a lesson of compromise

Let's face it: no one who gives a hoot about politics is happy right now.

Ok, well Republicans might be happy. I'm sure my dad could explain how this is somehow "finally getting the liberal elite to examine their own hypocrisy." Usually I just put the phone on speaker and go about the rest of my life for 20 minutes or so until he realizes he's in a conversation...

Between Wisconsin, Planned Parenthood, Birthers, "forcible rape," guns in bars, and anti-Islamic legislation, it would be easy for me to go Crips-style and just start ignoring red states. The amount of energy I've used lately sitting on my couch sighing versions of "what the hell goes through some people's minds," has, quite frankly, taken away my normal sighing allowances for things like the Kardashians. And we all know how important those crazy ladies are to this great thing we call democracy.

So, in honor of taking the high road from the "You Lie!" and "Mama Grizzlie" crowd, I kept an open mind while watching a recent Daily Show interview with Kentucky Senator Rand Paul. And, as much as it disturbed the little liberal lady somewhere near my uterus (since that's the only place she knows conservatives aren't going to try and remove her from) wanted to heckle sexual innuendos about the Tea Party, I told her to give it a full term and hear him out.

And while Jon Stewart will be the first person to tell you he is not a journalist, this is the most sensible interview I've seen with a politician in quite some time. I think 50 percent of my respect comes from the seemingly simple fact he doesn't compare anyone to a Nazi. And I can admit, Paul makes a lot of sense. Just don't tell my father I said so...

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Find the rest of the interview here.

even women have things we could improve. But just slightly.

Update: Thursday's column from Gail Collins looks at the recently released White House study on the status of American Women. Check this Saturday's Gender Report for full analysis of the results.

At a recent Teach for America conference, I had the drooling privilege of hearing Gloria Steinem speak about the ingredients needed for effective social change. A friend asked "what's the big deal about her?" My first response was shock, that this well-educated woman didn't know to fall at this icon's feet in idolatry. But then I found myself searching for a concrete explanation of just what exactly Steinem did for the women's movement. I came up blank. And ashamed.

I also did not previously know that March is Women's History Month. (In one of my prouder moments, it was a male student who informed me that the end of Black History Month meant the start of the month for "chicks and shit".) I honestly don't know how this could have happened. I proudly attended public school for 2nd-12th grade, in a school who's leadership class made sure to highlight the chosen minority or cause of the month with yellow butcher paper at every corner. I can't tell you how many times Langston Hughes poetry suddenly greeted me in the hallway, or on the turning of a calendar I was supposed to start caring about breast cancer or eating disorders.

I honestly feel like, despite my zeal for women's health and political issues, I have a fairly weak grasp of the full scope of women's history as it plays out in the United States. We get a dose of Susan B. Anthony, Sacajawea and Pocahontas are the sexy exotic heroines, toss around a few Seneca Falls references, shatter the glass ceiling with our 76 cents to the dollar, and call it a day. With all the pushes for more diversity in education, women seem to still be the missing voice. I can't remember the discussion of a single female scientist (Madame Curie didn't come until college), mathematician, explorer, wartime hero, or politician. That's not to say they weren't in the curriculum, but most were probably delegated to the glossy info boxes on the side of the page that said "these people don't warrant attention in the normal narrative of history but we have to cover our bases." Maybe if we just put enough women on fancy coins people will catch on...

So I'm taking history into my own hands. The National Women's History Project has a fantastic Resource Center with dense but pithy pages about the women's right movement, biographies of note, highlights of women of color, and national events surrounding women's history.

I'm also reading Gail Collins' America's Women, a look at 400 years of women's history in the United States. So hopefully the next time someone asks me who Gloria Steinem is, I can not only tell them in detail, but explain her place in the bigger story.

Here are some other resources and literature that have anchored my passion for feminism, for those of you looking to stoke your fires:

Nonfiction:
The Feminine Mystique, by Betty Friedan
Half the Sky, by Nikolas Kristof

Literature:
The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood
Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston
the poetry of Adrienne Rich
Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf
I Am Charlotte Simmons, by Tom Wolfe

Also, an especially poignant op-ed in today's NYT showed the danger of not focusing on the complete narratives of gender issues and rather isolating issues into gender-exclusive territory.

Just under the wire: Oscar predictions

As I've written before, I've become somewhat of a movie whore. At least three times in the past month my dad has called for recommendations, to which I usually respond "I don't really think it's 'your' type of movie, dad." But I thought I'd season the popcorn with a shake of narcissism and give you some suggestions for the Oscars tonight (we'll see how close I come0:

1. Best Picture
Bacon's pick: The Kids are All Right
Academy's pick: The King's Speech
It always seems like the Oscars try to find the most obscure historical events and blast them into the headlines with a sweep of the awards. In this case, I wouldn't mind the accolades for this film. However, my pick is based on what I saw as the best overall film on the list in terms of both leading and supporting actors, screenplay (it makes me want to write movies), cinematography, and directing. If you didn't see it, the DVD is well worth the time. (Also in the name of full disclosure I haven't seen "127 hours" or "Winter's Bone" yet, so I don't really have a basis for their judgment except if I haven't seen it yet, it probably wasn't a top contender).

2. Best Actor
Bacon and Academy's Pick: Colin Firth
One of the best acted roles I've seen in quite some time, especially in a historical drama. He managed to pull of pity for his character without sliding into cheesy. Hard to do, especially with a British accent.

3. Best Actress
Bacon's Pick: Annette Bening or Natalie Portman
Academy's Pick: Natalie Portman
Yes, I thought Black Swan was an amazing film. Yes, I think Natalie Portman went through an amazing transformation, both physically and psychologically, for the film. But I don't think that should awards should be based just on the amount of effort it took to pull off the role.

4. Supporting Actor
Bacon's Pick: Christian Bale or Geoffrey Rush
Academy's Pick: toss up
This is the one category where any of the nominees would be a well-deserved winner.

5. Supporting Actress
Bacon's Pick: Hailee Steinfeld
Academy's Pick: Melissa Leo or Hailee Steinfeld
While the women of "The Fighter" all pulled off some incredibly moving and well-acted performances, the young Ms. Steinfeld held her own cast aside both Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon, which is not easy to do even if your horse isn't dragging you through the mud in the wild west.

Left out, but still noteworthy
Several recent films that didn't find their way onto the Academy Awards nominee list are still excellent uses of 2 hours of your time. In particular I was mesmerized by "Love and Other Drugs" (and not just because of the excessive nakedness of Jake Gyllenhaal) and "The Other Woman."

my pride is on the shelf, in a good way.

The gym and I have always had a very petulant relationship. Necessary in the long term, but usually tied to lingering teenage rebellion or just general laziness. As an athlete for most of my life, I've always preferred activities to just traditional "working out." Sports, competitions, etc. But once the opportunity for intramurals or an impromptu Frisbee game weren't options anymore in my new "adult" life, I buckled down and joined a real gym.

Now Baltimore is a place where you are either a fitness crazy or a a fitness cringer. Part of this is due to the dicotomy of the reiging gay man vs. the daily chicken box consumption. Falling somewhere in the middle of these two extremes, I was reluctant to work out at one of the "fancy" gyms where everyone already looks like they only eat 4 crackers a day. I finally settled on the YMCA right down the street, and have found my comfort zone. It has most of the full equipment of any high-class fitness club, but also offers a daily dose of reality. I can walk into a core conditioning class knowing I won't be the skinniest person in the room by a long shot, but also have made more progress than the woman behind me making orgasm-like noises with every leg lift (to which the rest of us cracked up laughing and the instructor stopped class because she was also laughing so hard.) If I went to yoga, I wouldn't be the only person who falls over more than once. It's real people, genuinely working their asses off. Literally.

It's also a great way to support a dying community asset. Baltimore doesn't have many community centers, and the Y is one of the few places where you can find an open gym time, a children's climbing wall, and craft classes all in the same low-cost building. I like that my Zumba fees are going to more than just the pockets of some corporate mogul. Now if only I would get my butt to the library more often...

I was proud to be an American. Just don't tell Sarah Palin.

Living close to our nation's capital never gets old for me. Well, maybe when I was on the 18th semi-historical place where Abraham Lincoln stroked his beard, then it got old. But the symbolism of D.C. still catches me off guard sometimes.

As I was waiting for a Whitworth alumni event with a friend in the city, we walked across Lafayette Square to the "little" side of the White House. For those not familiar with the view, it's the opposite side from what's usually considered the money shot. Gathered in front of the gate, about 150 or so people were engaged in a protest/rally supporting the protests in Egypt. Now in full disclosure, I've always been of the mindset that a person of a foreign country can never really understand the true emotions, motivations, or unrest that leads to such powerful organization against someone else's government/leaders. Nor do I think media coverage of such events is anywhere close to balanced, in either direction. No matter how hard you try as a writer or photographer, you end up choosing a bad guy.

But the reports poured in of internet censorship, government force, and worldwide consequences for foreign relations and economies, I couldn't help but be proud of the sight in front of me. Police quietly blockading traffic from interfering with the demonstration. A bystander clapping along to the English/Arabic chants. A mother taking a family photo of four generations in front of the crowd, her small children clothed in their native flag. And all in the shadow, shouting distance, of our President's home and office. I don't get on the "let's cover our monster trucks in stars and stripes" train very often. But I'd rather wade through the noise of opposition and political dissent, however antagonizing and sometimes downright crazy it is, than take a pair of government-controlled waders to make the job "easier."

A new blogging venture

Anyone who spends more than about 5 minutes with me knows I'm a huge proponent for gender equality. And no, that doesn't mean I think women should take over every CEO position and every political race with no concern for the Y chromosomes of the world. We should be FAMILY LEAVE, people.

As a way to further explore these issues, as well as take an opportunity to work on a writing project with my Whitworth journalism partner in crime, we have started The Gender Report. While it is not as focused on commentary as I would be on this site, I think many of you will still find it reeks of bacon. Different posts include daily Gender Checks, looking at the balance of bylines and sources used in print and online sources in 4 major regions of the country, as well as a News Feed with relevant headlines and happenings around the world.

As a result, the frequency of my shaking and baking may become a bit diminished. We launched the site last week and so far have seen a great reception and following start to build. But don't worry, the minutes I see another fashion disaster such as the pajama jean or spring cleaning reflections, I'll be sure to share.

if newspapers still paid for quirky features

I would write about street flower salespeople. Baltimore is the first place I have seen these individuals in the actual streets (as opposed to just a curbside operation). Politely weaving in and out of cars on 29th and 33rd, they always smile and give me a thumbs up as I wait for the light to change. Not asking for a handout, nor a pity purchase, just a friendly offer of bouquets wrapped in plastic. Sometimes ribbon is involved.

I would find Eduardo, or Rafael, as I imagine he is named, a rags-to-riches hopeful who wakes at dawn to carefully arrange his bouquets of roses or non-descript daisy look-a-likes that men can use to beg forgiveness, charm a second date, or use to get out of going to his girlfriend's best friend's Pictionary game night. I would describe how they have stories for each of their flowers, recommendations for colors and particular arrangements based on the kind of car you drive. I would hunt down their wholesale distributor, and ask just how lucrative the streetside flower sales industry is these days (as it could be impolite or not necessarily accurate to ask the salespeople themselves).

Maybe it would be an NPR feature and I could hone in on the audio of the cars rushing by and the rustling of the cellophane against his windbreaker sleeve. Or maybe more of a Frontline spot, with video of his shuffling feet and the typical "no thanks" hand up from a stopped driver. Either way it will end with a pithy quote about how he feels about his life and what he looks for in the future, or, if I'm lucky, some metaphor he comes up with for how flowers help us relate to the world around us.

Keep your eyes out for it, my friends.