| |  | | | | September 27, 2016 | Letter No. 53 | | | | | | | | | | | | Dear Lennys,
I write to you a week after the shootings of black men and subsequent unrest in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Charlotte, North Carolina. It's six weeks before the presidential elections and I'm in a paisley-patterned and mahogany-inflected bed-and-breakfast in Amherst, Massachusetts, about to give a reading and talk to undergrads in a creative-writing class. I'm far away from the protests and feeling lost and discouraged and unable to believe in the possibility of justice or the promise of peace. So what do we do? The first impulse, of course, is to toss all the brocade throw pillows onto the floor, roll down the hotel bed's comforter, and get underneath it and cry. The next one is to take a deep breath and try to find space in our hearts to reckon with the world again.
And reckon we must. Since Donald Trump became his party's nominee, we've been hearing that this is the most important election of our lifetime, that there is so much at stake. We know this, and it can make our hearts heavier, harder to open to the possibilities of the world outside of survival. But, luckily, there's this newsletter for you, to remind you that there is more outside of survival and attack and defense.
There is, for example, mischief. I loved Jessica Bennett's interview with Robin Morgan of WITCH, the feminist activist group that staged witty protests in the 1970s that were crosses between performance pieces and pagan ceremonies. The image of a group of radical feminists releasing hundreds of white mice at a bridal fair is like something from the best John Waters movie never made and one I will be thinking of for a long time.
Then there's a bit of hope, which we get from Lupita Nyong'o's interview with her Queen of Katwe costar Madina Nalwanga. Madina portrays Ugandan chess master Phiona Mutesi in her film debut, and both Madina's story and Phiona's show that young women with confidence and verve can go incredibly far.
There's also ferocity — the ferocity to defend yourself and your space, which is perfectly articulated in Gigi Hadid's piece. She would not allow the complete stranger who attacked her outside a fashion show in Milan, or the newspaper that wrote a nasty headline about the incident, to violate her bodily autonomy. And there's the ferocity of Lena's support for Young Women Empowered, a Seattle organization that provides mentorship to teenagers. She has designed a sneaker (click here or here to purchase), and the proceeds of that collaboration will go right to Y-WE.
Finally, there's joy and beauty — the first I found in Manisha Aggarwal-Schifellite's piece about the abstract paintings of African American artist Alma Thomas. Manisha made me appreciate the courage it took for Thomas to joyfully choose to produce images of beauty rather than images of struggling and suffering, reminding me that both are needed to make art.
And beauty I found in Ashley C. Ford's interview with Stacey Abrams, the minority leader in the Georgia House. Abrams's declaration that "There are very few things as profound as government. Government at its most basic is people who contribute to each other. Who organize themselves to support one another. We conflate government and politics, but they're not the same thing" has the logical beauty of a really elegant algebra equation or the straight pine beams of an old country church.
We're less than 50 days away from the election, Lennys. Today is National Voter Registration Day— and registering is an act that can be made simpler with Hello Vote, which guides you through the voter-registration process via text or Facebook message. My grandfather used to say to us all the time: If you don't vote, you can't complain. I'm sure smarter Lennys can come up with a critique of why this is problematic, but for me, that saying is about our responsibility to address our legitimate questions and grievances about the world with positive action. A very real, very important action you can do is register to vote and make sure your mothers, grandmothers, sisters, aunties, cousins, lovers, dates, best friends, and the lady who checks you out at Target are registered, too.
For progress to happen, for change to happen, it needs to build. It's a long, slow, process that takes a million tiny steps, and elections can often erase all those steps and send us back down the road, past the starting point, to some harder, thornier place. As important as this historical moment is, I'm trying to get excited for what can come after. For how we will live and play and talk and move and keep building things to come.
Over and out and over again,
Kaitlyn Greenidge, contributing writer | | | | | | | | | | | | Gigi Hadid Will Not Accept Street Harassment, and Neither Should You | | | | By Gigi Hadid and Lena Dunham | | |
This past Thursday a video of supermodel Gigi Hadid made its way around the Internet, spreading faster than chokers as a trend among tweens. This is not an unusual occurrence: Gigi is an in-demand cover girl with dedicated fans who are as enamored of her ability to move between beachy chill and high-fashion runway as they are of her open and often goofy Internet presence. Gigi has been credited with redefining the supermodel for the Snapchat generation, and with that comes web ubiquity.
But this video was something different: it showed Gigi exiting a fashion show in Milan and headed to her car. She stopped to smile for pictures with fans when a man ambushed and grabbed her, immobilizing her limbs until she was finally able to rip an elbow free and slam her way out of his grip. What follows is a string of expletives from Gigi and her visibly shaken sister Bella. Then Gigi — calmer than most would be after a forced restraint — asks that someone follow and find the offender before closing her car door and driving away.
The video is equal measures upsetting and empowering. It is chilling to watch, in real time, the ownership a stranger seems to feel toward a body he considers public domain. But it's also stirring: in one swift movement, without the aid of her bodyguards, Gigi makes it clear that she will not be made to feel like anyone's property.
While support eventually poured in, the first reactions from the Internet attempted to paint Gigi as rude, bratty, and ungrateful for the blessing of fan attention. The logic behind that response seemed to be that because she has chosen to have a public-facing career, one in which her sexuality often takes center stage, she has also implicitly asked to be manhandled.
What's even more sobering about this assumption is that it doesn't just apply to celebrities. While street harassment is an under-researched problem, existing studies show its prevalence around the globe. In 2014, Gallup's annual Crime Survey revealed that 37 percent of American adults would feel unsafe walking alone near their home at night. Forty-five percent of women expressed this fear, compared to 27 percent of men. These statistics spike upwards in developing nations.
Gavin de Becker's best-selling book The Gift of Fear is based on the theory that people, especially women, have lost touch with their intuition. They ignore warning signals from strangers for fear of looking bitchy, cold, out of control, or crazy: all the labels applied to Gigi before the video revealed that she wasn't just irritated by some excited fan's attention.
As unfortunate as the incident was, seeing someone like Gigi wield her elbow without hesitation is so essential to her young female fans, many of whom may have their own experiences of unwanted contact. In an instant, she made it clear who was taking control and who needed to be controlled.
One paparazzi photo captured the action perfectly: Gigi, dressed in blade runner chic, sunglasses on and hair tidy, broke character and gritted her teeth as she used her strength (she boxes as a hobby) to set herself free. We all have our favorite iconic model moments: Linda, Christy, and Naomi in the bathtub. Kate Moss's first Calvin Klein ads. Helena Christensen dancing on the beach in the "Wicked Game" video. Let's add Gigi breaking free to that list.
I spoke to Gigi the night of the incident as she processed the experience after a long day of fashion shows in Milan. Let's just say I'm eying a membership to Gleason's gym now.
—Lena Dunham
| |  | | | | I remember taking the time, as it all felt slo-mo, to look at him, a stranger, and my first reaction was: "Get me out of this situation." I played volleyball, and my coaches talked about muscle memory. I started boxing two years ago and I always remembered that. Since then, I hadn't been in a situation that forced me to fight back, but it just came out when he grabbed me — it wasn't a choice. I do have that fighter in me.
Honestly, I felt I was in danger, and I had every right to react the way I did. If anything, I want girls to see the video and know that they have the right to fight back, too, if put in a similar situation. Practicing self-defense is important so that when you're in the moment, reacting from muscle memory comes more naturally to you than freezing up. Confidence in your own ability to defend yourself comes with educating yourself about it, and is a massive advantage when in an unsafe situation.
The first article that was posted about the incident was headlined: "Not model behavior. Gigi aggressively lashes out and elbows fan in the face after he tries to pick her up. The supermodel angrily hit an unknown man before running to her car." That's when I really got pissed. First of all, it was a woman who wrote the story with that headline. What would you tell your daughter to do? If my behavior isn't model behavior, then what is? What would you have told your daughter to do in that situation?
When my mom first saw what had happened, she texted me the picture of me elbowing the guy and (among other messages of support) said, "Good girl." My mom has taught me the power of my instincts since I was a kid. She'd always be like, "OK. Pay attention to the people who make you feel uncomfortable. I want you to tap into that and be aware of it." I continue to use that intuition with the fashion industry and the people who I have to be around. It usually guides me pretty well. I think it guided me in this situation, too.
It sounds cliché to say it, but in the moment, it wasn't heroic to me. It was just what I had to do. It's very touching to me that people see it that way. I know people are put in much worse situations every day and don't have the cameras around that provoke social-media support. I just want to use what happened to me to show that it's everyone's right, and it can be empowering, to be able to defend yourself.
Gigi Hadid is a supermodel and social-media maverick, and she has a mean left hook. | | |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | State Representative Stacey Abrams Is the Bright Future of American Politics | | | | By Ashley C. Ford | | |
Georgia state representative Stacey Abrams is, by all accounts, a political powerhouse poised to lead the Democratic Party into the next decade. At just 42, she's the House minority leader (the first woman and the first African American in that role, and she unseated five Republicans to get there). The New York Times recently named her one of "14 Young Democrats to Watch," and Emily's List honored her with the Gabrielle Giffords Rising Star Award. She also has a degree from Yale Law School, is an entrepreneur, and writes romance novels about spies, ethnobotanists, and chemical physicists on the side.
Resplendent in a red suit, Abrams gave a stirring speech about her passion for public service at the 2016 Democratic National Convention. "Growing up as the daughter of a librarian and a shipyard worker in Southern Mississippi, my family was hit time and again by the economic insecurity that is too often driven by racism, sexism, and the ills that come from being born in the wrong ZIP code," Abrams said. "Still, every day my parents taught us, all six of their children, to celebrate through service the grace that is America."
Ashley C. Ford spoke to Abrams earlier this year about her commitment to registering minority voters in Georgia with her New Georgia Project, what happened when her parents became ministers and how that inspired her commitment to public work, and all about those spies in love.
Ashley Ford: I read that your parents went to school together and became ministers together. How, if at all, have religion and spirituality inspired your commitment to public service?
Stacey Abrams: What drove my parents was the notion that their faith required dedication to social justice. Those two pieces have always been inextricably linked for us. We converted from being Baptist to Methodist. The Bible has to be a living, breathing, and active part of who you are. That was how my parents raised us. For me, when they decided to become minsters at the age of 40, it was a natural progression from the lives they lived.
When you're the daughter of two ministers, you're always feeling afraid of failing the Holy Spirit. I don't want to get called into the family business. My ministry is government. There are very few things as profound as government. Government at its most basic is people who contribute to each other. Who organize themselves to support one another. We conflate government and politics, but they're not the same thing.
I do not claim to be a minister. Let me be very clear. But my beliefs animate me. They animate the choices I make as a legislator.
AF: Would you say that in general people who get involved in government work approach it from that place of the call, or at least the desire, to serve?
SA: It is my profound hope that is what motivates people. I would say that sometimes the act of reality is less clear. We make choices, I find sometimes, that are counter to that idea of service. There's a selfishness that can be embedded in being in politics that I think you have to actively guard against. There is narcissism that is inherent.
AF: How do you combat that?
SA: The job of a minority leader can be done in one of two ways. My approach, from the very beginning, has been to make my first priority cooperation, which seems counterintuitive when your job is to be the opposition.
In my mind, the role is not to prove the other side to be wrong or evil. There's a core element that makes competition necessary. I don't want to diminish that. My first priority is to find out: "How do you get the work done?" When you are in the minority, the work only gets done if the majority agrees to work with you.
Too often we mistake positions for power. It happens in politics a lot of the time. For me, it's always making certain that I never take my position to mean that I have power. Or that I underestimate the power of other people because of the position they hold.
AF: You're the first woman to lead either party for the Georgia General Assembly, and the first African American to lead in the House of Representatives. What does it feel like to be a first and then to also take the nontraditional position? I feel like so often with firsts, they try to blend in.
SA: I begin my approach with the recognition that as a minority, you're always starting at a different posture. It's just ignorance to think that you aren't. I would love to imagine that my uniqueness pervades all and convinces people to do what I want. It's not going to happen.
Your status is a beginning. It's the marker. It starts the narrative. Your job, then, is to fill it out and give it contour, texture, and meaning. If you spend all of your time grounded in the identity you don't create the story. I feel very comfortable saying that I'm the only minority leader to also be a romance novelist, and I'm definitely the only one who is a tax attorney, romance novelist, slash entrepreneur. Those are all different parts of who I am. I don't give primacy to any of them more than the other except to know that they each tell a story about me.
Yes, I'm the first woman to have this job. What that means is when I enter a space with men who are not used to having the conversations I need them to have with me, I begin by trying to create a space for that conversation to happen. You can enter it with anger, with an assumption of discrimination, or you can enter it as an opportunity to give people a chance to be different than they are. I enter the space knowing, "You probably haven't talked to someone with my equipment about issues like this, so let me help you out."
I've started three companies with my business partner, whose name is Laura Hodgson. Laura is one of the smartest people I know. She and I met in a leadership class. We became really good friends. We rely on each other. When we became business partners, people who knew us were very confused. She's a white woman who is a Republican, and I'm a black woman who's a Democrat.
AF: To shift gears a bit, I was reading about how committed you are to increasing opportunities for political engagement for people of color. What is the biggest obstacle to getting voters of colors to the polls?
SA: The South is changing dramatically and quickly. It is going to be majority-minority in the next decade. Georgia will be majority-minority by 2025. The rest of the Southern states, probably another fifteen years after that. It's going to happen. We should all be terrified of having so much of our population disenfranchised and disengaged from our politics. The decisions that we make about how we collect our money, how we spend our money, how we treat our people, and how we raise our children, those choices are political decisions. I am terrified that we will ignore this burgeoning population until it's too late.
Intellectually, I've considered this in my academic work, but there's a practical responsibility. That practical responsibility starts with "How do you cast a ballot?" You cast a ballot by being registered to vote. Thus, we've created the New Georgia Project. We focus on people of color because they are the largest portion of the population that has the least amount of political power.
AF: Do you think the people in similar positions to you are being held back by the lack of diversity in politics at the state level?
SA: I recognize the importance of diversity, but I also recognize and have the capacity to grow and groom my team. Most of the young people who work for me had never held jobs like the New Georgia Project before. Typically, you hire people with experience. Experience is first. I took a different approach, and I thought when I hired my team, Experience is good, passion is better. I can teach you how to do it. I can't teach you why. I can't teach you to have that fire that says, "I need to serve."
AF: So you're a house minority leader slash business owner slash tax attorney slash voter advocate. How and where did you find the energy to write eight novels?
SA: I am privileged to have a range of interests and to have skills. The first novel I wrote was actually going to be a spy novel. I found out publishers didn't think that men would agree to buy spy novels about women, so I made my spies fall in love. I still killed the same number of people. My first heroine was a chemical physicist. I have another one who's an ethnobotanist. I have another one who's just a drifter. I get to explore these worlds, and I find that energizing.
AF: What's next for you?
SA: My goal is to turn Georgia blue. I believe that we can turn out voters that no one has talked to in decades and who don't expect to be involved in politics.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Ashley C. Ford is a writer and editor for herself, and a development executive for Matter Studios. | | | | | | | | | | | | The Girl from Kampala | | | | By Lupita Nyong'o | | |
The Queen of Katwe is Madina Nalwanga's debut film. The sixteen-year-old Ugandan was discovered at a dance studio where she was a performer and tapped to play Phiona Mutesi, a real-life chess prodigy who rose up from poverty to become a national champion. Madina and Phiona both grew up poor in Uganda's capital city, Kampala, and they both sold corn on the streets to support their families. Lupita Nyong'o, who plays Phiona's mother in The Queen of Katwe, spoke to Madina about her first experiences in front of the camera, what she learned from costar David Oyelowo (who plays Phiona's chess coach and mentor), and how she drew on her own experiences for the film.
Lupita Nyong'o: What was going through your head as you were watching the movie for the first time at the Toronto Film Festival? Were there particular scenes you liked?
Madina Nalwanga: Very many things were going through my head. There is this scene that we did and I called you, "Mum, oh mama," and you just replied and said, "Yes?" It just made me remember those days with my mum before leaving her, like it was really nice for me to hear you answering me back as a mum. It touched me so much.
LN: You still call me mum.
MN: Yes.
LN: Do I respond?
MN: You do.
LN: It's amazing how that has happened, that you call me mama and I actually respond, even now, one and a half years after we filmed this movie. Can you tell me about when you left your mum and why?
MN: OK. My mum knew that I had a dream of becoming a dancer, because one day these dancers came to our home to perform. When I saw them dancing I also tried what they were doing, then my mum saw me. When they left I told her, "I really like this."
I was about four. I could see my neighbor leaving her house every evening, and when I followed her she went to a dance school. I also entered. I saw people dancing. I was very happy. So she found me sitting on the veranda, and she told me, "Who brought you here? Go back home." That's how Brother Mark found me, and he told her, "No, leave her."
The next day Brother Mark came to my mother's home, they talked. My mum told Brother Mark, "You know, she really likes dancing, and I don't know what I can do. I have to make sure that she goes to school, but she has to sell corn, because the money that comes from that maize, I can use that money to pay school fees."
Brother Mark told my mum, "It is fine. At the center we pay school fees for everyone as long as they participate." That's when I started staying at the dance center. That's how I left my mum, and she was happy, because she wanted me to pursue my dream and she wanted me to go to school too. But I still see her.
LN: They found you for Queen of Katwe at the dance center, right?
MN: Yeah. They were looking for dancers, and we performed for them. They gave me a line to say, and I said it for them: "Mama, how does a city person get to have a house?" The next day they called me to one of the biggest hotels in Uganda. I had to go through workshops, some outfits, everything. I really had to work hard for that. It was like three weeks. I wasn't actually used to the cameras; it was my first time.
One day I went back to the hotel again. It was quiet, very quiet, and I entered one room; everyone was congratulating me: "Congratulations, congratulations." I asked them, "Why?" They told me, "You have the part: you're going to play Phiona."
It was so amazing for me because when they told me more about Phiona, I felt like this is my story. They told me she used to sell maize, just like me. I went back home happy and told my friends about it.
LN: You had so many intense emotional moments in the film. How did you get into character as a first-time actress?
MN: At one point, I lost my [chess] game, then it was hard for me to get into character because I had to cry so much. David [Oyelowo] held me, and then he told me, "Just remember every sad moment that you've ever had in your life. Just think of that. Everything will come on its own." I said, "OK." I had to call my mum, so calling Mum and thinking of every sad moment I've ever had in my life, it made me come into that character. It was really hard for me to do that, but eventually I did it.
LN: That day that we were shooting the eviction, do you remember it affecting you, do you remember it reminding you of anything?
MN: I will say yes, because before I know how it feels, and because my big brother, he also had a small problem. He was running and he passed through wires.
LN: Barbed wire?
MN: Yeah. Then he got a very huge cut just here, and he was crying so much. He was in a lot of pain, and I saw that, and I remembered that, and it made me like … how can I say it? I think it helped me to also manage that eviction scene.
LN: Why are you shaking your head?
MN: I remember very many things. Have I ever told you that I also got in an accident?
LN: Did you?
MN: I was young, and I was following my brother on the way to the mosque. Do you know what is bad? I was wearing a nightie and a wrap on my head.
LN: You liked to follow people when you were younger, eh?
MN: I didn't know where exactly the mosque was. When I followed them I had to cross the road. It was Friday. I went forward, the car went forward, I went back, it went back, for five times. The fifth time it knocked me. That person who knocked me, that man, he was going to Mecca, and he didn't go that day.
LN: You were hurt badly?
MN: When the car knocked me, that's when I stopped seeing or thinking. I just collapsed, then they took me to the hospital. When I came back to my normal senses, they were asking me questions: "Where do you live, what is the name of your father? Your mother? Do you know where you are?" I told them, "I know where I am. I'm in the mosque."
They had shaved off my hair. Maybe they went looking for my dad, because he came to the hospital. I never wanted him to see me, because I never wanted to see them shedding tears. But my dad came to my hospital room. He was just crying and praying for me, so I told him, "Daddy, I'm going to be fine, nothing much, just know I'm going to be fine."
LN: Wow.
MN: Yeah. I was fine. I think I spent one month in the hospital because it was really bad. I had huge cuts on my head and my eye was out.
LN: My goodness, you could never tell. They treated you very well because you cannot tell. Your hair grew back completely; your eye looks normal.
MN: When I also remembered about that, me being knocked, that also helped me to enter into my character, Phiona. The good thing about the movie is, it's going to teach young people that not every big thing has to come from something big. All big things come from small things, and small people. You don't have to put a lot of pressure on it if you want to pursue your dreams, but you just have to go slowly and accept setbacks. I think that's how Phiona became a Grand Master.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Lupita Nyong'o is an Academy Award–winning actress. | | | | | | | | | | | | Lenny Recommends: Alma Thomas at the Studio Museum of Harlem | | | | By Manisha Aggarwal-Schifellite | | | |
When I first saw Alma Thomas's abstract paintings on display at the Studio Museum of Harlem in New York City, I forgot for a minute that it was 100 degrees outside and my jeans were giving me a heat rash. The large canvases, full of heavy, deliberate strokes in blues, greens, and yellows, were not only of a different time, but exuded an uncanny, less oppressive warmth. From early works like 1959's Yellow and Blue, with its red base and central splash of deep mustard, to iconic canvases like the bubble-gum pink Cherry Blossom Symphony (1973), Thomas invited me to be curious and playful in the traditionally formal space of a gallery.
Alma Thomas, who died in 1978 at age 87, was the first person to receive an undergraduate fine-arts degree from Howard University, in 1924. After she graduated, she was a junior-high-school art teacher in Washington, DC, for 35 years. She really began honing her craft in her 70s, using abstraction to depict natural and scientific phenomena — a space shuttle, a cherry blossom, the wind. Thomas's work has gained attention in recent years, especially when she became the first black woman to have her work featured in the White House. But she also experienced success in her lifetime — a rarity for many artists, especially for women and women of color. In 1971, Thomas took part in the groundbreaking "Contemporary Black Artists in America" group exhibit at the Whitney Museum in New York; a year later, she became the first black woman to have a solo show there.
| (Cherry Blossom Symphony, 1973. Collection halley k harrisburg and Michael Rosenfeld, New York, NY) |
The Studio Museum's associate curator Lauren Haynes writes that Thomas "pointedly rejected painting about struggle and crisis." She believed instead that the beauty she generated offset the world's horrors and inhumanities. I particularly gravitated toward Thomas's approach to historic events like the March on Washington and the US space program.
Thomas, who once said, "I've never bothered painting the ugly things in life," made work that implores the viewer to find grace around every corner, in unexpected places, as she does in March on Washington (1964), in which blurred figures of protesters fill the canvas with arms raised and placards in hand. Each person is outlined as an individual, but they are faceless and grouped together, emphasizing the power of collective action. In her graphite-and-acrylic piece Apollo 12 "Splash Down" (1970), Thomas imagines the end of the mission, when the space shuttle lands in a body of water via parachute. We see pale-orange dashes at the top of the canvas wind down through reds, greens, and blues to settle into a dotted violet line along the bottom, emulating the parachute's descent into the Pacific Ocean at the end of the Apollo mission. It's a great example of Thomas's celebrations of the superhuman feats of technology alongside the exquisite simplicity of the sea rising to meet the sky.
Thomas also found beauty close to home, especially after arthritis kept her there more. That confinement led her to more closely observe her garden and its ever-changing colors, as seen in Iris, Jonquils and Crocuses (1969), in which Thomas imbues innocuous flowers with multidimensional richness and importance; the flowers hang heavy like ropes from the top of the canvas in stripes of blue, orange, and yellow, daring the viewer to ignore their majesty.
| (Above: Yellow and Blue, 1959. Courtesy Michael Rosenfeld Gallery LLC, New York, NY. Below, Left: Snoopy Sees Earth Wrapped in Sunset,1970. Smithsonian American Art Museum; gift of the artist. Below, Right: Apollo 12 "Splash Down", 1970. Courtesy Michael Rosenfeld Gallery LLC, New York, NY) |
As Thomas's work becomes more popular today, both at the Studio Museum and elsewhere, art critics and patrons are clearly interested in seeing more of it. Her excitement and boundless curiosity about the future challenged me to rethink my assumptions about abstraction and age, as she defied stereotypes about senior citizens' engagement with the world. She also reminded me that small moments are not insignificant ones; rather, it's the details that make a grand work shine. "She just pumped … enthusiasm into her work," says art-history professor Darby English, "and it just comes right back out at you."
That enthusiasm is contagious, even to a cynic like me. Standing in front of her works, I vowed to enjoy my own life with as much zeal as I could possibly manage — a silent promise that felt like a battle cry. Alma Thomas's paintings are like bright lights in a dark tunnel, sparking joy in the face of uncertain political and social climates. Looking for refuge on a sticky day in the city, I felt instantly at ease amid the vibrancy and unapologetic pleasure she injected into her work — the best medicine for a worried mind.
Manisha Aggarwal-Schifellite is a writer and editor living in Toronto. | | | | | | | | | | | | Spooking the Patriarchy | | | | By Jessica Bennett | | |
Double, bubble, war, and rubble
When you mess with women, you'll be in trouble
—From "Conspiracy Against Women," a WITCH protest chant
"It always drives me nuts when they say feminists have no sense of humor," Robin Morgan tells me. "I for one have not laughed so hard — and for so long — as I did in the women's movement."
Morgan is a household name to a certain generation of feminists, right there alongside her friend and collaborator Gloria Steinem. A poet, novelist, journalist, and activist, she is the author of more than twenty books and edited the 1970 anthology Sisterhood Is Powerful, a collection that lit a match to the modern women's movement.
But on this day, we are speaking about WITCH. The Women's International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell, "a name we surely wouldn't get away with today," Morgan notes, was formed in 1968 as an offshoot of another protest group, New York Radical Women. WITCH devoted itself to hit-and-run style guerrilla theater, called "zaps." Proclaiming witches to be the original female rebels — hounded, persecuted, and burned at the stake — the group was made up of "covens," or chapters of thirteen members, but anybody could join.
"If you are a woman and dare to look within yourself, you are a Witch," their manifesta stated.
Another leaflet proclaimed: "You are a Witch by saying aloud, 'I am a Witch' three times, and thinking about that. You are a Witch by being female, untamed, angry, joyous, and immortal."
The goal of WITCH was simple: to smash patriarchy. And patriarchy didn't just mean sexism — it meant capitalism and racism too. On Halloween in 1968, members of the New York chapter of WITCH staged a hex on the New York Stock Exchange. First, they sneaked downtown early in the morning to crazy glue the doors shut so that when the bankers arrived, they couldn't get in.
"In those days, the Stock Exchange had huge brass doors with actual locks," Morgan remembers. "So two of us showed up at 4 a.m., when nobody was around, and oozed crazy glue into the locks."
They quietly went away and returned at nine, having alerted the press. "We performed the hex, and, what do you know, the doors wouldn't open! They had to take them off the hinges."
The following day, the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell by five points.
"We were outrageous, and deliberately witty and insouciant — but also deadly serious," Morgan says. "Rather sweetly and firmly, we took matters into our own hands."
"Sometimes humor will go where nothing else goes," she added.
Another hex involved a Valentine's Day protest at a bridal fair in Madison Square Garden. Dressed as witches or black-veiled brides, the group chanted protest slogans and songs and distributed anti-marriage leaflets with shopping bags labeled "SHOPLIFTING BAGS." It was February, and it was freezing, so they handed out hot cocoa and coffees to the wide-eyed would-be brides who'd come to delight in taffeta and lace with their mothers. The young women were amused, until WITCH launched into phase two of the hex: releasing 100 white mice into the hall, sending the brides jumping onto tables and chairs, shrieking.
"Sometimes WITCH got a little carried away," Morgan laughs.
Other zaps included sneaking into Playboy Clubs with purses heavy with Sakrete — a fast-drying, pourable concrete that they'd then dump in the toilets in the ladies' room and flush, causing the pipes to flood. Covens in DC hexed the inauguration of Richard Nixon; women at the University of Chicago hexed the chairman of the sociology department for firing a popular female professor.
There were individual actions as well. If a man hassled a member as she walked by a construction site, she had a response: stop, turn, raise a hand, and motion her fingers in the form of scissors cutting — as if to say, "Snip snip." "And, my God, you would see them turn away and close their legs," Morgan says.
The WITCH actions didn't last much longer than a few years (and no punishments that I know of were meted out for these pranks), but there are still covens going strong. Just a few months ago, Morgan received an email from a group of women in Latvia asking if they could start a chapter. "I wrote back and said, 'You don't need permission.'"
"If you can make good trouble, make mischief, and have fun doing it, who wouldn't want to do that?"
From the WITCH Manifesta:
"WITCH is an all-woman Everything …
WITCH lives and laughs in every woman.
She is the free part of each of us, beneath the shy smiles, the acquiescence to absurd male domination, the makeup or flesh suffocating clothes our sick society demands.
There is no 'joining' WITCH
If you are a woman and dare to look within yourself, you are a WITCH.
You make your own rules."
Jessica Bennett is a contributing writer at the New York Times and the author of Feminist Fight Club: An Office Survival Manual (for a Sexist Workplace), out this week. She would like to stage a hex on Donald Trump. | | | | | | | | | | | | The Custom Sneaker Supporting Young Women Empowered | | | | By Lena Dunham | | |
I have many great passions in this life, but two stand out. The first is the creative empowerment of young women. The second is shoes: Dr. Martens in neon patent, burlesque-worthy bunny slippers, fuzzy Fenty slides by Puma. That's my vice. So when Lakai Limited Footwear approached me about designing a custom sneaker (which you can buy here or here), I knew exactly how to bring my two obsessions together: by using this shoe to celebrate bright and courageous girls all over the country.
That's why our sneaker design will benefit Young Women Empowered (Y-WE), an organization I cherish. Y-WE is committed to helping young women from diverse backgrounds to step up as leaders in their schools and communities, through intergenerational mentorship, intercultural collaboration, and creative programs of all kinds. I'm thrilled to announce that all my proceeds from the sale of the shoe will support this essential organization's work.
I first linked up with Y-WE in 2014, when I visited Seattle on my Not That Kind of Girl book tour. I was lucky enough to attend a Y-WE writing workshop with some incredible girls. I was completely blown away by these young women's passion, humor, and kindness, and — of course — their writing. When women can't create and have their voices amplified, we have nothing. When we are given the tools to express ourselves, we have everything. Every girl deserves a creative, supportive community like Y-WE.
Girls also teach us that creativity and friendship are better when paired. That's why I asked one of my oldest and best friends, the illustrator Joana Avillez, to design the print for the Y-WE Lakai sneaker. Collaborating with her was the real cherry on top of this whole sundae, and her joyful, feminine style is the perfect match for this project's spirit.
This sneaker is for the girls who play sports, make music, write poems, organize protests, build robots, make home movies, and so much more. It's for the girls who get dirty. It's for the girls who are told they're being too loud when actually everybody else is being too quiet. It's for the girls who stay back with a tired friend, check in on each other during challenging times, help each other up, and help each other out. Above all, it's for any girl who's trying, even when it seems impossible, to be herself.
Head to our site to find out more about these girls. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The email newsletter where there's no such thing as too much information.
From Lena Dunham + Jenni Konner. | | | | | | | |  |  | |
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