To kick off our Boshemia Book Club this autumn, we dove into Chandra Talpade Mohanty’s Feminism Without Borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity (2003). Mohanty is a prominent postcolonial feminist theorist and Distinguished Professor of Women’s and Gender Studies, Sociology, and the Cultural Foundations of Education at Syracuse University. In brief, Mohanty’s book serves as a critique of Western academic feminism, and how the project of Western feminism has collapsed the identities of Third World Women into a reductive “Other,” united in their presumed exploitation and a monolithic notion of sexual difference. Rather than imagining Women as a cohesive group, through her essays, Mohanty analyzes the borders that divide and differentiate us.
Yes, yes, I know – floods, Nazis, everything is terrible right now. But you’d be forgiven for not being entirely in the loop; as I’m sure you all know, there’s been a recent major international event that’s been permeating our consciousness.
GLOW opens on Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie), reading for a part in an audition. She emotively delivers a powerful and dramatic monologue, at the end of which the casting director informs her that she had been reading the wrong part—the man’s part. They reset. The casting director leads her in. Ruth performs the women’s audition part:
(knock knock) Sorry to interrupt, your wife is on line two.
This opening scene sets the flavour for GLOW perfectly; the show is a delightfully nostalgia-hazed and also critical and shrewdly observant portrayal of the real-life women’s wrestling circuit of the same name—The Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling.
In continuation of our ongoing Girls of Summermusic series, E reviews Lana Del Rey’s latest album, Lust for Life.
Beloved dream pop queen Lana Del Rey signaled a shift in her music and mystique with the release of her newest album last weekend. Produced byPolydor/Interscope Records, Lust for Life is presents an evolution of Lana’s ‘awakening,’ both personal and political, and dripping with flower-child pastiche.
Eve Jones examines Lorde’s latest album, Melodrama. Eve is a 19-year-old writer and waitress from Plymouth. Obsessive by nature, she’s always in pursuit of some delicious syntax. This is her first article for Boshemia.
Lorde: explorations of youth and power
In 2013, Lorde, aka Ella Yelich-O’Connor, released her debut album Pure Heroine. Its popularity was hailed by Clash as proof that ‘there’s still an intellectual, polished and important place for pop [music]’. She was 16 at the time. Four years on, Lorde launches back into our minds with Melodrama, which still buzzes with that potential energy—though it hasn’t all been plain-sailing. In a recent interview with The Guardian, she likened her fame-riddled celebrity friendships to ‘having a friend with an autoimmune disease’—‘there are certain places you can’t go together. Certain things you can’t do’. The insensitive analogy received backlash from fans, prompting Lorde to apologise on Twitter. While her conduct has been controversial, her music continues to question youth and power in a dynamic habitat of scorched harmonies, flinty 80s keyboard and lyrical wit.
Winding through the tourist scattered streets of Málaga on a Sunday afternoon, sun beating down on me, I headed to El Centre de Pompidou, a smaller branch of the world famous contemporary art gallery in Paris. Making my way through the gallery, I stumbled across many striking exhibits, such as ‘Self Portraits’ which featured feminist icon Frida Kahlo’s The Frame (1938), as well as a sincerely thought provoking exhibit, ‘The Man Without A Face’. However, it was the gallery’s segment for ‘The Political Body’ that struck my attention most. This is where I discovered Sigalit Landau, an incredible Israeli female artist who uses video, sculpting, installation and her own body to create political art. Her art was astounding, but her message was even better.