Spring 2001 by Artemis

RTEMIS Spring 2001 • Premiere Issue

• Is feminist-Christian an oxymoron? • XX poetry • Meanings of Martha • Better than Britney: music reviews

Spring 2001 Staff

Martha, Martha, Martha!

CONTENTS SPRING 2001

Domestic policy never looked so coordinated

5 Praying to Mr. God Submit to thy husband? Hell, no!

L-R: Katherine and Lisa

DoubleXXicon: poetry

12 HERstory This ainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t your daddyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history

17 A Taste of India Mapping the palate

20 Refuse Dependence! Resist Attack! Roar, woman, roar

23 Read Me

L-R: Jocelyn and Sarah S. Lisa Hofmann Katherine Willis Jocelyn Delmar Sarah Stall Megan Carrick Tammy Gill Sarah Jenkins Karen Hanna Monica Arjev Andrea Calo Adviser Thesis Adviser

Editor-in-Chief Assistant Editor Design and Web Editor Chief Copy Editor Ad sales/Copy Editor Staff Artist Copy Editor Copy Editor Copy Editor Proofreader Margaret Garmon Kathe Davis

Office of Student Media

Literary liquor

26 Listen to me, d a mmi t Sonic saccharine

Manager Production Manager Sales Manager Business Manager

Jeff Fruit Libby Dellinger Lori Cantor Audrey Lingenfelter

Artemis is a publication of Student Media

Cover artwork by Tammy Gill

Letter from the Editor ’m no Cosmo girl. Nor am I a Glamour girl or a Mademoiselle. And I know I am not unique in my revulsion for “women’s” magazines. (How many times can you recycle an article on how to give your ta-tas a boost?) Fortunately, I found a few alternatives to satisfy my penchant for reading magazines. Unfortunately, titles like Bitch and Bust are available only at Borders and small bookstores, so their ideas aren’t as accessible as their supermarket step-sisters. Without availability, a lot of sharp, witty ideas are reduced to a peripheral presence. And feminism remains an enigmatic, feared idea. So in my limited capacity as a human being, I’m on a mission to demystify feminism. The mission starts with my assumption of the label “feminist” and is continued by my creating Artemis. I hope the magazine enlarges most people’s definition of feminism. Why the title Artemis? In Greek mythology she was a strong character who represented the moon and protected the forests. Artemis possessed a range of characteristics; she was nurturing and also vengeful. The title is inclusive enough and expresses the manifold opinions and philosophies that women hold and will impart on these pages. I find that I don’t agree with everything, and surely readers won’t, either. My objective is to show the diversity of views — to combat the narrow-minded notion that feminists all harbor the same perspective. I thought that I was a “bad” feminist because I liked Martha Stewart Living. I think I was the only person who brought a sewing machine to college and regularly baked cookies in the dorm kitchen. I felt like I was betraying the movement to break down gender roles. This wasn’t the case. Part of being liberated is being free to choose what to do, and I like those traditional, domestic activities. Andrea Bussinger adeptly explores the Martha phenomenon in this issue, distilling its sensationalism to properly critique it and suggesting that maybe it’s not backlash against feminism. Often, religion is a non-issue for feminists, because we reject it for its hypocrisy and exclusionary tendencies. And that’s where stereotypes often enter, but, as Katherine Willis shows in her article, the chasm between religion and feminism doesn’t have to remain so wide. In addition to ferreting out the meat of such arguments, Artemis contains articles that emphasize the importance of roots — whether they are ancestral or historical. As the ad for the Women’s Studies program in the back of Artemis suggests, “Don’t reinvent the wheel.” To know where we’re going, we had better know where we’ve been. There’s still a long way to go, and while we should continue thinking along the way, we should have fun, too.

Acknowledgements Initial and continuing support from Jeff, Libby, Kathe, Molly Merryman, Margaret, Jay, Lori, Christopher, Mom and Dad; the Honors College; Thanks to Molly G and Rob for taking staff photos; Thanks to Mike for quick illustrations; CD covers courtesy of Molly L’s CD collection; The photo of Waris Dirie is courtesy of Reader’s Digest; the photo of Simone de Beauvoir is courtesy of the book Simone de Beauvoir ou l’entreprise de vivre; the photo of Victoria Woodhull is courtesy of the book The Terrible Siren.

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martha

martha! The queen of domesticity makes a kingdom of the home By Andrea Bussinger If you’ve ever ventured into Kmart, chances are that the name Martha Stewart conjures up a slew of images. As you wheel your cart past the Domestics section, Martha is omnipresent. Her benevolent face smiles down from banners hanging from the foam ceiling tiles. Three television sets broadcast Martha Stewart Living nonstop, and when you get in line to check out, there she is on the cover of Martha Stewart Living magazine, hovering over a table setting adorned with all the symbols of an American holiday that money can buy. In fewer words, Martha Stewart has become the face of wistful domesticity wedded to hyper-capitalism. And we the public, like reluctant stepchildren, are wary of the conflict that has already, or may eventually, arise from this unlikely marriage and the effect it will have on us. Some have celebrated Stewart’s remarkable financial success — she is a veritable legend in the Internet business world. Others have, of course, criticized her impossible perfectionism and her glorification of sheltered domestic ideals. They fear that her audience will return to the old idea that “a woman’s place is in the home” — that caring for a ARTEMIS

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Courtesy Steven Spalten

house and family is the primary task at which an admirable woman can, and should, excel. The most popular forms of Martha ridicule are tongue-in-cheek books, such as Martha Stewart’s Better Than You at Entertaining or Jerry Openheimer’s acrid Just Desserts: Martha Stewart the Unauthorized Biography.

Let’s ignore this criticism for a moment and plucked by a worldly producer from humble dwell on the facts as they are given to us. middle-class matriarchy and bestowed with Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia (MSLO) the opportunity to spread her nostalgic ideals consists of a daily television show, a monthly like fairy dust all o’er the land. She has been magazine, a domestics line at Kmart, a floral self-sufficient and business-savvy virtually service, a Web site through which you can since entering adulthood, and the success of order all of her products and a daily 90 sec- the Martha Stewart companies is due to her ond radio show. She has also written more keen perception of what people want and than a dozen books on cooking, entertaining how they want it. and decorating. Stewart has a strong opinion about the Stewart traveled a surprisingly long and relationship between MSLO and its interesting road before founding MSLO. She customers. “Living, lifestyle, family, is now in attended Barnard College in New York, the forefront of interest in America, and I’ve where she studied chemistry, art and just stuck with it,” Stewart said in an interview European history before settling on architec- with the American Academy of Achievement. ture. She paid her way But she added, “I’ve been through college by “I think baking cookdoing this for years, and I modeling — her fami- ies is equal to Queen never got angry. I never ly was not as wealthy V i c t o r i a r u n n i n g a n said, listen, you know, I’m as one might imagempire. There’s no differ- fighting for this subject. ine. She married That wasn’t my point. Andrew Stewart in ence in how seriously you My point was to 1965, gave birth to take the job, how seriously continue working in a daughter and you approach your whole life. a subject matter, went to work as a That’s why when people say, knowing full well stockbroker until ‘Are you a feminist?’ I say, ‘No, that finally it a recession hit in I’m not.’” would be 1973. Martha recognized as -Martha Stewart then left Wall a viable Street and, with subject her husband, took up the task of restoring the once again.” In the same interview Stewart Connecticut farmhouse where she still describes herself as a knowledge-gatherer resides. She began writing articles for the and a teacher, taking a serious responsibility New York Times, worked as the editor of upon herself to distribute quality information House Beautiful magazine and still managed and products. “As I evolve, I hope my readers to run a profitable catering business from her evolve. And also, I think it’s very important home from 1976 to 1986. And as they say, that whatever you’re trying to make or sell, or the rest is history — the Martha Stewart teach has to be basically good,” she said. empire took off from there. These comments might suggest that There is a strong temptation to view the Stewart has glorified her role in the supply Martha Stewart phenomenon as simple and demand cycle, except for the fact that backlash against modern liberal gender roles, she is viewed by customers and critics alike as representing a nostalgia for the calm, stable a guru of domesticity. It’s apparent from 1950s lifestyle of precise etiquette, pretty watching her television show, for example, things and a clear place for women in the that she takes this all very seriously, and that home. But the complexities just under the is what attracts followers and befuddles skepsurface are impossible to ignore. Take, for tics. In light of her devotion to the “viability” instance, the obvious friction between the of domestic life, can anyone really hold her ideal of domesticity that the Martha Stewart accountable for corrupting the public? empire praises and the means through which Domesticity is indisputably a viable part of it was created. Martha Stewart was never life. In every human society, there is a need SPRING

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for people (male or female) to raise children and create a comfortable environment for the family. The reason that females have traditionally taken this role is the simple fact that we lactate; the logistics of survival, in most cases, have made it more convenient for women to stay at home with their children. Of course, greater technological, social and economic freedoms have loosened gender roles considerably. Stewart has a conservative opinion about the entrance of women into the work force in

Martha Stewart products does suggest that her audience, at least, is finding domestic concerns to be necessary to balance professional concerns. Stewart’s deft inclusion of the workplace as part of fulfillment shows that she is not actively promoting the complete return of women to the home. Career women, sit back and breathe a sigh of relief. Martha Stewart isn’t out to get you, no matter how high a pedestal her viewers build for her. True, troubling subtleties still exist, such as the company’s choice of the word “Living” — implying that “living” consists merely of taking care of children, entertaining guests and beautifying the tiny corner of the world in which these things take place. And there is the fact that Martha Stewart’s philosophy of fulfillment is based on the traditional, materialistic American dream, which turns a blind eye t o socioeconomic, racial, and environmental cover courtesy Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia problems. But i t ’ s important to remember Is this all there is to Living? that MSLO is a business; its main objective is to make the 1960s and 1970s. “They thought the money, and it isn’t Martha Stewart’s workplace was much more exciting than the home. They thought the family could wait. responsibility to improve or hold together the And you know what? The family can’t wait. social fabric. Like so many consumer-driven And women have now found that out. It all businesses, Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia has to do with women, or the homemaker makes its profits by interpreting people’s leaving home and realizing that where fantasies and selling them back to all who are they’ve gone is not as fabulous, or as willing to believe they can be bought. Maybe when we all realize that no price rewarding, or as self-fulfilling as the balance can be put on happiness, Martha Stewart will between the workplace and the home go out of business, (along with hundreds of place,” she said in the American Academy of other companies). In the meantime, you can Achievement interview. Hold on, Martha — isn’t it a little poke fun at her tips on precision housekeeping, entertain fantasies of beating presumptuous to state so boldly, “the family her at arm-wrestling or consider learning how can’t wait”? It has been proven time and time to make a perfect soufflé. again this century that people can live happily by postponing or even forgoing the family A sophomore English major, Andrea Bussinger experience in favor of work. is also a musician in the band This Megaphone and However, the eager consumption of a poet. She works on Luna Negra magazine, too. ARTEMIS

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Praying to Mr. God Revolution or Religion: what’s a feminist to do? Illustrations by Larry Spano

By Katherine Willis I’ve always been obsessed with God. I suppose of all the matters on which one might fixate, the divine isn’t a poor choice. This is not to say I’ve ever been particularly good at religious fanaticism. In the seventh grade I survived a brief stint of evangelical Christianity, the brand that concerns itself more with bumper stickers and praying for “lost” souls than with anything remotely holy. I do not pursue God out of inherent faith; rather, it is a journey spurred by doubt, coupled with enough hope to get me through the darker nights. A woman’s personal faith will inevitably become a feminist issue at some juncture. Anyone acquainted with Western culture knows that God is, of course, male. One need not be raised religious to catch wind of that archetypal image. In junior high Sunday school classes, my embryonic feminism compelled me to question God’s gender. Why did he have to be a “he”? The flustered

teachers were unprepared for the question. Whatever answer they conjured up failed to satiate me. By high school I considered myself a reluctant agnostic. There were other issues of course — the existence of suffering and the bothersome impracticality of one true God — but the heart of my sabbatical from Christianity was that I wanted a girlier God. Replace the tired white beard with crimson lips, the hunched shoulders with curvy hips, a couple of sizable breasts, and we have a God worth worshiping. The truth is, these images are superficial, and anatomical adjustments fall short. I’ve read scriptures in which the masculine pronouns have been gleefully changed to their feminine counterparts and references to “Father” shifted to “Mother.” I couldn’t swallow the alterations. No amount of revision is capable of transforming Yahweh into Pele. Thus is the plight of so many feminists raised in the Judeo-Christian tradition: We are exiled from our faith. Some women find SPRING

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solace in a goddess religion; others cleave themselves to a spirituality that is independent of organized religion. And some of us return to the God we grew up with, braced to reconcile feminist sensibilities with a faith that historically deems us helpmates. What concessions must we make? Do we pray to the grandfatherly image of God while covertly defending Eve in our hearts? A fundamental discord between feminism and nearly every religion is the understanding of “self” and its relationship to society and the cosmos. As a feminist largely concerned with

One can defensively exploit overt instances of women-specific mandates such as what the apostle Paul set in the New Testament — “Let a woman learn in silence with full submission.” Yet such surrender is prescribed for both sexes in Christianity and many other faiths. The ideal “self” in a life of faith is a healthy lack thereof. Spiritual practices, especially those of ascetic nature, are ultimately intended to eliminate selfishness, thus clearing out the mind and body to be filled with God. Even the body is not truly considered one’s own; the Christian tradition

empowerment, I am dedicated to finding my voice and telling my story — as well as convincing a very stubborn culture that my words are worth hearing. I seek release from social constraints that seek to limit me. Freedom and independence are valuable aspects of my relationships. I will not be dominated emotionally, legally or physically, and I will submit myself to no one. Religions, on the other hand, assess the function of “self” in a vastly different manner.

views the body as a temple, a dwelling place of God. Coupled with the pursuit of selflessness is the commandment to help others. One is required to place the needs of others first; meekness is extolled as virtue. It doesn’t take a great deal of critical thinking to recognize that these ideals do not rest easily with feminism. Orthodox Christianity and many other spiritual practices ask women to behave in a manner dangerously close to how society has expected us to behave, yet for

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something Jesus would support; his message was consistently egalitarian. I will continue to speak against the sexist aspects of the Christian faith. After all, in the book Galatians of the New Testament, Paul writes, “There is no longer male nor female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” That is all the evidence I need to know that God is ripe for a revolution. In the midst of deliberating the social and political ramifications of being a religious person, I must not forget the simple truth that God is pretty damn marvelous. I can’t encounter God without being changed and challenged.My relationship with God eclipses everything else in my life “The highest goal of feminism quite comfortably because I have been is empowerment, and denying honest with him and with myself. I still struggle with the nitty-gritty faith stuff a feminist the satisfaction of — the inevitable hypocrisies, the living out her faith of choice unanswerable questions. A life of faith is a deterrent to that aim.” takes a lifetime to develop. Though I am unorthodox in both arenas, I do not were blessed with some degree of divine feel I am making concessions in my inspiration, I am deeply aware of the social Christianity or in my feminism. Many contexts under which it was written. Can disagree. I simply avoid conservative churches merely interpreting sacred scriptures within a that cling to sexist theologies. There are modern context allow women to excise such plenty of mainstream churches that affirm precepts? I don’t think so. women and encourage their participation at Perhaps the idea of submission itself has every level of ministry. been misinterpreted and misused. In the Feminism may not be at its most pure context of religion it doesn’t necessarily have when in the context of religion. However, to be self-depreciating. I’ve come to view feminists do not serve feminism; rather, it is a submission to God as the revelation that no matter how frantically I rummage for traces of theory and practice that benefits all of society. the divine, all I really need to do is sit down The highest goal of feminism is empowerment, right where I am. God sneaks up on me when and denying a feminist the satisfaction of I have the sense to just be. For me, that living out her faith of choice is a deterrent to means to be my patchwork feminist and that aim. Like the dilemma of science and Christian self. And just as God is big enough religion, one must ultimately realize that both to take on me, he’s also up for tea with the are necessary to understand the complexity sexist chump down the block. He’s meeting of life. I do not mean to assert that all us all where we are, as long as we are wise feminists should find themselves in church, and certainly many churches harbor quite a enough to wait for him to arrive. My submission to God is not a quiet one. few chauvinistic aspects. Nevertheless, The Bible inspires me in offbeat ways. In many women weave the best aspects of Proverbs an ideal woman is described in an Christianity and feminism in their lives into an ode: “She girds herself with strength, and authentic, uncompromising and empowering makes her arms strong.” I imagine God looking force. on with a silly grin on his celestial face as I do my nightly push-ups to acquire my biblically Katherine Willis, a junior English/religion decreed biceps. But the electricity I derive major, is a youth minister in Kent. She also from my faith doesn’t stop at “sacred” writes poetry, makes rash decisions and would calisthenics. I believe my feminism is like to have a beer with Jesus someday. very different reasons. A woman’s meekness and selflessness in the secular sphere is a surefire antithesis to attaining equal treatment. Furthermore, women often lack the option to abandon their selves. They do not, historically or in many contemporary societies, possess control of their selves in the first place. A man’s renunciation of “self” has an entirely different meaning. In the paradoxical way of that which is holy, men may very well find empowerment in submission. Most women will not. Though I believe the authors of the Bible

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doublexxxicon: sarah you’re everything i wanna be, everything i’ve ever dreamed of, everything i was never cool enough to think of. you seem so calm and free, your max factor lips pout anthems of defiance. i i i i i i i

wanna be your best friend, wanna hold you in your parents’ bed, want you to paint my nails and dye my hair. wanna wrestle ‘til our faces turn red, wanna pick your scabs ‘til you bleed, wanna ride around in your honda and borrow your kinks records. want you to be my underage porn queen.

we can drink bitter coffee and smoke basics, hide our faces in our sleeves. we can hate the boys who fucked us over and not give a shit about the girls who push back their blonde hair to whisper about us. we can be sisters, blood sisters, fucking twin sisters, one and the same, out of control, over the top, spinning and singing the songs that make us cry Christine Kable, Kent State University

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poetry Breaking the Body My cells are furious. They huddle in mutiny, drawing cruel blueprints for catastrophe to dissuade me from swallowing more pills that quell hunger, excite metabolism. I’ve digested the lines — My body is my temple, The standards are arbitrary and surreal, I’ll be more interesting if I abandon the fixation. Sense doesn’t taste nearly as indulgent as willowy limbs and a concave abdomen My Lenten denial is to boycott bread. Mama says that even though it’s the staff of life, the body of Christ it expands hips worse than bacon and chocolate. Only in America do the good Christian girls select their renunciation based on caloric content. Katherine Willis, Kent State University

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doublexx x icon

Blame “Such was this happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate.” -Andrew Marvell, “The Garden”

I always wondered if it hurt when the prince climbed up Rapunzel’s hair. Do you think she was relieved to feel her scalp throbbing with pain’s afterglow as she watched him tumble into the patch of thorns below? He was blinded for life. She could have blamed her parents for picking the reddest radish from the King’s garden, but everyone knows it happened because her song was so sweet from the tower window. Milton, the old blind poet, had Eve staring vainly in edenic pools, and Adam knew just how much to repent, after she led them to the fall. Marvell later claimed that nature was blameless; Eve was the apple that brought paradise down. Both neglected to mention how Eve felt the moment she realized Adam would eat anything if he could follow her. Andrea Bussinger, Kent State University

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doublexx x icon Jephthah’s Daughter “Before I speak I am master of the words; after, the word is master of me.” -Ibn Gabirol

1. she set about with timbrel and dance like Miriam waving moonbeams making circles with her body hair twirling like reeds her feet wind on sand she lifted her body to G-d a girl who knew only the love of her father went out dancing to meet him arms akimbo ready to leap magnolias in her eyes lips curling into her first word “papa” 2. When he saw his daughter twirling he knew it was fate that he must carry it out he would have fallen at her feet & begged G-d to strike him down had he not been so arrogant she was like fire to him body ablaze in summer’s sun dance when he saw his daughter he only saw smoke 3. Jephthah’s daughter went up to the mountain to lament her virginity she bent twigs to swords poked stars & diamonds in her flesh so that when she danced her blood kissed the earth 4. when she returned to her father to be sacrificed tiny flowers took root on the mountainside where the maidens of Israel had gathered to dance with the un-named daughter they call Ema Carly Sachs, Kent State University SPRING

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Although women constitute a little over half of the world’s population, their lives are eclipsed by men’s in the history books. Their roles in society have been limited to the domestic realm until just recently in history, and it seems like the women who make it to text are women that challenged their prescribed roles. Because of their “unladylike” behavior, they were often shunned instead of respected, and veneration comes only in retrospect. These three women defied various gender barriers by speaking out against social and political injustice. Some use the eloquence of words as ammunition, and some fight inequality by education. Whatever their battle may be, the trials and tribulations they endured for their cause make them prime examples of courageous women in history.

this is

HERSTORY By Sarah Jenkins

Victoria Claflin Woodhull Victoria Clafin Woodhull was a self-made renaissance woman who raised many an eyebrow during the women’s suffrage movement. As children in the 1840s, Victoria and her sister Tennessee lived an eccentric life in the Claflin household. They were always the center of attention and enjoyed persuading friends to listen to their psychic predictions about the kids in the group. Victoria enjoyed astonishing her friends. Tennessee longed to be just like her beautiful, charismatic older sister. The two would travel around the neighborhood, offering to perform their magical abilities. Soon, however, the children grew wary of the sisters’ uncanny abilities to read people’s minds, and rumors spread that the Claflin family practiced witchcraft. The accusations weren’t far from the truth. Their mother Roxanne was an avid believer in the superstitions she inherited from her German parents, and she passed these beliefs on to her children. The Claflin family was a loud, rowdy bunch that frequently disturbed the neighbors with their piercing shouts and peculiar practices, such as mixing “potions” in the backyard. Their father, Buck worked as a handyman, picking up odd jobs whenever he could, and was a regular at the local tavern. When the family ran into some tough

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financial times, Buck’s fascination with his two daughters’ clairvoyant abilities sparked an idea. He decided to start a traveling medicine show geared toward the supernatural, and his daughters would be the main attractions. Tenessee would be the resident fortune-teller, and Victoria would be the medicine woman, creating and selling “magical” elixirs and various “miracle” potions. At age 16 Victoria married a fellow magic doctor, Canning Woodhull, but the marriage ended in divorce after 12 years when she discovered she had no interest in being a housewife. Her newfound freedom enabled her and her sister to once again travel the Midwest. But instead of performing their magical sideshow, the sisters decided to invest the little money they had in some property. While running an old, shabby hotel they purchased for a small sum, the sisters met New York business tycoon Cornelius Vanderbilt, who was impressed with their allure and healing powers. Although the sisters used their charm to entice Vanderbilt, he saw more than their supernatural powers; he offered the women a chance to run their own business as stockbrokers on Wall Street. The women did well with the stock market; they earned the nickname the “Bewitching Brokers” due to their natural business capabilities and physical appeal. They also published their own news and political magazine, Woodhull and Claflin’s Weekly. The editorial content covered

everything from stock prices to the advocacy of birth control. The high-profile lives of the sisters caught the attention of suffragette leader Susan B. Anthony, who liked Victoria’s eloquent and liberal speeches. Although Victoria agreed that women should be allowed to vote and own property, she focused on morality issues concerning women. Tennessee expressed many times

VICTORIA CLAFLIN WOODHULL

how she despised the whining, proper women of the time, and Victoria agreed with her outspoken sister. They saw nothing wrong with drinking alcohol and having many lovers. In fact, at one time in her life, Victoria lived with her ex-husband and Colonel C.H. Blood in the same house. These scandalous affairs caused many fellow suffragettes to turn their backs on Victoria. Lucy Stone, another prominent activist at the time, had already broken away from Anthony, her long-time partner,

because of Anthony’s unwavering support of Victoria. Despite a number of protests against her from other suffragettes, Anthony refused to abandon Victoria, no matter how bizarre and immoral other activists deemed her. Although she and her sister stirred up controversy from coast to coast, Victoria had one final magic trick in her bag she would use to shock the political world. While holding a séance one night, Victoria claimed a 4th century Greek political leader told her she would be a future President. She persuaded Elizabeth Cady Stanton and other suffragettes to support her bid for presidency, unbeknownst to Anthony, who was lecturing around the country. When Anthony found out about Victoria’s plan, she dissuaded the women from supporting her presidential run. Although her campaign was a failure from the start, Victoria continued to give speeches on equal rights around the country. She married a wealthy Englishman and, with him and her sister, moved to England where Victoria died in 1927. The radical ideas and actions of Victoria Woodhull were far ahead of her time, and many people, including her fellow suffragettes, were not ready to embrace her unconventional, scandalous actions.

Waris Dirie The life of Waris Dirie can be traced through the dry, sun-soaked deserts of her native Somalia to the bustling streets of New York City. She milked camels and sheep for daily sustenance, endured backbreaking construction labor and was featured on the covers of hundreds of fashion magazines. She also experienced unimaginable physical and emotional abuse because of a Somali rite of passage — female genital mutilation (FGM), often euphemistically termed female circumcision. Dirie grew up in a pastoral herding

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family in the middle of the Somali desert. Like many tribe members, her age was measured in seasons, and no record of her birth was ever recorded. As a young girl, her days revolved around nature, family and the daily chores expected from females. In Africa women typically are the backbone of society. Girls are taught at an early age how to cook, sew and maintain an orderly family unit. Despite the rigorous life of a Somali woman, men are the decision makers in all aspects of life, including arranging marriages for their daughters. The price of a daughter is contingent on many physical aspects, including domestic capabilities, beauty and, perhaps most importantly, virginal purity. When Dirie was about five years old, her mother knew she needed to prepare her fo r t h e t r a n s i t i o n i n t o womanhood. One evening Dirie and her mother met an elder woman of a neighboring tribe at a desert clearing. The woman and Dirie’s mother exchanged money, and young Dirie was bound and blindfolded. Her mother held her limbs as the woman cut off the “dirty” parts of her genitals — her clitoris, outer labia and most of her inner labia — using an old razor blade. The pain was so intense Dirie passed out during the procedure. Dirie’s father felt it was time to sell his daughter into marriage at age 13, shortly after her “passage into womanhood.” An old man was willing to give her father five camels in exchange for Dirie. The thought of spending her life with an old man repulsed Dirie, and she knew then she must leave the desert. This incident marked the beginning of Dirie’s quest for a better life. With assistance from her mother and families she encountered on her journey, Dirie traveled to Mogadishu, a port town on the Indian Ocean. Her father was unaware

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of her escape, and her mother had to keep it a secret from Dirie’s immediate family. Once she arrived at Mogadishu, she cleaned house for a wealthy aunt for four years until another aunt took her to London to be a nanny. Although the people she lived with were her family, they treated Dirie like a maid. It is common for the wealthy Somali families to take in less fortunate relatives, but

WARIS DIRIE

the familial bond turned into a strictly working relationship. While Dirie was walking her cousin to school one day, a man approached her and handed her a business card. He was a London photographer. Intrigued by her dark, exotic looks, he suggested she try modeling. In the mid-’80s, the fashion industry lacked women of color, and he believed Dirie had the potential to be a supermodel. His predictions proved to be correct; by 1992 Dirie had appeared in hundreds of international magazines, commercials and music videos. She met her husband Dana Murray at a jazz club in 1995, and two years later, she gave birth to their son Aleeke. Despite her financial success and new family, Dirie felt something missing from her life. As she grew older, thoughts of young girls facing female circumcision plagued Dirie’s mind. These were girls who could barely stand up because of the pain in their

genitals and women who are sewn up again and again after pregnancy to make intercourse pleasurable for their husbands. She had survived this torturous ritual, but Dirie knew many women had not, and many more would continue to suffer if she didn’t take action soon. A writer from the women’s magazine Marie Claire approached Dirie for an interview. Dirie had grown tired of the mundane stories about her transformation into a supermodel, so she proposed another story idea to the reporter — an article on female genital mutilation. During the intense, graphic interview, the reporter cried over Dirie’s horrific account. The writer, moved by the Dirie’s strength wrote the article, which received thousands of letters from shocked readers. Dirie began lecturing at schools, community organizations and women’s groups. Her activism against female genital mutilation caught the attention of the United Nations Population Fund. Through the Fund, Dirie became a special ambassador to educate women around the world on the dangers of female circumcision, which has been performed on 130 million women and girls worldwide. Despite her traditional Somali upbringing, Dirie has managed to greatly increase awareness of female genital mutilation. Aside from the countless hours she puts in campaigning, she is the co-author of her autobiography Desert Flower, a harrowing account of growing up female in a patriarchal society. Waris Dirie is a woman of courage and perseverance who continues to speak out against the horrific acts of female genital mutilation worldwide.

Simone de Beauvoir As the only woman in a group of elite philosophers in Paris, Simone de Beauvoir was a pioneer in the existential movement. Influenced and encouraged by her lifelong partner Jean-Paul Sartre, de Beauvoir explored the roles of women in history and society in many of her literary and autobiographical works. Born in Paris in 1908, Simone de Beauvoir was the older of two daughters in

an upper middle-class, bourgeoisie family. De Beauvoir was a bright and precocious child who took advantage of the luxuries granted to children of wealthy parents. Her father was a successful lawyer who enjoyed the finer things in life, such as expensive dining and frequent trips to the theater. He also enrolled his daughters in the best schools, where de Beauvoir excelled in academics and was one of the top students in her class. De Beauvoir’s interest in academics didn’t go unnoticed by her family. She frequently played “school” with her younger sister Helene, and she was self-confident in her abilities as a student. De Beauvoir had an unquenchable desire to discover the meaning of her surroundings. In the summer she would spend hours outdoors at her uncle’s provincial estate in France, where her lifelong love of nature flourished. Her father nurtured de Beauvoir’s intellectual abilities and encouraged her to attend college. Disapproving of her request to attend the Sorbonne, de Beauvoir’s parents were fearful she would acquire the “immoral” values associated with progressive Sorbonne students. Instead, they sent her to various Catholic institutions in Paris, where she studied mathematics and literature. Although she did well in her studies at these colleges, de Beauvoir had always dreamed of attending the prestigious Sorbonne to study philosophy. She believed this discipline would satisfy the many questions she had about life and the established positions of members in society — questions the church couldn’t answer for her. Educated at a convent in central France, de Beauvoir’s mother raised her to be a devout Catholic. De Beauvoir was a strong believer in her faith until adolescence, when she began to question the rationale of the church doctrine. As she became interested in the world outside of her sheltered life, she gradually grew to believe that her spiritual world and academic world needed to be separated to experience everything that life had to offer. This basic philosophy would help shape the way de Beauvoir would live for the rest of her life.

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Her most acclaimed non-fiction work The Second Sex is an insight into de Beauvoir’s belief that women have been defined by men throughout history, thus denying females their full potential. Many philosophy scholars believe feminism and gender studies have their roots in this study of women in society. De Beauvoir noted that women were the second sex, or the “other,” because men defined women. As a result females could not choose their destinies because society had already assigned their roles as second to the male gender. While studying at the Sorbonne, de Beauvoir met Sartre, a brilliant young student who challenged her intellectually and emotionally. Although she had found many men physically attractive in the past, she had always hoped to find a man who shared her passion for academics. Sartre not only inspired de Beauvoir’s philosophical works, he also became her life-long partner. The two never married, and this was a mutual agreement that helped accommodate their busy lifestyles. They both lectured and taught at universities around France, so being separated for long periods of time was an inevitable fact. De Beauvoir and Sartre believed fidelity inhibited self-discovery, and seeing other people might prove to be an enjoyable experience. Although affairs were not uncommon in either of their lives, de Beauvoir was satisfied with their relationship because she believed their feelings for each other were indestructible. Later in life de Beauvoir became involved with many social and political issues, which shocked the bourgeois society in which she was raised. Despite her financial security, she shunned expensive restaurants and hotels when she traveled, preferring to frequent dingy bars and cafes, where the people reveled in a genuine happiness the members of high society lacked. De Beauvoir was a self-described communist, and she denounced the capitalist economies of the U.S. and Europe, which she believed promoted materialism and greed in society. She also fought for the

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legalization of abortion and health care for unmarried mothers in Europe and the U.S., establishing herself as a feminist leader who rallied for a woman’s right to choose. During her time as an activist, she published five novels, numerous plays and collections of short stories. She also founded

and edited Les Temps Modernes, a radical social and political journal devoted to existentialist thinking. Simone de Beauvoir established an innovative way of expressing gender inequality. Many feminists regard her as the first woman to explore the issues of inequality on a philosophical level. Sarah Jenkins is a senior magazine journalism major who aspires to become a world-class wine connoisseur. She enjoys reading fine works of literature, as well as the occasional supermarket tabloid. She also owns a talking, 14-pound tabby cat.

a taste of

INDIA Passing the culinary torch in America By Rekha Sharma My mom cooks the best Indian food anyone has ever tasted. She learned from watching her mom, and from memorizing the dashes and pinches of salt, turmeric, chili powder and other ingredients that fell into various vegetables as they cooked in a splash of oil in a pan on the stove. She never took notes, but she maintained a consistent perfection that emerged naturally from habit, skill and talent. I don’t think she ever tried to remember the “recipes”; the unmeasured traditions seeped into her mind — a cultural osmosis, a culinary torch passed so that her husband would remember his own mother’s cooking and so her kids would remember their heritage. She eventually surpassed her mom, though she would never admit it. She expanded her repertoire of sabzis (vegetable dishes) and sweets, drawing upon styles from places like Gujarat, Bihar and Punjab as well as her native state of Rajasthan. But her cooking remained predominantly North Indian. She said she could probably make South Indian food, but it was not routine in our house. Every now and then, she would make dosa and sambar, just for something different. Dosa is the Indian equivalent of a rice flour crepe, usually wrapped around mildly flavored potatoes, or aloo. Sambar typically accompanied it — a spicy soup that comple-

mented the texture of the dosa and aloo. Dosa never seemed like a complicated dish, but my mom preferred to make the foods her mom made. So when I was growing up, there was essentially one place that our family associated with a pretty good plate of dosa — The Dosa Hut. I think we were first attracted to the restaurant because of its name. The very association of Indian cuisine with a popular American pizza franchise was laughable, and the ambiance of the small, dumpy dive was a sharp contrast to the color-coordinated, service-with-a-smile businesses that reigned in the Western world. The dining area of The Dosa Hut was half the size of a high school classroom, with old white paint and a couple of tables and chairs. When the ownership changed a few years later, we were all impressed by the addition of four brown, vinyl booths and salmon pink wallpaper. But it wasn’t long before the wallpaper started peeling at the seams, and the water spots on the ceiling had never faded, anyway. You had to get your own plastic utensils if you wanted to use them and some disposable cups to hold the lukewarm water you poured for yourself. You could also seat yourself, considering most of the tables were empty. Every now and then, you might see two or three families out for the same reason you were. It was a summer Saturday, and the SPRING

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parents had decided to load the kids into the car to drive to Pittsburgh, where the nearest Hindu temple was. The restaurant wasn’t too far from the temple, which was probably the only reason for the restaurant’s continued existence. It was on the way, so why not stop for lunch or an early dinner? Hindus usually pray at home because most people have small altars in their houses. But sometimes it was nice to make the pilgrimage from Ohio to experience the transplanted grandeur of ancient Indian architecture

whether he could stop at a McDonald’s for a Happy Meal on the way home if he was still hungry for something that better suited his finicky tastes, would get the “pizza dosa,” which had cheese and tomato sauce. He would then order a Coke, which came in an unrefrigerated, unopened can. I eventually convinced him to try what I usually ordered: chhole batura, or garbanzo beans cooked in a curry sauce and served with a large, fried, puffy bread. My parents were overjoyed at even his smallest steps toward eating “grown-up

Photos by Luca Invernizzi Tettoni

nestled in the woods of Pennsylvania. The same applied to The Dosa Hut. People could make better food in their own kitchens, but there was some kind of unpolished charm to the place. My parents, three older sisters, younger brother and I would pull up extra chairs to a larger booth in the corner or push two tables together and unfold our paper menus. I don’t know why we bothered reading them; we got the same things every time. Mom, Dad and my sisters would get — what else? — dosa and sambar, heaped onto paper plates with tiny plastic containers of coconut and mint chutneys for condiments. My little brother, after much argument about ARTEMIS

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Indian food.” A waiter would bring the food from the kitchen without a smile or much conversation and then stood behind the counter, watching you while you ate. He didn’t pretend to be doing anything with the cash register or the check. He just stared. Sometimes two of them would stare together. I stared back until my mom admonished me, and my sister always insisted on sitting with her back towards them, frequently venting her paranoia by asking, “Are they still watching us?” and squirming when one of us nodded. But the service, or lack thereof, was part of what drew us to the restaurant. My parents

used to tell me that India didn’t have the same social rules as the United States. Respect was extremely important, and protocols of deference were built into everyday gestures and words, but Indians rarely said please and thank you. The waiters here didn’t sport nifty nametags and uniforms. They didn’t bother us every two minutes to ask us if we needed anything. They didn’t tell us to enjoy our meal. But we did anyway. We visited nearly every other Indian restaurant we came across over the years, but

a link to India—something more tangible than a set of values or a state of mind. I think it was like that for the other families that wandered in. A pilgrimage to a temple drew them to The Dosa Hut, but it in itself was a pilgrimage to their motherland. But traditions must last longer than restaurants usually stay in business. The Dosa Hut may be in the same spot for decades, but I am concerned about keeping India alive in my everyday life even after I am no longer within driving distance of the restaurant. So when my mom makes dinner, I help. I know better than to ask for “My parents liked The recipes or measurements. I watch Dosa Hut because it her closely as she spills just the right amount of chili powder into reminded them of their palm before tossing it into a childhoods, and I liked it her pot. I roll the dough for the chapatis because it represented a into amoebic shapes, after which my mom patiently shows me how part of myself that I had to roll the flatbread into proper never truly known.” circles before baking them on a flat skillet. I learn to tell when the food is done by its nothing ever compared. They all tried a little scent, its texture, its color. I refuse to write too hard to become something exotic for Americans with a hankering for curry. They things down, preferring to observe and the techniques and decorated the walls with colorful paintings, remember pictures of the Taj Mahal, peacock feathers — ingredients naturally. I am beginning to know anything that might suggest the splendor of them by heart. I want my children, who are what was once the jewel in the crown of the yet to be born or even imagined in realistic terms, to eat the same foods my mom made British Empire. They had names like “Star of India” and for me. I want them to grow up with a taste “Maharajah,” names which hinted at the for spice while the world around them grandiose. None were so plain as The Dosa subsists on a bland diet of meat and mashed Hut. For while the nation’s princes and potatoes. With each bite, I want them to palaces are a source of pride of Indians, they remember their heritage. I want them to are also symbols of the country’s history. They remember home. are the tourist’s India. The India that people The Dosa Hut changed its name to Udipi live in everyday is just as rich, but less pretentious. The food vendors on the streets Cafe after a change in ownership made it part don’t worry about ambiance. They sell you of a franchise. But the food and atmosphere food and maybe an unopened bottle of remain unique to the original restaurant. Thumbs Up Cola instead of water, tea or a Rekha Sharma, a junior Newspaper mango shake. So my parents liked The Dosa Hut because Journalism major, has grown up with a mix of it reminded them of their childhoods, and I American and Indian cultures. Though she liked it because it represented a part of myself was born in the United States, her family is that I had never truly known. In one small originally from Rajasthan, a state in northwest restaurant, both generations were able to find India. SPRING

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Refuse Dependence!

Resist Attack! The fight for equality continues, and women learn to defend themselves in the battle By Angela Beallor As a woman growing up in this society, I have been taught two important lessons. I learned the first in the stories I hear every day: a friend, a sister, an aunt, a lover, a mother, a grandmother who was raped, attacked or beaten. I can no longer keep track of all the women in my life who have been personally touched by sexual assault and domestic violence. These stories, in conjunction with what I have faced in my life, pound in my brain constantly and tell me to live in fearâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the fear that any time I step outside my door, walk alone or sleep in my bed I could be attacked. This fear binds me and controls all of my actions. The second lesson I learned is that as women we are the â&#x20AC;&#x153;weakerâ&#x20AC;? half of humanity and are often forced into dependence upon others to protect us. This varies for women depending upon their cultural background and economic class, but it does

Illustrations by Tammy Gill ARTEMIS

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affect most women in one way or another. Because protecting oneself is not deemed part of being a woman, we are often socialized to not consider this a part of our life skills. When I became involved

with politics seven years ago, I began to seriously challenge living in fear. While the current reality is that women face sexual assault and domestic violence, it does not always have to be that way. I do not want to live in fear, and I do not want my friend, sister, aunt, lover, mother, grandmother, to live in fear. I became involved in work to stop sexual assault and domestic violence in order to educate and challenge men to get involved in ending it. What about the second lesson? I began to challenge the assumption that women had to be dependent upon men, that

women had to live in fear and that any but I recognized the importance of learning person had to be dependent on another. I how to use one—to have another selfbegan to realize that everyone should know defense option available. I watched as others how to defend and protect themselves. shot their guns, and I attempted to build up As women we need to learn how to protect the courage to try it. Once I approached ourselves from sexual the gun, I did so assault and domestic timidly and with violence. As people much trepidation. I it is vital to learn to squeezed the trigger “The act itself, of teachprotect ourselves and squeezed my ing self-defense within from any attacks. eyes, firing at the We should create target. Then I set the the community, should self-sufficiency and gun down, walked be looked at as a revoindependence in all away and attempted lutionary means of p e o p l e . Learning to hide the tears colempowerment.” self-defense is an lected in my eyes. 1 important step we At first it was hard self-defense pamphlet can all take for for me to be ourselves. assertive with the “There is danger in Self-defense is gun. Imagining the fighting… there is also multi-faceted. It target as a potential danger in not fighting.” includes confidence, attacker helped me assertiveness and gain confidence 2 Melanie Kaye intuition. Learning with the weapon. I to defend ourselves was scared to fire a begins with trusting gun, but my fear of our gut to know rape was greater. It when we feel is important for unsafe. It includes women to be open learning to speak up to the idea of using and assert ourselves guns and other and feeling we are weapons for selfworthy to defend. defense. Even Self-defense though most women includes both armed choose not to carry and unarmed selfa gun, we can learn defense. The tools of how to use one to self-defense — both develop the our bodies and our confidence and abilweapons — are not ity to be able to use looked at as things one if necessary. to be used by “A woman who women. We must carries a gun on the challenge these street should not ideas to prevent think that its mere attacks and protect ourselves if one does possession will dispel the dangers that made happen. her buy it. She may feel less fearful and Over a year ago I went to a shooting more confident, but just because she carries range for the first time. I had never touched a gun doesn’t mean it is safer for her to walk a gun before and was always bothered by the streets,” says Paxton Quigley in the book the existence of a gun in my parents’ house. Armed & Female. It was hard to think about how much power With the high rates of violence against I wielded in my hands. I did not like guns, women, we do not have any choice but to SPRING

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learn self-defense. It is vital that we teach and is an important aspect of our humanity, men that they cannot violate us. “Our but at times we must be able to depend task…is to make abuse of women more and upon ourselves. I encourage all to take more risky, something men can’t get away self-defense. I e n c o u r a g e a l l women with,” says Melanie t o learn selfKaye in the article defense. Take your “Wo m e n a n d Viomom to class, get lence.” in the book your friends Fight Back: Feminist to involved, teach your Male Violence. girlfriend. When you Recognizing the learn to fight back, violence in our daily you are not just lives and realizing fighting back for that fighting back is yourself but fighting a viable option is a back for us all. start. Only when we effectively learn how This is for my to fight back can we mother, this is for my view self-defense as sister, this is for a possible solution myself, this is for my niece, this if for my to the potential aunt, this is for my violence that we friend, this is for my face. Successfully lover, this is for the fighting back is not a woman who was skill that is learned Suggested Readings raped last night, this overnight. Going to • The Truth About Self Defense is for all women who one self defense Massad Ayoob live in fear. Women class or even one • The Principles of Personal Defense who fight back fight intensive week canJeff Cooper back for all of us. • Self-Defense: The Womanly Art of Selfnot take the place of Care, Intuition and Choice consistent practice Angela Beallor, Debbie Leung and training. senior Photo • Effective Defense: The Woman, We also cannot Illustration major, The Plan, The Gun put off learning selfhas no spare time. Gila Maye-Hayes defense until toShe is a kickass jani• Armed & Female morrow when we tor, loves to photoPaxton Quigley could be attacked graph and write, and tonight. Once we is involved with Kent For More Information know how to use Anarchist Black • AWARE: Arming Women Against Rape & our bodies or Cross and AntiEndangerment weapons properly, Racist Action. http://www.aware.org/ we will have a range • Perpetrate My Fist of options available http://eserver.org/bs/22/rentschler.html to defend ourselves • Assault Prevention Information Network 1 Jacksonville / Orlando — fight with our fists, http://www.jump.net/~judith/APINintro.html ABC. Jacksonville, Orlando protect ourselves with ABC Collective Statement: a weapon or flee. The Revolutionary Politics Learning personal of Self Defense. Pamphlet. 2 protection and tactical self-defense is Kaye, Melanie. “Women and Violence.” Fight Back: important for everyone in our communities. Feminist Resistance to Male Violence. Ed. Frédérique It is imperative that we end compulsory Delacoste and Felice Newman. Minneapolis: Cleis Press, 1981. 160-163. dependency. Interdependency is not bad ARTEMIS

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Read Me illustrations by Mike Vodilko

Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins review by Andrea Bussinger When Tom Robbins’ novel Even Cowgirls Get the Blues was published in 1976, it was embraced by my mother’s generation of feminists. I was not even born until five years later, but Robbins’ eloquent and ingenious liberalism intetwined with a recklessly roaming plot shook my ideas not just about gender relations but about the society and the world in which they are contained today. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues features Sissy Hankshaw, a beautiful small-town girl who could have the whole picket-fenced American dream were it not for her grotesquely enlarged thumbs. Instead, she becomes a master of hitchhiking, a profession which is regarded as unrespectable and certainly dangerous for a woman, (not to mention illegal in several states). But Sissy is an example of courage and independence for anyone, male or female, who wishes to dwell happily on the fringes of society. In addition to telling Sissy’s story and musing on myriad aspects of human experience, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues searches for a “true” form of feminism. The

novel is populated with colorful characters that offer varying perspectives on the matter, and Sissy finds herself sandwiched between several conflicting points of view. She works as a model for the country’s largest feminine hygiene company, owned by a transvestite countess who is pathologically repelled by female odors. (When the FDA issues a warning that feminine hygiene sprays are worthless and possibly dangerous, s/he retorts, “I’m the one who’s trying to clean things up, rid the human race of its most pagan stench.”) The Countess sends her on assignment to the Rubber Rose ranch, a “sexual reconditioning” resort named after the Countess' first douche product, where Sissy encounters a handful of cowgirl ranchhands. Fed up with the Rubber Rose’s antifemale practices, the cowgirls are ready to overthrow the Countess' regime. Among the leaders of the rebellion are Delores del Ruby, a whip-wielding manhating mystic; Debbie, your kinder, more accepting, peace-seeking feminist; and Bonanza Jellybean, a teenage runaway who defied her nay-saying parents to realize her dream of being a cowgirl. When the Rubber Rose cowgirls arrange mutiny against Countess, Sissy takes their side, more because of a complex attraction to Bonanza Jellybean than any whole-hearted agreement with the proponents of feminism on the ranch. She also befriends the Chink, a perverted, old hermit who inhabits a cave on the outskirts of the ranch and holds deliciously crazy wisdom about society. But since Sissy is a woman of motion, she does not attach herself to the Rubber Rose SPRING

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for long. She returns home to New York, where she is faced with the disapproval of her slightly oppressive husband, the wrath of the Countess and a psychologist who utterly fails in his attempt to “normalize” her. Eventually Sissy reconciles the lessons of Bonanza Jellybean, Dr. Robbins (the thinly veiled author/psychologist) and the Chink, and after a slight falling-out with her thumbs, learns to love them again. The novel does not end without change taking a few necessary casualties. Without giving too much away, since someday I expect everyone to read this precious book, the main lesson comes from a vision that Delores del Ruby receives at the story’s climax. “The enemy of women is not men,” she tells the cowgirls; and the enemy of black is not white and so on. “The enemy is the tyranny of the dull mind,” she says, and it cannot be fought with violence, nor can it be cured (as Debbie thinks) through love. Delores must wait for a Fourth Vision to reveal how to destroy the tyranny of the dull, a solution which we seem to still be looking for 25 years later. But Even Cowgirls Get the Blues achieves a powerful social wisdom by uniting the feminist cause with the all-encompassing human struggle for freedom. @

When She Was Bad by Patricia Pearson review by Lisa Hofmann When you think of a serial killer, who do you picture? Chances are you envision a man. In our culture men are the aggressors and women are not. In the book When She was Bad: Violent Women and the Myth of Innocence, Patricia Pearson argues that this is what we’ve been socialized to think, anyway. ARTEMIS

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With narrative accounts of violence perpetrated by women, and statistics and interviews to buttress the stories, she crushes what we’ve been led to believe, which is that women are not instigators of violence. In the process, she reveals the subtle biases that even the most ardent feminist may harbor. In fact, Pearson criticizes the victimization defense promoted and supported by many feminists. Acknowledging that the second wave of feminism confronted the victimization of women, she notes that many women’s allegations of abuse or assault were finally validated. However, Pearson suggests that the focus on female oppression leads many feminists to overlook women’s capacity for victimizing others. The inability to perceive women as potentially violent, then, often works to a woman’s advantage, and Pearson presents interesting evidence. A chapter devoted to husband and lover batterers shows that families, friends, the legal system scoff at men claiming abuse. Infanticide is an often-overlooked crime, too, not only because mothers seem so distraught but they supposedly have the most sacrosanct of bonds — between mother and child. So doctors, police and family overlook evidence, often obvious, that implicates a mother killed her child. Other women, or their lawyers, skillfully manipulate perceptions about femaleness and erect defenses that divert culpability to a male influence. I did this because my husband abused me. I did this because I was blind with love for this man. And sometimes when women freely admit to perpetrating violence, they are not believed. The evidence Pearson has amassed is impressive, as is her weaving of facts, stories and intelligent interpretations. The true accounts of crimes are fascinating and compelling, astutely analyzed in context. When She was Bad highlights the subtleties of our perceptions, leaving the reader to say, I never thought of that and to ruminate about the true meaning of equality. Pearson says that the denial of female aggression means we cannot fully assert “ourselves as autonomous and responsible beings.” If we seek equality on all other fronts, we have to concede that men and women are equal in their capacities for violence.

Woman: An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier review by Lisa Hofmann Self-help culture attempts to quell our fixation on outer beauty by asserting that people are “beautiful on the inside.” Of course, they refer to the beauty of mind and character, but in her book Woman: An Intimate Geography, Natalie Angier shows beauty on the inside can be quite literal. She studies the biology of the female body and translates her notes into near-poetic renderings. Angier says of the vagina, “It is a pause between the declarative sentence of the outside world and the mutterings of the viscera.” Science and research support her creative, intelligent prose, though. She quotes one doctor’s remark that the vagina is actually the cleanest part of the body, (cleaner than even the mouth). Angier deftly but unaccusingly challenges traditional conceptions of the female body and the biases from which they were created. She acknowledges and glorifies some of the definitive characteristics of femaleness but confronts the traditionally posited disparities between the sexes. For example, distilling the chemical processes of the body, Angier divorces testosterone from its longtime supposed

effect, aggression, implying that women are no longer exempt from aggressive impulses or powerful libidos. While Woman is about the biology of what it means to be female, Angier acknowledges cultural myths and history, and comparative anatomy and behavior that influence understanding of the body. The result is a well-supported, beautifully written and accessible book that opens the female body to readers. @

Artemis thanks The Honors College for their patronage.

e Becom ional s s e f o r a Parap nist: o i t n e v r te Crisis In r

e e t n u l o V II l l a h n at Tow Application deadline is: Friday, June 1, 2001

For a volunteer training schedule, call 678-7553

“Erasure of our tradition forces us to relearn what our foresisters knew and to repeat their blunders.” – Mary Daly

eel h Join don’t reinvent the wWomen’s Studies

Call Director Kathe Davis in the Women’s Resource Center 330-672-8042 or 672-9230, or kdavis@kent.edu

at Kent State

listen to me, dammit Le Tigre

Sonic Youth

From the desk of... Mr. Lady

NYC Ghosts and Flowers

review by Molly LaRocco The second album by Le Tigre is a fitting sequel to their 1999 self-titled album. This seven track EP includes a remix of one of the grooviest songs on their previous album. “All that Glitters,” the remix, is a sparse soundscape, laden with bass that amplifies the big vocals. Heavy on cheesy beats and melodies, the album is even more lo-fi than their debut. The sound is juxtaposed with ultrapolitical, anti-racist and superfeminist rhymes that make for a lyrical treat. This album will not only get you up and dancing but also up and thinking. ”Bang! Bang!” is a song that confronts police brutality and the unjust murders of black men by the NYPD. The song ends powerfully with a chorus that counts to 41— the number of bullets found in a victim’s body. “B4 yr gone” is a shiny gem which makes you want to put on a leisure suit and get down. Oh, yeah, it’s also about a girl leaving her stupid, misogynistic boyfriend. All these songs are very original and definitely worth checking out. To paraphrase Emma Goldman, “It ain’t no kinda revolution, baby, if i can’t dance to it.” @ ARTEMIS

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review by Molly LaRocco The newest album by Sonic Youth, NYC Ghosts and Flowers, starts out reminiscent of their seminal 1988 album,”Daydream Nation.” Spooky distortion breaks into a sweet, fuzzy jangle met by Thurston Moore’s voice in the seven and a half minute “Free City Rhymes.” For the most part, this album recalls Sonic Youth’s pre-Goo albums in which atmospheric guitar is coupled with witty rhymes, chants, poetry and lightening-fast drumming. This differs from their recent stunning, distorted pop gems. But both styles are epic. “Small Flowers Crack Concrete” lyrics start and end as poetry, while taking the listener on a journey through despair and insanity, abetted by a cacophony of guitar. The poetry is more like a painting with words and recalls Beat poetry written by Burroughs, whose painting also graces the cover of the album. The artists of Sonic Youth take this poetic approach one step further toward an artistically perfect climax on both the title track and the second to last song. The album reassures us that Sonic Youth is still unarguably one of the legendary bands of the last two decades. @

Erykah Badu Mama’s Gun review by Molly LaRocco Erykah Badu is the woman — a true diva. She has the voice, the depth and the beauty. At the top of the hiphop-groove-funk-R&B-art scene, she both embodies and unmasks myths. This girl’s got the real thing going on. The long awaited album, "Mama's Gun,” definitely shows the depth and maturity of a musically and spiritually evolving Ms. Badu. She taps into her roots as a black woman with a rich history and speaks her truth. She delves into ancient African spirits while resurrecting the funk of ‘70s bass lines. Throughout she shows off her versatile pipes. As she says, she's "an analog girl in a digital world." The cover art on the album recalls an old Bob Marley album cover, and she does a

moving duet with Stephan Marley titled "In Love With You.” The song is a declaration of love between a lioness and her lion. So Erykah Badu is back on this 2000 album talking race, class and gender issues honestly and poetically. She says in "...& On,” which is essentially a sequel to a great hit on her last album, Baduizm: I remember when I went with Momma to the washateria / remember how I felt that day I first started my period / remember in school one day I learned I was inferior / water in my cereal... But now she remembers she is Erykah Badu, here to empower. Listen up, ladies. @

AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF UNIVERSITY WOMEN

Kent Branch aauw@kent.edu kent.edu/aauw

The American Association of University Women (AAUW) promotes equity for all women and girls, lifelong education, and positive societal change. More than 1,600 branches nationwide provide a network for more than 160,000 members.

The Kent State University Women’s Resource Center provides resources, services, and advocacy for the women of Kent State University and the greater Kent/Portage County community. Located in the Carriage House next to the Alumni Center on Midway Drive (off of Main Street), the Women’s Resource Center maintains regular office and drop-in hours Monday through Friday, and hosts programming and group meetings during evenings and weekends. Services are free and open to you— whether you are connected to the University community, are an area resident or a visitor.

330-672-9230 www.kent.edu/vph/wrc/

Sleater-Kinney All Hands on the Bad One review by Molly LaRocco Sleater-Kinney’s triumphant effort for the year 2000 shows that as these ladies approach their 30s, they’ve not forgotten their righteous teenage anger and joy. So now this sexy trio is back — older, wiser and sassier than ever. Simply put, All Hands on the Bad One totally rocks. Similar to their previous album, Dig Me Out, each song keeps getting better as the album progresses. You hear a song and think it’s the climax of the album, but somehow the next one is even punchier and poppier. And you find yourself up and dancing, tripping over your jaw. Sleater-Kinney is the quintessential girl group, echoing ‘60s Motown with a Riot Grrrl twist. These women bang on their guitars and stomp on their drums. Cutesy

hand claps contrast the ruckus. Lead singer Corin Tucker’s vocals are more down-toearth and mature, opposed to her usual frantic caterwauling, although glorious touches of that mania remain. This album has so many rock ’n roll hits that it’s sure to be requested at your next dance party. If you don’t already own this album, I suggest you order it directly from Kill Rock Stars ASAP! @

Over the Rhine Films for Radio review by Katherine Willis Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve had enough of these mediocre indie bands. Trust me, there isn’t anything secondrate about Over the Rhine. They just released their eighth album, Films for Radio. ( I n s e r t a h e a r t y “ h u r r a h ! ” ) Though the Cincinatti-based band

School of

JOURNALIS& M MASS COMMUNICATION B e a part of the expanding world of mass

communication, and learn how to gather, prepare and deliver information on paper, on air and online.

M ajor in News, Electronic Media, Photography, Advertising, Public Relations.

C ontact: Greg Blase, Undergraduate Coordinator School of Journalism & Mass Communication 130 Taylor Hall Kent State University Kent, OH 44242 330-672-8290 www.jmc.kent.edu

is still relatively unknown, they are developing an increasingly loyal fan base and have critics drooling over their astonishing musical prowess. The core of the band consists of Linford Detweiler, the band’s primary songwriter and keyboardist, and his wife Karin Bergquist, who sings and has composed some of OTR’s most enchanting songs. Karin’s exquisite voice is unlike that of any other singer-songwriter; she picks up where Tori Amos leaves off — delivering arresting, poetic lyrics with an emotive swagger. She conveys more emotion in a soaring “ooh” than most singers do in their juiciest lyrics. Like other Over The Rhine albums, Films for Radio distills the best aspects of pop, folk, and blues to create a deliciously original sound. The intense, bone-rattling single “Give Me Strength”, co-written by Dido, is a powerful anthem that delves into electronica without sacrificing OTR’s knack for instrumentation. The most addictive track is “I Radio Heaven,” a haunting, sultry song that explores faith and doubt with startling authenticity. Another favorite is the downright sexy “The Body is a Stairway of

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Skin.” An atmospheric hip-hop jam, it is at least as titillating as Madonna’s raciest songs, yet beautifully understated and poignant. Both lyrically and musically, Over the Rhine surpasses most popular artists on the charts. Chances are, Films for Radio will catapult this semi-local band out of obscurity. Don’t wait until Rolling Stone tells you this band is a gem to snatch up a record. @

PJ Harvey Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea

review by Molly LaRocco While many tout PJ Harvey’s newest album, Stories from the City, Stories from Sea, as her happiest, it does manage to retain some of her old-fashioned melancholia. This album is her most uplifting to date, as she seems to have reached peace with some of the angst that had driven her previous work. Harvey’s voice — half Patti Smith, half lounge singer — sings of giddy exploits in York City with a new love. This relationship inspired her to rock old-school pj on “Kamikaze” and on a Led Zeppelin-esque, cock-rockish ditty called “This Is Love.” She defiantly croons, “I can’t believe that the axis turns suffering when you taste so good”. On ”This Mess We’re In” she duets with Thom Yorke from Radiohead. Their voices blend like colors on a paint palate merging into a more beautiful color. With Harvey’s alto, it’s sometimes deliciously tough to differentiate between the female and male voices. PJ Harvey is an unforgettable female presence who has come of age in a maledominated world, but this album is a testimony that her will to live and create won’t be squelched. @ SPRING

2001

ARTEMIS

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Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s no such thing as pen envy

write for Artemis next semester Also looking for:

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Pick up an application in 101 Taylor Hall and return to 101 Taylor by 4 pm on May 1, 2001. If you have questions, email the editor at lhofmann@kent.edu.