My name is Amelia. I am a feminist. I also have a Pinterest account. If a recent lengthy piece on Buzzfeed (wait, Buzzfeed does “lengthy”?) is to be believed, these two things are antithetical. According to Amy Odell, the editor over at Buzzfeed’s lifestyle vertical, Shift, Pinterest is “killing feminism.” So, as a feminist who uses Pinterest, I’m, like, killing some part of myself, I guess?
Odell’s thesis is based on the fact that Pinterest’s 23 million users are overwhelmingly female (60 percent) and that they use it to curate “retrograde, materialistic content,” like “recipes, home decor, and fitness and fashion tips,” which Odell claims are staples of women’s magazines that the Internet was “supposed to help overcome.” Odell also derides the fact that Pinterest users don’t go there to read articles, which I find kind of hilarious coming from someone employed by a website that is dominated by photos and funny captions, her lengthy screed notwithstanding. Odell says websites like Jezebel, Feministing, and The Hairpin are examples of places on the internet where women “can find smarter, meatier reads just for them,” but is clearly disappointed (and even surprised) that their existence hasn’t done away with the female desire to “scrapbook every imaginable physical aspect of their dream lives.”
Call me crazy, but I don’t see what the fucking problem is. Keep reading »
As some of you may have noticed, I’m really rather fat. I mention it only because it’s relevant — it has a significant impact on my life; people treat me differently because I am fat.
Or, in some cases, refuse to treat me. Which is what happened recently to Ida Davidson, who was turned away from her new primary care physician. The stated reason? Ida Davidson weighs too much for the doctor’s office to accommodate her. Keep reading »
Maybe you know one — one of those annoying, neo-folk “folks” who insist on telling you how amazing it is to grow your own food and can your own preserves and make your own clothes and live off the land and blah blah blah. Well now there’s a magazine for that particular brand of self-righteous, self-absorbed, neo-Americana living. It’s called Folk. Of course.
Keep reading »
Dear Woman With The Rolling Suitcase Who Stole My Cab This Morning,
Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t see you roll past me, stop no more than eight feet in front of me, and raise your arm just like mine had been raised for 15 minutes? Did you think I was so involved in my text conversation with my friend Steve — about whether it’s possible/weird to poop with a baby in a Bjorn strapped to your chest — that I wouldn’t see you blatantly invading my taxi territory? I can think of no other explanation for the lack of subtlety you displayed in defying the laws of cab hailing. Keep reading »
I think of myself as a fairly laid-back person — usually it takes a lot to really irritate me. (Maybe it’s because I grew up in California and all the secondhand pot smoke has made me permanently mellow, or something?) That said, there are a few things that really chap my ass that I find kind of fun to bitch about. After the jump, five relatively minor things that bug the crap out of me — share your peculiar irritations in the comments! It’s Friday — let’s purge! Keep reading »