It was easy to roll one’s eyes at Elizabeth Wurtzel’s recent piece on TheAtlantic.com, “1 Percent Wives Are Helping To Kill Feminism And Make The War On Women Possible.” Although I understand the point Wurtzel was trying to make (educated women who don’t advance in the workforce and financially support themselves/their families are bad for feminism) she couched the whole thing in kind of bombastic, linkbait-y statements like, “I am going to smack the next idiot who tells me that raising her children full time — by which she really means going to Jivamukti classes and pedicure appointments while the nanny babysits — is her feminist choice.”
But I want to go a little deeper than the eye-rolling. I want to look at the phenomenon of self-described feminists — like Wurtzel — judging other women’s choices. Keep reading »
I grew up blissfully ignorant of gender roles. Growing up in the ‘90s, I never thought I’d one day need a man with a six-figure income to take care of me. But I wasn’t a feminist, either—I didn’t even know what feminism was until my 20s. All I knew was what my mother taught me—that I’d have to work hard to become a self-made woman—and what Hollywood taught me — that eventually I’d meet a Jonathan Taylor Thomas look-a-like and be swept away to my happily ever after.
Though my JTT look-a-like never surfaced, I did find someone to share my happily ever after with. When we first entered couplehood, neither of us had much in the way of disposable income. Date nights included hitting up Applebee’s for happy hour and grabbing a $.99 movie rental. If I had to name one of us as the breadwinner, it was him, but money was such a non-issue in our relationship that we never thought of who earned more. We viewed each other as equals so we split the bills down the middle, paying little attention to who earned what. We were in love and that was all that mattered, right? Keep reading »
When the ASME (American Society of Magazine Editors) awards for magazine journalism were listed online, the blogopshere took a quick whiff and reported back with the precise recipe for becoming award-winning journalist: Oh, testosterone. No women were nominated in profiles, features, reporting, essays or columns– the most prestigious categories.
What this sparked was a discussion about the gender byline gap and how the award-winning magazines like The New Yorker and Harpers don’t publish as many stories by women because they don’t pitch them. People pointed out that often, women stick to the “pink ghetto” of women’s magazines (and websites) and write about “pink” topics that are, apparently, undeserving of acclaim.
I am here to reclaim the term, “pink journalism.” I happen to love stories about women, relationships, sexuality, lifestyle, reproductive health, personal essays — all of which are considered “pink”and, I think, wildly important. That said, after the jump are some of the best “pink” pieces I’ve read recently, with comments from some of my favorite ‘”pink” writers. This is in no way a complete list, just a few favorites. And feel free to add your recommendations in the commets. Keep reading »
I am going to smack the next idiot who tells me that raising her children full time — by which she really means going to Jivamukti classes and pedicure appointments while the nanny babysits — is her feminist choice.
This is how writer Elizabeth Wurtzel begins a piece on TheAtlantic.com entitled titled “1 Percent Wives Are Helping To Kill Feminism And Make The War On Women Possible.”
You know, subtle.
And it goes downhill from there. Keep reading »