@snakelet thirding or fourthing this. Susan B. Anthony's quote is textbook White Feminism (TM) and it really hurts to see it presented as empowering-with-slight-caveat. Jia, I think your writing is incredibly smart and on point, and I loved your critical piece on the mixed-race magazine cover. Posting this quote approvingly seems to set the boundary that The Hairpin is meant for everyone but black women. Anthony is literally justifying the enslavement of black people. How in good conscience can this feel liberatory for all women?
THANK YOU JIA.
I love everything she writes, pretty much. "The God of Cake" is still my favorite thing on the internet to make people read. So I've been nursing this level of admiration for her, just like everyone else. Then I read her Reddit AMA and OMG she plays Magic: The Gathering! And she's really good at it. That basically made my feelings about her change into rock-solid adoration. I find it really tough to be a woman of color trying to learn Magic and get out in the world and play, and it's so nice to learn about any woman who's doing it, and doing it well.
On Which Name Is Weirder, Saxby Chambliss or Barkevious Mingo? The Answer May Tell You Whether or Not You're Racist
@avidbiologist oooh, me too! i have the whitest white-girl name and people are always like "uh.....hi. katie?"
@TheMnemosyne yeah, i think the point is not "reasoned discourse." in fact, it feels a little like tone policing to say that the venue is inappropriate for the discussion. it's not, as you said, a discussion. besides, when WOC are attacked on their personal blogs and shut out of blogs with a wider, whiter audience, to decry using twitter seems to ignore the lived realities that make the venue useful.
@I AM DIAPHENA toe-ast.
@kimkrypto AND Once upon a time there was a woman who walked for a mile down a busy city street, and not a single person commented on her body or addressed her in a creepy way. This was totally normal for the woman, and just like every other day in her life. THE END.
Once upon a time there was a girl whose parents were patient and understanding. When she made a mistake they didn't yell at her and criticize her, but left her to figure it out or helped her fix it if she needed help. They were caring and open about their struggles, but didn't put each other down. As she grew, they trusted her even when she made decisions they didn't understand, and they were very interested to know more about her as a person. When she got older, she moved away, but she still came to visit when she could and had a great, evolving, strong relationship with each of them. Every time she visited, they made sure to tell her how proud they were of her. THE END.
This was one of the first old(er) books that I found terrifying in a sort of modern way, or that at least completely unironically terrified me.