meantime I can keep practicing. I may have gotten a late start, but that's no excuse to stay this far behind, right?

#WritingBlog #Ambition #Talent

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I'm speechless. 

The background here: moments ago, the CEO of Blizzard forcefully condemned gamergate. He has yet to receive any vitriol. The woman who did nothing but transcribe his words is getting hate mail. Because ethics.

#wtf? #gg

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It is clear enough, after all, that women are never abducted unless they are open to the idea of it in the first place.

Herodotus, THE HISTORIES, Book One, Section 4. 440 BC.

which is, like, page four of THE HISTORIES, the foundation work of western history. Sections 1-3 cover the abductions and rapes of Io, Medea of Colchis, Europa, and the abduction of Helen of Troy.

in case you were wondering how long have men been claiming women are asking for it? literally since we started writing shit down so we’d remember it. 

(via mattfractionblog)

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Listen!

A while ago I worked for an employer who, in the five years I worked there, maybe allowed me to complete five to seven sentences before cutting me off. His interruptions were so frequent that I stopped trying to be heard after a while. I just assumed that I would be able to get only a few words out, maybe eight at best, before he’d decide to interrupt me, so I began selecting my words very carefully. I became quite good at getting the most important information out in as few words as possible, so that he’d at least have the important information before deciding that the rest of my sentence was unimportant.

He was wealthier, older, and more educated than I, but that doesn’t mean my words were automatically less important than his. Ironically, when he hired me he told me that he hired people to be experts in areas he did not have time to master, such as computer technology, document preparation and various administrative tasks. He even asked me to take lengthy and expensive training courses so I could obtain a certification he did not have time to obtain, but wanted someone in the office to have. He told me he was going to rely on me to be an expert in this area. But even on those matters, eight words were all I was usually able to get out before being interrupted. On numerous occasions, he was actually wrong about something, but wouldn’t listen to me when I explained that.

There were lots of things I was unhappy with in that job, but when he actually sat down and spent an hour reading an entire legislative act and its accompanying regulations rather than believe me when I said “no, that isn’t actually legislated, it’s an issue that is often decided in tribunals” that I decided to leave.

I didn’t think too much of it. After all, it was something he did to nearly all staff and most certainly wasn’t personal. I still doubt very much that he even realized that constantly interrupting someone can be quite annoying.

Things are very different at my current place of employment. I can’t remember the most recent time I was interrupted, and I am positive that it was accompanied by an apology and a “continue”. When I am asked to undertake training or research, my findings are accepted as fact. In my last review my two immediate bosses boasted about those research skills to the man who owns the company. The company I work for now fosters a much more caring and respectful environment for its employees, and I believe that it is for that reason that I am now heard where I wasn’t before. It had nothing to do with my skills and everything to do with respect.

In my personal life, though, I still find that I am interrupted, ignored, and/or doubted by a lot of people. This happens more often to me than to my male friends, and by people who, like my former boss, aren’t actively bad people. These people don’t, to my knowledge, have deeply held sexist beliefs and I am sure if asked they would deny that they interrupt, ignore or doubt women more than men. In practice, however, it became apparent that they do treat the women they speak with in less respectful ways than they do men.

(Obligatory “not all men” statement here – I would hope that it’s obvious I am not speaking of every man in my life, or that every woman goes through this type of experience. Some of my best friends are respectful men, so I am fully aware that they are out there. This is about those who are not as respectful.)

I find it a challenge to be fully heard – as I stated above, I am interrupted, even by my romantic partner, far more often than men, even in the same social situations. When out with a group of friends, a question will be posed and I’ll offer an answer, sometime several times, before being acknowledged. Once heard, I often have to present a pile of evidence to support my response before it is accepted as truth; even in areas in which I have more knowledge. Other times, I am simply not heard by all, and when my response is repeated by a male friend, it is immediately accepted. He is not required to prove his statement or show his work. As I said, I have male friends who do not engage in this behaviour, and they often apologize for it afterwards. Once the answer is accepted, they also give me credit. Apologies by the others who ignored the earlier response, or who would normally demand proof, don’t happen.

I pointed this out to one friend who is particularly notorious for doing this sort of thing. His response was to immediately deny it, which is understandable. I mean, who wants to believe that they are being rude or disrespectful? He only acknowledged the behaviour when confronted by another male friend. I’d like to think this was because he needed to hear it twice before acknowledging it was an issue, and not because the second person who pointed it out happened to be male.

It is hard to be believed, as well. All of the chronic interrupters are also chronic non-believers. “I think that was Roger Moore that they are speaking of” is met with “no, I think it’s Sean Connery”. “I spent all night tossing and turning because I just couldn’t get to sleep” is met with “you couldn’t possibly have“. “The person I just met with touched my thigh a few times, even after I said no” is met with “you’re just overreacting”.

These are also the same people that will always immediately believe the “he said” in a “he said-she said” situation. It is a radical notion to accept the word of a woman at just that, her word. And yet time and time again, it is almost automatic to believe the man at just his word.

It was against that backdrop that I read 10 Words Every Girl Should Learn, updated in August of this year, written by Soraya Chemaly. As I read it, I found myself nodding at every paragraph. She is a brilliant writer, and while writing about an issue I find so troubling, managed to leave me with some very good advice: the 10 words she feels every girls should know:

“Stop interrupting me”

"I just said that”

“No explanation needed”

Thank you, Ms. Chemaly. Those words are so simple, yet so important. I began to use those words only recently, but have already noticed a difference. After hearing “stop interrupting me” several times, Bill (not his real name) has started interrupting me far less, and started to apologize when he does. It also took several times for “I just said that” to work, but I am believed far more often than before. Those words, while simple, have had power in my life, and I am very appreciative.

It’s just too bad that respect isn’t automatic, and instead has to be encouraged.

#sexism #10Words #Soraya Chemaly

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In which, the Sandman graphic novel talks about love.

Featuring: Desire of the Endless

[violasparrowblog]

Triggered

For the first time in a very long time, I am truly without words.

There isn't anything to say about the Jian Ghomeshi situation that hasn't already been said before, by people much more eloquent than I. His Facebook post, and Star articles that followed, brought something up that I had tried very hard to keep buried. After reading what I presume to be his defence to the “false allegations” made by “a jilted ex girlfriend and a freelance writer” I wasn't sure if I was going to vomit or cry.

I'm not entirely certain if it was the incredibly pretentious language (true, I'm guilty of that myself, but, then again, I'm no radio show host in my prime), the repeated mentions of his deceased father, or the shameless name-dropping that initially put  me off. It doesn't really matter, though, because it was his use of his BDSM preferences as a defence and his “why was the place to address this the media” question that caused such a melodramatic reaction.

Let me explain.

I was raped.

(bear with me here, I have never written about this or spoken about it in much detail before; it's difficult)

I was in my mid-20s. Jack (not his real name) was a friend of mine. We had some niche stuff in common, and he had heard that the guy I had been seeing on again-off again had decided he wanted things to be off again. He sent me a MSN message one night, asking if I was okay and if I wanted to come over. Sitting home alone didn't seem like much fun, so I agreed. He even offered to pay for my cab over, and had snacks and a drink waiting for me when I got there.

This is where writing this becomes very difficult.

The next thing I knew he was on me, pinning me down and suddenly he was in me. I tried to push him off, and he responded by grinning.

 “C'mon, I know you like it rough.”

 At that moment, I thought that nobody would believe me. Even if I could, by some off-chance, get someone to believe me, as soon as my sexual history was brought into play I'd lose all support.

See, the thing is, I do like it rough. Very rough. But consensually rough. Terms were discussed in detail well in advance. We didn't just “talk about using safe words” we USED safe words. And more than just safe words, we knew each other well enough to respond to body language, to know when a line was crossed, and, the most important part, I trusted him well enough to know that if I said the safe word, if a line was crossed, I wouldn't be judged or belittled or made to feel bad for that (not that I'm making any allegations in this respect, simply stating how safe I felt in my own BDSM role-play). I too “encouraged” the role-play and “often was the initiator”.

As soon as I heard my own sexual preferences being used as a reason to assault me I felt that it would be an uphill battle to get anyone to believe me. Even if he left marks or bruises, he could always argue that I encouraged it, and it was only because I was ashamed of the one-night stand, or felt jilted, or whatever that I called it rape.

And, to be honest, that's exactly how most of the people I told reacted.

Let me be clear, Jack and I never discussed my sexual preferences. Ever. There was no discussion of terms. There was simply no discussion. He had heard, somewhere, that I had enjoyed rough sex with a prior partner and that was enough for him.

At some point, I passed out. I came to, the next morning, with him, again, on top of me, pinning me down, inside me. He had completely undressed me and moved me from the couch to the bed. I again tried to push him off me, and he responded basically the same way.

“Baby, you like this.”

I told him that, no in fact, I did not like it, but it didn't matter. It seemed like an elaborate game to him, and each protest from me was met with “you enjoy this”, “you can't tell me this isn't want you like” or just a smirk.

I left and went to work, where my manager told me that it wasn't “really rape, because you went over there voluntarily”. A friend told me that “since you like it rough, how can you call that rape?”. Yet another friend explained that since I went over there of my own volition, and since I had flirted with Jack in the past, I was “essentially not raped”. Apparently, flirting with someone months prior gives them license to have sex with one's unconscious self.

My counsellor's first question after I told her what had happened was “well, what were you wearing?”

I was raped, and for many, many years I blamed myself. Here's a nice sampling of my inner dialogue when I thought about what had happened:

I shouldn't have gone over. But he was someone I trusted, who was a friend!

I shouldn't have accepted that drink. But he was my friend, if you can't accept a mixed drink from a friend, who can you accept one from?

I should have said no louder. What the fuck? Really, like saying it “louder” would have made a difference?

I should have protested more. Again, what the fuck? As if I didn't protest enough?

I should have been stronger. Yes, I should have known that this was going to happen, and what, gone to the gym more ahead of time?

I should have reported it.

I was raped and only in the past few years stopped blaming myself for Jack's actions. I had, only very recently, stopped hating myself for not reporting it.

I did not report it because I did not, and do not, think that it would have resulted in a conviction. Jack could have easily argued that I had consented, and that it was only because I was “jilted” that I reported it as rape. Jack could have easily argued that the bruises were because I enjoy rough sex, and hey, here's a few other guys she's had rough sex with, so it isn't just me that says that. Even in the middle of the act, when I was telling him in no uncertain terms that I was not enjoying it, he kept insisting that I was. Even when I told him no, even when I started to cry, he kept going, and kept insisting that since I enjoy it rough, I must be enjoying it rough with him.

I didn't report him because my manager told me it wasn't rape. Some of my friends told me it wasn't rape. My counsellor was more concerned about my attire that night than what happened to me. If these people, who I knew, who I trusted, didn't believe me, what chance did I have of getting anyone else to?

Jack wasn't famous. Jack had little influence over my life. Jack is, in all honestly, someone I can quite happily say I have not seen in many, many years. I was still scared to report what happened. I was still too scared to have my prior sexual history dragged out in front of the courts. I was still too scared to see my name in the paper.

It isn't a big secret that people who say things that others don't want to hear get met with negative reactions. I didn't report what happened to me, because I was worried about the potential backlash. I cannot imagine what it must feel like to be victimized at the hands of someone with a fan base.

In a culture like ours, where the initial reaction to any allegation that a beloved famous person did something unbecoming of a beloved famous person is to accuse the victim of lying, of fucking course those women didn't feel comfortable coming forward or being named. People don't like to hear about bad things happening, and they certainly don't like to hear that someone they may admire or respect committed a horrible crime. When the default reaction of a great many is to actually accuse eight different women of coming together and dreaming up such a horrific story for fame or revenge or whatever, why are we so surprised that they don't want their names out there?

I want to dwell on that for a moment. The default reaction of a great many was to accuse eight different women of lying. These women have nothing to gain by lying. Being a victim of a sexual assault does not carry special victim status. There is no benefit. The women who choose to keep their identities secret are not going to benefit from this in any way whatsoever, no fame or large settlements are coming their way. Why is the reaction to insist that they must be lying? Why can't we admit that maybe, just maybe, he's the one who isn't being truthful?

#rapeculture #ItHappenedToMe #jian ghomeshi

[violasparrowblog]

This is an amazing cover. I have never heard of George Ziel, nor the series “The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love”, and as soon as I have finished writing this I am rushing off to find a copy. This particular copy, to be honest, because I have so many questions.

For starters, I would really like to know how a series entitled “The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love” was approved by the Comics Code, especially in light of the fact that the code specifically banned “illicit sex relations” and had only recently (that same year) allowed toe “suggestion” of seduction (not the portrayal, that was still banned).

Next, how does “The Secret of the Missing Bride” tie in to “The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love”? I suppose this is actually a question about the series in general; is each issue going to be a stand-alone story that just happens to take place in The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love? Will there be recurring characters, like a maid or a local police officer who senses that there is something not quite right about the dark mansion? Is the mansion still privately owned? Has it been turned into a hotel or bed-and-breakfast?

What sinister secrets are in the house? Are those secrets tied to the missing bride? Is the house in quesiton the same “dark mansion” in the title?

Moving on, who is Bettina? Is she the woman in black with the peter pan collar clutching her arms on the cover? Or is that Laura Chandler, who “seeks the shocking truth”? And why exactly does she need to seek the truth? Who is “the missing bride”? Is it Bettina? Or is it Laura Chandler? Why does Ms. Chandler get a last name but Bettina not? Did Ms. Chandler vanish on her wedding night to figure out what the shocking truth surrounding Bettina's last phone call is? Or did Bettina make a call on her wedding night and subsequently die?

Speaking of death, why is the building in the background on fire? And why are the characters on the cover so disinterested? At least the male figure is covering his heart with his hand; but why does the female seem so unaffected? Are the sure the building is empty? Why is no one helping to put out the flames?

Returning to an earlier question, who is the woman on the cover? Is it Bettina or Ms. Chandler on the cover? Who is the man behind her? Why does he look so sad while she so unaffected?

What love is forbidden? Why? Was there some triangle between Bettina, Ms. Chandler and the gentleman on the cover? Is he sad because one of his loves burnt down the house of his other? Is that why the woman on the cover is so unaffected and he so sad? That still doesn't really answer the question of why is no one trying to put the fire out, but I suppose that would make for a less dramatic cover.

Personally, I like to think that Bettina and Ms. Chandler were involved in some forbidden love affair, and the gentleman in background is the jilted husband, who was abandoned on their honeymoon in favour of Ms. Chandler, who just may be the woman in black on the front. Perhaps Bettina called Ms. Chandler, asking her to run away with her, and when Ms. Chandler appeared, Bettina was nowhere to be found. Perhaps Bettina set the building on fire to facilitate her own getaway, and Ms. Chandler's back is to the flames because she is on her way to meet Bettina.

I very much want to read this book, though I fear it couldn't quite live up to the fantastic stories I've already made up in my head.

The Dark Mansion Of Forbidden Love #1, October 1971, cover by George Ziel

#comics #covers #OveractiveImagination

[violasparrowblog]

Nope!

Brain studies find that concern for justice and equality is linked to logic, not emotion.

By Lisa Wade, PhD

A new study finds that people with high “justice sensitivity” are using logic, not emotions.  Subjects were put in a fMRI machine, one that measures ongoing brain activity and shown videos of people acting kindly or cruelly toward a homeless person.

Some respondents reacted more strongly than others — hence the high versus low justice sensitivity — and an analysis of the high sensitivity individuals’ brain activity showed that they were processing the images in the parts of the brain where logic and rationality live.   “Individuals who are sensitive to justice and fairness do not seem to be emotionally driven,” explained one of the scientists, “Rather, they are cognitively driven.”

Activists aren’t angry, they reasonably object to unjust circumstances that they understand all too well.

Image borrowed from Jamie Keiles at Teenagerie, who is a high sensitivity individual.

Lisa Wade is a professor of sociology at Occidental College and the author of Gender: Ideas, Interactions, Institutions, with Myra Marx Ferree. You can follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

#It'sOnlyLogical

[violasparrowblog]

Wh- What?

Felicia Day posted a well thought out and beautifully written post about GamerGate. In it, she mentions that she was fearful of saying anything because of the potential actions by “a few” people, stating that she's let “a handful” of people to silence her. She calls them a “small minority” and again, states that it's “a handful of people”. Ms. Day's post was inspiring, and beautiful, and even ends with a request for change without being accusatory in nature. Not once does she name call, or use derogatory language. Despite all this, she was doxxed.

Just a few days earlier, Chris Kluwe posted a brilliant piece on his take on GamerGate. In it, he calls GamerGaters “lazy”, “ignorant”, and “a blithering collection of wannabe Wikipedia philosophers”, and that's just in the first paragraph. He denounces GamerGate and its supporters in a lengthy post calling out the hypocrisy and misogyny inherent to the movement. He rightfully points out that GamerGaters are regressing the image of gamers. At a time when people are starting to see that gamers aren't just “basement-dwelling sweatbeast[s]”, GamerGaters are reinforcing those beliefs. Mr. Kluwe was not doxxed.

For a movement who claims its goal is “ethics in journalism” (I guess, it's hart to get a solid answer out of an unorganized movement, but based on what I've felt is safe to read, I think it's a good guess) it's pretty asinine to behave so obviously unethically. I can't honestly picture anyone who would say “yeah, sure, she's a woman who said something I disagree with, let's ruin her life”, while at the same time ignoring the man who said the same thing, only a few days earlier, and then be able to claim the movement isn't misogynistic with a straight face.

I really don't know what to say that hasn't been said before. The whole GamerGate situation is stomach-churning, and the fact that it has so many supporters is mind boggling. Sexism in general has always been mind boggling to me; to judge someone solely based on whether they have an innie or an outie reproductive system is beyond irrational. The fact that women have been driven from their homes for speaking out against something that shouldn't really exist in the first place is awful. I hope there are serious consequences for those involved.

#geek #gamer

[violasparrowblog]

I'm Mad As Hell And I'm Not Going To Take It Anymore

To be entirely truthful, that's not exactly accurate. Well, it is entirely accurate, but my initial reaction is “it's not fair”. I, to borrow a phrase from Ken Jennings, want to throw a GamerGate on the floor; to scream “it's not fair!” while pounding my fists against the floor.

At a time when it's been pretty great to be a woman into various geeky things (the announcement of a number of female led comics, like Spider-woman, for example, or the creation of a game as insightful as Depression Quest, or even the number of comic book reviews written by women available on the internet), it's also been pretty shitty to be a woman into various geeky things (that Spider-woman variant cover, for example, or the fact that women have been threatened and driven from their homes for no reason other than they did their jobs in the gaming industry, or the fact that a pretty reasonable criticism of a comic book cover resulted in rape and death threats).

I want nothing more than to be able to write for a living. I'd love to review comics, or write critically about the way women or minorities are portrayed in various aspects of geeky culture. I'm by no means an expert on anything, not comics, not Doctor Who, not superhero movies, but I do have a passion and I think that with enough practice and training I could, perhaps one day, write a review worth reading.

I doubt I will ever get there, however, because I am terrified of putting myself out there. I've read the comments on articles questioning the over sexualization of a teenager, and they scare me. I have been paying careful attention to the victims of GamerGate, and I admire those women, Anita Sarkeesian, Brianna Wu, Zoe Quinn, Janelle Asselin, and so many more. They have been threatened with horrible things, and still have the strength to speak out. I don't know that I have that same inner strength.

I might not have that same inner strength, but I also can't stomach my own inaction. I don't really know what to do, within the realm of my own capabilities. There is a gross injustice taking place, one that makes me angrier than I can articulate. I don't have money or power or even a marketable skill. All I have is a lot of unresolved anger and a drive to make a difference.

So this is how I am going to start. I might be just one voice amongst many, but at the very least, I can use my voice to point out what's not fair. After all, that's gotta be a lot more effective than throwing a GamerGate on the floor. 

#geek #comics #gaming #afraid

[violasparrowblog]

Perfection.

The Geek Girls Litany for Feminism by Sam Maggs

#geek feminist