If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; --If, Rudyard Kipling I am a candidate for Chair and Vice Chair of…
22 Posts
All posts tagged Feminism
Tick-tick-tick
No single thought is more important than any other, at least at the outset. The trees remain bare all over the city. From my chair on the third floor of the main library I can see across the city to the hills on the opposite side of the fjord, and…
Questioning "Come and Get it"
It took me a while to process the question a friend posted on Facebook. Can some of my feminist friends please enlighten me as to why I would offend you by saying that a model in a photograph has a "come & get it" look? I turned it over and…
A Bunch of Book Lists (Fall Semester 2014)
As I launch into the writing of my third and final term paper of the Høst 2014 semester, it occurs to me that I never did share my reading lists with you, my readers, many of whom like lists of books almost as you enjoy the actual reading of the…
My Thoughts on Misguided Masculinism
Suffice it to say that there's a lot of garbage out there on the interwebs. It's tough to sift through the majority of it to find the relevant, articulate, credible stuff. Social Media is sometimes the worst way to do it. Then again, social media guarantees that I--deep in my…
On Knowing the Sex
Either way, for this child, I was already wishing for a warm heart, a curious nature, a quick wit, a thirst for adventure, and enough courage and empathy to stand up for himself/herself, as well as for others. I was already wishing for a love of books, a best…
Dot
"There is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind." ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own Dorothy Ann Pancoast (nee Bercher) was born in Cicero, Illinois in November of 1923. Her mother called her Dots. Cicero was a small town, and…
Like a girl. Like a boss.
In high school, I had a poster taped up in my bedroom that read: You run like a girl. You hit like a girl. You throw like a girl. You serve 60 mph in their face like a girl. Which, I think, is why I kicked so much ass. But…