Heather Brown

The Line

admin — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

This documentary, which clocks in at just twenty-four minutes, will continue to haunt you long after it ends. The Line is Nancy Schwartzman’s wonderfully brave effort to interrogate the circumstances of a sexual assault she endured while living aboard. Because she is not a “perfect victim” (the incident happened after she willingly went home with a guy, as opposed to having been raped by a stranger), she soon finds that this leaves her no recourse in the eyes of law.

What’s more, Schwartzman’s sense of herself as a sex-positive feminist, an identity she had long embraced, was severely shaken. What becomes clear, however, is that it isn’t Nancy who has a problem: it’s the misogynist sexual rules of a culture that beckons a woman’s sexual confidence on the one hand and beats it into submission on the other that are really to blame. Images of bikini-clad twenty-somethings doing keg stands while a crowd of young men look on only make her point further (need I mention Jersey Shore?)

Rendered as a kind of visual personal essay, Schwartzman frames her story with a chorus of voices—family, friends, advocates, legal counsel—who, though sympathetic, cannot give her the answer she seeks: where is the line of consent in which a sexual encounter goes from wanted to unwanted? Schwartzman makes two important realizations on which the whole story of trying to understand the why and how of her date rape pivots: the line is as personal as it is real.

Empowered and motivated to own her line of consent and let her rapist know he crossed it, Schwartzman arranges a meeting with him and records their conversation in what is a truly staggering few minutes of film. The Line is not a film you merely watch and put back on the shelf. Schwartzman has made sure of that by using it as a platform from which to promote conversation, debate, and outreach about the constellation of sex, power, pleasure, and consent. As she says, “The Line is a film. The Line is a movement. The Line is up to you.”

Written by: Heather Brown, February 18th 2010

New Muslim Cool

admin — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 04:10:00 +0000

Directed by Jennifer Maytorena Taylor

POV Films

You might come to this film with some knowledge of hip-hop, or you might not. You might even have some knowledge of Islam, too. Neither is required, however, because New Muslim Cool is, when you get right down to it, a story of a man trying hard to know and be himself in the world.

Jennifer Maytorena Taylor gives us Hamza Pérez (formerly Jason), a Puerto Rican Muslim from the streets of Boston who, along with his Muslim community from Beantown, has transplanted himself to Pittsburgh, PA to start a mosque and put down some roots. Hamza is also a hip-hop artist, and he and his brother Suliman call their rap group Mujahideen Team (aka “M-Team”). Early in the film they joke that while they don’t speak much Arabic, they do know “Arabic Spanglish Ebonics.” As a former drug dealer who converted to Islam at twenty-one, Taylor frames the film with Hamza’s description of having two recurring dreams in his life: in one, he goes to jail, and in the other, he dies. He claims that “they both came true,” though not in ways he would have thought.

Throughout the film, we see Hamza working tirelessly to negotiate the seemingly disparate layers of his life, which includes managing the unintended social consequences of his hip-hop lyrics—think Immortal Technique—on his job as an interfaith prison chaplain. Without giving too much away, Taylor’s eighty-six-minute film brings Hamza’s journey as a husband, father, son, brother, artist, and man of faith into your living room in a way that will fully engross and inspire reflection—regardless of where you are coming from spiritually.

Written by: Heather Brown, October 28th 2009

Bit of Arts and Crafts II Ceiling Fan Pull

admin — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 09:07:00 +0000

By Trace Ellements

It’s hard to know exactly how to describe a product that is, at once, so lovely, functional, and distinct. The Trace Ellements ceiling fan pull is a handmade, sturdy item that consists of smooth moss green and deep caramel swirled beads held together by thick brass wire. It can easily fasten to most ball chains, and adds a nice burst of color and elegance to an otherwise undecorated ceiling fan. It doesn’t matter whether your fan has a wooden finish, though it certainly complements a brown backdrop. I’m not the kind of person who adheres to a particular decorating scheme, but I think it’s safe it say that this little fan pull would accent just about any color palette in your home. As far as I’m concerned, the kitchen is a nice spot because it makes getting up in the morning that much more pleasant.

The combination of bead designs and textures layered on top of one another forms a coherent pattern of shades. Such a mixture of colors is enhanced by the different shapes of the beads. Indeed, Trace Ellements is defined by difference, given its integration of materials like semi-precious stones; German, Czech, Chinese, and Indian glass beads; and crystal, porcelain, metal, and fabric elements.

Founder Tracy Ellison has been creating inventive jewelry and home accessories, since 1990, and there’s no limit to her artistic combinations. The company also has a range of goodies from earrings to bookmarks to zipper pulls. Ellison's really got something for everyone. If you tend to lead more toward the silver than the gold, or toward bright and busy hues rather than the more muted variety, Trace Ellements has a range of fan pulls to choose from at the very reasonable price of $16.

Written by: Heather Brown, August 20th 2009

Resistance Behind Bars: The Struggles of Incarcerated Women

admin — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:37:00 +0000

By Victoria Law

PM Press

Of the many staggering statistics in Victoria Law’s eight-year study, Resistance Behind Bars: The Struggles Of Incarcerated Women, the following fact will make your jaw drop: the number of incarcerated women in United States prisons has almost doubled from 68,468 to 104,848 between 1995 and 2004.

Like their male counterparts, this population of women is overwhelmingly comprised of African Americans and Latinas, which can be largely attributed to racial profiling—not, as popular mythology might suggest—an ad hoc increase in crime amongst these ethnic groups. Law’s fascinating text is born from her personal experience as a teenager who narrowly avoided incarceration herself, and the friendships she cultivated with women who were not so lucky. As Law raised her own consciousness about the prison-industrial—complex, she began investigating incarcerated women’s involvement in prisoners-rights movements and was told flat-out by other activists that “Women don’t organize.”

Resistance Behind Bars is a compelling testament to the untruth of this statement, and offers innumerable examples of women’s prison uprisings. One such instance is a 1975 sit-down demonstration for improved medical care at the North Carolina Correctional Center for Women, in which women fought back against prison guards attempting to beat and herd them into a gymnasium. Creatively, these prisoners used volleyball net poles, chunks of concrete and anything else immediately available, causing the state to invoke the aid of over 100 guards from other prisons to pacify the rebellion.

Law’s exhaustively researched text includes anecdotal information she harvested from interviews, letters, and conversations with prisoners as well as government reports and major media sources. Most importantly, Law highlights the deeply gendered nature of women’s prison experiences, which cuts across virtually all aspects of incarcerated life. Sexual abuse, motherhood, physical labor, education, medical care, and the extent to which women prisoners’ activism receives media attention are all areas that Law treats with a distinct sense of urgency. What’s more, Resistance Behind Bars has bonus features that underpin Law’s activist project: a list of resources organized according to region for how readers can get involved in the prisoners-rights movement, and an annotated list of recommended readings.

Written by: Heather Brown, July 5th 2009

White Flags of Winter Chimneys

admin — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 23:50:00 +0000

By Wendy & Lisa

The last time we heard from Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman was 1998 and they were known as Girl Bros. Before that, they were backing up Prince in his legendary band, The Revolution. In fact, we have these two ladies to thank for the likes of “Purple Rain” and “Raspberry Beret.”

White Flags of Winter Chimneys is all about atmosphere, which is to say it’s thick with textured vocal and string arrangements that form a kind of cloudy yet bright mixture of sounds. Though containing only nine songs, this album is both energetic and sprawling, making it a kind of mini-epic. The opening track, “Balloon,” is an ethereal, almost childlike, meditation that gives way to the choral and guitar-heavy pop ballad, “Invisible.” There’s something ominous about “Niagara Falls,” in which Wendy and Lisa hauntingly repeat, “It looks so small from here/Please don’t help me.” Despite their sweet and smooth voices, there’s a sincere melancholy that comes through.

The last three tracks, “You and I,” “White Flags of Winter Chimneys,” and the nearly nine-minute long, “Sweet Suite (Beginning at the End),” divide the album in two distinct episodes. The first has more momentum than the second, which makes White Flags of Winter Chimneys less a cohesive collection of songs than a rich drama of emotional contradictions, which is good, if you’re in the mood to be manipulated. If not, then I suggest alternating between the more upbeat numbers and saving mellow ones for when you need some quiet time.

Written by: Heather Brown, July 3rd 2009

Mama PhD: Women Write about Motherhood and Academic Life

admin — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 16:58:00 +0000

Edited by Elrena Evans and Caroline Grant

Rutgers University Press

At the beginning of the second year of my MA program in English, I found out that one of my advisors was pregnant. I’ll never forget what she said to me: “You know, you would think that academia would be a supportive place to have a kid. It’s so not.” She was a then-junior faculty member, and would put off going up for tenure for two years.

When I started reading the individual essays in Mama PhD, I realized that my advisor’s story was the rule rather than the exception. The collection is divided into four sections, “Part One: The Conversation”; “Part II: That Mommy Thing”: “Part IV: Recovering Academic”; and “Part V: Momifesto.”

You can find many of contributors in the online journal Literary Mama (especially the editors, Evans and Grant), though for the most part they represent a range of academic fields, from biology to philosophy.

For the most part, the essays in Mama PhD are concerned with capturing the deep ambivalence the authors feel in their abilities to balance parenthood and professional demands of teaching, committee work, and research. Indeed, some women, such as Jessica Smartt Guillon, depict experiences of pregnancies met with blatant hostility—even from mentors and colleagues who claim to be feminist. Others stories capture women’s hard-won academic success in the midst of raising several children, like Leah Bradshaw’s powerful essay “The Facts, The Stories.”

But make no mistake: this collection is an unequivocal critique of the infrastructure—or lack thereof—in place for women who want to explore their identities as both mothers and intellectuals. The joint essay “Nontraditional Academics” issues a call for women who leave the academy temporarily or permanently to pursue their interest in full-time motherhood to stop hiding and join forces to build a community and increase visibility. While Mama PhD is certainly aimed for women in academia—and the men, women, and children who love them—those readers interested in feminist issues in the world of work will also find this collection a compelling and provocative read.

Written by: Heather Brown, April 15th 2009

Sittin’ in a Tree

admin — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 18:39:00 +0000

By Juliana Hatfield, Frank Smith

Ye Olde Records

If you’re like me, you were totally shocked to learn that Sittin’ In a Tree is Juliana Hatfield’s eighteenth recording. I say this mainly because 1) I’m amazed to hear how her voice is as clear and youthful as it was in 1992, and 2) her sound has evolved just enough for fans who put hits like “Supermodel” and “Spin the Bottle” on repeat till their parents threatened to disown them (like they really would have); to know that underneath the languid banjo, mellow steel guitar twang and soft male backing vocals of Frank Smith, the same poppy and almost profound Juliana Hatfield is there singing past it all.

Though your iTunes player might categorize Sittin in a Tree in the genre of country, don’t believe it for a second. Songs like “364” and “On Your Mind’ stand out as particularly well-wrought hybrids of alt country and garage rock, but “Don’t Wanna Be the One” is far too upbeat to make this album too much of a departure from Hatfield’s fundamental sound. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does make it harder to appreciate the gentler string arrangements over the ubiquitous and sometimes excessive distortion. I’ve always enjoyed the organized chaos of Hatfield’s guitar-fest, but there were songs in which I felt it could have been used a little more sparingly, like “If Only We Were Dogs.” I know, it’s a dirty song, but let’s face it: Hatfield’s strength is not her rawness. “Kitten” basically negates any lyrical edginess, since it’s about, well, losing one’s kitten. And that’s that. Overall, this EP is well worth listening too, especially for long time Hatfield fans and those of us new to Frank Smith, which is a band, not a man. Otherwise, you might want to start with 1993’s Become What You and hang out till you do just that.

Written by: Heather Brown, August 28th 2007

Rose of No Man's Land

admin — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 13:50:00 +0000

By Michelle Tea

MacAdam/Cage

The author of four memoirs—one of which being a graphic novel that has been optioned for cable—a book of poetry, and collected essays, columns, you name it, Michelle Tea’s first work of fiction, Rose of No Man’s Land is an absolute treat. And this goes for those you who haven’t been following her work for the past decade, too. You might call it a contemporary bildungsroman for the young, queer, working class female consciousness, or you might not. Any way you slice it, Tea has written a hilarious, grotesque, sometimes sad, but overall captivating story about a fourteen-year-old girl name Trisha Driscoll and what happens when she meets a girl named Rose.

Set in the here and now, Tea spares no detail of pop culture her highly accessorized audience could miss, which adds a great deal of color and vibrancy to the narrative. The setting, though, is the fictional town of Mogsfield, MA, just outside of Boston. Our mouthy and misanthropic protagonist Trisha takes us through what it’s like to have a couch potato/hypochondriac mom with an equally useless boyfriend, a sister whose ambition is to become a cast member on The Real World and friend like Rose who is wont to throwing used tampons at smarmy guys who sexually harass her. The novel’s plot culminates when Trisha and Rose have a long night of adventures resulting in Trisha’s first sexual experience and subsequent heartbreak, which Tea treats sensitively and without a contrived resolution.

Though you might find yourself reading some parts quicker than others to get to the more action-packed sections (Trisha’s narration gets a little long-winded at times, but usually in a good way), Rose of No Man’s Land is smart and entertaining, which is not always easy to pull off.

Written by: Heather Brown, March 16th 2007