Originally posted on Write...Okay:
This keeps on happening.
And because it’s so repetitive and so over-worked, I’m reluctant to even discuss what it is that keeps on occurring. But the whirlwind of rage that swirls within me each time I encounter an apologist statement presented under the guise of feminism keeps on a-swirlin’, and as such, I feel as though the only thing left for me to do, is to open my big fat mouth too.
So apparently, we’re in the midst of a ‘white women exploiting the bodies of black women for ‘lols’ and credibility’ epidemic. We know this. It has been done. I do not wish to give a comprehensive list of the reasons why the Miley’s, the Iggy’s and the Lily’s of the world are wrong for willingly complying with the commodification of black bodies…or for pleading ‘not a racist bone in my body syndrome’ when confronted about their complicity in racism because A) I’m tired of talking about them and B) the problem is much bigger than these women.
Check out the Editor’s Page of Muse Art Magazine for details on how you can submit or to read the past months submissions
Originally posted on Flavorwire:
Subtlety isn’t just out of American Horror Story‘s wheelhouse; it’s anathema to the show, the literal antithesis of the shameless camp that treats Jessica Lange snorting coke to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” like just another day in the neighborhood. Part of the fun of watching AHS‘s 13-episode cycles unfold has been the way it wields tropes of gore and body horror like a sledgehammer — then takes that sledgehammer to social issues like disability, race, and, most prominently, gender. Historically, that questionably good-faith effort at blending shock value with social criticism has had mixed results at best. But unlike the series’ first two iterations, Murder House and Asylum, Coven has finally figured out a way to incorporate feminism convincingly into the DNA of American Horror Story.
My world seems to rapidly become disastrous at the same precise moment.
University this year is harder than I originally thought it would be (considering I thought it would kick me in the ass shows you how hard it actually is). The effect of this has caused me to quit my job volunteering at a local gallery; a job I enjoyed and where I felt I was finally making connections.
At the same time I am becoming really knick- picky over small stuff my flatmate and close friend does around the flat when she is home. It is definately not her fault, I have this thing where the more comfortable I become with a person the more bitchy I am. I really need to mediate and chill out.
Furthermore my job is getting me down, I don’t get any respect plus due to a contract mishap on their part I am unable to book the holidays I need that correspond with my dissertation hand in. Been looking for another job but no luck yet; I don’t want to leave until I have another job guaranteed.
While volunteering seems like a hassle some days it comes with great rewards especially in the art world. Volunteering in a gallery gets you in the door of what can be a close -knit group of local artists, that is difficult for outsiders to break through.
Being taught in university by practising artists who are part of this group, is also another foot in the door. Though in my first year I didn’t appreciate it as it seemed like a big door to knock down, but going into my third year I have learned that involving these tutors in what you are doing or wanting to do outside university benefits yourself as a artist incredibly.