Our talented guest writer Elisha returns with her second instalment of Raising a Feminist.
We are all searching for the reason why we’re here. In some way or another, we’re all embarking on a journey that comes in the form of self-expression, personal development, accomplishment, fulfillment; success and purpose, whatever it may mean to you. The ways in which we try to fill the blanks between “I was born,” and “I was born, because…” are innumerable. Our journeys are all personal and vary greatly based on the individual, but something that I think gets lost is the divide between us as individuals and our children as individuals because being a parent is such an all-consuming job. We live and breathe for them which is, in so many ways, the most beautiful gift we give to them every day. With that said, something that we must remember is that our children each have their own identity and personage. If this is nurtured and encouraged, the product is Independent Children: children who are more inclined to be confident, self-sufficient, self-motivated, make better decisions, and collaborate better with peers.
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.
Young Jean Lee has brought to Washington, D.C. audiences a deeply perceptive, provocative play about race and identity during a time when this particular demographic— straight, white, male— is undergoing an essential investigation. Straight White Men is no base attack on whiteness and masculinity, nor a send-up of xenophobic caricature or supremacist stereotype, but instead a nuanced examination of the “well-meaning white man.” Presented by the Studio Theatre and directed by Shana Cooper, Lee offers a thorough exploration of privilege, ambition, and the lasting effects of white guilt.
Emerging from New York’s avant-garde, Young Jean Lee is no upstart playwright, boasting 12 produced works under her belt and touted by The New York Times as “the most adventurous downtown playwright of her generation.” A veritable force in the contemporary theater world, Lee is known for her daring voice and experimental style, notably so in her 2011 production of Untitled Feminist Show. Straight White Men breaks her practice of non-traditional storytelling to present a linear, naturalistic performance that seduces traditional theatre-going audiences [white, wealthy] into confronting often unspoken anxieties about race [their whiteness].
In the latest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, Bob The Drag Queen commented that there are two types of drag queens: Halloween Queens and Pride Queens. And this holy season of Halloween, I thought I’d have a look at drag, the horror of subversion, and the freedom of letting your freak flag fly. I’ve been lucky to be joined by Plymouth’s Premier Drag Queen Stevie Knicks, a queen on the rise and a bitch to look out for. Sashay on in and come on Boshemians, let’s get sickening!
As a pop culture junkie, I thought I may as well get some articles out of this crippling addiction. In Q’s Queue, we’ll be having a look at some of the hits, hidden gems and horrors found on my Streaming list, all through a feminist lens. Today’s venture: Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23.
Apartment 23 recently dropped on UK Netflix and I could not be more stoked. I’ve long been a fan of Kyrsten Ritter, from her days as tragic junkie Jane on Breaking Bad, to her starring vehicle on Jessica Jones (both shows just happen to be available on Netflix. Catch up gang). Both shows highlight her dramatic chops, but in Apartment 23 she is straight up hilarious. Created by Nahnatchka Khan (Fresh Off The Boat, American Dad,) Apartment 23 tells the tale of June (Dreama Walker), a naïve Midwestern girl who moves to New York in the pursuit of a job opportunity. The job ends up being a bust, and she’s left homeless and penniless. Enter Chloe (Krysten Ritter) with a spare room and some seriously questionable morals. Along with BFF James Van Der Beek (James Van Der Beek in his best role), shenanigans ensue and gender stereotypes are broken. The show originally aired on ABC in 2012-2013, and for some reason, it never managed to find a devoted audience. After constant time-slot changes and episodes airing out of order, the show was mercilessly cancelled; now with Ritter’s increasing popularity, and the wonders of streaming, hopefully, it can find the audience it deserves.