151 posts
So, watching Captain Marvel was awesome and made me feel super happy and strong!
The only bit I felt conflicted over was that part at the end where Yon Rogg was like, “I’m so proud of you! Fight me! Prove to me that you can win without powers!” and Carol just blasted him.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love that. It’s exactly what she should have done, and it’s a very satisfying moment for her character. But...
See, I didn’t feel conflicted about it because it was the wrong thing to do or it was emotionally unfulfilling or any of that nonsense. I felt conflicted about it because of how much I related to it. Because he started talking, and I had that moment of, what the hell do you mean you’re proud?! What kind of gaslighting, two-faced rubbish are you spewing now?!
And then he said “Prove to me,” and I was torn between laughing at his obvious, kind of pathetic attempt to make a more powerful foe deliberately handicap herself, the niggling irritation that comes with a man trying to convince you to prove yourself to him when you owe him nothing, and anger at the fact that some part of me felt like Carol had to. That some part of me felt it necessary for her to try and please him, prove herself to him, even though she owed him nothing and he was clearly trying to manipulate her into making herself less than she was again.
Because I know that feeling of constantly having to prove yourself when you’ve already done it a thousand times. That feeling of trying to get a man’s approval of your competence, that if you do more, prove you know more, do it faster, do it better, maybe you’ll finally feel like you belong, like you’re equal and you’ve finally, finally earned your place.
And then she blasted him, and I was so proud of her for doing that, for not falling for his manipulative BS and for knowing her own worth and knowing that she had nothing to prove. But at the same time, I mourned the lack of gaining his approval. I didn’t want to, but I did.
We are so conditioned to need male approval in all aspects of our lives. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of falling head over heels to prove ourselves to some random jerk, of wasting our time and energy to show him that we deserve a place and that we deserve to be heard, sabotaging ourselves in a hopeless effort to get him to confer value upon us.
But the thing is, we already have that value. We deserve to have a place. We have nothing to prove.
And that’s why that moment at the end of Captain Marvel was so powerful, so satisfying. She knew her own worth and didn’t let a man talk her out of it.
So, my family is Greek, and my grandmother, who grew up in Athens, was named Urania. And funnily enough, I’m now in university majoring in Astrophysics. I’ve always found that coincidence kind of funny and this is a cool aesthetic!
(Also, Urania is pronounced like Oo-rah-nee-uh, if anyone wonders)
Urania
And, of course:
So in the new episode of The Flash, Failure is an Orphan, who else looked at older Grace Gibbons for like one second and immediately realized she was the same actress who played Alicia Baker in Smallville?
OKAY so last week I saw Avatar the Last Airbender was on Netflix! And I was so excited, I was like finally!! I supposed they finally put it on Netflix as like promotion or something because of the new live action Avatar that Netflix is planning?
But then
I tried to continue watching it yesterday
And
it wasn’t available
?????
Then I realized.
I was in Canada for spring break last week.
ATLA isn’t on Netflix in the States!! Canada has it. We don’t and I feel so cheated just so you know
SO I designed this osprey pattern for a stained glass piece, but I cannot for the life of me decide on a color scheme. Thoughts, anyone?
(And by the way, if it occurs to anyone, my profile picture is indeed a stained glass piece that I designed and made myself.)
(Also an osprey is my patronus on pottermore so if I’m being entirely honest that’s what inspired this lol)
Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie can find her way right to the heart of the issues that confront women every day. This advice can apply to women in all cultural contexts, and in my opinion is a must-read for all feminists. There Are Girls Like Lions: Poems About Being a Woman by Cole Swensen A short poetry anthology about the moments of growing up as a girl and a woman. Circe by Madeline Miller Madeline Miller’s Circe is a triumph of storytelling and a triumph for feminism. In the Odyssey, Circe is treated as the selfish witch that Odysseus subdues. Here, she is given agency, life. She feels real and her desires and her courage and her fears will become your own. Madeline Miller has a true talent for epic prose. The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish An aging historian in London growing close to retiring as her body begins to betray her is given a chance to discover significant truths when papers come to light that tell an unusual tale. That of a young Jewish woman far in the past who longs to study and learn, to question philosophy and faith, and does so in secret while dreading the prospect of marriage. This book takes an unerring view of courage, personal truth, faith, philosophy, and what it means to be a woman. Flight of Dreams by Ariel Lawhon Emilie is not what she seems. And on the Hindenburg, it seems that everyone has something to hide. Suspenseful and enthralling, Ariel Lawhon’s imagining of the tale of the doomed airship flight is nothing less than a masterpiece.
Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi Tomi Adeyemi has created a high fantasy book that draws its inspiration from African cultures and legends. Her characters and setting are refreshing and compelling, and the words will settle in your heart and blood. The people love fiercely and deeply, and the losses are wounding. The parallels drawn to racial violence in America are at once heart-breaking and enraging. A necessary read.
The Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian Her home was invaded. Her family murdered, and her paraded about as a trophy. Princess Theodosia struggles to reclaim who she is and what she stands for in a world that has beaten her and her people to the ground. If she is to free herself and her people, she must remember what she truly is. A queen. The Chosen Maiden by Eva Stachniak In the early 20th century, the world of ballet experiences a revolution. Vaslav Njinsky, hailed as a prodigy, provokes confusion and outrage with choreography that is strange, halting, jarring – to many, ugly. This is the tale of his sister, Bronia, also an extraordinary ballet dancer. As revolution sparks in Russia and war begins in Europe, she learns to chart her own path and defy expectations. Lands of Lost Borders: A Journey on the Silk Road by Kate Harris Kate Harris loved to read. She wanted to explore. To see the frontiers of everything. So, she decided to become an astronaut. But exploration can come in many forms, and she chooses to bike the Silk Road on her own journey of exploration. Told with candor, wit, and sweeping prose, this is my favorite travel book. Sold by Patricia McCormick A young girl in Nepal believes she has the chance to have a job, to help provide for her family. But when she arrives, she finds that the ‘work’ is not what she expected. Trapped in a brothel, she is forced into sex slavery. This is a difficult and emotional read, but an important one. The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley A retelling of the Arthurian legends from the point of view of Morgan Le Fey, Ygraine of Cornwall, Guinevere, Viviane, Morgause, and others. It’s a very good read with very human characters and a heart of tragedy. The women in this book are wholly women and wholly human, with flaws and love and fear and difficult choices. Though I have one important note: I discovered this after I read the book, but later in life the author was revealed to have sexually abused her daughter and other children. Because of this, I wasn’t sure whether to include this one. I decided to because of the book’s merits and its influence on feminism in the nineties. I leave it to your judgement. Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard Mary Beard is a historian with penetrating understanding of the place women occupy in society. Her manifesto addresses the power imbalances women have faced throughout history and in the present. My Own Words by Ruth Bader Ginsburg A collection of the writings of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the second woman ever to be appointed to the Supreme Court. Accessible, logical, and wryly amusing, she provides insight into the workings of the Supreme Court, law, women’s rights, and many other topics. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah During World War II, two sisters are separated in occupied France. They find their own ways to survive and rebel against the German presence in their land. A well-written tale of sisterly and familial love, loss, courage, and endurance. The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson A fantasy story about a princess chosen by a prophecy. Her journey to find, understand, and accept the power within herself is as poetic as the book’s title. The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro Two women, separated by a generation, bonded by memory. This book is captivating – and makes you wish you had some perfume of your own! Memory and scent, love and resentment, mystery, and fearless choices twine together in this story. A Bound Woman Is a Dangerous Thing: The Incarceration of African American Women from Harriet Tubman to Sandra Bland Poems honoring black women who have been held back and trapped and chained throughout America’s history. This is not a comfortable read. But it is a worthwhile one. I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai This one doesn’t really need any explanation. It’s definitely a must-read though. Code Girls: The Untold Story of the American Women Code Breakers of World War II The meticulously researched story of the girls who broke codes in World War II. While their husbands and brothers and sons went off to fight, they went to Washington and learned to do work that greatly impacted the course of the war. Since they were all sworn to secrecy, their stories were almost lost. But not anymore. The Other Einstein by Marie Benedict Mileva Maric was a brilliant physicist and mathematician from Serbia. She attended the University of Zurich and was the only woman in her classes. After university, she married her former classmate: Albert Einstein. Her husband’s shadow is very long, but this woman deserves to step into the light. This is a rich portrait of a woman who was far more than merely Albert Einstein’s wife. Women in Science: 50 Fearless Pioneers Who Changed the World by Rachel Ignotofsky This one’s pretty self-explanatory too. It’s an awesome book with gorgeous illustrations and many awesome and brilliantly smart women. Wonder Woman: Warbringer by Leigh Bardugo Well, Wonder Woman, obviously. In this novel, Diana is finding her place as an Amazon, a warrior, and a teenage girl. Her confidence, courage, and loyalty is extraordinarily compelling. The book tackles the difficult issues she must face, involving war, peace, and the true meaning of strength. A Secret History of Witches by Louisa Morgan I always pay attention when I see the word “witch” on the cover of a book. In history, witches have been the women who were feared for their differences – for their knowledge, their beauty, their independence, etc. It’s a powerful word with a powerful meaning. In this book, witchcraft is real, and the women are too. It follows five generations of the same family of witches, examining and celebrating the bonds between mothers and daughters while telling a tale fraught with tension and courage. Face Value: The Hidden Ways Beauty Shapes Women’s Lives by Autumn Whitefield-Madrano An examination of the perception of beauty and its effects in women’s lives today, touching upon insecurity, image, idealization, and numerous other things. The Map of Salt and Stars by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar Another tale about two girls in different time periods (I love these). Here’s the blurb: “- a modern day Syrian refugee seeking safety and a medieval adventurer apprenticed to a legendary mapmaker – places today’s headlines in the sweep of history, where the pain of exile and the triumph of courage echo again and again.” The prose is lyrically beautiful and the story is richly crafted. An incredible read. Double Bind: Women on Ambition edited by Robin Romm Ambition can be a complicated thing for women. What we want to do can be altered by how we want to see ourselves – or more accurately, how we are socialized to see ourselves. An ambitious woman may seem aggressive and overconfident to others – while an ambitious man may seem dominant and just the right amount of confident. This book is worth a look. Book of Ages: The Life and Opinions of Jane Franklin by Jill Lepore A collection of her own writings tied together by the biographical work of Jill Lepore. In this portrait of Benjamin Franklin’s younger sister, Jane Franklin emerges as a shrewd, resilient, and confident woman. Pirate Women: The Princesses, Prostitutes, and Privateers Who Ruled the Seven Seas by Laura Sook Duncombe This book is so awesome. It just is. Badass women from all over the world who wanted their freedom and took it. Need I say more? Geisha, A Life by Mineko Iwasaki ‘"Many say I was the best geisha of my generation," writes Mineko Iwasaki. "And yet, it was a life that I found too constricting to continue. And one that I ultimately had to leave." Trained to become a geisha from the age of five, Iwasaki would live among the other "women of art" in Kyoto's Gion Kobu district and practice the ancient customs of Japanese entertainment. She was loved by kings, princes, military heroes, and wealthy statesmen alike. But even though she became one of the most prized geishas in Japan's history, Iwasaki wanted more: her own life. And by the time she retired at age twenty-nine, Iwasaki was finally on her way toward a new beginning.” A tale of courage. the princess saves herself in this one by Amanda Lovelace A story told in four collections of poetry. The story of the princess in the tower, and the story of you. The Diplomat’s Daughter by Karin Tanabe After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Emi Kato is imprisoned in an American internment camp. Later, she and her family are sent home to Japan, where war threatens everything. This is a tale of love, sacrifice, resilience and hope in the middle of a war told in elegant and touching prose. The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker A retelling of the Iliad (The Trojan War) from the point of view of the women – primarily Briseis. The wars of ancient times are often thought of as glorious. The picture this book paints of the siege on Troy shows the other side of war. It’s illuminating, intricately detailed and bluntly told. Everything Here Is Beautiful by Mira T. Lee A difficult story of family, mental illness, sisterhood, immigration, and fulfillment in life. Every word rings true, sometimes painfully. Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo This one was a really difficult read for me. It’s heart-rending. The love, jealousy, commitment to family, completely different cultural context… A difficult read, but worth it in the end, for the exact reasons that made it hard. The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff Another World War II spy story! But this one is less about code-breaking and more about the feet on the ground in Paris. A fictionalized version of a true story. Daughters of the Winter Queen: Four Remarkable Sisters, the Crown of Bohemia, and the Enduring Legacy of Mary, Queen of Scots by Nancy Bazelon Goldstone “Brilliantly researched and captivatingly written, filled with danger, treachery, and adventure but also love, courage, and humor, Daughters of the Winter Queen follows the lives of five remarkable women who, by refusing to surrender to adversity, changed the course of history.” Pretty self-explanatory. An awesome and engaging book. Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen by Sarah Bird Based loosely on a true story. Cathy Williams is a slave. But she is also the daughter of a daughter of a queen, and her mother never lets her forget it. In this daring tale, Cathy rebels against her constraints as a black person and a woman and joins the army disguised as a man during the Civil War. Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly I’m sure a lot of you have seen the movie based on this book. The untold story of three of NASA’s brilliant black female scientists during the Space Race. The book came before the movie and is just as satisfying in print as on the big screen. There’s also more exposition and nuance to the story. The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie R. King Sherlock Holmes has retired to keep bees in Sussex. Then, he meets Mary Russell, a young woman with a mind to rival his own. What adventures shall they encounter? It stays true to the tone and spirit of the original Sherlock Holmes stories, but Mary provides a fresh perspective. Wonderfully done. She Explores by Gale Straub These stories are so inspiring. I want to go out there and travel the world and explore the wild and live on the road every time I read them. All Hail the Queen: Twenty Women Who Ruled by Jennifer Orkin Lewis Ruling throughout history has not been only the domain of men. There have been multiple women that have ruled with strength, cleverness, and sheer daring. These are the stories of twenty of them from all over the world.
In my junior year I became fast friends with a guy named Joe. We talked about our lives and ideas and so many other things - he told me I could tell him anything. I told him about how deeply I mourned my grandmother’s death. We hung out at school, I beat him at chess, we texted late at night. I was so glad we were friends. I even offered to start carpooling, to drive him home when I found out he waited at school for two hours for someone to pick him up, and his house was barely out of my way.
Then...I don’t really know what happened. Everyone was convinced he had a major crush on me. We were a pretty small school, so gossip got around fast. Everyone kept asking me what I was gonna do when he asked me to prom. I assured them all that Joe and I were just friends and that I didn’t like him that way and I didn’t want to date him. A week later, he just kind of...stopped. He stopped talking to me. He stopped answering my texts. He didn’t sit near me in classes anymore. I still drove him home. He didn’t even say hello. He just sat in my car and stared at his phone.
At the end of the year, I found out he was dating one of my friends. I didn’t care, but I wished that he would tell me straight why we weren’t friends anymore.
I told my uncle that summer how I’d lost a friend that I cared so much for and he’d never even told me to my face. My uncle wasn’t sympathetic at all. He told me I didn’t know what it was like to be rejected, how badly it hurt. He said that Joe was justified.
I did know how it felt to be rejected. Joe rejected me, my friendship. I never saw him again.
Then came my first semester of university. I quickly met a boy named Nathan. Nathan was nice and good at the piano and thought I was smart and we got on pretty well. But I figured out pretty quickly that he liked me as more than a friend. So one night I asked him if he wanted to ask me out, if he liked me. He looked a bit awkward, but he said yes.
And I told him I wanted to be friends, but I wasn’t interested in dating. I was very clear. I said I didn’t want to lead him on. I wasn’t going to date him. He nodded and smiled and said okay, and I smiled back.
We continued to hang out every so often. When we sat next to each other on benches or couches he would slowly inch towards me as we were talking and our legs would be pressing together, and I would readjust and scoot away until I was nearly falling off the bench. I asked him to stop doing that.
One day he was dead set on a picnic early dinner in the university gardens. I told him it was a terrible idea - the mosquitoes would eat us alive. He persisted, and we went. We left ten minutes later because I was right about the bugs. Instead we just kind of wandered around campus. He pressed in close to my side and I uncomfortably realized it was kind of like a date. He told me I was pretty and that talking to me felt like talking to someone who knew everything. He looked at me with something like awe and I felt uncomfortable but told him thank you anyway. He walked me back to my dorm and made a beeline for the piano in the lobby.
He played a song for me while I sat on the chair behind him, unsure of what to do or look at or say. He got up from the bench and shuffled his feet a bit and asked me to be his girlfriend.
And I told him no. Exactly as I said before. He said “Why!” I said that I’d already told him I didn’t want to date him. He said that he thought if I experienced him taking me on a date I’d change my mind. And, well, I didn’t. After a bit more of this back and forth I told him sorry but no and he left. He was crying. I wasn’t happy. I wished he’d have just listened to me when I said I wasn’t interested, when I asked him to give me more space.
I see him around campus sometimes. We don’t talk anymore. I wish that Joe and Nathan and all the others like them could just have been my friend. I wish they valued me, my company and my friendship, over my potential as a girlfriend.
[TRADUCCIÓN ESPAÑOLA] (thanks a ton, krissyraawr!)
—
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah–but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
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Took these at the university’s garden the other day. Spring is coming - if very slowly.
I would rather choose To love and lose - Than to never have loved you.
me
I wrote this a long time ago, but I went to see How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World today, and this suddenly seemed very appropriate.
Love - real love, the kind that lights your chest up and rushes in your throat and is selfless - is always worth it. We lose everything in the end. Some things we lose sooner than others, and some losses are more painful than others. But the choice to love is always worth it, even when it hurts.
As a zoology student, this is a brutal truth I must face. We slaughter keystone predators, leaving ecosystems to rot, then ponder why we are so overrun by the animals they hunt. We destroy forests, jungles, prairies and marshlands, then wonder why these pests dare encroach on our land.
We hunt rare creatures for their tusks, for their horns, for their skin, for their bones, forcing those that remain onto reserves, culling them when their populations grow beyond our control. Our highest-ranking political figures publicly delight in murdering endangered species for mere thrill of the hunt. If a creature is fierce, or frightening, or mysterious, or beautiful… we kill it.
This is why How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World is important. Grimmel is a trophy hunter. He kills dragons for the fun of it. Because Night Furies are beautiful and rare and dangerous and the world heralds him as a hero for it. He doesn’t need another reason for it, anymore than any of the trophy hunters of our world need a reason for shooting an elephant and proudly posing with its bloody tail other than it boosts their egos.
…because our world destroys all that which is fierce and beautiful and wild. So until the day comes when mankind stops desecrating, polluting, and exploiting the natural world we are meant to protect, I hope the dragons stay hidden, where man cannot reach them.
They stand before her, and they brandish their weapons callously, carelessly. She knows they mean to kill her – she’s of no use to them. “Don’t run and we’ll make it quick, little girl,” one of them says. “You can join your family.” She knows that he is lying. The world is open before her, and she knows all that may be known.
She can see the silence behind them, the darkness. Death. The void awaits.
The men smirk. They are empty of life and humanity, worn to blood, bone, and sharpened teeth by violence. They expect her to beg. They do not know.
She stands before them, small. Her spine is straight, and her head is high. She meets his eyes.
“No,” she says, and her voice is strong and clear. It is still a girl-child’s voice, but there is something more behind it.
He is taken aback, but something nasty quickly enters his eyes. “More fun for us then,” he tells the others.
“No,” she says again.
“I am not afraid to die.” She tells them, and there is a universe under her skin. She feels her life like a star in her chest, and death like tides in her blood.
They roar with laughter and start forward. They step with heavy feet on soil rich with death. They do not know.
The darkness is behind them, within them, between every atom in the air and in the earth. It is within her. The silence.
“I am not afraid to die,” she repeats, “but today is not my day to die. It is yours.”
The raucous laughter enters the air again, but she can see something like fear rising in the eyes of the wiser ones.
The time for words is over. The silence is here.
She closes her eyes - and breathes. Life is here, she thinks. Death is here, she thinks. Truth rings strong in the silence.
The darkness rises in her like the tides. The empty space between the stars is here, between the pieces of the universe. Void calls to void. The hungry dark will devour all. The shadows grow, and –
She opens her eyes, but there is nothing to see. The dark presses like a living thing against her skin, but she is not afraid. She is part of it, and it a part of her. There is no sound, because the dark and silence swallow all. But she can feel them. She can sense their light growing dim. Their fear grows, as the darkness within answers to the call of the darkness without.
She holds both death and life, light and dark, silence and sound, void and star – in her hands and in her heart. Her light does not fade as the darkness grows. There is no fear in her. She has already passed through the void and emerged.
The lights in the darkness are gone. The sense of nothing presses against her skin. She waits. She knows it is not yet done.
She waits, and the dark waits also, hungry. It is restless and chaotic, and it would consume her given the chance. She remembers the star in her chest. And waits.
And in the consuming darkness, the void of chaos and nothingness, something starts to grow. She smiles in the blackness, and breathes in, bringing air into her lungs where there was none. The light in her chest flares. Her star fills her whole self. The shadows recede. She blinks in the sunlight. There are no men in front of her. There are no more bodies in the streets. There is only rich black soil.
She steps forward and kneels, brushing the dirt away from a bright green seedling. Life.
Draw nigh, come through the press to grips with me, so shall ye learn what might wells up in breasts of Amazons. With my blood is mingled war!
Queen Penthesilea, in Quintus Smyrnaeus’ The Fall of Troy
Quoted in Wonder Woman: Warbringer
“Where words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain, for they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.”
- Quoted in The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish.
From Shakepeare’s The Tragedy of King Richard the Second.
Posted on reddit by goldraven. Please go check out this girl’s instagram @honeyandgrey !!!!!!!!!
Please please please reblog!
Okay, so I have this weird thing: I have the hiccups. Perpetually. I always have the hiccups. Every single day, since I was about eleven years old. Yeah, seriously. Now, it’s not like I hiccup all the time. They just kind of happen randomly throughout the day. For all I know, the next one will be in two minutes, twenty minutes, or two hours. All of this is weird enough. But they’re not just consistent, they’re loud. And ridiculously high-pitched. I emit a high-pitched squeak that is frequently mistaken for a puppy, a bird, or a dying mouse. (And on one odd occasion, a horse.) Now, I have quite a lot of stories relating to my hiccups, but this is the one that people tend to find the funniest. Actually, it’s more like a series of funny vignettes.
So, in my freshman year of university, I was taking Astronomy 101. And you know, it was one of those big lecture hall classes with a couple hundred people in it. So when I hiccuped during class, it echoed around the room. Everyone could hear it, but no one could figure out where it was coming from. When it happened, my professor would pause for a second, and everyone would glance around, looking for the source of the strange sound. Again and again it happened, throughout the semester. Then in the last two weeks of school, this happened:
First: I was standing in line at Starbucks on campus one morning, and I hiccuped. The girl two people in front of me turned around, stared for a second and said, I kid you not, “Are you in my Astro 101 class?” She recognized me purely from the sound of my hiccups.
Second: Astronomy had just let out, and as I was walking out of class, I hiccuped. The two guys in front of me were like, “Did you hear that?” And then they started speculating about the weird noise that had plagued the class the entire semester. I’m standing behind them, blushing bright red, and so I interject into their conversation. “I have really weird hiccups!” I said. They both turned to look at me like I was insane. “That sound,” I explained. “It’s me. I have really strange hiccups.” Then of course they started laughing. One of them suggested that I should go up in front of class and explain to everyone – actually, that I should just stand up and announce my hiccups in every class at the beginning of the semester. I was still blushing, and I was like, no! I’m not going to do that.
Third: My dorm was having a movie night at the end of the semester to watch The Polar Express. So I’m sitting on the couch in the basement in front of the TV chatting with this guy, and I hiccuped. And he gives me an odd look, hesitates, and says, “I’m sorry, but are you taking astronomy this semester?” And I was ready to facepalm. This was the second time in like six days that someone from that class had recognized me by my hiccups. It hadn’t happened all semester – it hadn’t ever happened like this at all, really.
Finally: Spring semester starts. I’m taking Astro 102 and I have the same professor. This time, the class is a lot smaller. There were thirty-six people in the class. (Only four of us were girls, by the way.) On the first day of class, I hiccuped. The professor stops. This time, instead of brushing it off and moving on, he asks the class, “What is that sound?” I suppose because it was a smaller class. So anyway, I ended up explaining my hiccups to him in front of the entire class. Sigh.
That’s basically it for the Hiccups in Astronomy Vignettes.
Well-behaved women seldom make history.
Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
Apparently it’s going to be raining all week... so here’s a rainy day photo!
- me.
“No small thing, a bee’s sting, when it enters the heart.”
- Shannon Hale
@space-australians
“Fear is a good thing. It means you’re paying attention.”
- Page
“Someday I must read this scholar Everyone. He seems to have written so much - all of it wrong.”
- Emperor Mage
“Reflect as if you have all time, even when time is short.”
- First Test
“You need never unsay anything that you did not say in the first place.”
- Squire
“You’re a far better spy hemming sheets than if you clank with daggers.”
- Trickster’s Choice
I was pretty excited to capture this video of a bird of prey (some type of hawk, I believe) taking off one early morning. Pardon the quality, but I still think it’s cool.
So I feel more or less the same way about Medusa and I wrote a little snippet reframing Medusa’s story. Athena didn’t turn her into a gorgon to punish her for defiling the temple. She did it to protect Medusa. Feedback would be appreciated!
*************************
His eyes sparkled green in the light. Her tears blurred the sight. It hurt. It hurt.
When he was done, Medusa still lay crumpled on the floor. She was silent now, but her face was wet with tears, and her thighs were slick with blood. He surveyed her with disinterest. “Maybe I’ll see you again, pretty. Or maybe not.”
And like the sea breeze, he was gone, as though he had never been.
Medusa sobbed once, loud and broken. She struggled to get up. The pain was too great to stand, but she pulled herself into a kneeling position. There was a strange silence in her mind, as pain and rage warred with disbelief. Rage won out.
Her voice was hoarse as she let out a ragged cry. She raised her fists and slammed them into the stone. The anger still burned within her, so she did it again. Tears ran down her cheeks. She felt useless and small. She had been nothing but a toy to him. How dare he?
“Athena,” she whispered. “Goddess, my goddess. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She bowed her head and wept.
“Do not apologize, my child.”
Medusa looked up so fast the room spun. She focused on the figure standing in front of her. A woman, with a terrible, fearless kind of beauty, wearing a sword at her hip and a shield on her back. Athena knelt before Medusa and took her face in her hands. “You have done nothing wrong,” she said, lowly, fiercely. “I would have my vengeance upon Poseidon and the other gods for every woman they have hurt, but even I cannot challenge them so.”
Medusa drank in every word. “What am I to do, goddess? I can’t…I can’t bear to endure this again.”
Athena’s face was thoughtful, inscrutable. “The temple has been defiled. You cannot return to your old life.” Medusa bowed her head in sorrow.
Athena continued. “The punishment of Poseidon is beyond me. However, I can grant you a gift. I can give you the power to protect yourself and others. Your rage makes you strong. I can make you my weapon against every man who would bring a woman low. But the price will be high. Are you willing to pay it?”
Medusa hesitated, looking up. The eyes of mortal and goddess met in perfect understanding. Every woman, no matter how high or low, knew the sense of helplessness and rage that men engendered. Medusa would give anything to fight it. Her face hardened with resolve.
“Yes,” Medusa said, and her voice grew stronger. “I would pay any price. Never again.”
Athena’s face bore a sad kind of pride. “Never again,” she agreed.
She rose to her feet, and placed her hand on Medusa’s head.
“I gift you with the power to wreak vengeance. You will stop any man dead in his tracks. I name you Medusa, protectress of women, and executioner of justice.”
And as she lifted her hand from Medusa’s brow, Medusa began to change. Her beautiful red hair, the envy of Athens, morphed into dozens of wriggling snakes. Her nails grew into sharp metal claws.
Athena stepped back. “Rise, my daughter.”
And Medusa rose. She looked up. Her eyes were yellow, and slit like a snake’s. Her lips were red as blood.
“It will be a lonely path that you walk, Medusa. To the west, there is an island called Sarpedon. Make it your sanctuary. Remember that I am proud of you, and be brave, my child.”
She bent and kissed Medusa’s brow…and then she was gone.
Heartbroken, wandering, wordless, lost, and ecstatic for no reason.
Coleman Barks
Describing the work of 13th century Turkish poet Rumi. Quoted in Kate Harris’ book Lands of Lost Borders.
Until my feet upon the ground won’t walk
And I dissolve into the sky.
-me.
So I read something recently where someone said that Batman wasn’t a performer for some reason (I don’t really remember the rest of it) and my brain just kind of went. wait. Yes he is.
I mean he totally is! He’s a total showman, in the sense that he does things in a very dramatic way. Everything about his hero persona is calculated and very performative. And yeah, he’s an urban legend (or at least he starts off as one) but that’s a deliberate performance too! And it’s about intimidation. He doesn’t have all the fancy powers of other heroes. What he does have is psychological warfare and intimidation tactics. Despite his lack of powers, he’s generally considered one of the scariest heroes around. There’s a reason for that. He makes it that way. He deliberately uses fear to his advantage. The costume, the dramatic appearances, the disappearing when someone’s talking to him…. in short. Yeah. Batman is a showman. A performer. It may not be for fun or entertainment, but that’s still totally what he is.
Nothing can convince me otherwise.
- Rachel Platten
I love this quote. Lately, it makes me think of Princess Allura. (weeps)
THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA. I wish I could have gone to a school like this. Can you imagine an education that is academically well-rounded, teaches life skills and hobbies, ensures the overall physical and mental health of its students, and it’s ALL GIRLS? Girls who learn to be supportive of each other? No male teachers who ignore female students and put them down. no worries about being sexualized at school. (no teenage boys. no dress code.)
this is the dream. I wish I could have gone there. I want to leave my astronomy class to go to figure skating and then later I have embroidery club and martial arts.
just. please. I want this to be a thing. I’ve dreamed about something like this myself lol.
I want to meet the amazing, talented, well-rounded and extraordinarily competent and fierce women who would come out of a program like this.
I make a lot of money. Enough money to buy an old estate on a large bit of property. Something like this:
Then, I modify it into classrooms and dormitories. I make common areas and a cafeteria that is open to the kitchen. All of this serves a purpose.
I open a girl’s school. Grades 6 through 12. It’s called something like
Artemis Academy
or some other strong female symbol name. It has no religious affiliation. It is scholarship based, maybe a pay-what-you-can model, but ideally we work our way to 100% donation based maintenance, with every penny going back into paying the staff and bettering the schools.
Our teachers and instructors are all women, highly educated women or women skilled in their trade. There is a STEM and Law focus, ideally, with plenty of the arts. The girls are taught history and painting and music and writing alongside biology and law and physics and calculus and coding. The curriculum does not hide women, it highlights them and their accomplishments.
They take shifts to help cook meals in the evenings with the female chefs, so they can be self-sufficient. There is a large garden on the ground that everyone tends so the girls have that connection to their food, that understanding and pride. Maybe there is room for chickens and goats too, for milk and eggs, and to teach them how to get their hands dirty. Chores like mopping, and dusting, and laundry, and mowing are divided among the girls and rotated so every one of them learns how to live independently.
Science classes can venture onto the grounds for sample collection, some instructors may prefer to give their whole lecture in the courtyard. A painting class may spend an afternoon setting up easles on the lawn to study capturing light.
The lawn is for physical activities: running, and yoga, and kickball. Any sports teams the girls want to form, maybe there’s a rec league run by the older girls.
Movement, and the possession of one’s own body, is important. Uniforms are comfortable and non-restrictive. Something like this:
Clubs are abundant. Poetry clubs, and book clubs, and dance, and knitting, and debate, and scary movies, and whatever they want! There’s a mentorship program that pairs each girl with one in the grade below her. There are event nights, for movies or crafting or “How To” presentations where the girls can teach things to one another (how to sew a button, how to draft a professional email, how to change the oil in a car). The community is diverse and close.
We bring in women judges, and physicians, and professors, and engineers, and sculptors, and chefs as speakers. They talk realistically on the struggles of being a woman in their field. They talk about how they overcame and thrived. They talk about career paths, and college admission, and navigating the world through the unique lenses of womanhood.
It is a school by women for girls, to let them become self-sustained, self-realized, self-loving, truly empowered women.
It’s my dream to make it happen.
My uncle, regarding the accusations of sexual harassment and assault against Donald Trump: “Well, there’s no proof. But even if he did, so what? Most politicians have done bad things. It’s not relevant to his capability as President.”
It’s not relevant, hm? (I did not know how to convey to him how awful and scary it was that he said this.)
It doesn’t matter that the President, a person in a position of major power, has been known to abuse that power to hurt women? It doesn’t matter that he’s a predator – and predators are selfish and thrive on the fear of their victims? Those girls that he hurt, they don’t matter? Their pain doesn’t matter?
What if it was me? The niece you’ve known since she was a little girl? If he, or any man like him, hurt me, would that not matter? Does my unfortunately extensive experience with sexual harassment not matter?
(Though thankfully it’s never escalated to assault for me. But it has for so many others.) Why isn’t human pain something that matters?