France to Women in Burquas: We're Liberating You


If the French are trying to reach out to women in the strict Muslim community that requires its women to hide everything, even their faces, they have a funny way of showing it.

The French Assembly just passed a law that if ratified by the Senate will fine women who are out in public in the full-body veil. Um, thank you? I'm sure these French residents feel more liberated already. If by "liberated" you mean staying indoors instead of going out, since the law will force women who wear the full-body veil to stay at home, or risk a fine.

It's hard to argue with a law against these fashion disasters. They should be burned and banned. But by outlawing the clothes, the French are to some extent outlawing the women who are covered up.

Granted, the law would threaten jail and fines for men who force the burqua on their wives. I have a better idea: How about men who force their wives to wear them be forced to wear the face-and-body covers instead? That is a punishment that fits the crime.

Justice, Sort Of.

So the Iranian woman charged with adultery and sentenced to stoning has gotten a reprieve. No stoning. But no word on whether the death sentence has been lifted. A kinder, gentler death in a not very kind country?

Did I Read That Right?

There is something so wrong with this world when a headline on CNN can read this: "Son pleads for help as mother awaits stoning in Iran."

Clinton and McChrystal

Back in the day, (OK, back before 2008) when a male leader would mess things up (almost always), the eye rolls would begin. A woman could do a better job. Just let her at it. Then we had the chance to elect Hillary Clinton as president, and passed.

Now, things with a man, a historic man, but nonetheless, still a man, look as grim as ever. (See: environmental disaster, two wars, economic woe.) And I can't help but wonder, what would the world look like with Hillary in charge?

The subject came up with the now infamous Rolling Stone article that exposed the sass-mouthed Gen. Stanley McChrystal and his posse going after the president and his. The only person spared? Hillary. In fact, the general and his labyrinth of people praised her. As Michael Crowley writes in his blog Swampland,

"It remains remarkable to me that a woman who in the 1990s was routinely accused of being a radical leftist has emerged as a real national security wonk and shattered durable gender stereotypes along the way."

Not that she gloats. But she must wonder what might have been. I know I do.

Good for Body and Sole

As if I needed another reason to buy another pair of hot shoes -- turns out, not just good for your soul, they're also good for your sex drive.

According to a very scientific study, women who wear high heels have higher sex drive and good lookin' legs. Credit cards out, ladies.

In related news, those sad, plastic excuses called Crocs are going out of business. Coincidence? Look in your soul.

Clinton Clinches Honorary Degree

Arizona State may not think Obama is worthy of an honorary degree. But Yale doesn't have that problem with the Secretary of State. Hillary Clinton just picked up an honorary degree from her alma mater. And while sculpter Richard Serra and writer John McPhee also were on the honorary degree list from Yale, not so Obama. Better luck next year.

The Myth Exists

A biography of Helen Gurley Brown seems to have ignited an interest in the bygone era of Second Wave feminism. The biography of Brown reclaims her as a feminist for the office workers who couldn't go out and "burn a bra." Oops, did I just help perpetuate the stereotype of the bra-burning feminist? If so, it's not my fault: It's The New York Times's. And The New Yorker's. 

Both invoked that image in sloppily trying to come up with a contrasting impression of women of the time. And, I guess in the interest of deadlines, they made one up. The New York Time did so with its Helen Gurley Brown quiz on money. ("Bad Girls, Good Sense.") And Judith Thurman invoked the image of the bra burner in her review of the biography of the Cosmo editor, "Bad Girls Go Everywhere." Beyond being factually incorrect (you can see my article in Alternet for details), the assumption perpetuates falsely that protesters and nothing to lose but their bras. 

In reality, feminists made the lives off office workers (and all working women, for that matter) better. Thanks to feminism, we now have: workplace parity, equality in wages (or at least more equity than before), child care, flexible work time, parental leave, and the list goes on.

So why does the myth of lingerie immolation persist? It's an easy short hand. But it's not the truth.

What a Way to Make a Living

File this one in the "eureka" category: Workers in a down economy (who have not been downsized, yet) down their hours. It's for work-life balance, natch. And careers are not made on working around the clock any more, when the clocks are in hock and the boss has been laid off. Women, who have been lucky enough to be stuck in "traditionally female" jobs, like nursing and teaching, have found these professions to be recession-proof. Sorry, construction workers. Hedge fund masters, our regrets. But I digress. Not only are women not getting the ax, they're supposedly kicking back with the kids more, too, according to this Forbes story. 

So here's where it's not adding up: More men without jobs, but the women are the ones cutting back the hours? Really? Somehow, the women with the jobs have also been saddled with childcare (er, quality time) while the guys are out job hunting and beer gathering. That's a sequel I guess we won't be reading in Forbes anytime soon.

Object Lesson

Hannah Henry is having a photography show of discarded things. The image to advertise the series is a sole strappy sandal, darkly lit, maybe once beloved, then, unneeded. 

I was thinking about all those things I have been collecting (we are all curators of our own closets) that may have once been treasured and now are tossed. It is the wonder of the photographer's eye that I stare at the image, my thoughts drifting from shoe, to my closet, to the nation that was bent on spending till the last shoe was sold. 

Neighborhoods are littered with foreclosed houses, some abandoned by their owners who had no choice but to walk away from their homes. Homes slightly beyond the grasp of a mortgage payment. But, I imagine, with perfectly placed walk-in closets, holding rows of strappy sandals, paid for with money that didn't exist on the promise of value that wasn't there fueled by the intoxicating lure of over-confidence and greed. 

The photograph is beautiful. Our nation's story is ugly. 

Forming a More Perfect Language
You gotta love the European Union. They are nothing if not efficient. Getting rid of generations of sexist language? Done. That's what seems to have happened relatively overnight, as the EU is banning "Mrs." and "Miss" from the lexicon in order to create gender neutral language.

Women are to be addressed by their whole name. While it may be more difficult for those stuck in the age of Jane Austen to construe whether a lady is eligible or not for dating or marriage, one could always resort to this modern idea: Ask her.

Has the New York Times Lost Its Mind?

I am a big fan of the Times "Style" section. Normally a great break from the grim lockstep of bad news in every other section. But good god, the main story has to be an all-time what were they thinking this past Sunday. A story about a San Francisco sex club that focuses on the female orgasm. Seriously?

Not that there's anything wrong with the female orgasm; I'm all for it. But for a story like this, about an urban commune that sounds left over from the Eselon days but is populated by impressionable people in their 20s, this is not a cute sexy story -- instead it truly comes off as a cult (every morning at 7 a.m. women sit in chairs, remove their pants and submit to their Oming, as it's called). I will leave the rest to curious readers.

Cheap shots on the good city of San Francisco aside (OK, yes, it does have a history of sexual liberation, but nobody is really stopping anyone from having orgasms. . .), I would respectfully suggest that the Times spend a little bit more time pursuing investigative stories of a slightly less titillating nature, and save the sex for the local rags.

Inconceivable

Maybe the Octomom's lust for the spotlight will actually result in shining light where one is needed: reining in fertility clinics (and their egg-happy clients).

According to a story in the Atlanta Journal Constitution, fewer than 20% of U.S. clinics follow professional guidelines on embryo implantation for younger women.

As the author of "Everything Conceivable" told Terry Gross on Fresh Air today, the uterus is designed to be single occupancy only, and multiple births invariably lead to multiple deaths. What could stem the madness? For one, having these procedures covered by health insurance, which would then mandate the number of embryos that could be implanted. 

This is one case where buying in bulk is not a good idea, short term or long term. 

Baby Steps

I've been thinking a lot about the Octo-mom lately -- Nadya Suleman, who made horror-freak-show news when she gave birth to octuplets. Then the really bad news started to come out: she had no job, 6 other kids -- and may lose her house. And the kicker -- all 14 births were made possible by a Beverly Hills infertility clinic. This coupled with a story in the New York Times about links between IVF and certain birth defects made me think again about the fertility industry. 

There is basically no regulation of the fertility industry, whose services aren't covered by health insurance, either. The treatments are expensive, causing women to ask their docs to implant them with multiple eggs for the chance that one, or OK, two or three, of the fertilized eggs could turn into that dream baby their body does not want to have on its own. 

Our culture is oddball. It pressures women to have babies, then recoils when they have too many, or not enough cash (Angelina Jolie with a truckload of kids is cute. Welfare moms with same: decidedly not). Or they do it in a way that is medically possible but ethically questionable. 

So then the question is, who is going to start making some of these hard choices? Given the change in administration to a pro-science agenda, my vote is regulation. And fast. With older parents the norm, IVF a standard procedure and multiple births adding to the burden of our hospitals and health systems, and certainly our schools, we need to start paying more attention. And not just the horrified kind. 

I'm Just Not Into That Movie

It stands to reason that when a movie is about to come out, the best clips are selected for the previews. If that's the case, then the movie "He's Just Not That Into You"  is a flat-out embarrassment to the genre, to women, and in fact, to human relationships. You can waste your time watching the coming attractions.

But if it saves you the time watching the movie, then consider it an efficiency. In the previews, the sexiest woman in cinema, Scarlett Johansson, pines for a married man that is so beneath her it's laughable. Drew Barrymore is moused down to look pathetic and yearning. And Jennifer Aniston can't get Ben Affleck to marry her. OK, in what world does Hollywood live in? Maybe these stars took these roles to stretch their acting abilities (I'm sure it's hard to for any of them to imagine that they can't get a date). But why take my word for it? See for yourself. Then don't go see this movie.

Deja Vu All Over Again

I know that I should still be feeling the glow of hope and change, and Obama has already done more for women (passing the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act) and children (signing SCHIP into law) in a few short weeks than Bush did in 8 years.

Reversing the global gag rule (allowing funds to international family planning organizations that promote or perform abortions) was yet another stake in the ground to differentiate the Obama years from the Bush years. But this victory feels hollow. After all, the funds get reinstated or stopped depending on which party is in office. If we really want to make change, let's change minds about women's rights overseas. Hillary, I'm looking at you. 

Wax Away

I've really had it with Bush. I can't stand one more minute while he waxes on about how he's kept the nation safe -- what, did his presidency start on 9/12/01? 

And his disappointments -- that there were no WMDs in Iraq. That's not a disappointment, that's a wrongful war. And what about Enron, Katrina, my civil rights.

Well, there is someone who understands. Bliss Spa sent out a special offer for all the women who want to be rid of their Bush. As they put it: "Say farewell to Bush. . . special 'presidential transitional' savings of 20%." 

With the sad economy, savings for removal of any kind are appreciated.

I'll be glad when the Bush is gone down there, and in D.C.

I Am Woman. See Me Naked

She was first spotted on the Web. Then I saw her peeking out behind the comparatively chaste women's magazines on newsstands. She's so almost-bare that my husband was too embarrassed to buy a copy of the magazine with other women present.

But I want to buy 100 copies and paper my room with them. Make it my new screen saver. Text the image to all my friends. Jennifer Aniston on the cover of GQ is unabashed, naked except for a tie and strategically placed index fingers. She looks sexy, brash, and incredibly toned. She looks good. She looks very, very good. But that's not the best part.  She's thirty-freaking-nine. My age. The age of many of my friends, who also look good. 

If we send up a time capsule to Mars, I want that image in it. I want aliens to understand how good we can look at 39. Other life forms need to know.

Maybe Aniston did it for publicity or to remind Brad for the umpteenth time what he gave up to take on all those kids and the biggest ego this side of the equator. In short, I don't think this jaw-dropping cover was done with altruism in mind. But just look at her. Yes, I know that photo retouching is kind. But still. 

She looks free, happy, and maybe most important, very unencumbered. I want to shout it from the rooftops. She is me! She is 39 for all of us.

She's Back, Baby!

Looks like another up side to getting Hillary Clinton into Obama's "team of rivals" is it brought back postpartum Amy Poehler to play her on  "SNL." Maybe there is humor to be found in an Obama administration. After all, it's a thrill to see Hill at State. But that does not mean that for every woman, he gets to pick a jerky man. I'm filled with ire over the pick of Larry Summers in a confirmation-free appointment, giving the ousted Harvard prez a second chance at showing he's not a total sexist pig, only an arrogant jerk. Obama, you've got some 'splaining to do.

Black Is the New Black
There is a new game in town. All it took to restore Democrats to government was two wars, a failed economy and a sitting president with one of the worst approval ratings in history. Not to mention opting out of public campaign financing in order to spend zillions to win.

But he did it. Obama is a presidential prodigy. Noone ever had a chance against his oratory, his organization and his inspiration. Here we are in 2008, where women finally came out to vote after only getting the vote in 1920 and the fight for Civil Rights movement is a recent memory that Obama harkened back to in the cadences of his speech. It's a new day.

Campaign Accessories

Looks like Caribou Barbie has got the wardrobe to go with the name. In a move that only those of us outside "real America" could appreciate, the McCain campaign dropped some serious cash on their shiny Sarah star -- 150,000 large -- to outfit McCain's campaign accessory with some clothes and accessories of her own, from Neiman's, Barney's, and Saks Fifth Avenue. Wal-mart it's not.

The timing of the purchases, in early September, weren't reported till this month, so that the hockey mom had some time to burnish her blue collar, working girl image, takin' the "g" off her words, and showin' how she walked in the shoes of small-town Americans. Except her shoes are Manolo Blahniks. Joke's on you, Joe six pack!

This latest campaign fiasco, which has managed to enrage the left and the right, isn't going to help Palin's approval ratings, which are already sinking faster than an ice floe in the North Pole. Cost of overpriced campaign wardrobe: $150,000. Cost of losing the election: priceless.