“I look a little tough in my author’s photo, and I’ve been amazed at how many people—universities, magazines—ask me to send them a different photo, because they say I look aloof, unapproachable, tough, scary, and/or sad. I started asking male authors with tough-looking photos if they had ever gotten any grief about this and they said no, never. When it comes to the author’s photo, women are more likely to hear things like: “You don’t look as pretty as you could in your photo!” or “Why aren’t you smiling?” I, for one, would like to know what it is about an un-smiling woman that makes some people so fucking uncomfortable. Or why anyone would assume a woman’s foremost concern is prettiness.”—Laura van den Berg (via elliottholt)
There is now a measles outbreak in New York. A whole ward of cancer patients currently undergoing chemotherapy have been exposed to it. Imagine fighting cancer for years only to die because some jackass didn’t vaccinate their brat and you…
That's actually kind of why I was wanting to ask you, because you're new to the whole thing and your stitching looks *REALLY* good! (plus, being able to have a conversation with someone is a little more helpful than google...) But, um! About how big are the... chunks you did, like the green pieces, the pink diamond, etc.? Did you use embroidery floss/thread and separate it, or did you use whatever thread you had around and just go for it?
Well, each panel has 5 designs on it, and each design is a different size. The smallest is about 3 inches for the whole green things and diamond, the largest is probably 10-12 inches. I made a template of the pattern I was following out of heavy duty card, cut it out with a xacto knife, and then used that to trace the pattern onto my panels (which are interfaced) with tailor’s chalk. I used DMC floss, and it’s the full 6 strand floss, not separate.
The yellow is the pattern I am following, and you can see my stitches here. It’s hard to get perfect, especially with me using a taffeta and also being new at this, but I remind myself that it’s about how it all looks together, each stitch alone doesn’t need to be flawless.
You’ll need floss, an embroidery needle, and a hoop (or several, depending on what design you’re doing. I’m using two sizes of oblong hoops). You can learn how to satin stitch here http://sublimestitching.com/pages/how-to-satin-stitch which does a much better job of explaining it than I could.
I’m using satin floss for the blue bits and the pink diamond, but I warn it is a pain in the ass to work with. Also, if you’re doing embroidery the threads will catch on every rough bit of skin you have on your hands. Exfoliate and moisturize like mad before you start and while you work, or you’ll quickly regret it.
Hope that helps!
(Decided to public post so anyone else curious can see.)
'Pinkwashing' and the dark side of breast-cancer philanthropy
Near the end of the polemical new National Film Board documentary Pink Ribbons, Inc., activist Judy Brady is asked what she thinks of when she sees the pink ribbon symbolizing breast-cancer awareness: “I see evil,” says Brady.
Who could possibly see anything wrong in a symbol that has mobilized people to raise hundreds of millions of dollars for breast-cancer research since the 1980s?
The answer is provided in this documentary by Quebec’s Léa Pool ( Emporte-Moi, Lost and Delirious). The film is based on a 2007 book by Queen’s University professor Samantha King ( Pink Ribbons Inc: Breast Cancer and the Politics of Philanthropy, one of a handful of studies in the past dozen years on the contentious social history of breast cancer and the gulf between the reality of the disease and the high-profile public perception of it.
In spite of the optimistic messages, breast cancer is not being beaten. According to the film, in 1940, a woman had a one-in-22 chance of developing the disease, while today that figure is one in eight (based on the assumption that, if all women lived to be 85, one in eight would develop it during her lifetime). And, in any case, the high profile of breast-cancer fundraising has less to do with its risk (cardiac disease and lung cancer kill more women) than its marketability.
As Barbara Brenner of the activist group Breast Cancer Action puts it, breast cancer is the “the poster child of cause marketing” because of its links to motherhood and women’s sexuality. With women doing most household buying, they’re a ready market for products that piggyback on the breast-cancer cause.
Brenner is one of a line of well-informed and impassioned women academics and activists who raise their objection to the “tyranny of cheerfulness,” demonstrated by scenes of pink-clad women walking and running for cancer fundraisers.
More insidiously, some industries began to use breast-cancer philanthropy to “pinkwash” soiled corporate reputations. Car companies that cause pollution, chemical companies that produce pesticides, cosmetics companies that use carcinogens, even KFC, which sold fried chicken in pink buckets – all engage in philanthropy to advertise their brands as woman-positive.
For balance, we have interviews with the formidable Nancy Brinker of the vastly successful fundraisers Susan G. Komen for the Cure, and a number of double-talking marketing types.
The line of critics accuses the pink-themed campaign of promoting a quick-fix mentality, focusing too much on early screening and achieving a “cure” for the disease, instead of researching causes and protection from environmental contaminants. As well, the pep-rally mentality of the movement obscures women’s fear and suffering. The case is made forcefully in interviews with a half-dozen women in a support group who are facing death from the disease: “The message,” one woman says, “is that if you just try really hard, you can beat it,” while those who died “weren’t trying very hard.”
Pink Ribbons, Inc. is unabashed advocacy filmmaking. In spite of improved mortality rates and scientific advances, few women in the film will acknowledge that pink-ribbon-financed research has done any good at all. Yet, this alternative message needs to be heard and Pool’s documentary provides some cold clarity on a well-advertised if misunderstood disease.
Ellen Degeneres is the greatest because she doesn’t insult anyone but she doesn’t tiptoe around anything either and she includes everyone and she makes people feel good about themselves while poking fun at them and this is the kind of comedy that should be embraced at award shows not misogynistic songs about breasts