Tonight's Show: Two Discussions on Abortion

Tonight Jennie and Geea dive head first into the controversial topic of abortion. But hey, we're feminsit radio, which means we love controversial topics!

We'll begin with a discussion of abortion in Romania. In 1966 Romania's communist dictator made abortion illegal. Prior to this, Romania had one of the most liberal abortion laws in Europe - in fact, abortion was the main form of birth control with four abortions for every live birth. Then virtually overnight, abortion was forbidden. Naturally, this had a massive impact on the country, including a lot of unwanted babies and the "fad" of adopting Romanian babies.

Second, we will discuss a controversial theory from the book Freakonomics by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner. Levitt goes on a quest to find out why crime rates in America began to drop drastically around 1990. He believes that Roe v. Wade had a lot to do with the drop in crime. The women most likely to have an abortion were very often unmarried, in their teens, poor and uneducated. Mothers who are single, poor and uneducated are most likely to raise children who become criminals. As Levitt states in Freakonomics, "Legalized abortion led to less unwantedness; unwantedness leads to high crime; legalized abortion, therefore, led to less crime."

Tune in from 8:00 to 8:30 tonight on CJSW 90.9fm in Calgary, or stream us online at cjsw.com. Remember, we podcast all our shows so subscribe to our podcasts if you want to stay in the loop!

Links
I mentioned on-air that I'd provide some links to articles that challenge Levitt's theory about crime and abortion. Here they are:
- Where Freakonomics Errs by Steven Malanga
- The Freakonomics Fiasco in Perspective by Steve Sailer

Podcasts temporarily delayed

Apologies to those of you who download our podcasts... no new podcasts have been available since April 12. This is due to a computer bug/problem on CJSW's end that they are working on. As soon as it's fixed, all the podcasts from April 19 onward will be available!
Sorry for the inconvenience.

Disney Gender Roles Deconstructed

Interesting...
I came across one of the photos linked here via Feminocracy and decided to check out the rest of the original post at Sociological Images.

They made me chuckle a little bit but I also couldn't deny how disturbingly accurate the commentary is.

If this isn't skinny, I don't know what is

The feminist blog-o-sphere is up in arms about the new cover of Shape magazine. This month's cover girl is Kim Kardashian - looking smokin' hot (although probably highly photoshopped) in her purple bikini. So what's the problem? Well, read the words printed next to her left bicep: "I'll never be one of those skinny girls."



Hortense, a writer at Jezebel comments, "As if we're supposed to find this admission believable and heroic as it sits next to an airbrushed picture of, uh, a 'skinny girl' who is currently a spokeswoman for the Kardashian QuickTrim diet pill system, a program she claims, in commercials for the brand, will help you create the body you deserve... In celebrating and promoting Kardashian's statement that she'll "never be one of those skinny girls," even though she very clearly already is, the magazine is essentially telling its audience that Kardashian doesn't represent thinness, which is ridiculous."



Sociological Images also has some great comments about this magazine cover - be sure to check it out.

My Struggle for Housework Equality

I am a feminist and my partner of 7 years is a pro-feminist guy. From the outside we appear like a very modern-day equality-for-all type of couple. And in many ways we are… except for one: household chores.



In chatting with my other feminist friends who are shacked-up with guys, I’ve noticed a definite trend around housework. After first moving in together, the men are keen to help out and put in the effort to get chores done. But after a few months, the honeymoon period ends and the men slide into a more relaxed attitude about housework. My guy and I have been living together for 3.5 years now, and there’s no doubt about it: I am doing the majority of household chores. I can’t help but think, “I’m a feminist… how did I let this happen?!”



In the book When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present authour Gail Collins reports on some interesting studies about the time we spend on housework. Apparently, couples who truly split chores 50/50 are extremely rare, even in homes where both adults work full time. Study after study shows that any way you measure it, women do about twice as much housework as men. It doesn’t matter if you’re working class, middle class, upper class, or the colour of your skin, the ratio remains 2:1. When child care is added to the mix, things become even more lopsided. In families with both parents working, women spend an average of 11 hours a week on childcare, while men spend three. The only households that seem to arrive at equitable divisions of labour more naturally are lesbian couples.



Lisa Belkin, a columnist for the New York Times who wrote on this topic, said she met a few couples who were seriously trying to divide household chores evenly, and it seemed like a tortuous process full of lists, negotiations and struggles on the part of the woman to get the man to understand her higher standards for cleanliness. I can completely understand this; I have tried a hundred different ways to get my partner to do more chores. We have tried everything from a white board where we list tasks to “scheduling” blocks of time into his iPhone calendar for him to do chores. So far, nothing has been very successful. The interesting thing is that he sincerely wants the housework to be divided 50/50, but that's never what happens.



What irks me the most is that I spend a lot of my personal free time doing things for “us” like grocery shopping, tidying the house and organizing our finances. When he has free time, he spends it doing things for himself like surfing the net, playing online games or going fishing. It definitely creates resentment in me, which I occasionally release by screaming at him. And so begins the cycle of the woman nagging, the man getting annoyed, the man not doing the chores, the woman getting even more resentful, the woman nagging again… and on and on it goes.



So what’s a modern day feminist to do? Why are all my straight feminist friends and I in the exact same situation? Should we lower our cleanliness standards, or should the men pick up their game? Thoughts, ideas, comments and suggestions are welcome!

backyard bliss

to me, the best things in life are: sunshine, a drink, and a good read.
ok so maybe not the BEST things, but some of the best! yesterday (and once again today) i sat in my backyard enjoying some magazines and books while sipping on some lemonade and then breaking out the deck of cards and playing card games with le sisterrrr. today its going to be a whopping 24 degrees Celsius in Toronto, not that hot but definitely warm enough to possibly get a tan and sit outside sleeveless! before i head back outside i'll have to hit the gym up to feel like i've accomplished more than sitting. BTW, I finally got a job, a REAL job...aka 40hrs/week permanent! horray for me! maybe i will finally be able to do some posting later on with some fabulous new wardrobe items courtesy of my new paycheques to come! for now: enjoy the pictures and if you have time to sit in the sunshine today i highly recommend it!!!! :)

Tonight: Interview with a Saskatchewan Feminist

Tonight I'm chatting with Bernadette Wagner, a poet and feminist who has been involved in Saskatchewan's activist/feminist community for the past 25 years.

Check out Bernadette's poetry book, This Hot Place.

Bernadette is also one of the founders of the Prarie Lily Feminist Society.

How I Survived 40 Lashes - By Tala Raassi as told to Michele Shapiro

The crime? Wearing a miniskirt — in the privacy of a friend's home — in Iran. As protesters increasingly take to the streets to oppose the oppressive regime, Raassi, now a fashion designer in the U.S., describes the punishment that changed her life.
There's a memory that has defined my life: I'm standing in line in a long, dark hallway, handcuffed to a friend, while listening to the horrifying sound of two other friends screaming out in pain. I'm in a jail in Iran's capital, Tehran, and I'm about to be served my punishment: 40 lashes. My friends emerge from a room down the hall, tears streaming down their faces and blood staining the backs of their shirts. I can barely breathe as I wait for the guards to call my name. Finally, it's my turn. My friend and I, still cuffed, enter the torture room together.

Two expressionless, middle-aged female guards, each dressed in a chador, or long black robe, remove our cuffs, then instruct us to lie facedown on a pair of bare mattresses. We will be lashed on our backs. The guards grab two black leather whips and dip them in water, to make the lashes sting. I turn my head and see them raise the whips high in the air, then I squeeze my eyes tight, terrified.

The first of 40 lashes comes down hard across my back. I feel a shock of searing pain. I'm wearing a cotton T-shirt, which you'd think would be preferable to wearing nothing at all, but I soon learn that it's actually worse. As the lashes come down one after another, the T-shirt starts to stick to the cuts on my back; the whip pulls the shirt away from the welts after each lashing, intensifying the pain. I keep thinking, I can't believe this is happening to me. I'm a good student; I come from a great family. I'm not a criminal.

The worst part is knowing that my family members, who are sitting right outside this room, can hear the lashing. The emotional pain is almost worse than the physical pain.

It all started five days earlier, the day of my 16th birthday. My Sweet Sixteen began as it should have: sweetly. Two of us drove to a good friend's house for my party. I was wearing what any traditional young Iranian woman would wear: a scarf over my hair, a black coat, and pants underneath my skirt. When I arrived at my friend's house, I shed my layers, wearing just a black T-shirt and miniskirt. There were about 30 friends at the party, male and female; we listened to music and chatted. It was innocent fun, no alcohol or drugs.

Without warning, not even a knock, the religious police — government-funded groups that enforce Islamic morality — threw open the door and started shouting. It's illegal in Iran to wear "indecent" clothes like miniskirts, to listen to music if it's not approved by the government, and to party with the opposite sex — although people hold gatherings like this in the privacy of their homes all the time. (We learned later that a guy who hadn't been invited to the party had reported us, to get revenge; he thought the party would simply get shut down.) I panicked and ran out the back door with a friend, which is the worst possible thing we could have done. But I was scared; the religious police, with their long, dark beards, are notoriously brutal.

My friend and I fled out into the street; we knocked on neighbors' doors, looking for a place to hide. The officers followed us, shouting. When they yelled, "Stop or we will shoot you!", I obeyed, because I knew they would carry out that threat. A policeman walked up behind me and swung the butt of his gun against my back so hard that I fell to the ground.

Then the officers dragged me back to my friend's house, where the police searched all of our bags and pockets. One policeman found my Koran, which I always carried with me; it made me feel safe. He hurled it at my face and asked if I knew what the Koran meant. (In his mind, it wasn't possible to wear fashionable clothing and also have faith.) Then he started rapping me on the head with his pen, before handcuffing me to a friend and shoving everyone into a van.

The police drove us to a local jail, then separated the boys and girls, throwing my 15 girlfriends and me into a barren, rat-infested room — no chairs, no beds, just a cold concrete floor. I looked around and saw a pregnant woman and a woman with a baby, along with several other sullen young women. One woman had clearly been plucked straight from her wedding; she sat quietly on the floor in her flowing white dress. I wondered what she had done "wrong."

We stayed overnight there on the floor, with no food or water. We had no idea what would happen to us, or how long we would have to remain there. My friends and I kept mostly to ourselves, trying not to attract any attention. We could hear rats crawling on the floor and screams from down the hall. If we needed to use the bathroom, we had to ask a guard's permission. There were squat toilets right out in the hallway, and no sinks. One woman informed us that an inmate had been raped with a Coke bottle by other prisoners. I was terrified that this might be my fate.

The next day, my mother arrived with some of the other moms, and I felt overjoyed to see her. She brought my favorite meal: rice and kebabs. But it wasn't exactly a happy feast. As my friends and I ate, all eyes were on us. The other women in our cell were hungry, too.

Two days turned into three, then four. Every day during adhan, the Islamic call to prayer that occurs three times a day, the guards would come and bark at us to line up and prepare to be lashed. We'd stand there for 40 minutes, but they never delivered on that threat. I'd always loved the adhan and found it beautiful, but that week, I came to dread it.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the guards rounded up my friends and me, pushed us into a bus, and drove us to a nearby court. We weren't allowed to have lawyers or to defend ourselves. The sentence simply came down from the judge: 50 lashes for the boys, 40 lashes for the girls. We were guilty of breaking Islamic rules: wearing indecent clothing, having a party with both genders in attendance, listening to Western music. Some of the parents tried to negotiate on our behalf, even offering to trade their businesses for our sentences, but they were denied.

We were immediately driven to a small concrete jailhouse near the courtroom, where the guards lined us up in the hallway, boys on one side, girls on the other. Our parents were there, too, and they managed to slip some money to the guards to lessen the severity of our lashes. I don't think the guards upheld their end of the deal, though. I don't see how the beating could've been any worse.

I hated that my family had to hear my lashing; the police wanted our parents there to teach us all a lesson. The beating lasted for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was over in 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes changed my future.

When I was released, I hugged my parents more tightly than I ever had before. I'll never forget that seemingly interminable car ride home. We all just sat in silence; my family simply didn't know what to say. When I got home, I headed straight for the shower and sat on the tile floor for six or seven hours, just letting the warm water run over me. I felt so dirty. I desperately wanted to feel clean.

But the fear was not over yet. Officials at my high school called that same day, demanding to know why I had attended the illegal party. I was terrified that they would kick me out and I wouldn't get to graduate with my friends. However, since I had only a few months left until graduation, the school decided to let me return.

In those first few weeks after my beating, I felt like I was in a state of shock, a sort of trance. I kept to myself, and I barely left the house except to go to school. The physical scars healed, but the emotional scars would not go away so easily; in order to cope, I just tried to block out what had happened. I simply wouldn't let myself think about it.

After graduation, my parents felt that it would be good for me to get out of Iran for a while, so I went to Dubai and stayed with friends. I had always planned to study law after high school, but in Dubai, a different idea began to take shape in my mind. I started thinking about doing something that would somehow celebrate women.

A few months later, I moved to Washington, D.C., to live with a relative. (I'd actually been born in the States — my family had lived in the U.S. for a brief time — so I had a passport and didn't need a visa.) At my new home in D.C., surrounded by American women who were free to wear what they want and think what they want, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: I would become a fashion designer. Because to me, fashion equaled freedom.

I'd always loved sewing. As a girl, I watched my mother, an interior designer, sew beautiful pillows and curtains for our home. I tried to emulate her, stitching an array of cool outfits for my Barbie. (I couldn't actually buy any Barbie outfits in Iran since the dolls were illegal there.) I used the best materials — a swatch from my father's leather sofa, a snip from the bottom of my mother's mink coat, much to her dismay. Fashion had been a hobby for me while I was growing up, but in light of my lashing, I wanted it to become more. I felt that women should feel proud of their bodies, not ashamed of them.

Of course, I had everything going against me: I had no fashion training; I couldn't even speak English. So I started from scratch. I took language classes and studied determinedly each night. I bought a book at Barnes & Noble about how to write a business plan.

Then I researched things like pattern making and manufacturing. I visited clothing factories, fabric distributors, and showrooms to learn everything I could about the industry. My family helped me out with money, and I also worked at a local boutique. Finally, I started designing my own line, with some fun, funky, off-the-shoulder tops.

Five years later, I was at a friend's party one night, when a guy complimented me on my top — a black cotton tee with a silver pocket and studs along the bottom. I said, "Thank you — I made it myself." He asked if I was a designer, and I said that I was trying to become one. His response: "Why are you just trying?" He became my first investor and helped me get my business off the ground. I named my line Dar Be Dar, which means "door to door" in Persian.

Today, I'm 27 years old, and my designs are in boutiques in Miami, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Dubai. I also sell my clothes directly through my Website, darbedar.net. I make sexy bikinis, tops, and leggings, all by hand. This past year, I had a show at Miami Fashion Week. Now I'm planning to launch a T-shirt line inspired by the revolutionary movement in Iran. The line is called Lipstick Revolution, in honor of women around the world who are fighting for their freedom.

The punishment I suffered in Iran put my life on a different course. To this day, when I hear the adhan , I'm brought right back to the terror I felt in that Iranian jail. But now, with some distance, I can see that the experience made me who I am — and made me appreciate my freedom, instead of taking it for granted. One thing that hasn't changed is my faith.

I'm still very proud to be Muslim and Persian. I'm excited to be pursuing my dream of becoming a fashion designer, and I hope that I can inspire, and maybe even help empower, other young women. For me, each day is now a dream filled with creativity, freedom, and safety. And yes, I still carry my Koran with me wherever I go.

Michele Shapiro is the editor of the Website drivelikeawoman.com and the head of communications and outreach at New York University's Center on International Cooperation.

Story at: http://lifestyle.ca.msn.com/real-life/inner-you/hearst-article.aspx?cp-documentid=24117249

You want me to stick that where?

This vintage ad from 1902 reads:

Every woman is interested and should know about the wonderful MARVEL Whirling Spray! The new vaginal syringe. Injection and suction. Best - safest - most convenient. It cleanses instantly.



Ask your druggist for it. If he cannot supply the MARVEL, accept no other, but send stamp for illustrated book __?__. It gives full particulars and directions invaluable to ladies.

Um, OK, so where to begin...

1. Injection and suction? What the fuck? Is this secretly a home abortion kit made to look like a douche?

2. "Ask your druggist for it. If HE cannot supply..." Naturally, the druggist is a man.

3. The illustrated book is "invaluable to ladies" eh? Hmm, I want to see these illustrations!

4. Whirling spray in MY vagina? Oh, Hell no!



Thanks to Vintage Ads for posting this little beauty!

wasp much?

dress on sale from H&M
necklace: reitmans!
clutch (on table): grandmother's vintage

this was before a dinner at the lovely Italian restaurant in Yorkville, downtown Toronto, Sotto Sotto
I look like a young housewife... maybe that's a good or bad thing?

interview with daria

this is a stunning photo from an editorial from FashionGoneRogue with the famous Canadian model Daria.
took my breath away...

Did you know that May 16 is Stepmother's Day?

Psychology Today has an interesting article about Stepmother's Day, which is unofficially on May 16th.

Many [stepmothers] feel unacknowledged, overlooked, and unappreciated by their husbands and their husbands’ kids of all ages. And by their husband’s ex-wives, too. “I cart those kids to their after-school activities every day because their mom’s work hours mean she’s unable to. I care about my stepkids, I really do, but it’s a lot of work to do everything I do for them and she has never, ever once thanked me for it. Neither have they. It bugs me on Mother’s Day especially, when she’s getting lauded. I feel that I do the heavy lifting—and I DO do the heavy lifting—and she should thank me,” one woman with twin nine- year-old stepkids wrote.

Kinda interesting. I think that Mother's day should be a blanket term to celebrate mothers in all their forms: adoptive mothers, stepmothers, grandmothers who take care of their grandchildren, etc. But it's nice to see there is some kind of movement, unofficial as it may be, to recognize that mothers need to be appreciated - whether they're the birth-mother or not.

Calgary woman battles gender-discrimination case for 19 years

The CBC reports on a case of gender-discrimination that has been going through Alberta's court system since 1991.

Delorie Walsh filed a complaint against her employer, Mobil Oil Canada, in 1991 because she was paid less than her male co-workers and her bosses blocked her from promotions and treated her unfairly.

In the 1980's Walsh worked as a junior map clerk at a company that would later merge with Mobil Oil. Her goal was to become a land agenet (or "landman"), but she was apparently told by her boss that "No damn woman will be a landman in the surface department."

Walsh's 19-year battle with this case is now nearing resolution as a week-long tribunal began on Tuesday. I wish her sucess and applaud her for sticking to her guns for 19 years!

Drum & Bass Women of Canada Tour

The DJ world is a notoriously male-dominated industry, so it's awesome to see that a ladies-only drum and bass show is coming to Calgary! Even better... it features CJSW's very own Lotus Queen from the long-standing friday night show Remote Emissions.

Friday May 14
9:00 pm - 2:00 am
Sals on 17th Ave (529 17th ave S.W. Calgary)
Tickets are $10 at the door, or free before 10:00 pm

Check out the Facebook event for more details.

Hypnobirth

On tonight's show, I will be doing an interview on hypnosis as an alternative birthing method. Tune in at 8pm! In the meantime, check out Calgary Hypnobirthing to find out more!

Wicked Workshops for Women

The Women's Centre of Calgary offers an amazing variety of FREE workshops for women! Workshop topics are extremely varied and interesting; self defense, money management, yoga, eating better, arts & crafts and SO MUCH MORE.



Check out page 4 of the Women's Centre's Summer Newsletter to see all the available workshops. Below are a few examples of workshops I think sound really cool.



Feminism 101

May 20, 6-8 pm



What's Next? Understanding the Economic Crisis

June 15, 5:30-8 pm



How to Become an Ally - Unlearning Oppressive Practices

June 24, 5-8 pm



Understanding Your Car - Basic Car Mechanics

June 29, 6-8 pm



Self Defense - Level 1

August 4, 6-8 pm



Eating & Staying Healthy on a Budget

August 16, 6:30-8 pm



All workshops are free. To register phone 403-264-1155

Disabled Model Spoofs American Apparel

The "spoof" ad photographed by Holly Norris, featuring model Jes Sachse

This is so awesome!



Holly Norris (a Canadian!) has created a project called "American Able" where she uses a disabled model to spoof American Apparel ads.



Here is a little bit about the project (taken from Holly's website):



'American Able' intends to, through spoof, reveal the ways in which women with disabilities are invisibilized in advertising and mass media. I chose American Apparel not just for their notable style, but also for their claims that many of their models are just ‘every day’ women who are employees, friends and fans of the company. However, these women fit particular body types. Their campaigns are highly sexualized and feature women who are generally thin, and who appear to be able-bodied. Women with disabilities go unrepresented, not only in American Apparel advertising, but also in most of popular culture. Rarely, if ever, are women with disabilities portrayed in anything other than an asexual manner, for ‘disabled’ bodies are largely perceived as ‘undesirable.’ In a society where sexuality is created and performed over and over within popular culture, the invisibility of women with disabilities in many ways denies them the right to sexuality, particularly within a public context.

The original "Pantytime" ad by American Apparel

Laboratory of Feminist Pataphyics Presents: Ateliers of the Near Future

Clink on the 'Laboratory of Feminist Pataphysics' title above to read more!

Feminist Poetry Reading - Thursday May 6

Bernadette Wagner has been involved in Saskatchewan's feminist and activist community for over 25 years. Although her writing has appeared in journals, magazines, online and in many other places, "This Hot Place" is her first book of poetry.

Bernadette's poems are an examination (and cross-examination) of place, heart, politics, the socio-placement of women in the land and their quest for spiritual grace and worth. Her poetry is invluenced by both her feminist beliefs, as well as the natural landscapes of Saskatchewan.

Check out Bernadette's book and hear her read at her upcoming poetry reading in Calgary:
Thursday May 6 @ 7:30 p.m.
Pages on Kensington
1135 Kensington Rd. NW

First VIM Photoshoot

On Saturday, April 24th VIM Magazine had its first editorial photo shoot. We will be featuring these images in our media kit. Our models Katie Dixon and Mike Moriarty did a fantastic job despite the slightly rainy weather. Thank you to Abbey Moore for taking these photographs and to the VIM staff members who helped make this shoot such a success!

Here are a few of our favorite images from the shoot...

All photography by Abbey Moore.

It's Official!

As of Monday, May 3 VIM Magazine is officially a registered Michigan State University campus organization!

Kick-Ass Feminist Event - This Saturday!

What?
The Feminal Artery is a female centered event that will showcase a culturally diverse body of female talent. While women are the focus of the event, the event is not limited to women, and is open for appreciation by all.

Who's preforming?
Dance groups, acoustic artists, spoken word, bands, DJs.
See the complete list of artists.

Where/When?
Saturday May 8, 2010
Hillhurst-Sunnyside Community Centre, 1320 5 Ave NW, Calgary
Noon to 1:00am

Cost?
$2 suggested minimum donation at the door. Proceeds will be donated to a women's group in Bolivia known as 'Mujeres Creando' or 'Women Creating,' which will allow the event to have a lasting impact outside of Calgary.

Other information:
-All ages (mature audiences @ 7:30pm)
-Alcohol served to patrons of legal age

Get out there and support our lovely local women!