Look what I found on my doorstep tonight!
Look what I found on my doorstep tonight!
I’ve been saying for months that the question of Hillary Clinton’s “likability” is unimportant. Why? Because we know that women are always thought less likable (or even unlikable) when we’re asking for a promotion or, even worse, acting as though we deserve it. And what is Clinton’s campaign but a months-long job interview for the biggest promotion of her life? The obsession with whether or not Americans “like” Clinton seems pointless to me.
Just check out the comments at the bottom of the linked article. Collectively, it’s a bunch of paranoid frothing about the prospect of Hillary Clinton in power, but they’re right about one thing: their prescriptions to restore her likability include variations on suicide, dropping out of the presidential contest. They all boil down to their passionate desire that she STFU and go away. That would work! Of course people love women when we no longer hold any power or influence! Of course. Continue reading
Historians for the most part believe that knowledge about the past which helps explain and contextualize a present-day problem is a good thing. The stories we tell are not always (or even very frequently) soothing, but somehow in telling stories that feature historical information over the longue durée we feel like we can get a handle on the problem before us. I don’t feel that way today, and it’s disorienting.
I have no hot takes. I have no opinions or ideas worth sharing. Every time I’ve thought about writing a blog post this week, another fresh hell is being reported, making anything I meant to write about a previous nightmare seem irrelevant. While a major theme on this blog is the racialized and gendered violence that underlays the United States in both its past and its present, and gun violence in particular, I have nothing new to add to that observation today. And while I’m a bigger fan of continuity than change as an explanatory framework for understanding history, I would like to see a heck of a lot of change just about now. For all of us. Continue reading
Commentators everywhere were amazed by the fact that Hillary Clinton and Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) wore similar shades of blue at a campaign event last week in Cincinnati. (Actually, I’d say Clinton’s suit was periwinkle, and it’s obvious that Warren is wearing only a blue jacket, not a suit.)
Nevertheless, we should consider the role of fashion choices in this election season. After all, the choices our candidates make now are an indication of the looks we’ll have to see for the next four to eight years after the election. My expertise in American history, women’s history, and the history of clothing makes me the perfect analyst of this important political question, It’s my patriotic duty this glorious Independence Day to share with you the results of my years of long study and reflection, plus 5 minutes of using Google images to look up photos of the presidents and vice-presidents of the last 5 administrations.
Prepare to be amazed, friends, by the results: Continue reading
I’ve been up since the wee hours thinking about both communication and technology in our modern world, and how and in what contexts we encounter strangers. I seem to get more calls from people who have the wrong number than I get from people who want to reach me, specifically. It’s getting exhausting, especially this morning as I’ll explain below.
One of the first, and most terrifying, text messages I ever got was more than a decade ago when I first got a mobile phone. It was just a photograph–but some kind of awful bondage porn! (Thank goodness it was just a flip phone with a 1.5 square inch screen, so I couldn’t see all the details. Bleh!)
When I’d get friendly, innocuous texts from people clearly trying to make plans with a friend, I used to text them back and let them know that they had the wrong number. Weirdly, some would try to argue with me: “It’s Chelsea!!!” Sorry, but I’m not expecting any visitors–I’m a college professor with a family. But eventually the wrong numbers got so numerous I stopped arguing.
Recently, I’ve been getting even more and crazier text messages: “Hey, it’s Rick! Sorry for the late notice, but are you free for poker tonight?” Or “Is the 2005 yellow Lotus still available?” (After a few of these, I figured out that this is a car. I got a lot of voicemails about the yellow Lotus, too. I am the last person in the world ever to buy or drive a yellow Lotus! Lord.) I used to get long text messages that alluded to recent family illnesses and sadness–he seemed to be making care arrangements for someone. I think these were from a man whose daughter we knew when she was in preschool. I finally texted him (anonymously) and suggested that he probably had the wrong number.
Early this morning, the wrong numbers took a turn from the virtual into real life. I was awakened about 3:30 a.m. by the distinctive sound of someone trying to open my locked front door. This is a sound I’m very familiar with–my kid never remembers to take her key with her, and because I spent the 1990s living in big cities, I am a habitual door-locker even in the daytime, even in the green country town in which we live. It’s one thing to hear that sound in daylight while I’m working away in the office next to the front door, which is usually followed rapidly with pounding on the door and a “Mom, let me in!” It’s quite another to hear that sound in the dead of night. Continue reading
Click away from this blog immediately and go read Suki Kim’s angry and disturbing article “The Reluctant Memoirist” about the marketing and reception of her book Without You There Is No Us: My Time with the Sons of North Korea’s Elite. It’s a fascinating exploration about the intersection of journalism, marketing, race, and sex.
Some of you may remember hearing about her book, which recounts her daring and adventurous mission to penetrate and report on North Korea by working as an ESL teacher at an evangelical Christian university that catered to the DPRK’s elite young men. In her article for The New Republic, where she serves as a contributing editor, she recounts the potential danger she faced in the service of reporting on the world’s most locked-down and closed off dictatorship, or “virtual prison state,” as Kim calls it: Continue reading
I’ve been meaning to write for weeks about Donald Trump’s nickname for Elizabeth Warren. As a historian who has written a few books that include some Algonquian (Eastern woodlands Indian) history, and a lot of women’s history, it’s been on my mind.
But first, a little background: last month, Trump started calling her Pocahontas, intending to smear her for once checking a box on an employment form claiming Native American ancestry: Continue reading