Links, man, links. The first is from Keep Your Bridges Burning, a critique of The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes, that punching bag which everyone should join in punching until it’s bloody. Neil Gaiman is basically like Joss Whedon: a rich white straight man everyone praises as the champion of minorities, but who’s actually racist and pretty sexist, and also:
Like, in this one, I remember the character Judy- who appears in the deeply problematic 24 Hours section- to be pretty sympathetic, and actually kind of a fashion root. But on re-reading this comic today and yesterday, she actually is kind of a paper-thin dyke stereotype dressed up as something more complicated, who is immediately killed off. She hits her girlfriend and then dies.
YES THANK YOU
Fatihah Iman wrote a really rad post about the Bechdel Paradise of a Muslim woman’s life.
When I am older, my network of female friends will become my Auntie Network. Grown Muslim men live in awe of the power of the Auntie Network, and I have never met an Arab or Muslim woman who didn’t have one – a vast, highly organised web of female friends to whom she turns whenever she has a need, great or small.
This is the strength of Muslim women. It’s a strength deeply rooted in collectivism, based not on the power of the individual but the combined power of a group working as one. It’s a strength built on the ability to call for backup at a moment’s notice, and THAT is rooted in a female-only social environment that nurtures and strengthens intimate friendships between women. Missing that out of a novel about Muslim women is hugely dis-empowering, because it erases a major source of our power.
More people have weighed in on the Bakker thing: Foz Meadows and Larry. Yes, Bakker himself showed up for both firing squads and brought his fanboys. Naturally. Bakker also makes a bid for pity by using his daughter as a velcro vest. It isn’t very effective.
4) Do you think I have deserved the demeaning, in some cases, dehumanizing, things that have been said of me? What should I tell my daughter when she reads strangers telling me I should die, that I’m more worthless than excrement, and so on and so forth?
One might wonder just why he might let his daughter know about all this. Is it some kind of dinner conversation piece? “Family, Internet strangers have said mean things about yours truly! WHAT IS TO BE DONE?”
Dear Author reviews are generally pretty staid, but they’ve got this one up for some astounding thing, a novel with moments like:
“The pleasure’s all mine, beautiful.” It was easy to see that the sweet talk and silver tongue was a family trait.
Jacob bristled, even though he knew his brother didn’t mean anything by the endearment. “Do I need to say ‘Tag’?” Jacob growled, irritably. “Tag” had always been the code word that the McCoy brothers used to alert the others that a particular female had been honed in on and weeded out of the herd for his own personal delectation.
She also reviewed the first book of the same series.
“Oh, mares,” said Blue**, shaking his head. “They always have to be whinnied into it. Or . . . subdued.”
“Why, Blue,” cried Abasio in an outraged voice. “That’s rape.”
Blue snorted. “I have long observed that human people do not care what they do in front of livestock, and believe me, what some humans do during mating makes horses look absolutely . . . gentle by comparison.” He stalked away and stood, front legs crossed, nose up, facing the sea.
“Isn’t Abasio your friend?” the Sea King asked him.
“Friends do not call their friends rapists,” said the horse without turning around.
What the fuck.