Boys Win!

Great post on SocImages about gendering of play beyond pink and blue:

SocImages authors and readers love pointing out pointlessly gendered products, especially children’s toys in blue and pink. Since gender is about what we do in the world, all the things we use for work and play can give weight to assumptions about gender differences that aren’t true. Critics of pointlessly gendered products emphasize that small differences in design—from color to function—can ultimately add up to big differences in how people learn to act in the world.

Gendering toys isn’t just about the color, it is also about what we teach kids to do with them. That’s why I got a huge kick out of this video: a compilation of old commercial shots of “white boys winning board games.” Of course, I haven’t done a systemic sampling of old commercials to see if girls win too, but this compilation makes an important point about how we can miss tropes that only show one outcome of social interaction over and over, especially competition.
— Read on thesocietypages.org/socimages/2019/03/26/i-win/

This is the you tube video…I win!

Boys Win!

This Is a Prayer to Baba Yaga. This Is a Prayer for Resistance

A friend posted a link to this on Facebook – I thought the poem was much too good to lose amongst FBs wretched algorithms.

Baba Yaga, the crone, a figure beyond the expectations and demands of society, reminds us of the freedom we have, and the power if we choose to exercise it.

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Baba Yaga


This is a prayer for Baba Yaga.  This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for the magic of chicken feet, the heat of old hates, the way old bones hurt.  This is a prayer for Resistance.

This is a prayer for hat knitters, sign-carriers, Congress-callers.  Old women make up the Resistance.

This is a prayer for casserole-bakers, newsletter-writers, nuisances.  Old women make up the Resistance.

This is a prayer for phone-bankers, neighborhood-canvassers, early-voters.  Old women make up the Resistance.

When the Moon is full, I call to Her.

I bring coals for Her oven.  I bring flour, to cover Her tracks.  I bring paprika salve for Her old, sore joints.

I bring a list of complicit women.  I bring a doll poked with pins and bound with vines.  I bring a bottle of ancient anger.

“Come, Baba Yaga,” I say. “Come find me alone in the woods.”

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This Is a Prayer to Baba Yaga. This Is a Prayer for Resistance

How Prohibition Put the Cocaine in Coca-Cola

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I grew up in a country town. It was the sixties and we were all – or so I read in the Daily Mail – off to hell in a handcart because drugs were everywhere.

I’d have been glad to jump into the handcart and bucket off with the rest of my doomed generation, except that as far as I could see, nobody had any drugs at all.

I’d have tried anything. I did smoke banana skins once because I had read they were narcotic. It was a fiasco on all sorts of levels – not least because I never came up with reason for keeping banana skins in the airing cupboard that my mum found at all plausible.

The other piece of secret knowledge was that there was cocaine in Coca Cola and that if you put an aspirin in a bottle of coke, the drug would be released.

I always wondered if it was an urban myth until I came across this piece:

How Prohibition Put the Cocaine in Coca-Cola.

I love the notion that the early cocaine infused formulation was ‘an intellectual beverage’. I bet.

How Prohibition Put the Cocaine in Coca-Cola