The other day, I was in the kitchen, wearing a classic shirt waist dress and an old school apron, chain smoking and generally looking like a discontent housewife, whilst I was cooking a big old home cooked meal for my darling husband. It was his favourite; cheeky Nandos style pot roast. Naturally, I’d never had any, because it’s important that a woman retains her figure, but he seemed to like it, so that’s the important thing.
My darling husband was late. He often arrived late, sometimes with lipstick on his collar, but he swore to me that he wasn’t having an affair so that was the end of that conversation. As I sat alone in the kitchen, with no one to keep me company but my children, I couldn’t help but glance at the salt shaker. It looked so boring. It was just a little ceramic pot with a few holes in it. I hated it. It was dull, drab, desolate, and it reminded me of the limitations of humanity.
I had no such qualms with the pepper shaker. I loved the pepper shaker.
Voices of Resistance is an ongoing project at Boshemia to share narratives of activism in the current geopolitical climate. If you would like your story of activism shared with our global feminist community, contact us at firstname.lastname@example.org. This is our first installment.
For this first installment of Voices of Resistance, we turn to Appalachia—a region of the United States often overlooked—and remembered by many only for stereotypes of rural life, poverty, coal mining, and opioid abuse. This great swath of America has long endured sensationalized myths of identity and little media attention has been offered over the years to mitigate these perceptions.
Appalachia describes the cultural and geographical region in the contiguous United States that stretches from southern New York to northern Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. At the 2010 census, 25 million people were reported to inhabit this land of sleepy hollers and ancient mountains. That’s a substantial population to overlook, and that’s precisely what has happened.
God wasn’t 2016 rubbish? In the next few weeks, Boshemia will almost definitely be musing over how god awful the last year was, but today we’re going to be looking at one of the prevailing themes of the year: Toxic Masculinity. In a year of Trump asserting his masculinity in dangerous ways over everything he seemed to cross, and then somehow getting awarded for it; a year of Brexit and the following fight for the Prime Minister spot being nothing more than a dick measuring contest, only for the cursed position to go for a woman, almost certainly setting her up for failure. In a year of rape accusations, police shootings, terrorist attacks (good god the year’s even worse when you write it all down!), we coincidentally lost three icons of masculinity and gender subversion. On December 25th, aged 53, George Michael joined Prince and David Bowie in the pantheon of people destroyed by 2016; the trifecta of 80s queer icons has gone, politicians are swiftly moonwalking away from identity politics, and the world is basking in the stench of toxic masculinity. Merry Christmas.
Today, Carrie Fisher’s daughter released a statement via People stating that her mother had passed away aged 60 following a heart attack on a flight home to LA on 23rd December. At the end of a very long year filled with many deaths of beloved celebrities, this is one which will touch the hearts of many generations of people from all walks of life. From long-time followers to people who were helped by her candid and honest accounts of mental illness to brand new fans brought on board by last year’s The Force Awakens, Carrie’s death will certainly be a tough one to swallow.
As the Holiday season looms upon us, we start to consider how best to show our appreciation to the ones we love in the most materialistic way possible. It’s been a tough year for everyone; icons have died, movies have been shit, on either side of the pond we’ve suffered through political fuckery. Why not show the ones you love that you care with an $85 rock in a bag.
Today’s guest writer is a scholarly friend of the blog. John is a DPhil Theology student at the University of Oxford who is specialising in fourth-century Christianity. His key interests are intersectional feminism, the history of European philosophy and left-wing politics.
Only a couple of days after Donald Trump’s presidential victory, a photo was released showing Trump and Nigel Farage, the leader of the United Kingdom Independence Party (not, as FOX would have you believe, the leader of the opposition) in a lift, wearing expensive suits, surrounded by polished marble and filigreed metal. We’ve all seen it. Considering their backgrounds, this is to be expected – Trump is a billionaire born to the ultra-rich, and Farage is a privately-educated ex-city trader born to a city trader. They are every bit the essence of privilege – white, older rich men. Yet both their recent campaigns tried to replace their privilege with compassion, declaring Brexit and Trump to be the manifestations of the will of the “left behind.”