Wynonna Earp, I Love You

What makes a show feminist? Is it the perspective it takes? The way in which women interact with each other, as well as with male characters? The dialogue? The “female gaze”? Today I’m going to sing the praises of a show you’ve quite possibly never heard of—Wynonna Earpa fabulous feminist show on SyFy that has all of these things, plus some.

“Well, sure, that makes sense”: Worldbuilding and Mythology

The premise of the show is this: Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) is the latest in a line of heirs of Wyatt Earp. It is her job to defeat the Revenants, demonic reincarnations of the people Wyatt killed as a nineteenth-century lawman. They resurrect every time a new heir comes of age. She lives—of course—in a town called Purgatory, and she’s a hard-drinking mess who takes to her new task reluctantly. Recruited as a deputy by the ultra-classified Black Badge branch of the U.S. Marshalls (think Mulder and Scully, Western-style), she is the only one who can put the Revenants down, using Wyatt’s original gun, Peacemaker.

By now I’m sure you’ve got an eyebrow raised. After all, you note, Wyatt Earp didn’t even have children! He had no heirs! Ssh! Stop thinking so hard!

Eye Candy Everywhere
Wynnona and Waverly Earp
Wynonna and Waverly Earp

Wynonna’s circle is small. Her main ally is her sister, Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), who may be my favorite character, as she uses her historical knowledge to fight demons. Wynonna’s other allies are her Black Badge boss, Dolls (Shamier Anderson), and Doc Holliday (Tim Rozon), granted “eternal longevity” by a heinous witch. Both of the men are eye candy in different ways (you might not dig Doc unless you’re into that Tim Olyphant in a cowboy hat kind of look).

In contrast to so many shows with female eye candy, however, these characters are also well-developed. Imagine. This kind of setup plays with the idea of the female gaze; instead of the male gaze (in which most people and things are set up in a way to convey and create male pleasure), women are clearly in control.

 

What, your body doesn’t move like that?

And while I haven’t read the comic book on which the series is based, a quick eyeballing of one of the original renditions of Wynonna will suggest some serious differences.

Wynonna herself is shamelessly sexy, and she self-consciously wields her sex appeal as a tool on at least one occasion—when that doesn’t work, she sends in Doc to do the same. It’s that kind of playing with expectations which makes the show charming and resonant. It’s willing to take risks in departing from the usual women-and-men playbook, risks they pay off in spades.

 

“When I See Something I Like, I Don’t Want to Wait”

The sexual tension on Wynonna Earp contributes further to its feminist perspective. You might be expecting Wynonna and either of her male sidekicks to be oozing the stuff, but in fact the thickest sexual tension on the show is between two women: Waverly and a new cop—Nicole Haught (Katherine Barrell). That’s right—the cop is Haught (pronounced hot). My husband calls

Officer Haught
Officer Haught

them HaughtWave. (You’re welcome.) It’s a refreshing change from the usual pace of these kinds of shows, and the dialogue between Waverly and her boyfriend, Champ, compared to her dialogue with everyone else gets to the point quickly: women are more than just pretty things.

“I was just thinking I needed another man to tell me what to do today, and here you are. Awesome.”

Which gets to the next point: some of the writing on this show is fantastic. Wynonna is no damsel—we’ve watched ten episodes and she’s only been in active distress once, but because she’s the only one who can use Peacemaker, she always has to save herself, a refreshing change. Doc once remarks, “She ain’t anybody’s but her own,” which pretty much sums up Wynonna’s self-reliance at the end of the day. The female characters are legitimately strong and complex, rather than just one trope (strong) or the other (vacant/undeveloped/always in distress).

In addition to the above, check out this delightful snippet:

Champ: How can somebody so pretty be so smart, huh?

Waverly: Because they’re not mutually exclusive.

It’s that kind of feminist writing that might remind viewers of early Buffy the Vampire Slayer and keep them coming back. If you’re into campy feminist demon westerns, this is the show for you.

Available on Netflix, Season 2 of Wynonna Earp starts June 9 on SyFy. All images belong to them.

 

 

 

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On My Nightstand: Books, May 28*

Cover art, Whitehead, Underground Railroad
Goodreads photo.

Summer has clearly arrived: I finished Colson Whitehead’s book The Underground Railroad in just a few days. It’s a remarkable read, a painful and beautiful homage to America’s enslaved people. I had little knowledge of the book when I started it and was floored by the elements of magical realism it contains. I wondered how many people didn’t realize such fantastic elements (ie, rooted in fantasy) were just that, and who thought, for example, that there truly was a railroad whose actual tracks lay in tunnels under our nation. In any case, the railroad’s physical existence in the book is a stunning metaphor-made-real. I really loved this book.

Up Next
Cover art, Bohjalian, Midwives
Goodreads photo.

I’m reading Chris Bohjalian’s Midwives, a twenty-year old novel about a midwife who resorts to an emergency C-section that leaves a patient dead and puts her at the mercy of the law. The book dives right into the ways in which the ob-gyn medical establishment marginalized midwives. Such a situation is laden with sex and gender overtones. I am digging it thus far.

*As always, this post contains Amazon affiliate links. Purchase this book from them, and I get some money to put towards hosting fees. Thanks!

 

 

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Finance Friday: FREE Downloadable Budget and Spend Spreadsheet!

Is this you? The Street reported this week that as female breadwinning grows, so does financial anxiety. They report that women tend to a) earn less than men and b) worry more about money than men and c) worry about retirement more than men. It would appear that money–duh–is gendered, or at least sexed. Nine out of ten women, they say, are the main support of their families at some point, and many women support themselves alone. Having some sense of what money you have, where it is going, and where you might change those paths to meet particular goals (so long, student loans), brings at least some sense of calm. My free Budget and Spend Spreadsheet is here to help.

I am the primary breadwinner in our household and my husband has fluctuating income as an adjunct professor (we should talk about labor exploitation in academia some other time, as well as women-as-breadwinners ). We’ve had some hefty expenses over the years—hello, front steps needing replacement; sick tree in front yard; kitchen reno we sloooowly did ourselves—but we never quite seemed to be getting ahead. Mind you, we are very, very fortunate; we’ve been extraordinarily lucky to live comfortably since I started my job in 2008. Even so, I was surprised that every year our balances seemed to be exactly where we started, and our credit cards were constantly in use, creating high monthly balances we paid off.

Where did the money go? I expect I’m not alone in my wonder here. Many Americans don’t keep track of their funds, and the stuff they buy—little and big—add up over time (google the “latte factor” –the idea that buying expensive coffee frequently is a money pit). Many Americans don’t budget, either. I was one of them, even after my financial adviser suggested doing so. Budgeting seemed like a pain to do, and it could bring up some painful truths I did not want to face. So I ignored her.

But ignoring my advisor’s advice and my own internal monologue telling me something could be better meant that I wasn’t making my money work for me. Spending it with no plan is fun sometimes (buying new front steps less so), but it came with an opportunity cost—that money might be put elsewhere, better used. I had no real way of knowing. Those Target runs might have added up to something more consequential.

Good thing I like spreadsheets.

I built this one originally for me in a much simpler form. This version features all the bells and whistles I’ve added in five months of working on and with it. William Buffet (evidently) once said that what you spend is what remains after you save (thanks, feministfinancier.com!). So let’s get a handle on what we’re actually spending. And maybe—if we’re feeling brave—consider a budget, so as to better save.

spreadsheet snap
Spreadsheet snapshot

This Budget and Spend Spreadsheet allows you to do both. It’s set up with pre-build categories for both expenses and income, so you can just punch in some numbers and get rolling. It’s also got blank spaces for new items. That’s just the main sheet. Subsequent sheets are set up for each of those expense categories; you just punch in the number you allowed on sheet one at the top of each subsequent sheet and enter your expenses in that category as you go. For example, there’s a sheet for dining out. Say you allot $5k/year for that (you crazy minx, you)—you put that number in at the top and fill in the rows as you go and it does the math for you, allowing you to see what you have on balance to spend.

I like spending down. Beats spending up.

piggy bank
Feed the piggy.

If you run out of rows, you can always add some with the edit function. Then copy the last cell that contains a number derived by the formula (that is, the last one that math-ed correctly), copy it, and paste it into the new boxes below. That’ll keep your math going.

The very last sheet is a net worth sheet. This is a fun little element that lets you track your net worth over time. Net worth, simply put, is assets minus liabilities. On my own personal sheet, for example, I have our house as an asset with its approximate value (somewhere in between Zillow and the town’s recent revaluation) and what we owe on it as liability. The difference between them isn’t just equity, it’s part of your net worth. There are areas for 401k balances, bank accounts, student loans, car loans, the whole kit and caboodle.

The sheet is entirely editable, so if you want it to have different themes, different topics, or math in different ways, you can adjust it for your own consumption. It contains a number of comments that will help you fill boxes in. Feel free to send any questions along to me as well at admin@tenaciousfeminist.com.

benjamins
Knowing where these go means (hopefully) keeping more of them in your accounts.

If you talk about this spreadsheet—and please, talk about it, on your blog, your twitter, your instagram, whatever!—please link back. It’s creative commons copyrighted to me.

I’d love to hear about your progress! Let me know how the Budget and Spend Spreadsheet works for you.

Just a reminder: I AM NOT A FINANCIAL ADVISOR. You can take whatever I say with a grain of salt. I’m sharing what has worked for me, but that doesn’t mean it will work for you. I am not responsible for any action taken based on my posts.

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‘Liberal Anxiety’ is not the Problem, Colonial Feminism Is: a Response

A response to Salon’s “Stop Making ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ about Your Liberal Anxiety”

We haven’t yet spent much time talking about basic feminist principles that undergird the philosophy and movement here in the US, but today I want us to launch a bit ahead and talk about its relationship to colonial and post-colonial feminism. 45’s trip to Saudi Arabia, Ivanka Trump in tow to talk about female “empowerment,” and a Salon article on The Handmaid’s Tale moved this topic to the front of my list. They’ve all introduced problems we can label as colonial feminism, and here I’ll talk about what that means, particularly in the context of feminist movements over time and that Salon piece.

Second- and Third-Wave Feminism, Highly Abridged
A women’s march in the 1970s. Library of Congress photo in the public domain.

American feminism, particularly in the 1970s’ second wave, suffered from a narrow vision that limited its impact. Chiefly, it was white women’s feminism and middle-class feminism which got the most traction, leaving the needs of women of color, working-class women, and so on out of the conversation. We’ll delve into all of this further later, but in a nutshell, what the movement was missing was intersectionality. Interesectionality is the idea that people have multiple variables to their identities beyond just “woman” and that such elements shape their needs and goals as women. Missing that, second-wave feminism did not represent many issues beyond those women of the white middle-class.

Third-wave feminism is generally much better at intersectionality than second-wave was, but still struggles with using that lens to see the rest of the world. Such a problem often gets bound up with a “savior complex” that centers, intended or no, on implicitly white goals.

So what’s Colonial Feminism?

Here’s how the problem usually goes: we know what we want here at home in terms of feminist goals. To summarize, without intersectional contours or details, the umbrella generally includes political, social, economic equality, as well as reproductive health access. (Again, these are just the big elements—we’re not getting into, say, the problem of rape culture, what it means when people can’t recognize pay disparities based on gender and race, or even the basic constructs of power here in the US. All are topics we’ll talk about later, but not here.)

Then, we look overseas and we see other women, many of whom live in situations less feminist than our own. Saudi Arabia is usually a good place to look as its misogyny is so blatant, but other countries—other women—often get the same gaze from Americans. And then we assume they must want our values as their values, and when we seek to “help” them, we often do so with that lens firmly in place. In doing so we don’t ask those women what their feminism might look like, what their values are, what their goals might be. Thus the feminist lens we use is a colonial one. We assume they a) want our help and b) want it on our terms and thus we embody a colonial ethos, reminiscent of political colonialism in which people (white men, chiefly) told people in other countries (usually POC) what they wanted, and that it was good for them, through their white, colonial lens. Yes, there’s a huge difference between actual colonialism and a colonial feminism, absolutely—but the comparison makes sense for our purposes here.

Corley’s Take
From Hulu.

Salon published an essay on Saturday titled, “Stop Making ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ about Your Liberal Anxiety” that got me thinking about all this. It’s written by Deirdre Corley, who’s got some editorial experience at publications like the Hairpin; this essay appears to be her first out there on its own. I feel kind of bad pulling it apart, but here we go. The gist of what she’s saying is that we shouldn’t spend time writing think pieces on the ways in which we see the Handmaid’s Tale in our current US or speculating on its possibilities when women live in Gilead-ish societies now. Those societies should be our focus.

To wit:

“For a title that has received a more thorough exploration of its meaning and place in society than most, rarely are the lines drawn to other modern societies outside the U.S. where people, and women in particular, are suffering Gilead-level oppression (or worse) at this very moment. It seems that Americans now only have one lens to view things through, and it’s tinted orange.”

Now if she were encouraging women in or from those societies to pen their own think pieces, she’d have a nice point. But the problem is that what she says next about Saudi Arabia can be taken to be more broadly applied, and that’s where the trouble begins:

“Clad in robes, blinkered by headpieces, unable to travel without an escort, and barred from controlling money or property, the women of Gilead look quite a bit more like the women living under Saudi Arabia’s guardianship system than your modern American woman does or likely ever will.

While women in Saudi Arabia gained the right to vote in 2015, the mix of state and socially sanctioned rules they live under mean they still require the permission of their male guardians to travel or use most social services. They’re even banned from driving cars (though not bikes any longer). When thinking of the kingdom’s dress code for women — which includes the form-covering abaya and head-covering hijab, often paired with a full-face veil — it’s difficult not to draw a parallel to the Handmaids’ robes and face-obscuring hats. This, from a functioning, recognized state that recently received a seat on the U.N. Women’s Rights Council.”

Linda Sarsour. By Festival of Faiths from Louisville, United States. CC license.

Many Saudi women have worked for change in that nation to weak results (in contrast to Ivanka Trump’s claim that the country is great about women’s rights, a comment she made after they gave her foundation $100M). And while you and I would firmly reject a state-mandated dress code, the way in which Corley talks about that dress code implies that the dress is the problem, rather than the existence of the code itself. After all, plenty of women wear conservative dress by choice and don’t feel “blinkered” by those choices. Further, because of the nature of this essay, she’s implying (however unintentionally) that conservative Muslim dress is the real problem, Again, this approach disregards that many women choose hijabs, and some even choose burkas, as a reflection of their faith, and still fight a feminist mission. Linda Sarsour is a stellar example here, as is this 2015 HuffPo piece.

Thus…

When Corley makes her argument, even as she takes pains to say it’s about Saudi Arabia, she is, however unwittingly, indulging in a colonial feminism in which the (white, non-Muslim) American way is implied as superior to a Muslim way. If we’re not to express our “liberal anxiety” through analysis of The Handmaid’s Tale, it’s because our life is still far superior to others. There’s a condescension here that ignores the extremely difficult lives plenty of American women lead, some in rigid religious circumstances, others hamstrung by the ways in which the systems of power we have limit certain women’s access to power, control and opportunity.

Lastly, Corley implies that we can’t care about both the erosion of our democracy AND the status of our sisters in other countries. We can worry about both, but let those women lead the way in determining what solutions to their oppression might look like.


(Incidentally, I feel like there’s an essay in here on the intersections of colonial feminism and conservatives who insist 45 isn’t the problem because some countries have Sharia law. Maybe someday.)

(Also, look at Iran pre-1979: they, too, didn’t think a fundamentalist revolution could happen in their cosmopolitan country—a little “liberal anxiety” guarding our values is rarely a bad thing.)

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On My Nightstand: Books, May 21*

Hi all! I skipped posting last week because I was still reading the same stuff. But my day job is essentially done for the summer, so now I’ll have time to read more! Yay for books!

Whitehead, Underground Railroad
Goodreads.com photo.

Last night I started Colson Whitead’s The Underground Railroad. My parents gave it to my husband last Christmas and it was buried in his to-read pile, so I stole it. I read about 45 pages last night, and my quick take at this point: Whitehead’s book thus far is a brutally honest work in which the horrors of slavery are laid out so plainly that they’d seem common, save the way the horror impacts us. That ability–to make us appreciate the quotidian nature of the brutality of slavery so as to communicate the way excruciating violence was ordinary and devastating is a gift. It’s a book that thus far is both hard to read and hard to put down.

I’ve got a small summer reading list started–anything you think I ought to get on there? I’ll dig it out and post it next week.

*This post contains an Amazon affiliate link. Purchase this book from them, and I get some money to put towards hosting fees. Thanks!

 

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Considering our Relationships with Stuff

finance friday: talking about stuffLast week we talked about our relationships with money, looking at their origins and considering how they play out in how we handle, save, and spend. This week, we’ll take the next logical step: let’s talk about our relationships with stuff.

It seemed no coincidence to me that the pre-recession era, marked with the growth of McMansion subdivisions and the rise—as well as the fall—of the Hummer also seemed to feature the growth of storage centers. Now I’ve never fact-checked this, but I don’t remember seeing more than the occasional, isolated storage center when I was a kid. But in my early adult years, these places seemed to multiply like rabbits and take on gargantuan proportions. They’re eyesores, and always led me to thinking: what has caused such a demand for these? The answer: stuff.

I myself have a mixed relationship with stuff.

I have, if I’m honest, a real love for Sephora. We are book keepers. I wax and wane in terms of clothing purchases. We have a mess of a basement full of god knows what.

I’m working on thinning out this mess, putting stuff in the garbage bin and in a yard sale pile. If I can make a few bucks and clean out the basement, I’ll be a happy camper.

Some folks fill their emotional needs with things.

Others feel caught up in the race to have the newest-best-fastest car, phone, you name it. Mercifully, I am not one of those people. I’m not a must-have-this-tech person; I have a bare-bones phone (I’ve only had a smartphone for about a year, and had a flip phone until then), an older-model iPad I got through work, and a work laptop. I reason that these things do what I need them to do, and so I’m generally pretty happy with them and certainly unwilling to spend more money to upgrade them. I tend to fill my emotional needs with chocolate rather than iPhones.

For a long time I was easily lured in by those “here’s $10 off $25” coupon deals to places like DSW. One day I bought a pair of shoes accordingly and brought them home to find I already had a pair just like it. That’s when I began to really reconsider the shopping choices I was making, and the reasons I was making them, and why I made them when I had little disposable income to make them in the first place, nevermind when my economic position improved. (I also wonder about the gender and sex breakdown of all of this, tho I haven’t done the research, in terms of who gets what kind of advertising and who then takes advantage of it.)

Since then, I’ve tried to save more money and spend what I do on experiences.

Eating out is still a money pit for me, but I’m working on it. I still feel that as long as I’m enjoying the experience of dining out, it counts for more than a pair of shoes I don’t need.

So here’s today’s question: why do you buy what you choose to buy? Do you buy just for fun? To satisfy emotional longings? To meet concrete needs? To take advantage of deals when they present themselves? How might these categories overlap? Do you spend money you don’t have in order to meet any of these categories? What’s the opportunity cost* in such spending, whether you’ve got the income or not? How might all of these questions revolve around sex and gender?

Down the road we’ll prod these questions further as we start to map out better uses of your cash than stuff, or figuring out your cash-stuff balance.

*a fun economics term that refers to the other things you might have done with the money (or time, or whatever) spent.

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How I stopped worrying so much about my weight and came to love heavy lifting

Get it!
Full disclosure: post contains affiliate links

For many, many years, I, like many people, hated exercise. I also wasn’t too keen on my body. I saw exercise mainly as a tool for body modification, but one which left me generally tired, frustrated, and easily thwarted. I am 5’ tall. I am genetically predisposed to big ol’ legs, and I saw these as a penance rather than a gem. When I was 28, I lost something like 30 pounds so that I was a mere 117 through strict food control, limited booze, and walking. So.much.walking. I did this after seeing a doctor at the university where I was a grad student for an indigestion-and-tightness feeling. Her advice? Lose weight. (didn’t help, btw.)

run, Jen, run!
A blurry, young me, in one of my very few action shots.

Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard or felt that impulse to drop pounds. BMI is too high. Clothes are too tight. Self-love was not part of the equation, ever, even though I went to a feminist university for undergrad and was a believer in the rhetoric. Knowing something in your brain and your gut are two different things. I was a chubby youngster, and even as my weight went up and down over the years, that kid’s voice tended to be the loudest in my head.

Magazines, websites and TV pitch cardio to women as the be-all end-all of exercise, because it’s trumpeted as the best, fastest way to lose weight. The equation is thus simple: women should primarily exercise to take up less space. Thus, run, use the elliptical, or in my case as a young person, get down with those awful Cindy Crawford workout videos. Do not do so for reasons of personal accomplishment, unless that accomplishment is to become smaller. In which case, good for you.

When I see photos of myself at 117 pounds, I’m kind of floored by how scrawny I was. I am forty pounds heavier now. I am not always good at accepting that. But my god, I am strong.

I started lifting heavy weights a few years ago at the university gym. It took a lot of swallowed pride to put on my gym clothes and be vulnerable—gasp—in front of my students. But the gym was free, and I had a book—The New Rules of Lifting for Women: Lift Like a Man, Look Like a Goddess—I’d taken out of the library and eventually ordered on Amazon. I watched videos to get an idea of good form. And then I tried. I used the barbell, the plates, the dumbbells. Within a year, I could lift my (then-smaller) bodyweight. And I loved it.

That’s evidently the trick with exercise: Find something you love, and you won’t mind doing it (as much—I do still have those days where I don’t want to go to the gym). And for me, I hated cardio. It generally left me bored and feeling bad about myself. But lifting? It’s always a challenge. Successes are exciting—new personal bests!—and failures are motivating. Don’t get it today? Get it later. It’s a very different motivation than “yay I made it through half an hour on the treadmill,” which is something I don’t find even remotely motivating. At all. Even better, it allowed me to eat more (I wrestled with guilt cycles about counting highly-restricted calories) because you have to eat to lift and make gains.

It’s the best exercise ever.

I no longer work out at the university gym. When I was on sabbatical, I started working out elsewhere so as not to get sucked into university stuff. Now I just prefer my other gym; it’s the one “crazy” annual expense in my budget. I also spring for a trainer.

I can lift 200 pounds off the floor.
I can carry all the groceries in one trip.
I can move my own furniture.

My bones are strong as a consequence of resistance work, which bodes well for me in the future.

And while I use a lot of serious gym weights, you can do a lot with your own body and stuff you can find—google and see for yourself.

The traditional ways of knowing you’re doing well, health-wise, don’t quite work for me, and that’s taken getting used to. My pants are always becoming too small (I’ve stopped buying any at full price and hit up thrift shops) because my booty is huge. I have great quads—sure, they’re huge, but they support my whole body and let me do pretty much whatever I want. My shoulders are broad—these are great for filling out shirts, sure, but also help stabilize my growing arms.

Exercise is important—it can help stabilize mood (it keeps me from killing people), improve bodily function, ward off disease, and promote community. But don’t exercise for some mythological state of smallness, or because you feel you have to for reasons tied to the awful covers of “Women’s Health,” a misnomer if I ever heard one. Do it for you. Find something you like, and to hell with the rest of it. Find workouts that challenge you, that hold your interest. For me, that’s heavy lifting.

Being strong kicks ass. Being big kicks ass. It’s all infinitely better than spending your life seeking smallness. If you’re looking to feel good, carry all your own stuff, and rival Beyonce’s thighs for strength, you should give heavy lifting a go.

We’ll talk about all of this more later, when I interview my trainer. He’s ALL about empowering women in the gym, so I adore him. Just wait until I ask him about the pink dumbbells.

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For the Love of Rosa Diaz

Rosa Diaz
Image from IMDB.

If you don’t watch “Brooklyn 99,” you’ve shortchanged yourself by missing out on Rosa Diaz. Diaz, played by Stephanie Beatriz, is a take-no-shit detective with a deadpan take on pretty much everything. What I particularly love about Beatriz’s character is the way she turns stereotypes about women on their head. She’s deeply uncomfortable with emotions (as am I, so I adore this about her). Children baffle her, and she treats them like foreign objects. Best of all, she’s rarely lacking in self-confidence. She’s a loyal friend and intense lover, but rarely reveals these things about herself. Beatriz plays her to perfection.

Detective Rosa Diaz, Tenacious Feminist salutes you as a hero to feminists everywhere.

You’ve got a few minutes to kill until the 99 starts–entertain yourself with these Rosa Diaz gems, collected at Buzzfeed.

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Let’s talk about relationships with money.

We all have them, but I don’t know how often we explore them or consider their roots.

How does money make you feel? Anxious? Eager? Safe? Afraid?

Our emotions about money oftentimes fuel our money habits, and are complicated by our historical past. Women, in particular, have historically been responsible for a home’s consumption while at the same time having no access to the inner workings of bills and income. When we’re kids, we might have parents who still maintained this kind of system, and as we learn much by parental observation, many of us women might be as confused (bemused?) as our mothers were, however long ago, by our finances.

Our parents also serve as other models: models of spending, models of saving. Sometimes we turn into them; other times, we choose deliberately not to be them.

When I was growing up, we did not have a lot of extra money. I did not want for food, a roof over my head, or warm clothes in the winter, but luxuries were not frequent. Perhaps consequently, when I went to college and got my first credit card, I got a little bit out of control. I had access to money (well, plastic money) and before I knew it, I had a $4k credit card debt at 21 years old. Then I went to grad school, made a whopping $11k a year, and had looming, enormous undergrad bills to pay off.

But money made me anxious even before then. I expect I’m not alone. I have often vacillated between “SPEND NOTHING!” and “I’ve spent so little, I deserve this item here on sale at Target.” I suspect part of my anxiety and spending habits had to do with my father’s repeated injunctions to BE CAREFUL with money, which often felt like a principle to violate (oh, hey, credit card) and which, once violated, left me feeling guilty for having done so. I wonder sometimes if he felt the same way. He always had a “bigger, better, faster” streak that reminded me of Tim Allen as the dad on “Home Improvement” when I was a kid.

As an adult, I am only just getting past my money anxiety.

For a long time, even as I began to make a reasonable salary, I felt like I was teetering on some financial precipice, even if that wasn’t true. My money anxieties are bundled up—as I expect they are for a number of women—with insecurities about who I am and what I do. Classic “Imposter Syndrome” stuff. They’ll figure out I’m a fraud, and I’ll never work again. I had nightmares along those lines for years.

Finding some control over my finances has helped me get change my thinking about money considerably. Not that I was ever really out of control, but by laying stuff out on paper, both on a grand scale with a financial planner last year and on a smaller day-to-day scale now on my own, I feel like I have a better understanding of how my money works, where it goes, and what I can do about it and with it. Since then, I’ve paid down a chunk of our debt, improved our bottom line by cutting expenses, and given us a framework with which to evaluate what we do spend. I’m not beyond picking fights with utilities for better rates when I don’t like what I see.

So for this Finance Friday, spend a little time thinking about how you feel about money, and where from where those feelings might arise. Contemplate how those feelings might shape your spending habits, and how those habits themselves make you feel. How might control—or lack thereof—figure in?

Consider this article, as well, which is honest in some amazing ways. http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/05/poor-people-worries/

We’ll chat again next week.

J.

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Don’t Waste Time: The Handmaid’s Tale’s Easy Authoritarianism

handmaids, authoritarianism
Check out this photo of women in Texas surrounded by men with guns, and you tell me the likeness to elements of episode 3 isn’t eerie. Property of The Advocate, http://bit.ly/2pDVc5a

I’d avoided watching episode 3 of The Handmaid’s Tale for a while because I knew what it contained: visual depiction of how easily the revolution established authoritarianism in what became Gilead. Having read the book, I knew this part was coming, but watching it during these particular weeks felt that much more ominous than when I read it for the first time, twelve or so years ago.

In case you don’t know the story, here’s how it goes. There’s an attack on Congress, leaving few alive. It’s labeled a terrorist attack, and people step into the vacuum and establish martial law “for the duration” (in quotes because it’s a pretty quintessential thing to say in times of war). The constitution is suspended, allegedly temporarily. And before long, as adherents to the coming revolution multiply, surfacing here and there (in episode three there’s an aggressive guy in a coffee shop visited by June and Moira), the executive orders also multiply, and no one’s protesting in large numbers in the streets until it’s too late. The show does a good job of showing isolated adherents and protestors in the flashbacks to the earliest stages of the revolution; mass protests don’t even quite erupt when the government declares women working illegal and they’re all summarily fired. It’s when women lose access to their money—all electronic, like ours often is—that people take to the streets. By then there are men with machine guns everywhere, and they’re not afraid to use it to make their revolution more permanent.

Anyway.

Margaret Atwood once said there was nothing in the book that hadn’t already happened in our world, and I’ll be damned if 45’s America isn’t giving her additional fodder for a sequel. I’m a bit dramatic, I realize, but let’s be honest—there’s only so much separating one coup from another, one dictatorship from a different one. We were out in the streets for the first several executive orders, but where have we been lately? As EOs come down limiting LGBTQ rights in the name of “religious liberty,” where are we? And last week’s health care bill, which deliberately and carefully (or, alternately, stupidly and unthinkingly—I’m not sure which is worse) placed women in second-class citizenship for being women, making their health care easily more expensive?

As I’ve said to students time and again, why do we call things like reproductive care “women’s issues,” whereas we’re all supposed to be concerned about, say, prostate cancer? Why aren’t “women’s issues” everyone’s issues, which would foster a more egalitarian health and social system?

I’ll tell you why. Because once we do that, we can’t charge women more if they’ve been raped, or if they’ve carried a baby to term, while also defunding Planned Parenthood—which gives women wide access to contraceptive care, cancer screening, and abortion services. As a bill, the AHCA condemns women for existing: all stages of our life are now more expensive. And we’re paid less in the process.

Where are the people in the streets? We cannot make the same mistake as the women who became Handmaids. We cannot assume—as our dear leader fires those investigating him and people like Paul Ryan, who would rather institute Atlas Shrugged than stand up for his country, support him—that the country’s systems are going to save us. We cannot just be Twitter warriors. It’s important that we come out for major, planned marches, but we also need to be out there ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I say this as I’m firmly ensconced in my office, typing away, drinking a cup of cold coffee. I realize my hypocrisy.

But I’ll never be a fucking Handmaid, and neither should you.

If you want to protest in real style, you can knock out these easy tutorials for a cape and a bonnet and join others out there in Handmaid gear (note how that article is in HuffPo’s ‘Women’ section and scroll back up to ‘women’s issues’ in this post).


Here’s a cloak tutorial. It calls for fleece but you could likely make it out of shirting or other red fabric. https://www.fleecefun.com/long-hooded-cloak-pattern-free.html

And here’s a bonnet tutorial. To make it look closer to those on the show, you’d skip the trim and the chin strap, get rid of a little of the bulk in the back, and consequently have fewer pleats. http://www.sunsetfamilyliving.com/pioneer-bonnet/

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