Don't cry over spilt (breast) milk

Ok, so I didn't actually spill breastmilk, but I did cry...

About 3 weeks ago, I presented at paper at SEWSA on biocultural (biology + culture) perspectives on breastfeeding. It focused on one evolutionary cost of not breastfeeding, precocious puberty (having your period before age 9 or developing breasts before age 8) and commented on ineffective public health campaigns that attempt to increase breastfeeding. It was well received. Many people asked questions and I felt great.

Flash forward to last Wednesday. The same paper was presented to my WMST seminar class who HATED it. They took offense to all the evolutionary stuff and couldn't believe that I, as a feminist, would include evolutionary perspectives. They asked me questions about lesbians and gay men who couldn't breastfeed. I explained that I wasn't advocating for all women or caregivers to breastfeed, just that those who want to face cultural barriers against doing so in public. They also complained about my stating the human breast was evolved for breastfeeding. Um, we are mammals? Evolution is a POPULATION based model, thus individual preferences don't matter fr the whole species (i.e. if you choose not to have children). Basically, I was so upset I snarkily replied to all they're comments that I would just toss all the evolution stuff because I didn't want to explain how evolution worked in my paper.

Well, that took made my paper substantially shorter than the 20 pages I originally wrote and the 18 page suggestion. Compounded with the other two papers I had to write this weekend, re-writing that breastfeeding paper was going to be difficult. Come Saturday night, I had one paragraph of my former paper that was salvageable, meaning I was going to need to write 13 pages tomorrow and re-research the topic. So feeling overwhelmed and frustrated and angry, I cried. And while crying wrote an "I have abandoned all hope on this paper and I have no clue what I am supposed to do" email to my professor. Real smart, Taylor. Real smart

The elusive grad school meltdown, which had escaped me all first semester finally hit me with one week on school to go. GREAT.

Anyway, I pulled myself together, and on Sunday, I magically pulled 12 pages of text, 4 pages of images, and 3 pages of citations out of my research on a completely different topic from the one I began with. Is it a good paper? Who knows. It's finished; it's passable; and I am slow getting over my perfectionism. Well, trying to...

Other words for vagina that you can't say on television

Some of my favorite people (who happen to be feminists) tend to use "bad" words on national television....

like Stephen Colbert on the Today Show this morning...



and Jane Fonda this Valentine's Day...



Why does this only happen to Meredith Vera?

COLBERT

Below are pics of my visit to see Stephen Colbert on March 4th.

Here's what happened:

We wait outside the studio in Hell's Kitchen (yes, Hell's Kitchen) for 20 min, then we are let in to a waiting room after we go through a security check (it is Hell's Kitchen). The security guy sees my Colbert book and says, "Oh, I see you brought your book, but there will be no time for autographs." No autographs!? More on that later... We wait in this small room for over an hour with 100 people in it. Packed like sardines. We meet this guy who says his cousin is married to Stephen, and he lives in Berkeley now, but his family is from SC. He says he manages small bands on the West Coast and went to high school with people on SNL. I said, like who? He mentions Andy Samburg... I don't believe this guy. He is hitting on my friend even though his girlfriend is there playing on her iphone completely oblivious. He has on a Met Art Museum button, and my friend asks what rooms he went to (we went there earlier that day too). He says he loves the Met, but his girlfriend is more beautiful than the paintings (gag). She isn't paying attention. After he is finished lying to us and flirting with my friend, he tells his girlfriend he is "completely devoted" to her. Yeah ok....

The stage manager comes out and tell us we are about to go in, there are 3 guests tonight, what to do and what not to do, and that Stephen will come out for a few minutes and take questions out-of-character from us. I decide to ask him about Feminists for Colbert the blog the Women's and Gender Studies department started to woo Colbert to see us/mention us, which he did not, even though we sent him a t-shirt :(.

Colbert comes out, and is super nice and humble. People ask him questions about things on the set (like the microwave he actually stole from Bill O'Reilly). The guy from above has his hand raised, and so do I. Time is running out. While Stephen is answering someone's question, I turn to my friend Allison, who said guy was hitting on, and I am complaining about this dud who is supposedly related to Stephen "sees him at the 4th of July Family Barbecue in Charleston, and can ask him questions anytime. Stephen sees my face, of anger and interprets it as "she is mad at me for not calling on her." So, he says, "I see you. I am going to call on you, don't be mad." So, he does, and I ask about Feminists for Colbert, he has never heard of us, and wants to know if the site is "safe for work." I tell him it is and he should check it out and give love to the College of Charleston Women's and Gender Studies Program.

Then, taping starts. (you can watch the show here.) You can't see me or hear me, but he shook my hand at the end, but they edited it out for time. I'll cry later about that... Then, we are filing out to leave, sad about not meeting him, but the security guy summons us over. Then the stage manager comes and says, you have a letter? We produce the letter and go backstage to meet him and take photos with him. We tell him where we are from and he says he is jealous of us going back to SC (well, I went back to NC, but close enough). He is SOOO nice, signs our books, and take photos with us. Plus, I partially hugged him!!!!

NOTE the amount of joy in my face in these photos:












In my book, he wrote: "To Taylor: Be Brave!! Stephen Colbert"

Hot Pocket

This is a total cheater post, but watching the latest episode of FOTC made me think of this. Jim Gaffigan was in it, and the man almost caused me to die this summer. After the kids went to sleep at Governor's School, the counselors would watch TV. One night we watched Jim Gaffigan on Comedy Central talk about Hot Pockets for 10 minutes and I almost couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard. (It's kind of important that you have actually eaten a Hot Pockets before) Enjoy...

FOTC

I don't know how I left this off my happy ending notes, but the best show on television, Flight of the Concords is back for its second season. The only sad thing about this is that I lack HBO, but I do have friends with HBO who let me mooch off of them and watch it while they cook me breakfast--a very sweet deal. Here is my favorite song from last week's show...

Gregory Bateson and Rude Kids

January 12th marked the beginning of my second semester of grad school. Last semester went very well; however, this semester isn't starting off well...

Unlike last semester, my new TA class' material is challenging. Gone are the days of teaching 101, basic anthropology to eager little Freshman who look adoringly at me (maybe that was in my head?) as I explain how our ancestors traveled to Australia by boat. Now, I am the TA of a class teaching a defunct school of anthropology and using Gregory Bateson as the only member of the Culture and Personality school. Bateson's big contribution was systems' theory. Oh God, I hate thee. Basically, it's hard stuff. Bateson is a tough read. The kids don't get it. I look at their horror stricken faces as I explain (to the best of my ability, which is lacking) vague concepts and what they will have to do for their first paper.

What's worse? THE KIDS! Dear Lord, where did these seniors and juniors come from? They could give two shits to be there. It's an upper level anthro course, so I (mistakenly) assumed there would be mostly Anthropology majors. Alas, I was wrong. Very, very wrong. For seventy-five percent of them, this is there first anthro course, used to fill a perspective. I'm not all that familiar with the undergraduate degree requirements, but logic should inform them to take a 100-level class and not a 500-level class as a "perspective." They have no clue what anthropology is, and I am sad Bateson is their introduction. They will never read anything anthropological again. Hell, if Bateson were my introduction, I would be getting my PhD in history or something right now. Worse, is that unlike my little Freshman, they are older, some are older than I am. I would never tell a class my age, and I hope my strands of gray inflate my presumed age severely. They must be able to smell the fear of being the one to explain Bateson to them, think I am too young, or are just rude, because they challenge me and have their ipods on and text message while I am speaking. Well, three challenge me, and one had the ipod and did the text messaging.

Anyway, they challenged me on Bateson's theory of applying natural systems (the water cycle, blood sugar regulation,etc) to social systems. I quieted their screams of protest, and told the text messager/ipod listener to put it away. I am proud of myself for not publicly embarrassing them or saying mean things to them. Ugh they get to review me at the end, and I am pretty sure the professor thinks I am going to have a mental breakdown while teaching this class, so I don't want to push it.

In an unrelated note: what do first-year grad students do during the summer? There are no jobs because of budget cuts for research assistants in our department and SC's Gov School was canceled. I need a summer job! If not, I will be a Girl Scout camp counselor and I am NOT a fan of the outdoors. I am not that kind of anthropologist. If you are in need of a feminist anthropologists or know of a summer job, please let me know!

I'll end on happy notes: one more week of systems, then on to Nancy Scheper-Hughes and sexual repression among the Irish...a few of the kids like me and asked me about grrrl zines...it snowed 6 inches here Tuesday, January 20th!!!...I heart my Archaeological Theory professor who is feminist and an anthropological genius...my borderline homophobic brother actually read the David Sedaris book I gave him for Christmas (I gave Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim and Anthropology for Dummies to every member of my nuclear family), liked it and bought two more books by David...My paper on breastfeeding was accepted at Southeastern Women's Studies Association Conference and this will be the third time I have presented there.

At least Barbie has a job...

Before Christmas, my mother and I were in Target in the toy section. Being the wonderfully kind person that she is, my mother was looking for a present for a six year-old girl who visits her office for allergy shots. The little girl wanted a Bratz doll.

First, I was overwhelmed by the shear amount of pink in the aisle, but then, I noticed the dolls themselves. They look like 40 year-old women with an addiction to plastic surgery. They have huge faces, complete with huge eyes and lips, skimpy hair, and porn names like "Yasmin." Crazy. You can buy them dressed up like rockstars or punk girls--somewhere Kathleen Hanna is crying on the inside--or you can buy the male version of Bratz, appropriately named "Boyz Are Cool." But, the most distrubing Bratz item I saw was Chole and her mom. Geez Louise! It's basically the doll version of the Real Housewives of Orange County and their children. The mom looks about 20, as old as the daughter looks under all that make up, and both are decked out in short outfits that have matching cell phones. So, not only do little girls feel bad about themselves for not being able to look like these dolls, but moms can too! Guilt and Envy for the whole family!

I just kept repeating to my mother, "Chole and her mom!?" My mother argeed it was ridiculous, and added that she thought the Bratz dolls were ugly; nonetheless, she purchased the Bratz doll the six year-old requested. As we were leaving the ailse, I said, "At least Barbie has a job."