She is a COSMONAUT, show some GODDAMN RESPECT:
Serova has been barraged with questions focusing on her gender and how she will manage to bond with her 11-year-old daughter while she is away. She even offered to give a demonstration of washing her hair in space.
But her patience appeared to run out at a pre-launch press conference in Baikonur on Wednesday when a journalist asked her to comment again on how she would look after her hair aboard the International Space Station and whether she would keep her current style.
Robin Wasserman on girl trouble and mass hysteria:
I first heard most of these stories in college, in a class in the history of psychology, and they stayed with me — not because of any feminist awakening or post-adolescent empathetic rage, but thanks to a memorable night when feverish exam prep gave way to several hours of what my friends and I called Madness Charades. We were exactly those kind of nerds, and we were, by that point in the year, our own brand of hysterical. There was something about these women we’d studied, about the apparent distance between us — diligent, well-behaved, on-track good girls — and them. We enacted and embodied the madwomen of history and drove ourselves to fits of laughter, imagining such a thing as loss of control. We converted their pain into our entertainment: Here is the schizophrenogenic mother; here is Charcot’s hysteric; here is Dora, unable to voice her desire and pain. We wore misery and madness like a costume, young enough and lucky enough to pretend that was all it could ever be, something to be put on and taken off at will. We didn’t think about history as an unbroken line, about old-fashioned, “retrograde and non-womyn-empowering” misogyny or gendered oppression or the pathologizing of feminine dissatisfaction. That was all safely in the past; it couldn’t possibly apply to us.
We can talk about Scandal on Monday morning, but you are allowed to express yourself today in SINGLE WORD COMMENTS.
I…no words. Literally no words.
Mallory here. Remember Ed Champion, the guy who wrote (“wrote” is too nice a word for what he did, let’s go with “computered”) that vile and sexually explicit essay smearing Emily Gould back in June? Guess what he’s up to now: threatening to publish nude pictures of a female writer on Twitter.
I would like to go on record as being firmly against this.
she is who she is:
The Toast unconditionally supports female librarians against all comers.
This list of Leslie Knope’s feminist credentials needs to be EIGHTEEN TIMES LONGER, but it’s a start.
I am an expert on bedbug stories bc I read all of them, and this one chilled me to the marrow AND made me so angry on the author’s behalf:
So we called the property manager, and she said the owner would meet us at the cabin to inspect it. He was aggressive and said he had to see live bugs. At this point, we’d all taken hundreds of photos of bedbugs we saw and bites we had. Then the guy didn’t show up! We called the owner, and he said he was eating lunch and would come over when he wasn’t hungry! My friend who rented the place stayed there to wait for him, and the rest of us went to the laundromat. When the owner finally showed up, he told my friend he didn’t have the money to give us a refund. He asked if he could pay us back in installments. She said yes and asked if she could have that promise in writing. He said no and told her to leave the premises. None of our emails or phone calls have been returned by the property manager or owner since. However, the owner did send my friend a weird text on Monday, saying that he would pay her back on September 1 and October 2. She emailed him back to ask for our money now, and got no response.
ugh the bees are recovering fuck them all
