period

New Blood: Third Wave Feminism and the Politics of Menstruation

brittany — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 10:00:00 +0000

When I first picked up New Blood, I immediately thought about Sarah Haskins, the feminist comedienne who does the segment ‘Target Women’ (on Current TV), in which she uses humour and sarcasm to draw attention to ridiculous media representations of women and female stereotypes. Watch ‘Target Women: Your Garden’—in which she exposes commercials that dare not name ‘lady parts’ and you’ll understand why I thought of her and now, after reading New Blood see in her a great representation of the contemporary feminist movement.

In New Blood, Chris Bobel, an associate professor and chair of women’s studies at the University of Massachusetts and the author of The Paradox of Natural Mothering, shines a timely and important spotlight on the small menstrual activist movement. Borne out of divergent feminist leanings that shape contemporary menstrual activism, it is based on the effort to speak openly about menstruation, the bleeding body, and to rebel against the notion of period as a ‘dirty little secret’ as well as to act against negative campaigns and build an environment in which alternative, environmentally sustainable and body-positive feminine health care is mainstreamed.

Bobel’s research for this book brought her in contact with two strands of menstrual activists: feminist spiritualist who celebrate the inherent female experience of menstruation (think: red-tents, menarche rituals at moonlight); and the radical menstruation activist who, choosing the term ‘menstrator’ to replace ‘woman’ to free themselves of the sex/gender dichotomy and resist the exclusivity of static gender identity. Bobel calls them ‘revolutionary’; (think: radical cheerleaders; anti-corporate rallies, eco-warriors, and dressing up as Tampons to cause stir in campuses across the US).

Though Bobel spends much time on charting the development of today’s menstrual activism, she also reviews the history of menstrual activism, its manifestation and different approaches (i.e. working to lobby the FemCare Industry and government to improve the safety of disposable products rather than today’s radical menstrual activists, who have turned their back on such products and the corporations completely) during the 1970s and 80s in the times of the ‘Toxic Shock Syndrome’ scare. Furthermore, Bobel’s underlying message goes out to all those of today’s 'Third Wave Feminism' to not dismiss its ties with the ‘Second Wave’ (of the 1960s, 70s and 80s), whose tactics and some messages and efforts were very similar.

What struck me most, when reading this book was that there is a dearth in literature that so eloquently combines the scholarly theoretical developments in feminism with the practical, human, and material activism as New Blood does. What I furthermore particularly liked about Bobels material was that she has made a great effort here to question the demographic (overwhelmingly white, middle-class, though in the case of radical menstrual activists, mainly homosexual/genderqueer) of this movement and provides an important and interesting hypothesis that accounts for the absence of larger numbers of women of colour in this movement and the apparent complete lack of trans-identified participants.

Written for an ‘undergrad/general public’ audience, this book is an important and interesting read for anyone who wonders what’s going on with feminism today, wants to know about its relationship with its recent past and has ever felt that ‘bleedin’ is everyone’s business’. Let’s just say that this feminist went online yesterday to buy a Mooncup and not just because it’s all the rage. Last year, The Guardian’s Kira Cochrane said: Menstrual activism is ‘having a moment.’ Lets hope that it is not just a fleeting apparition on the left-wing media landscape but, like Bobel advocates, continues to be used to ‘interrogate the material body and identity, the cultural and the biological, and the social and the individual…to be better equipped to make profound change.’

Written by: Anna Matussek, September 13th 2010

Utera Maxima Giant Uterus Plushie

admin — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Vulva Love Lovely

My uterus and I have a complicated relationship. Recently, I had elective surgery and did away with her ability to ever carry a child. She responded by stressing out and not sloughing off anything for an extra month, making me slightly panic that instead of being forever sterile, I’d become unintentionally pregnant.

Since then, I’ve been drinking uterine tea with cramp bark, trying to soothe her and let her know we’re still pals. She seems to appreciate it.

Being intentionally childfree is not without complication. I would love to have a “no baby” shower, at which people could give me decidedly not-child-friendly gifts that are dangerous, scary, or obscene. Most of my friends will have children; why can’t I get in on the compulsory gift registries just because I have no maternal instinct toward producing humans? But because such a party might offend certain people, I got myself a gift instead: a Utera Maxima Giant Uterus Plushie from Vulva Love Lovely. I named her Maxine.

Maxine the Uterine Plushie is roughly the same size I am. She takes up one half of the sofa and acts more as a body pillow than a small, tossable cushion on which one might lay her head. Her enormous fallopian tubes, each the same length as one of my arms, can act as a suitable dance partner if a person is unavailable. Bright magenta, she looks especially nice on my green couch and as you can surely imagine, she’s quite the conversation starter.

Jessica Marie, the designer behind this amazing doll-like pillow, makes and sells all sorts of body-positive goodies in her online store. I already have a handmade self-portrait vulva necklace, some vegan lip balm, and full set of her specialty leak-proof Red Dress cloth pads, which have revolutionized my periods. With my Utera Maxima on the couch and new stash of tea in my cupboards, I’m full speed ahead into accessorized childfree bliss. Even if you’re a mama or crave a few biological kiddos, you can join me in loving your body, inside and out, with some vulva-friendly products from an unabashedly feminist craftster.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, September 2nd 2010

Easy Virtue

admin — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 09:26:00 +0000

Directed by Stephan Elliott

Sony Pictures Classics

To say that Stephan Elliott was taken aback when approached to direct Easy Virtue would be an understatement. Asking the man behind the beloved drag queen road movie The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert to adapt a Noel Coward play didn’t exactly seem logical. But the producers of the film insisted there was a method to their madness. Considering the plot of the stage version—a conservative British family contends with their son’s new progressive American wife—they thought it only appropriate to inject a modern spark into the talky period piece.

Going along with this strategy, the producers decided to recruit not only Elliott but also composer Marius De Vries, the man behind the scores of both Moulin Rouge! and Romeo + Juliet. His music, paired with Elliott’s images, results in an exciting mixture of the contemporary and the nostalgic. De Vries alternates between vaudevillian instrumentals and the vocals of his modern cast, while Elliott both embraces and defies the “invisible” cinematography endemic to similar adaptations. It’s a relief to watch a period film that never even comes close to stifling, no matter how uptight some of its characters are. The world of Easy Virtue is real and relatable; we are immersed there and we feel right at home.

We are more than helped along by the mostly impeccable cast. Ben Barnes is effervescent as John Whittaker, bringing a boyishly playful sex appeal to the romantic lead, and Colin Firth and Kristin Scott Thomas are, of course, especially effective as his parents. A startlingly grizzled Firth delivers each line with an understated realism that is alternately hilarious and tragic. Thomas is equally believable as the rancorous Mrs. Whittaker, a role that could have easily slipped into caricature in the hands of anyone less capable. It is delightfully awkward to watch them tiptoe around each other as if they ended up married by accident. Even relative unknowns Katherine Parkinson and Kimberley Nixon are pitch-perfect as the Whittaker daughters.

I was skeptical about the casting of Jessica Biel in a period film, let alone as the lead alongside such acting royalty. Elliott has referred to Biel as a “blank slate” of an actor, and that may be true, but the slate just doesn’t get filled here. Though Biel tries her best, there’s something not-quite-there about her as Larita. She picks up more steam toward the middle of the film, once her character stops trying to please her fiancé’s family, but she never fully attains the level of charisma the role requires. Ultimately, you don’t quite understand why Larita inspires such vitriol from the women or such adulation from the men.

Still, Easy Virtue is both a faithful and refreshing film—and a very consistent, cohesive one at that. It does just what an adaptation should: give a fresh take on the original material while staying true to its spirit.

Written by: Caitlin Graham, June 11th 2009

Washable Menstrual Pads

admin — Sun, 10 Dec 2006 16:49:00 +0000

By LunaPads

A few years ago I started vibing on the eco-feminist tip by using re-usable, washable menstrual pads and the DivaCup, a tampon substitute that catches menstrual fluid in a small, silicone container that you insert into the vaginal canal. Both methods are an excellent way to be good to the environment, and your own body.

At first, I was skeptical. I'm not the earth goddess type that you might expect to be pimping these products. In fact, I had a lot of questions about the practicality of use. How does this thing work again? Will these really be as easy as using disposable pads? What do I do if I need to change my pad at work, school, a restaurant, or a party? I thought of every excuse in the book, but finally realized that this not-so-old dog just needed to learn a few tricks.

I figured out how to use these gizmos in a way that worked for me, and you know what the best part is? I've saved a ton of money! Ladies, you know how friggin’ expensive disposable pads and tampons are, and let me tell you, convenience just ain't worth that much cheddar. Sure, buying a monthly stock of LunaPads and a DivaCup is a bit of an upfront investment, but think of it like buying a house; it's totally worth it to not pay rent to some skeezy landlord who won't even return your calls when the radiator's on the fritz again. And with the holidays coming up, you can always tell your friends and fam to pop for a gift that keeps on giving.

Now after several years of use, I'm a walking advertisement for this company. In fact, they should be paying me for all of the positive publicity I throw their way, not to mention all of the pads I've bought to get my friends hooked too. I always did find myself on the giving end of peer pressure.

Final thought: you know how there are all of these commercials that pimp menstrual products with pearls and wings and all that stuff? Well, LunaPads have bells and whistles too; leopard print, hearts, polka dots, flowers, and other fabulous designs can match your menstrual moods, and they have plenty of different sizes to suit your flow. They even have panties! So, what are you waiting for? Support Canada’s economy and get yer LunaPad on!

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, December 10th 2006