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Tarnished and Gilded: Unearthing Women’s Past
Who celebrated Women’s History Month? Not me. I barely realized that Women’s History Month was upon us until one random email arrived in the form of an advertisement. There was no fanfare, no parade, and not one of my female friends called to say, “Hey, it’s Woman’s History Month, let’s celebrate!” Part of the problem is that Woman’s History Month occurs in March. March is a crap month and to assign women one of the crappiest months out of the year is just plain rotten. Nonetheless, it caused me to consider women’s trajectory over the last 100 years. The perception of women has changed – somewhat – but there are still legions of archaic ideologies that persist. By looking to the past we can observe how society perceived the female gender. Specifically, by looking through the eyes of a long-dead writer, we have an opportunity to witness women’s evolution. Fiction chronicles the prevailing social paradigms of its time. American writer William Sydney Porter was one of those chroniclers – better known to us as O. Henry.
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Die Weiße RoseIt was 1942. Sophie Scholl was a student at the University of Munich when Adolf Hitler brought Germany to ruin. She, like most Germans, was optimistic about Hitler’s leadership, clinging to him to lead the nation out of a horrendous economic collapse and international scorn left over from the First World War. She joined the Hitler Youth as many German teens did. Though as the war progressed, there were signs that Hitler was not a savior of the German states. Her brother Hans briefly served on the front lines and witnessed the horrific treatment of those considered inferior to Hitler’s standards, confirming their father’s suspicions of Hitler’s insidious intentions. Sophie, Hans, friends, and their psychology/philosophy professor formed Die Weiβe Rose, or The White Rose, an intellectually based, peaceful resistance movement against Hitler’s regime. Their campaign consisted of essays written as leaflets and distributed anonymously throughout the region. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Limiting Trans Access In Public Spaces
By April Gain
QuailBellMagazine.com
Clearly, ALEC must have its sights set this year on being the piss police. That’s the only possible explanation I can fathom for the rash of anti-trans legislation that’s been popping up in the last few months. In February alone, three different states have proposed “bathroom bills” specifically designed to fine people for using the “wrong” bathroom based on “biological sex”. Aside from the broad nature of its phrasing (how is sex determined? Hormone levels? Genitalia? Genetic Typing? None of these biological markers are defined in the binary being proposed), the legislation tries to erase trans people and deny the validity of their gender identification.
These laws serve no greater purpose and yield no true public improvement. They have nothing to do with the protection of anyone and instead seek to actively endanger people based on their gender identity. There are plenty of shitheads out there already who think they have the authority to tell a grown ass adult that they don’t know which room they’re supposed to go into. We must refuse to memorialize this as law. It’s preposterous. It would be laughable if it didn’t create real danger. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Dysfunctional Dating
By Steven Joseph McCrystal
QuailBellMagazine.com
Okay, you’ve been around the block a bit. You’ve been in love a couple of times. You’ve partied on the tables to your favourite songs. You’ve had a rich hedonistic life pubbing and clubbing but eventually the alarm bell tolls. You get to that age where you wake up alone, and it feels like a fate worse than death.
The clock is ticking. It's time for a "who am I?" check: Okay, I still have some looks (subjective of course), I still have some brains (subjective of course). My figure, well, it’s okay for my age but one less dinner mint wouldn’t go a miss. I have a sense of humour but that’s subjective of course.. This subjective list goes on and on, and that’s just the men trying to convince themselves that they’re a worthy proposition. Goodness knows how single women perceive themselves when they get to being left on the age shelf. The pressure from the "look good at any age" industry is unrelenting. The chase is on. I still have some blood pumping in my veins. I’ve transformed my life. I’ve travelled the world a bit. I’ve done things that I never dreamed I could. I’m ready for love. The problem is I have collected some baggage on my travels, but I’m still prepared to have a go at the dating game. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Retro Sex: Let Genitals Be Genitals
I just learned that cat declawing might become illegal in New York. It’s about damn time! Organizations like "PETA, the ASPCA, and the Humane Society are all strongly opposed to declawing, with the latter referring to the procedure as 'like cutting off each finger at the last knuckle.' Declawing can also negatively affect a cat's ability to walk properly, and can contribute to paw irritation.”
There are plenty of alternatives, so there’s no ethical reason for it to happen. Sometimes, society just clings to something that is clearly outdated because “that’s the way it is,” a response backed up by basically nothing. Imagine someone saying something like, "Oh, sure! I'll give you food, shelter, and love - IF you cut your fingers off because it will ruin my furniture." Messed up, right? At least you got the heads-up. Cats don't get that. Neither do babies. Even if you did get the heads-up, you would be horrified that there are people out here who’d like you better with less fingers or toes. Reflecting upon cat declawing reminds me of another mysterious phenomenon that humankind still practices: genital mutilation. For the life of me, I have not even the faintest understanding as to how someone ever looked upon their genitals and think, “Damn, I should totally mangle that very sensitive part of my body!” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Guy At The Gas Station
Recently, I stopped at a gas station en route to my friend’s house. I don’t mind doing favors for my friend, especially during tough times like beer droughts. It happened to be that awkward slice of Sunday morning when you can’t buy beer (about 2 am to 8 am, if I recall correctly). Our county laws permit us to buy beer during every other hour of the week, so I forgot about that measly 6-hour sliver of Sunday morning when beer-buying is prohibited.
Like every person who comes into the warmth from a cold winter snow, I was glad to feel my skin thawing as the door slid to a close. In my town, most faces are familiar, so I saw the person whom I expected to see: one of the staff members. I don’t know this man well, but he’s definitely a regular here, if not the owner. I noticed that him giving me gaga-eyes, but he’s never actually flirted with me. We exchanged the default pleasantries of “Hi!” and “How are you?” as I reached into the fridge for some beer. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he said. “I can’t sell you beer until 8.” I said something to the effect of, “Oh! That’s a shame. I’ll come back later.” “No! Just stay! It’s, uh,” he pauses as he checks,”It’s almost 7:30 now. Just stay until 8.” This particular gas station makes ice cube trays look like apartment complexes. It wasn’t that cold and I hadn’t been drinking, so there was no valid reason for me to stay. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Sadistic Psychology of Trolls
Check out more stories from Ravishly's special series on misogynist trolling here. Have a perspective or experience you'd like to add to the discussion? Email our editors at ravishly@ravishly.com.
Internet trolls have infested every corner of the social internet. Anyone who makes the mistake of reading the comment section of an article by, about, or even mentioning women knows a lot of those trolls turn to deeply misogynistic, threatening, and even violent comments. What drives them to act out like this? Science offers some insight… Last year, researchers at the University of Manitoba investigated trolls and their personality traits, publishing their findings--"Trolls just want to have fun"--in the Journal of Personality and Individual Differences. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Talk Nerdy To Me
I've been planning on writing an article about sapiosexuality for a while, but upon finding out about OkCupid's new "sapiosexual" orientation option, I realized that there must be some widespread curiosity in the subject. Then I came across an XoJane article written by the executive editor, Emily McCombs, and was shocked. I was unaware of this influx of sapiosexual awareness! Sapiosexuality is now an option on OkCupid. If only they had that option when I was still using the site... But maybe not. McCombs also had misgivings about it that I sympathized with, as most sexual orientations emerge from so-called "obscurity." Her post reflects popular misgivings about sapiosexuality or how its newfound popularity might attract elitist types. She also didn't understand how people could be aroused by displays of intelligence.
I have a feeling that I understand all sides to this, so I decided to speak out about it. So I should probably explain myself. The only sapiosexuals I've ever spoken with were either people online whom already knew the term or individuals I've told in real life. While I am surprised by the dating population's acceptance of the term, I am not surprised that the label is so many people would readily embraced. But apparently, it's not normal to get aroused when you hear someone talking about computer repairs, philosophy, literature, or any other area of expertise. Flesh is probably the most popular and publicized stimuli for arousal, but extended philosophical debates? Would most people board the nope train right there? Is it like being attracted to any other skill, talent, or non-physical feature? Yes and no, but mostly yes. A sapiosexual is "a person who is sexually attracted to intelligence in others." The word derives "from the Latin root sapien, wise or intelligent, and Latin sexualis, relating to the sexes." Sapiosexuality isn't exactly hidden in plain sight; a lot of people are attracted to intelligence. As I write this, I’ve yet to meet a person in real life who knew what the term “sapiosexuality” meant and actively identified as such. Whenever I talk about it with other people (which is, really, only when the subject comes up), a lot of them realize that their sexual attraction to intelligence is prominent enough to welcome the label. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Grass is More Racist On the Other Side of the Facebook Wall
New Press is publishing the U. S. Justice Department's investigation of the Ferguson Police Department in book-form. It is due to hit the shelves by July. The U. S. Justice Department's findings were so terrible that publishers probably figured that the report was a riveting piece of non-fiction horror. Institutional racism is a monster that "[creates] an intensely charged atmosphere where people feel under assault and under siege by those charged to serve and protect them." The Ferguson Police Department embodies this monster.
The Ferguson police department finally the people after investigators uncovered e-mails containing casual racist jokes passed among them. These e-mails entirely confirm the existence of their racism, unlike the data that reflects blatant discrimination against the black citizens of Ferguson. After all, it’s not like the data confirmed everything that the citizens of Ferguson claimed or anything. #sarcasm Needless to say, people are getting fired. So are bullets. Even though there is no more confusion about who the bad guys are anymore, the dust is far from settled. This is not a surprise. How on Earth could anyone seriously be surprised by the fact that the cops are guilty of racial profiling? Apparently, a lot of people in my social circles were surprised to hear that racism still exists in the world of today. Looking at someone's social media page can be like gazing into the eyes. Both can be windows to the soul. To no one's surprise, it gets pretty ugly. Exhibit A: The behavior of Internet "friends" in lieu of Michael Brown's death and the public conversations that ensued about the Ferguson Police Department's obvious corruption. A lot of people missed the point, to say the least. Most of them were white. Anyone who feels "attacked" by that information seriously needs to understand the reality of racism and why denying it makes you just as bad as those "other" hypothetical racists that they might have in mind. So many people were also quite determined to believe that Michael Brown's murder had nothing to do with racism and everything to do with an entitled youth who got what he asked for. People complained about how the media only cares about black people and sensationalizes racism to "get out of [insert ignorance here]." All of the sudden, I saw a bunch of posting stuff that implied that the existence of "good cops" negate our right to criticize "bad cops." Because binaries are the truth. I'm sure that all of this sounds frighteningly familiar to you. Please know that you aren't alone. But lately, I've noticed something peculiar: there was not one status about Ferguson being a racist ploy against white people. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Just Because I'm Curvy, Doesn't Mean I Always Want a Pin-Up Girl Bikini
As a short, round-ish woman, why is adopting a vintage persona the only way I'm allowed to be sexy?I'm currently on the hunt for my first bikini. Well, my second bikini if you count the pink polka-dot number I wore over my diaper when I was a baby. But you don't count that, do you?
Besides that one, every swimsuit I've ever owned in my entire life has been a conservative one-piece, usually all-black, with a shaping panel built into the front to help camouflage my midsection. Totally fun and flirty and young and sexy, right? (Not.) I'm turning 30 this year, and you know what? I'm fed up with hiding my body in matronly, sadsack swimsuits that turn a quick trip to the restroom into a 20-minute, full-strip-down ordeal. I'm done waiting to achieve that elusive "bikini body" before buying a cute swimsuit. It's become a cliche, but it's true: I want a bikini body, so gosh darnit, I'm going to put a bikini on my body. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Performing Gypsy Before Maami Babka would leave the house, she would meticulously cover her hair with a dikhlo - a beautiful red or orange headscarf. She had short hair now, as did many of the women in my family, but she still kept it hidden. She would put on a petticoat, long skirt, and apron, and over the top of it all a heavy patched overcoat.
When she stepped out into the bitter morning air, cigarette dangling precariously, she became Gypsy. As we walked, children on their way to school would shout various slurs, looking for a reaction. "Oi, dirty pig!" "Hey! Gypsy!" "Witch, witch! Should be burned!" The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
"Moronic Masochism" By Alex Carrigan and Lauren Wark QuailBellMagazine.com Note: For this movie review, we here at Quail Bell Magazine are going to be trying something different. This time, we had two Quail Bell writers, Alex Carrigan and Lauren Wark, look at the same movie and review it, in hopes of adding to the discussion of the film. This is their review of the film adaptation of Fifty Shades of Grey.
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Upcoming Art Exhibit As transgender culture comes out of the margins within the context of our societal narrative, stigmas are beginning to fall away revealing a rich extension of our culture. This emergence of a new facet of individuality illustrates a myriad of struggles central to the human condition. In a retrospective featuring her work, Richmond artist Allison Jones reflects on her deeply personal experience as an outsider looking in on transgender society and relates it to her own issues with identity. This painter has had numerous previous exhibits and was recently interviewed by James River Punch Media in regards to her psychologically fraught artwork. With a suggested donation of a $10 the audience will be privy to a biographical film, a short discussion on the themes of the show, live music, and more. All proceeds will go to the artists who collaborated to make this event possible.
Featuring videography by Riley Arthur, Thomas Sheehy, and Jacyln Cummings; music by Aaron Stallings of the Cyrenaics; and information on a book by Natalie Colleen Gates. Venue: The Highpoint Collective When: Opening April 3rd and 4th, 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. Where: 3300 West Broad Street, Richmond, Virginia The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Seven Ways to Cleanse Your Aura An “aura” is a rainbow-like, kaleidoscopic, electromagnetic field of energy that pulses around the physical body and is attuned to our emotions, health and external circumstances. It is a technicolour dreamcoat of many layers: the etheric body, astral body, mental body, higher mental body, spiritual body and the casual body, each of which together give the impression of a blending together of colours and light around the skin and is, essentially, an extension of the physical self.
Each of us have auric fields that interact with one another, which explains why we sometimes get those inexplicable gut feelings — such as when we say “I have a really bad feeling about this”. This is our aura doing its job. Our auras can be drained of their potential by a plethora of people and situations: toxic relationships, unfulfilling jobs, family problems, and the every day experiences of twenty-first century life. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
When Good Girls Go Smalti (yeah, look it up) By Jody Rathgeb QuailBellMagazine.com At the annual conference of the Society of American Mosaic Artists in Philadelphia, the demographic was clear: women. More specifically, middle-aged women (median age 50), sensibly dressed but with bright scarves and jewelry, and either wearing comfortable shoes or clomping in that half-sexy, half-arthritic gait that boots create. There were so many women that Isaiah Zagar, one of the speakers, commented that he was tempted to ask the few men to stand up for recognition. Why so many women in mosaics? Paints and canvases are easier to handle than glass, stone, tile and concrete products. Likewise, fiber arts. Yet there we were, me among them in my sensible shoes and 62nd year. Despite the demographic, there was nothing girly about the conversations. In fact, the chat overheard between workshops and in the elevators might well have taken place at Home Depot or Lowe’s: thinset vs. other adhesives; to grout or not to grout; the price of substrates. And tools! Trowels, nippers, hammer and hardie, tile cutters, glass grinders. So it was the conference’s sound that defined it, rather than the sights. Odd, because mosaics are primarily visual, with all those little pieces adding up to something much bigger and expressive. Perhaps that is part of the art’s appeal. Appeal? Too weak of a word. Obsession is more like it. From what I heard, many of the women at the SAMA conference started out, like me, thinking of mosaics as a hobby. But the process and the beauty grabbed us by our glass-cut, grout-dried hands, pulling some into full-time artwork and many more into a sideline business. It’s not just about making pretty things. It’s about finding expression in color and texture; about making something whole out of so many different pieces. This is what women do with their lives, isn’t it? We put together our education, work, families and love, grouting them with time management (plus some wine and chocolate) for an artful life. Maybe the SAMA demographic isn’t so mystifying, after all. #Real #VisualArts #ArtsAndCrafts #Mosaics #GettingCrafty #Philly #Philadelphia Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Fill to Me the Parting Glass By Garrett Riggs QuailBellMagazine.com If you’re looking for a list of Irish Drinking Songs to listen to while you swill green beer, move along to Buzzfeed or some other site that specializes in that sort of thing. This is about good, soulful Irish music across genres and decades. Put some of these on your playlist and there is a chance that your decision to sport a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish (today)” T-shirt and a headband with the springy shamrocks will be forgiven.
(Note: Irish music is best appreciated live, so whenever possible live versions of the songs have been tracked down for your listening pleasure.) Seán Ó Riada helped revive interest in traditional Irish music in the 1960s, bringing the bodhran (a simple frame drum) out of the hands of boys on parade and back to prominence on the stage. “Marcshlua Uí Néill” is one of his compositions that features the bodhran and tin whistle. Put this on and people will be ready to do battle. The Chieftans overlap with Sean O’Riada, first finding fame in the ‘60s. One of the founding members, Paddy Moloney, actually got his start in Ceoltóirí Chualann, which was a group that was led by Seán Ó Riada. Over the past 50 years, they have brought traditional Irish music to audiences all over the globe, contributed to soundtracks, and like Willie Nelson made duets with everybody and their uncle. Here they are with Carolina Chocolate Drops doing “Pretty Little Girl.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Closer Look at "The Quare in the Square" If I can ever get over my severe fear of flying, there's plenty of places I want to go. More specifically, Europe (I know, super original). On my tour of Europe, I plan to stop in Dublin to meet Oscar Wilde.
Before you send me off to an asylum, I do know that Oscar Wilde has been dead for over 100 years. I’m talking about his statue in Merrion Square. Often referred to as "The Queer with the Leer" and "The Quare in the Square," it was unveiled in 1997 by Wilde's grandson Merlin Holland and has since been sprawled out atop a rock directly facing his childhood home. Wilde was known to relish the attention he received and often made bold statements with his outlandish comments, fashion, and most notably, his trials towards the end of his life involving an affair with Lord Alfred Douglas, the son of the 9th Marquess of Queensbury. Today, his plays, poetry, and sole novel are highly popular and are still taught and read to this day. So it was only appropriate to create a memorial statue that preserves that same feisty, snarky spirit. Danny Osbourne, the artist of the statue, made certain to reflect Wilde’s “colorful character” (Dunn 228). No part of the statue is painted (as I had originally thought), but instead uses a mixture of rare stones and materials to create the eye-catching memorial. Wilde’s pants are made of Norwegian blue pearl granite and the socks and shoes of black Indian granite. His hands and head are sculpted from white porcelain. The jacket he dons is made of two eye-popping colors; a dark green jade and salmon pink lining and trimming made of the scarce Thulite stone, which is only found in central Norway (Dunn 288). The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Journeying to the Music By Garrett Riggs QuailBellMagazine.com I was around 14 when my mother presented me with the Claddagh ring. She had a co-worker bring it back from a trip she had taken to Ireland.
My mother gave me the ring that had two hands encircling a heart (offering the heart really) one evening and told me, “one day, when you get married, you’ll turn it around to show your heart is taken.” She looked out the kitchen window toward the driveway where my father’s truck was decidedly absent. She took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled. “I always wanted see Ireland,” she said, “It sounds like there’s magic there.” She stubbed out the cigarette and told me her mother’s last name was Kennedy. Her mother had died when my mother was very young and she and her sisters had been sent to live with various relatives, reuniting with my grandfather after he remarried a few years later. My mother grew up during the Great Depression in the part of Southern Indiana that is a stone’s throw from Louisville, Kentucky. That area blurs the border between North and South, and my mother’s childhood was one of poverty and ignorance that she escaped from by reading. She was a voracious reader and traded in sacks of paperback books at the used book store almost every week. She mostly read mysteries, but she also had a soft spot for W. Somerset Maugham, who also had had a spectacularly awful childhood and blended the pain he saw in life into his fiction. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
On Being Sensitive (Hint: It's a Good Thing) Once upon a not that long ago it was easy to take me down in any argument — no matter how impassioned I was, no matter how firmly I believed to be right. One sentence, one fell swoop: “you’re being too sensitive.”
Shut down. I saw it as my burden, my cross to bear, if you’ll excuse the dramatics. I knew it to be true and that was why it stung so much. For most of my life I associated the mere word “sensitive” with weakness, with being a crybaby, with being a brat. It was embarrassing. I was ashamed to have any association with it as I grew into a shy, withdrawn adolescent and then even still into adulthood. Now I know that not to be true. Or rather, for that not to be where it ends with being sensitive in nature. That is such a small facet of it — and a negative viewpoint to take of that small facet, at that. Now I know that the quality of being sensitive extends to much more dynamic channels: being thoughtful, artistic, and intuitive, to name a few. It took a lot of reflection and observation for me to understand in full what it meant to be sensitive and for me to be okay with it. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Pathetic Tinder Profile of a Desperate 30 Year-Old 30 or above? No one wants to date you, says Tinder.
I realize it's improper to ask, but may I inquire, dear reader, as to how old you are? I only pry because I want to let you know—for your own good!—if you are dateable or not. Under age 30? Congratulations! Not only are you dateable, but there are definitely still people in the world who want to touch your body. Age 30 or above? Sorry, friend. Not only are you the dating equivalent of uranium, but you kind of smell like Bengay. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Look Closely, and Be Careful French film director Francois Truffaut once said there was no such thing as an anti-war movie. His main criticism was that most of these films failed to make it clear that war was not something to glamorize. You could watch Apocalypse Now to see the story of a man driven so mad by war that he himself gives himself over to the darkness of human nature, but you’ll probably remember the visual of airplanes bombing the jungle while “Ride of the Valkyries” plays. This does tie into a lot about how we portray certain atrocities and dark subject matters on film, and whether or not the time we make these sorts of films will play into how the viewer ultimately reads into the story.
American Sniper is the latest of these controversial war films to come out. It’s already boasting an impressive $90 million box office weekend and was nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Actor for Bradley Cooper and Best Picture. The film is about Chris Kyle, a U.S. Navy Seal and the most decorated sniper in U.S. military history. The film follows him over four tours in Iraq, as he racks up over 160 confirmed kills, and also follows him at home, as the effects of the war start to leave a toll on his mind (I’ll come back to this point later). The Clint Eastwood directed (well, with eight assistant directors) illustrates what it takes to become such a figure in the U.S. military and how the way people reacted to the turmoil that arose in the Middle East following 9/11. Oh, wait. No he didn’t. He didn’t do any of that with this movie. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Snowdayology By Sam Carrigan QuailBellMagazine.com “Anything can happen on a snow day.”
So goes the promise of the children’s film Snow Day, released in 2000, directed by Chris Koch and produced in part by Nickelodeon Studios. Character after character repeats the line in just about every form possible, imperative, exclamatory, verb-subject-object, everything but an epilogue saying, “It was a snow day, anything happened.” In the history of lies told to children, this one may be the most quickly debunked. A kid experiencing the rapturous hold of a snow day simply needed to ask a parent if they could get a ride to the theater to hold the cinematic mirror up to their life, only to be told, “No. The roads are iced over. It’s not going to happen.” With messages like “anything can happen” being crammed through our eye sockets in the final decade that children’s television was virtually unopposed by the internet, it’s no wonder our current crop of young adults grew up to be bitter, distrustful little shits. We also have difficulty letting go of the past. One recent Saturday, I awoke to another heavy snowfall dashing any hopes of going out and doing things on my day off. A friend trudged over and suggested a few of us watch this 15-year old film that we all vaguely recall seeing as children. Being snowed in on the precious weekend, a movie about the joys of a mid-week snow day seemed like a qualified recipient for our millennial venom. Who could turn down an opportunity to immerse themselves in sarcastic takedowns of a childhood gewgaw that has rusted over the years? Well-adjusted people, for one. There were none present, so it commenced. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Struggling For Words By Ren Martinez QuailBellMagazine.com Editor's Note: This piece first appeared in On The Grid Zine and has been republished here with permission. I first attempted suicide at eleven years old.
Wait—let’s start again. I’ve been a writer as long as I can remember. When my life was tearing apart at the seams, words were a constant, golden thread. In a room full of closed doors, I could always write myself a window, just open enough that I could crawl out of it. At eleven, I didn’t know there was a word for the sinkhole collapsing in my gut and the black hole pressing against my ribs. I didn’t know there was a word for the frozen numbness that stretched for miles within my own mind, claws of wind whispering of a way to escape. I thought that this was the way I was made and, in a way, I was right. So, after slowly taking pill after pill the night before (a bottle of acetaminophen that my parents kept in their bathroom closet), I woke up the next morning to my mom reminding me it was a school day and thought, Well, I guess that’s it. Then, I got up and got ready for school. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Bill Threatens Students' Right to Knowledge In case you didn't already know, the Advanced Placement program, more popularly known as AP, are college-level courses at a high school level. The classes prepare you for the AP Exam where you can earn college credit before you even decide where to go. A variety of AP courses are offered, including English, science, math, foreign languages, and history.
Unless it's our own history. AP US History, or APUSH, is a rigorous exploration of American's past, both achievements and our darkest hours. But in Oklahoma, lawmakers have approved House Bill 1380 that would eliminate funding for APUSH. Rep. Dan Fisher of Yukon criticized the course for showcasing American history's more negative events. He expressed concern that the course would cause riots and protesting. Many teachers aren't too happy about the bill. Censorship has long been a heavily debated issue in schools. In traditionally conservative Hanover County, Virginia, this isn't new. In 1966 when Harper Lee published To Kill a Mockingbird, Lee fired back at Hanover County Schools for banning the book for being "immoral literature." |
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