Now I can Say Nothing

First, they came for the "child molesters," but I was not a child molester. So I said nothing.

Then, they came for the "terrorists," but I was not a terrorist. So I said nothing.

Next, they came for the "conservatives," but I was not a conservative. So I said nothing.

Finally, they came for the "middle class," and I found that I am middle class. Now I can say nothing.

~Riot.Jane

Sudanese Women Flogged for Wearing Pants!

KHARTOUM, SUDAN -- Journalist Lubna Ahmed al-Hussein was one of 13 women arrested in a restaurant for wearing trousers this past Monday. The usual Sharia punishment for wearing "indecent" dress is 40 lashes. 10 of the 13 women plead guilty and agreed to accept a 10-lash punishment quickly in order to resolve the situation quickly, the three others are fighting the charges.

Khartoum, in northern Sudan, is ruled by Sharia (Islamic) law. Southern Sudan is not. Sharia law is not supposed to apply to non-Muslims, but the public order police nonetheless arrested the women in a restaurant that is popular with foreigners and journalists.

"I was wearing trousers and a blouse and the 10 girls who were lashed were wearing like me, there was no difference," she told the BBC's Arabic service, "I didn't do anything wrong."

Al-Hussein and the other two women who contacted lawyers instead of pleading guilty are awaiting their fates. Al-Hussein has printed and sent invitations to public officials and other press representatives to attend the expected trial in order to publicize the wrongdoing.

~Riot.Jane

After the Rain

I am not a feminist. I have no problems with feminism, it's just a little rigid for me. I have always admired feminists, and have no problems with them, but I believe that I'm more for equality across the bored . . . except for assholes . . . but I digress. Not. A. Feminist. I just wanted that out of the way.

So, you won't be too disappointed in me when I say that I'm lonely. I'm not alone at all, and I have plenty of companionship, but I am lonely for a husband . . . or maybe an ideal . . . I'm not really sure. Let me tell you a story:

A long time ago, I fell in Love. I'm not capitalizing it out of some sappy ideal or stupid unrealistic idea about life, I was actually head over heels, having serious co-dependency issues, goofy in Love. He was The One, my everything. Problem was, he only loved me, and, therefore, he could live without me. Too many years have passed for me to untangle his motives out of all that, suffice to say that he was resolute enough in his beliefs that he ended it despite my begging him not to.

I fell apart a whole lot. I don't know what I would have done if a friend hadn't taken me in. I found that I tend to hyper-focus on lyrics* when I'm upset. I remember really agonizing over some doozies like:

Well, I guess you left me with some feathers in my hand
Did it make you any easier to just leave me where I stand?

or

If I could be with you again,
I would fall all over you like rain

or

You look like shit, what's your problem bitch?
Your legs feel like sandpaper, you can't do anything right

Cheerful stuff, right? Let's just say that I was a wee bit bitter. Regardless, the lyrics from one song really stick out in my memory from this period:

Stay by my side,
Stay here forever,
I'll be your heart of hearts,
You'll be my spring.
Don't you leave me alone,
Don't you leave me forsaken,
To hold you tonight, I would give anything

The song, by a band called Celtic Thunder, really captured my confusion, indignation and desperation. Over and over I listened to that song, to the point where I have it memorized backward and forward. I got even more indignant, I moved on and I built myself a life, brick by brick, with the help of my family and friends.

Fast forward a decade, and there was a tragedy. Most of those that I grew up calling family disappeared out of greed or cowardice; I don't know which to apply, and I don't care, the ones that count stuck around. I found myself longing to start a family of my own, to find a partner, and have some rug rats to give me gray hairs.

It's harder than it sounds, but I'm trying to figure it out bit by bit. The first step is getting over this concept of "one and only." That's when the last and most important verse of the song popped unbidden into my mind:

They say that true love comes once and once only,
And the way lover's start is the way they'll remain,
But I've got my eyes open,
In my heart I'm still hopin',
That the sun shines the brightest after the rain

I hope that's the truth, partially because I'm lonely, partially because I'm lazy, and partially because I really love kids, and would love to have a whole bushel of them. I just have to make some room, but that's do-able. Wish me luck.

~Lolly "Just Found the Sun" Pop

*Song lyrics were from memory, but they were, in order, Angels of the Silences by The Counting Crows, Mandocello by Concrete Blonde, That Day by Poe, and After the Rain by Celtic Thunder. I have no right to these songs, nor affiliation with the artists, just a deep and abiding appreciation for a good turn of phrase.

This Week's WTF Moment

I bring to your attention (and hope for you discussion!) this StrangeNews tidbit from the St. Petersburg Times:

TREASURE ISLAND — A woman has been arrested after accosting her live-in
boyfriend with a pink sex toy.

Kimberly Lynn Calvert, 45, [address redacted], was arrested Wednesday on a charge of simple battery.

Police say an intoxicated Calvert first yelled at John Anthony Gonzales,
with whom she has been living for five months, then "began poking" him "in the
groin area multiple times" with the sex toy.

Gonzalez called 911.

Is it possible for a woman to demand "Pay more attention!" any more strongly than poking him in the groin with her dildo? Why did he feel the need to call 911 for being poked? Poked!

And WTF is the reason for printing their complete address, including apartment number? The only purpose I can see is to shame her (or him, or both).

~Riot.Jane

Hush Child, or We’ll All Be Killed (updated)

We are thankful for the effort that two Janes expended to collaboratively create the following contribution. The opeing paragraph (in italics) is a foreword from the Janes themselves.

<--->

This is a story of a life with an alcoholic father. It is a combination of many womens’ stories. It is more frequent than we like to admit. My friend Rhonda and I worked on this together. We consider it the first of many memories coming from many women’s lives. We will continue to share these stories as time permits… Please read them and comment.

<--->

"Hush Child, or We’ll All Be Killed"


DEEANNNAAA! BAM! BAM! BAM!! OPEN THIS DOOR!!!!

Suddenly the tranquility of the afternoon at my grandparents' house erupts into a nightmare again. My father begins to beat his mother's front door violently with his. I believe the whole thing is, at any minute, about to come crashing in he is striking it so hard. All of us - my whole family, brothers, sister, mother - petrified inside. My grandparents run wildly, securing additional doors and windows to prevent another way in. A familiar drill. Familiar, but no less terrifying.

“He’s drunk again” the grown ones whisper. He’s drunk again. Oh God…

BITCH!!!!! SLUT!!!!!!! WHORE!!!!!!! WHO HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING BEHIND MY BACK!!!!!!!

My three tender years of experience cannot understand what "Johnnie’s drunk again" means really. What I do understand is that Daddy being "drunk again" means violence. It means my mother being mercilessly beaten for imagined crimes against him. It means police and hospitals; and oceans and oceans of tears. In the aftermath comes the strange silence where no one speaks of it. All pretending the nightmare events of "Johnnie being drunk again" never occur. Daddy himself sheepish, or disappearing all together. Mother battered, bruised, weeping, and the family gathered in strange silent vigil.

BAM! BAM! … DDDDEEEEEEAAAAAANNNNAAA!!! YOU BITCH!!!! BAM! BAM!!BAM!!! I HATE YOU, YOU BITCH!!! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!!!


“He’s got a gun!” my grandfather shouts from the door. “Johnnie!” my brave Papa shouts, “put that gun away! I’m calling the police! You aint comin’ in here drunk!”

FUCK HER!!!! I AM GOING TO KILL THAT BITCH!!!!! BAM! BAM!! BAM!!!

I wet my pants. I begin to scream. My Grand-Mama grabs me up and whisks me to a closet under the stairs. She crawls to the very back with me and covers us with blankets in the pitch black. “No matter what, Lucy, you stay here. Don’t you move” she commands me. “Grand-Mama loves you. You stay here no matter what happens. Hush child, or we’ll all be killed”.

DEAAANNNNAAAA!!! BITCH!!! YOU SLUT!!!! YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW OR I’LL KILL EVERYBODY!!! BAM! BAM! BAM!!!!!

Grand-Mama tries to remove me from her arms so she can leave to help, but I cling to her, deeply afraid. The blackness of the closet eats away at my sanity. Her breath comes fast and hard. I could smell the terror on her skin, in her sweat. Rivers of it ran off her trembling body. Rivers of sweat ran off mine. I hear her fright in her quavering, unreal voice. I hear mine in my own helpless whimpering. There is more shouting from my father … more hammering at the door, more filthy yelling from the yard, straight into my Mama’s heart.

DEEEAAANNNAAA!!! BITCH!!! YOU SLUT!!!!I AM COMING IN THERE AND I AM GOING TO BEAT THE CRAP OUT IF YOU!!! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!! BAM! BAM! BAM!!!!!

BAM!!! BAMBAMMBAMBAMMMBAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!

BIIIIIIITTTTTTTTCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I bury my head deep into my grandmother’s breast in the darkness. We cling together, she and I, lost in fear. The frantic running of feet up the stairs. My Mama? My brothers and sister? Were they going to hide like me and my Grand-Mama? My Papa, was he hiding them safely away, as I was hidden? Would he stay with them and keep them safe? Why did Daddy do this? I weep silently remembering my Grand-Mama’s warning. I listen intently to all the terrible noises. I will not make a sound so Grand-Mama will not be killed. So my family will not be killed.

BAMMMMBAMMMBBBBAAAMMMM!!! DEEEEAAAANNNNNNNNNAAAA! COME OUT HERE YOU BITCH SO I CAN SHOOT YOUR STUPID HEAD OFFFFF!!!!!!!!

Silently tears flow from my Grand-Mama heart onto my head, they Baptise me in her pain. They stream down my face mixing with my own. Our fear, our pain, our love is one. She is me and I am her and I can’t separate the two of us. My heart/her heart hammering in my chest, my breath/her breath is too fast …We are nauseated, we are dizzy, we are petrified. Sirens wail coming closer and closer.

BITCH!!!! BITCH!!! BAM!!!!!! BAMMMM!!!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!!! BAMMMM!

CRACK!!!!

HE’S INSIDE!!!!! HE IS INSIDE!!!!!

Terrified screams erupt from deep within the house!!! Is it my mother? Is it my sister? Is it all of us? Someone is being killed! I begin to scream hysterically in response. "He is killing us! Heiskillingusheiskillingus!!!" My mind is lost in the overwhelming fear. My head is spinning out of control and suddenly all goes blank.

I wake in my grandmother’s bed to the smells of dinner. I hear the hushed voices of my family. It’s over I thought, we are all here, all safe now. Was it real? Was it a dream? It didn’t matter, because in my family, we don’t speak of it. Don’t remember it. IT isn’t real if we don’t acknowledge it. He has not killed us …… Hush child, or we’ll all be killed.

Or maybe we are already dead.

~Barbara Rhyne-Tucker (writer)
~Rhonda McLearen (editor)

Sexist Vintage Advertisements

I've assembled a collection of sexist vintage advertisements as part social commentary, part US sociological history lesson for your consideration and discussion.
Sexist Retro Ads
Interspersed amongst the vintage advertisements are instructions (we've called them "Wifely Notes") from the 1963 book Fascinating Womanhood by Helen B. Andelin. The sources used to compile the presentation are attributed and linked on the last slide.

Looking forward to a lively discussion! ;-)

~Riot.Jane

Help with Container Gardening?

Having moved closer to the city, I no longer have a yard to plant in. I don’t feel like this should limit my ability to grow the plants that I want. I am currently starting a quest to grow a garden all within pots. I have read up a little on the Internet on how to go about this, but all the different varieties of plants and “rules” were kind of bogging me down. My goal is to have a veggie garden that I can use to make great salads and also to share extras with my friends.

I really, really love tomatoes! Big ones, little ones, I like them all! So, I have started out my garden in a pot with a tomato plant and 2 bell pepper plants.

You can buy plants at almost any store now it seems. Grocery stores, home improvement, discount stores, all carry a variety of plants. How do I choose the right one? Look for the words, petite, patio, husky, etc. More varieties of veggies that will grow well while pot bound are being created all the time. Make sure you have the correct lighting for it. If you live in a really shady area, be sure that the plants that you are selecting work well in the shade.

What are the watering requirements? One big problem that I am having right now is that it is so hot! I usually water my plants in the evening in hopes that all the water won’t evaporate off before they even get to drink it. With temperatures reaching 100 degrees or more, it is really difficult to keep my plants from looking like they are about to die. Unhealthy plants don’t produce flowers or fruit.

This is what I have learned so far. The experiment continues. I welcome any suggestions that you might have to improve my garden in pots. :) Hopefully, soon, I will be telling you about the “fruits” of my labors.

~SunnyDay