The best (and worst) parts of the KBJ hearings so far
No images? Click here ![]() March 23, 2022 Hello, howdy, and hey there Meteor readers. Welcome back to your favorite part of Wednesday. It’s been an inexplicably long week and I have yet to manifest all of the intentions I set forth during my Spring Equinox full moon ritual. Is the moon ignoring my calls? In today’s newsletter, Julianne Escobedo Shepherd contemplates the absolute clown show that has been the confirmation hearings of The Honorable Ketanji Brown Jackson. These hearings are historic, not just because of the woman in the hot seat but because it may very well be the first time a grown man asked someone if a baby was racist. I wish I was joking. Also today, a reminder that the water crisis of your youth is still ongoing and, as with so many other things, getting worse. But first, the news! —Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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—SM ![]() SCOTUS WATCH6 Takeaways from the Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson HearingsWhat surprised me (and didn't) over the last 48 hoursBY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD ![]() KETANJI BROWN JACKSON ILLUSTRATES HOW MUCH PATIENCE SHE HAS LEFT FOR TED CRUZ. (PHOTO BY CHEN MENGTONG/CHINA NEWS SERVICE VIA GETTY IMAGES) In the last 48 hours, I have watched approximately 324 hours of confirmation hearings for Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson. (Please don’t challenge my math—I’ve seen Mr. Robot and claim my right to employ the same logic as Sen. John Cornyn, who told Judge Jackson that he is “not an attorney—I watch Law and Order from time to time.”) Some of the proceedings have gone just as I’d anticipated. I expected the racist and sexist aggression that white Republicans are volleying at Judge Jackson, and I expected her response to be professional and controlled—skills she certainly was expected to triply perfect as a Black woman working in law. I expected the condescension, the gotcha questions, the abuse, and I expected her to meet them with thoughtful measure. But what actually hit me was how absurd the Republican line of questioning was, and how beautifully Judge Jackson has responded. In honor of Her Honor, my takeaways so far.
1. The racist nonsense before she even publicly spoke with Congress.Last week, Sen. Josh Hawley introduced the lie that Judge Jackson has been soft on sentencing for child pornographers, a dog-whistle meant for the ears of the “government pedophilia conspiracy” QAnon cult. (This will continue tomorrow when Republicans introduce testimony from a lawyer for the extreme fringe group Operation Underground Railroad.) During the hearings, Hawley doubled down on these accusations despite major outlets like the Washington Post disproving them as “scurrilous”—and the reasoning was repeated in questioning from many of his worst Republican peers, including Sens. Ted Cruz, Tom Cotton, and Marsha Blackburn. The latter also spent a considerable amount of time trying to paint Judge Jackson as having been mean to anti-abortion protesters, as well as goading her to define the word “woman” in a long transphobic tirade. 2. But she’s so much smarter than these jokers.In response to these allegations, Judge Jackson explained the circumstances in the pornography cases she ruled on, pointing out that judges are constrained by Congress’s laws and effectively showing that she knows the inner workings of Congress better than some of the people working there. All this while Senators' questions forced her repeatedly to relive the clearly painful experience of having to see, in her capacity as a judge, the “heinous” evidence in child pornography cases. Cruz, who was one of Jackson’s peers at Harvard Law and is definitely still seething that he’s a lesser mind, also invoked the bogeyman of Critical Race Theory, an academic school of thought that most people don’t encounter until law school (if even then), and which Cruz seems to think is being taught to babies. After his barrage, Jackson paused and let out a deep sigh. It was a moment indicative of the circumstances: that a woman of her great intellect and patient temperament had to spend hour upon hour answering disingenuous and deeply uneducated questions. ![]() WHAT SOLID PROOF DO WE HAVE THAT TED CRUZ KNOWS HOW TO READ? (PHOTO BY WIN MCNAMEE VIA GETTY IMAGES) 3. Despite all this, the hearings have been a breath of fresh air.Judge Jackson met even the most ridiculous questions with a level of gravity her questioners didn’t earn. She did not, like Brett Kavanaugh, whine or cry or yell at Senators—something she knows that she, as a Black woman, would end her nomination in a way it didn’t end Kavanaugh’s. Her race and gender were a clear factor in the way a litany of white Republican Senators addressed her (note to Sen. Kennedy: Do not call a Black woman “articulate”) and even still she responded with patience. Her display of fairness and skill was exhilarating, a refreshing palate cleanser for those of us still reeling from the Kavanaugh and Coney Barrett proceedings. (For a really nice example of this, watch her exchange with Sen. Mazie Hirono, who skillfully dunked on the spurious accusations of her Republican colleagues.) 4. Judge Jackson will be an addition to the court who “thinks like America.”Yesterday, Sen. Richard Blumenthal addressed why he thinks the Judge’s position on SCOTUS is significant. “You will make the court look and feel more like America, but also think more like America,” he said. He also asked her to address the importance of her experience as a public defender, a job he too once had. “Zealous defense council… ensures the government is protecting these rights and that people are getting due process in the criminal justice system,” she said. “That’s to all of our benefits. That helps everyone in America when we ensure that liberty cannot be denied due process.” As Republicans repeatedly tried to paint Judge Jackson as soft on crime, this is an important point to remember. After all, as the lawyer and podcaster Josie Duffy Rice told Brittany Packnett Cunningham on a recent episode of UNDISTRACTED: “[Public defender]... is a job that should really resonate with conservatives in this country that are worried about Big Government. These are the same people that should be cheering her. Here’s someone who repeatedly stood up and tried to protect regular people from the tyranny of government.” 5. She understands the difficulties of working motherhood.In a conversation with Senator Cory Booker, KBJ addressed her position as a working mom with visible emotion. “It’s a lot of early mornings and late nights, and what that means is there will be hearings during your daughters’ recitals. There’ll be emergencies on birthdays that you have to handle,” she said. “And I know so many young women in this country, especially who have small kids who have these momentous events, and have to make a choice. I didn’t always get the balance right.” (Her kids, though, seem to think she did all right, as evidenced by a beautiful sign on her daughter Leila’s seat: “You Got This!”) 6. Finally, nobody is tamping down the joy of this moment (dammit).Nothing the Republicans attempt to do can take away from this historic nomination, and I have been moved by how meaningful the moment has been—and for the sight of unadulterated hope in government at a time when there’s not a lot to feel great about. “Judge Jackson’s explanations are so clear, she is talking to the Senators but also is teaching,” tweeted National Women’s Law Center President Fatima Goss Graves. Maya Wiley noted that it is “a joyous day unto the world.” And in a profile of some of the Black women rallying in D.C. in support of KBJ, Washington Post reporter Anne Branigin writes: “We need a little joy in this moment,” said Glynda Carr, a political strategist and co-founder of Higher Heights, a group that helps elect and support Black women in politics. “If that little joy comes in the fact that this woman looks like us — looks like me, from my hair to my glasses to the hue of my skin — it gives you the possibilities that exist, in that we can always reach higher..” ![]() Julianne Escobedo Shepherd is a Wyoming-born Xicana journalist and editor who lives in New York. She is currently at work on a book for Penguin about her upbringing and the mythology of the American West. ![]() CLIMATE CHANGEThe Water Crisis Is Getting WorseBY SHANNON MELERO ![]() BANGLADESHI PEOPLE TRAVELING TO GATHER WATER AMIDST AN EXTREME WATER CRISIS IN RANGAMATI. (PHOTO BY MOHAMMAD SHAJAHAN/ANADOLU AGENCY VIA GETTY IMAGES) Yesterday, March 22, was World Water Day, a day of observance started by the United Nations in 1993 to highlight the importance of access to fresh water sources in the global community. Unfortunately, about 2 billion people are living without access to clean water, and in 2019, 1.2 million people died from drinking unsafe water. In fact, “in the last year, more people died from lack of access to water than from war-related violence,” Mustafa Mabruk tells me. Mabruk and his business partner Murad Noful are the cofounders of Wear the Peace, a slow fashion brand working to educate people and raise money for some of the world’s largest ongoing crises; their latest initiative is in partnership with Charity: Water, to build long term sustainable water safety in the areas most affected by the crisis. Like many of us, Mabruk and Noful are searching for the answer to what feels like an existential question: what can I, a regular person, do to solve an enormous global problem? The first step is understanding that the problem is ours to fix. For as long as I’ve been alive, there’s been a water crisis, and for years it’s been framed as a problem other people have and not the concern of Europe or the United States. And yet, in 2014, in supposedly the most powerful nation in the world, Flint, Michigan, did not have a drop of clean water. (A crisis that is still ongoing.) The water crisis is everyday life for millions of people who will spend nearly half of their lives just walking to gather clean water. Countries that do not have entire populations actively gathering water are beginning to grapple with a lack of sustainable water sources and a future where water privatization may be the new normal.
“Climate change is the biggest cause of the current water shortage, but there’s also increased human consumption in general and overuse of water,” Nofal explains. Solving the water crisis is no longer just about building wells and providing tankards of water; now it’s intertwined with more frequent weather events, climate-based immigration, and thousands of people migrating to flee war violence. . So the big picture answers are sustainability in water gathering, better management of water resources—and understanding that war and climate change are interconnected issues. “At the end of the day, allowing a crisis to continue—allowing hundreds of years of violence and war—it’s all a choice. [Solving this crisis] comes down to political choices. All of it is doable, especially now,” Nofal says. He’s skeptically hopeful. And while we need huge sweeping policy changes to really tackle this problem, there are steps that those of us who aren’t scientists, researchers, politicians, or Water Protectors can take to make sure this World Water Day isn’t just a blip on the calendar: Manage your water use at home, safe, clean water is finite and needs to be treated as such. Divest from fast fashion. Understand where your water comes from and how it's treated. Donate to organizations like Charity: Water. Vote for officials in local elections who back “green” legislation at the city and state levels.“If there’s a time to start pushing toward a solution,” Nofal emphasizes, “it’s yesterday.” ![]() What's way less stressful than watching a confirmation hearing? Sharing this newsletter with your friends. Give it a try! FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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"You sound like a white girl"
No images? Click here ![]() March 18, 2022 Hello and happy Saturday to you. In today’s newsletter, Julissa Arce writes about the ways white supremacy works in Mexico to denigrate Indigenous and Black Mexicans—and how her experience with white supremacy in the U.S. worked in tandem with that. It’s an excerpt from her forthcoming book You Sound Like a White Girl: The Case for Rejecting Assimilation (out March 22), and believe me when I say I felt that when I read it. There’s still a misperception among U.S. Anglos—and some Latinxs—that racism and colorism does not exist among Latinxs (and it’s a perception that some Latin Americans are happy to perpetuate). But of course, one look at the mostly pale palette of Univision and Telemundo hosts shows how wrong that is. I’m so glad Arce wrote about this important topic, and how we should resist the insidious ways colonialism affects the world. Before that, though, some news! —Julianne Escobedo Shepherd ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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—JES ![]() MUST-READJulissa Arce On How Latinx Communities Have Been “Tricked Into Yearning for Whiteness”JULISSA ARCE, MATCHING HER LOOK TO HER BOOK. (PHOTO BY ARAYA DOHENY/GETTY IMAGES FOR PODERISTAS) I was in middle school the first time someone told me, “You talk white.” It was an off-hand comment from a peer who wasn’t aware of all the implications behind that phrase, but I thought about it for a long time. I went through all of high school codeswitching between the jargon and cadence my friends used—peppering words like “brick,” “deadass,” and all types of Spanish slang into every other sentence—and the educated verbiage my mother expected of someone she was sending to private school. It wasn’t until college, surrounded by actual white people, that I realized my well-practiced, NPR-esque accent wasn’t fooling anyone. I was still “talking white” and yet it didn’t bring me any closer to my white classmates—one of whom would go on to write racial slurs on the door of my dorm room. In her new memoir, You Sound Like a White Girl: The Case for Rejecting Assimilation, author and activist Julissa Arce shares her own experience of trying to squeeze herself into the box of whiteness, a box formed both by white supremacy in American culture and anti-Indigenous sentiments in Mexican culture. The book is a moving, infuriating, and at times funny overview of the ways Arce, like many Latinxs, was taught to see whiteness as aspirational; an idea that was reinforced by her time working at Goldman Sachs as an undocumented immigrant. But it wasn’t just the talks about Aspen and summer homes that made Arce second-guess herself, it was also the colonizer mentality of those closest to her, the ones who praised her European features and ignored her Indigenous heritage. (You know the ones, the “pelo malo, pelo bueno” tías.) Below is an excerpt from Arce’s book—just the tip of the iceberg in her touching and well-argued case for rejecting assimilation, no matter how alluring it might seem. —Shannon Melero IMAGE COURTESY OF FLATIRON BOOKS My nephew, a junior in high school in Mexico, was visiting me in Los Angeles a couple of years ago when I asked him if he knew that Vicente Guerrero, the second president of Mexico, was Black. “Are you serious?” he said. “In all the pictures he looks ‘bien blanquito.’” Because of his stature, he could not be ignored or erased from history, but his standing didn’t stop him from being whitewashed. Even when negating the history and importance of Indigenous and Black people simply can’t be done, we are not allowed to claim power alongside our Indigenous or Black identities—the identity must then be erased. This strategy is deployed from Mexico to the Dominican Republic to Europe. Vicente Guerrero was the son of a Black father and an Indigenous mother. Inspired by the Haitian Revolution, Guerrero fought to end African slavery in Mexico some thirty years before it was abolished in the United States. Schools all over Mexico bear his name. It’s tragic to think that our people in Mexico died to gain independence, freedom, and equality for the Indigenous worker and for the enslaved African, but many haven’t been able to shake the colonizer in our heads. A document of twenty-three principles for the future of a free Mexico, called the Sentimientos de la Nación written by José María Morelos Pérez y Pavón in 1813, included the prohibition of slavery “forever,” as well as the abandoning of the caste system, and only “vice and virtue” making people different from one another. When John Quincy Adams was secretary of state, he wrote a letter to his brother in 1818 in which he described America’s independence as “a War of freemen, for political Independence,” and Mexico’s as “a War of Slaves against their masters.” Adams was right that Mexico’s independence—as well as the independence of other Latin American and Caribbean countries—was different. The independence of the United States was one where elites sought liberty only for themselves and for the protection of their land and property, which included African people. Mexicans won our independence from Spain to free the most oppressed, even if it hasn’t played out that way. We’ve been so beaten down by white supremacy that we have yet to be truly free. Whiteness infiltrates Mexican institutions and life just as it does those of its neighbor to the north. It is a problem that plagues much of Latin America. In Bolivia, for example, the first and only Indigenous president came to power in 2006, 181 years after the county’s independence. Colombians have taken to the streets to protest racist police, because Black people are killed more often there, too. From Brazil to Mexico, Indigenous and Black people remain oppressed.
When I go back to Mexico now, I am deeply saddened to hear the same everyday racist talk I heard when I was a kid. I often wonder if I had stayed in Mexico, would I see clearly how we’ve been tricked to yearn for whiteness so that we don’t strive for justice? I often think of a brilliant line by author Domingo Martinez when I grapple with our own people becoming the oppressor when they’ve known the scourge of whiteness: “There is nothing more potentially hostile than the indigenous ego interpreting the laws of his conqueror upon his own people.” We become vicious to our own bodies, to our own souls. In our own home countries, we learn to view white as superior, as something we should aspire to. Then when we immigrate to the United States, we bring those sentiments packed in our suitcases. Those ideas are hardened on our hearts like a wax seal the minute we cross into the United States. Mexico introduced me to the lies of whiteness, but it was the United States that taught me just how corrosive white supremacy truly is. Seeking whiteness is a matter of survival here: white skin in the United States means you exist. It means you matter. Some of us flatter ourselves white by virtue of our education, our job, or our bank account—despite the nopal on our faces, we introduce ourselves as “Spanish” at work. In the United States, whiteness didn’t just render me less than—it rendered me invisible. Here a Brown Mexican seems to have no past, no future, and no identity. I was further ostracized because I was undocumented. It was the ultimate layer of being alien. But here, in my new home, is also where I learned to fight it. ![]() PHOTO BY ALY HONORE Julissa Natzely Arce Raya is an American writer, speaker, businesswoman, and advocate for immigration rights. She is co-founder of Ascend Educational Fund and the author of My American Dream, and Someone Like Me. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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The woman I flew 2,486 miles to vote for
No images? Click here ![]() March 16, 2022 Special announcement for you on this lovely Wednesday: the weather is nice! Or at least it is where I live. Yesterday was also quite nice—I went roller skating and I could feel the snakeskin of seasonal depression slipping off my body. I hope the sun is shining just as bright in your corner of the world. In alignment with the mood-boosting weather, today Paola Mendoza reports from her native Colombia on last weekend’s presidential primary and the shifting tides in Latin America. I can’t remember the last time I was so pumped about a presidential candidate, but Mendoza’s hope for the future of Colombia and their potential next vice president gave me chills–and I know it’s not from the cold because as I cannot say enough, the weather is good. Also on the agenda today: a better way for your boss to celebrate Equal Pay Day. Do you feel fairly paid or is your job just sucking your life force and paying you in Starbucks gift cards? Let us know at [email protected]! But first, let’s check in on the rest of the world. —Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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![]() THERE'S STILL HOPE IN POLITICSI Believe in FranciaHow it felt voting for Colombia’s most progressive political candidate in yearsBY PAOLA MENDOZA ![]() FRANCIA MÁRQUEZ CELEBRATING A HISTORIC NIGHT WITH GUSTAVO PETRO (PHOTO BY DARWIN TORRES) Last week, I boarded a plane and flew 2,486 miles from my home in New York City to Bogotá, Colombia, the city where I was born. I went there to vote in the Presidential primary elections—not just for any candidate, but for Francia Márquez. Voting for Francia means voting for a Colombia that centers the most vulnerable, the most in need, those who have suffered at the hands of corrupt politicians, the 52-year civil war, and generational poverty. On election night, she looked into the cameras that surrounded her and spoke to the Colombian people. “I acknowledge the nobodies,” she said, “the nobodies of Colombia, those from the mountains, plains and neighborhoods of this country who accompanied us.” Francia is one of those “nobodies” she was talking to on election night. She is an Afro-Colombian woman who was born in Yolombó—a small village where she grew up working in artisanal gold mining. Her activism began at 14, when she organized her community against the construction of a dam that would have dramatically altered the way of life for her people. Francia lost that battle but she refused to stop fighting for her community and her land. In 2014, she led a group of at least 80 women in a 350-kilometer march to the capitol to protest illegal gold mining. In 2018 she won the “Nobel Prize of environmentalism”—the Goldman Prize—for her work. Her activism has come at great personal cost. Colombia is one of the deadliest places on earth to be an environmental activist and in 2019 Francia survived an assassination attempt. Two years later, she launched her presidential campaign. Initially, the political establishment, the wealthy, and even some of her own community wrote her off—they said she was just an activist, she’d never held public office, she didn’t have experience. She’s also young (now 40), became a single mom as a teenager, and is the first Afro-Colombian woman to run for President. Everyone thought these qualities were a detriment; Francia believed they were exactly why she should be President. Last year I interviewed Francia for The Meteor and asked her what she would say to people who criticized her lack of experience. “The experience white men have has not allowed my family to live in dignity,” she told me. “Or my people. Or this country. So what experience are they talking about?... The experience that allows these powerful men to use violence against their own people and kill them?... Well, that experience I don’t want to learn.” This was the reason I flew to my homeland to vote for Francia. I left Colombia when I was just three years old, but I have always had a strong connection to it—my mom would send me back to live with my grandmother for the summers so she could work in the United States. When I was 14, I came back to live in Colombia for three years—three years that saved my life, that allowed me to connect with my people and my history, that provided me safety and security when I was at my most vulnerable. I owe such a debt of gratitude to this country. The least I can do is participate in building a better future for all Colombians—and so I always return to vote.
Election day was warm and sunny in Bogotá. There were streams and streams of people walking into the convention center on the Sunday my cousin and I went to vote. I showed security my cedula (Colombian ID), and off I went to find table 99. The beautiful thing about voting in Colombia is that you don’t have to be registered to vote, which is what should happen here in the U.S.—if you’re 18, the legal voting age, you can vote. And unlike the U.S., there are pictures of all the candidates, and you simply mark an X over the person’s face. It was thrilling to put my X over Francia’s picture—a historic moment for her, and for the whole country. When the votes were tabulated that night, the leading candidate in Francia’s party, Gustavo Petro, got over four million votes, and she received 781,865, which is a lot in Colombia. It is an extraordinary feat that Francia Márquez came in third place behind Petro and Federico Gutiérrez, a right-wing candidate; she had more votes than three-time presidential candidate and former mayor of Medellín, Sergio Fajardo, and beat a handful of other well-known men from the political establishment. The headline of the night was that Francia dominated—and a new political force was born in Colombia. If she is selected as Gustavo Petro’s vice presidential candidate and if they win in May, she would be the first Black woman VP in our country’s history. And regardless, I believe Francia is on her way to one day being La Presidenta of Colombia. ![]() ELECTION DAY IN COLOMBIA. WHO DO YOU THINK SHE VOTED FOR? (PHOTO BY DARWIN TORRES) That’s the celebration for me: that Francia continues to show the power of the Afro-Colombian and Indigenous communities in a country that excludes and abuses them; the strength of feminism; and the audacity of being unabashedly progressive, pro-choice, and pro-environment in everything she fights for. She is a political candidate for the future of this country. Isn’t this what’s needed everywhere? Our world feels like it’s collapsing—we’re still in the throes of a pandemic, we’re on the verge of a massive war, it’s scary and it’s exhausting. I don’t want the same leadership. I want something different. I want women’s leadership—progressive women’s leadership. And it is Latin America that is showing the world how this is done. In the U.S., rights are being taken away from so many people, and the rise of the white conservative woman is aiding and abetting that. But in Latin America, Honduras just elected its first female president, Xiomara Castro, who’s a socialist; Chile recently elected its youngest President, Gabriel Boric, who ran on a feminist socialist platform; and feminist values are sweeping Latin America with the Green Wave movement for reproductive rights. So often in the U.S., we don’t look to others—we think we know more than everyone else in the world. But right now, we need to look to the south for a roadmap. I look to Francia. ![]() PHOTO BY SHAYNA ASGHARNIA Paola Mendoza is a filmmaker, actor, author, activist, and co-founder of the Women's March. She recently released her debut YA novel, Sanctuary. ![]() WERKDoes Your Job Deserve You?Before you go... let's chat Equal Pay DayThis week marked Equal Pay Day, the day when women (on average) famously have to work each year to make what men made the year before. For Black women specifically, the day doesn’t roll around till September 21; for Latinx women, it’s practically a whole year later, on December freaking 8! Years ago, I worked for a wonderful feminist boss who christened that day National Go Ask For a Raise Day (I did), and that’s always a good way to spend the holiday, but… what if we didn’t have to spend so much time advocating for and improving ourselves at work? Last week I went to a book event for Reshma Saujani, author of the new book Pay Up: The Future of Women and Work, and Daisy Auger-Dominguez, author of Inclusion Revolution. And the thing that got the most applause in the room was when they both told the audience to just stop trying to be better. “I don’t want to hear another word about mentoring, or how to get over imposter syndrome, or how to work ‘harder faster,’” said Reshma. “We’re already showing up overqualified. They need to deserve us.” I’ve got nothing against work advice for women; I’ve given it, taken it, and do office hours on Sunday afternoons with folks interested in media (DM me). But as Reshma noted, half the time women already have more skills and qualifications than the job requires; what’s missing is a workplace that’s worthy of us—with paid leave and child care to accommodate our lives. (The pay gap increases sharply, especially for women of color, when you have a child or take on other caregiving responsibilities.) All this is no surprise—it’s part of what’s fueling the Great Resignation. But in a week where billionaires told us to pull up our bootstraps, it’s a good reminder. Maybe your boss (and your Senator) should take that leadership course instead. —Cindi Leive ![]() FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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The GOP’s latest tactic for targeting trans kids
No images? Click here ![]() March 11, 2022 Bonjour Meteor readers! I am feeling mildly upbeat today—despite, you know, everything—thanks to the good folks at The Dan Lebatard Show, who literally created an entire musical about the Super Bowl. I had my doubts at first, but the whole soundtrack is Rock of Ages meets Chicago meets Rent. Give it a spin, and thank me later for the serotonin boost. And it’s a boost you will appreciate after today’s newsletter, which is a deep dive into the anti-trans legislation in Texas and how Republicans are using the bogeyman of forced sterilization to defend their stance. If you thought you were mad about it before, just wait until you get the full context from historians Dr. Lauren Jae Gutterman and Dr. Gillian Frank. But first, let’s check in on the news. —Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
![]() KETANJI BROWN JACKSON, BOOKED, BLESSED, AND UNBOTHERED (PHOTO BY ANNA MONEYMAKER VIA GETTY IMAGES)
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![]() THE FIGHT FOR TRANS LIVESThe Reproductive Ideology Behind Texas’s Attack On Trans KidsKen Paxton is abusing the history of forced sterilizationBY LAUREN JAE GUTTERMAN AND GILLIAN FRANK ![]() KEN PAXTON, TERRORIZER OF CHILDREN. (PHOTO BY DREW ANGERER VIA GETTY IMAGES) Over the past few weeks, the nation has witnessed an onslaught of attempts to ban gender-affirming treatment for minors. It’s been a competition to see who can go the furthest and be the cruelest: First, Texas Governor Greg Abbott directed the state’s child welfare agency to categorize gender-affirming care as “child abuse.” Then, lawmakers in the Idaho House voted to make such treatment a felony, with medical providers and parents looking at life in prison. And in Alabama, a similar bill, House Bill 266, would also force teachers and school counselors to out trans students to their parents. It’s all horrific. But as historians of sexuality, we are especially disturbed by lawmakers’ repeated invocation of the ugly history of forced sterilization to justify their anti-trans campaigns. It’s an attempt to cloak their cruelty in pseudo-feminist language—and it’s completely disingenuous. The forced sterilization connection was made most explicit by indicted Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton in his statement against gender-affirming care for minors. “Historically weaponized against minorities, sterilization procedures have harmed many vulnerable populations, such as African Americans, female minors, the disabled, and others,” Paxton’s opinion reads. Then he delivers the ideological punchline, poached from the language of the reproductive justice movement: “These violations,” he claims, “have been found to infringe upon the fundamental human right to procreate.”
Contrary to Paxton’s argument, irreversible surgical procedures are rarely, if ever, performed on youth under age 18. And the other, much more common gender-affirming medical treatments that these bans criminalize—such as puberty-blocking drugs and hormonal therapy—do not cause sterilization. They are also supported by the leading medical associations in the United States and proven to lower teens’ risk of suicide and depression. In the arguments lawmakers have made against trans kids’ participation in sports, legislators have demonized trans girls in particular, alleging that they have an unfair advantage against their cisgender peers. Similar bans on trans student-athletes have been enacted in 10 other states. But when it comes to gender-affirming care, instead of portraying trans children as threatening, Republicans have cast them as victims of their caregivers and medical providers. And in order to do it, they’re appropriating reproductive justice language—even though the actual history of reproductive justice affirms, rather than denies, the right to bodily autonomy for all people. The predominantly Black and brown women activists who have been drawing attention to forced sterilization in the United States since the 1960s haven’t simply been fighting for the freedom to reproduce. Rather, they’ve been fighting for the freedom to determine their own reproductive lives—to govern their own bodies. As the Committee for Abortion Rights and Against Sterilization Abuse wrote in 1979, “Policies that restrict women’s right to have and raise children—through forced sterilization or the denial of adequate welfare benefits—are directly related to policies that compel women to have children, on the view that this is their primary human function. Both kinds of policies constitute reproduction control by the state.” ![]() READ THE SIGN, LIVE THE SIGN (PHOTO BY DREW ANGERER VIA GETTY IMAGES) In one well-known case of that era, Relf v. Weinberger (1974), the Southern Poverty Law Center filed suit on behalf of two Black sisters, Minnie Lee and Mary Alice Relf, aged 14 and 12, who had been sterilized at a federally-funded Family Planning Clinic in Montgomery, Alabama. The girls were operated on without their parents’ knowledge or consent; a nurse told their mother only that they were going to receive “some shots.” Minnie Lee, Mary Alice, and so many others were targeted for sterilization because state caseworkers and clinic staff deemed them, based on their race, class, and perceived mental ability, as undesirable citizens—“unfit.” It is galling that Texas Attorney General Paxton cites Relf v. Weinberger as a precedent for his attack on trans teens, claiming that trans-affirming health care is equivalent to the compulsory sterilization of uninformed minors. However, the invocation of this history misses the main lessons of Relf: the need for informed consent and reproductive choice. The plaintiffs in Relf were not opposed to sterilization as a whole. What they objected to was the authorization of “involuntary sterilizations, without statutory or constitutional justification,” at a moment when millions of Americans sought out sterilization as a form of birth control, and many women who begged doctors for the procedure were denied. Well into the 1970s, in fact, many physicians followed the “Rule of 120,” a recommendation of the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology, which withheld sterilizations from women whose number of children multiplied by her age was less than 120. Whether the case was coerced or refused sterilizations, at issue was a question of bodily autonomy. So why is the Texas Attorney General deploying the language of sterilization, child protection, and reproductive freedom? Like Senate Bill 8, the state’s recent legislation banning abortion after six weeks of pregnancy, it’s all about making reproductive anatomy into social destiny; from this perspective, anything that threatens to medically interrupt procreation is viewed as harmful. In the name of making children one day have children, Republican leaders in Texas are willing to stomp on the health of trans kids and the reproductive freedom of abortion-seekers. Right now, trans youth and those who love them are rightly terrified; multiple families are under state investigation. Using the legacy of human rights abuses against the Relf sisters and so many others to justify these human rights abuses is simply unconscionable. As 11-year-old Austin trans activist Kai Shappley has told the Texas leaders behind these recent attacks, “Just stop.” ![]() PHOTO BY PATRICIA JANG Dr. Lauren Jae Gutterman is Associate Professor of American Studies, History, and Women's and Gender Studies at the University of Texas at Austin. She is the author of the award-winning book, Her Neighbor's Wife: A History of Lesbian Desire Within Marriage, and co-host of the Sexing History podcast. ![]() PHOTO BY MATT KWONG Dr. Gillian Frank is a historian of sexuality and religion and co-host of Sexing History, a podcast that explores how the history of sexuality shapes our present. He is currently at work on a manuscript called A Sacred Choice: Liberal Religion and the Struggle for Abortion Before Roe v Wade. ![]() BEFORE YOU GO“Carbon Footprint” Was Bullshit This Entire Time???BY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD If you’ve ever wondered what your carbon footprint is, and how to reduce it, here’s some illuminating information that you may not already know. On this week’s edition of UNDISTRACTED, climate journalist Mary Annaïse Heglar told Brittany Packnett Cunningham that the idea of one’s individual “carbon footprint” is a big load of garbage invented by BP, the megalithic oil and gas corporation. More specifically, she explains: “BP created the concept of a carbon footprint to … shift the responsibility for the climate crisis to the consumer that they are selling the oil and gas to.” And when companies like BP calculate their own footprints, “they don’t count the oil they sell to everyone else…So their carbon footprint is so much bigger than they even take credit for.” I echo Ms. Heglar’s sentiment that this is “some real evil shit.” To hear it with your own ears, as well as learn more about how the West’s dependence on Russian oil helped make that genocidal oligarchy so powerful, listen here. You'll also learn about what you can do to keep the heat on the fossil fuel companies—and the governments who enable them. ![]() FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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Sex tapes were never really about sex
No images? Click here ![]() March 9, 2022 Hello, precious Meteor readers. I hope you’re taking care of yourselves—don’t be like me and immediately decide to doomscroll when you can’t sleep at 4 a.m. (Do NOT do it!) Events both domestically and abroad are grim, and many of us are feeling helpless and stressed, but we all need to keep our heads up in order to keep going. Instead, try sending some cold hard cash to the Trans Justice Funding Project, or this GoFundMe for Black people fleeing Ukraine, or the Missouri Abortion Fund. An objectively better thing to do than open Twitter before dawn! In today’s newsletter, Tracy Clark-Flory looks at the misogynist legacy of the celebrity sex tape through the lens of Hulu’s Pam and Tommy—and how the violation of a woman’s privacy is almost always the point. After that, Shannon Melero speaks to attorney Carrie Goldberg about how the law protects—and doesn’t protect—victims of revenge porn today. But first! The news! —Julianne Escobedo Shepherd ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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![]() REVENGE PORN AND OTHER CRIMESSex Tapes Really Aren’t About SexHulu’s Pam & Tommy is a reminder of the many ways we treat women’s pain as entertainmentBY TRACY CLARK-FLORY ![]() PAMELA ANDERSON AND TOMMY LEE, 1995 (PHOTO BY S. GRANITZ/WIREIMAGE) This week brought the finale of Hulu’s Pam & Tommy, a limited-series dramedy about the leak of a private sex tape that none of us should know anything about. We’re talking eight whole episodes reenacting the ’90s-era theft and viral spread of an explicit home movie starring celebrities Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee. That’s more than five hours of television devoted to replaying a privacy violation. The tape’s leak in 1995 was paradigm-shifting and emblematic of a cultural moment, so it’s possible to imagine a worthwhile critical retrospective. Instead, Pam & Tommy is less a reconsideration of the leak than a nostalgic reliving of it. It’s less about the tape than of the tape, which ushered in an ongoing era of stolen moments treated as entertainment. Anderson and Lee’s video was historic as the first celebrity sex tape, spawning dozens of direct imitations, but also setting the stage for whole new privacy violations, like the 2014 hack targeting famous women’s nudes (a.k.a “The Fappening”). The tape’s leak teed up an explosion of nonconsensual entertainment online—and not just starring celebrities. Soon, everyday women had to reckon with the public humiliation of everything from “upskirting” videos to “revenge porn.” Fast forward over two decades and the majority of states have had to legally address nonconsensual pornography (or nonconsensual image abuse, as some experts now call it). The next challenging legal frontier: “deepfake porn,” where a person’s face is seamlessly swapped onto pornographic material.
But let’s be clear: leaked sex tapes aren’t really about sex. The most famous ones—as with Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian—are defined by entitlement, trespass, violation, and embarrassment, vis-à-vis a woman. This is a fundamental part of the attraction: these videos provide forbidden access. Kevin Blatt, a self-described celebrity sex tape broker, says the appeal is seeing something you “weren’t supposed to see.” Even when there are questions about a sex tape being leaked for fame and publicity, there’s still the suspension of disbelief that allows viewers the fantasy of crossing boundaries, of getting what is not freely given. The entire meaning of the tape changes if a woman intentionally and openly participates in its creation and release. Pam & Tommy itself adds another layer of non-consent to the original violation of the tape’s leak: Anderson wanted nothing to do with the series. (While Lee has voiced support for Pam & Tommy, Anderson reportedly finds its release “very painful.”) The show was made anyway—and then promoted as “feminist” for being sympathetic to her experience. In reality, the show identifies at the start with Rand Gauthier (Seth Rogen), the contractor who stole the tape after remodeling the couple’s mansion. We’re given a comedic, rollicking justification for the theft: Tommy Lee (Sebastian Stan) is an over-the-top asshole clad in a banana hammock who barks unreasonable orders at Rand. These early episodes are driven by laughs—take the scene where Tommy has a conversation with his own penis, which talks back via cringey animation. We’re living in a cultural moment of re-evaluation around the sexism of the ’90s and ’00s, which no doubt helped greenlight Pam & Tommy, but the show’s true impulse is to laugh and wax nostalgic.
The series does eventually get around to inviting identification with Pam (Lily James), instead of literal and figurative dicks. It depicts Pam’s struggle to be taken seriously as an actor as her Baywatch lines are cut to prioritize zoomed-in shots of her butt. After the sex tape is leaked, Pam & Tommy spotlights her pain, portraying Pam as having a devastating miscarriage amid the stress of the violation. The series feels like an unintentional meta-commentary on the many ways we are entitled to, and entertained by, women’s pain—not just with leaked sex tapes but also with limited-run TV series dramatizing leaked sex tapes. Eventually, Anderson is shown in a brutal and shaming deposition for her lawsuit against Penthouse’s Bob Guccione, as she tries to stop the magazine from publishing stills from the tape. She is cross-examined about her sex life and even forced to watch parts of the tape in a room packed with men. We’re meant to feel outraged, but that outrage arrives after Pam & Tommy has already had its giddy fun. ![]() LILY JAMES AS PAMELA ANDERSON DURING HER DEPOSITION. (SCREENSHOT VIA HULU/ANNAPURNA) The tone-deafness of the first half of the series is only matched by the inappropriateness of its handling of partner violence. Though it’s not depicted in the series, Lee was sentenced in 1998 to six months in jail for felony spousal abuse following an incident in which Anderson accused him of kicking her while she held her 7-week-old son; she had “a broken fingernail and red marks on her back,” according to police. The series portrays several early red flags in the relationship—like Tommy calling Pam non-stop and following her uninvited on a trip to Mexico—but treats them as fun material. Pam & Tommy leaves Lee’s arrest, and their divorce, as a literal postscript at the end of the series. It’s a sanitized version of events, referring only to “a physical fight in the couple’s kitchen.” Hulu has cheekily promoted the show as “the greatest love story ever sold.” All these years later, it’s tempting to believe that we have enough perspective to critically revisit this long-ago sex tape leak and other misogynies of yore. Instead, the last two decades have created a convenient new cover for exploitation: Pam & Tommy delights in replaying the violation, only to abruptly pivot toward superficial wokeness. It makes claims of a redemptive narrative while risking retraumatizing one of its subjects. Ultimately, the show is an accidental testament to the many ways women’s suffering is consumed as entertainment. You can call it “reflection,” but we’re not nearly as far away from these events as we might like to think. ![]() ASK A LAWYERDoes the Law Do Enough to Protect Victims of Revenge Porn?BY SHANNON MELERO ![]() CARRIE GOLDBERG (PHOTO BY CRAIG BARRITT VIA GETTY IMAGES FOR GLAMOUR) Decades after Pamela Anderson unwillingly introduced the broader public to the concept of revenge porn, has the law gotten any better at protecting victims? I asked lawyer and author Carrie Goldberg—owner of victims’ rights law firm C.A.Goldberg, PLLC. What are some of the barriers to trying revenge porn cases? Is it particularly difficult to prove guilt/intent? Carrie Goldberg: All states have criminal laws that make it illegal to film or record somebody without their consent in places—the bedroom, bathroom, changing room—where the person has the expectation of privacy. These laws are usually called video voyeurism or unlawful surveillance….And 48 states now have laws that criminalize the nonconsensual publishing of intimate images and videos. The problem is that it’s up to law enforcement to decide when to prosecute. Unfortunately, crimes that predominantly impact women and girls—like sexual assault, revenge porn, and intimate partner violence—are notoriously under-prosecuted. One reason that law enforcers don’t prosecute is that many criminal laws require proof of the offender’s motive and, specifically, a showing that the motive was to harass or abuse the victim. But we know from working with victims that [predators can have] a range of other motives such as money, clout, boredom, or entertainment. About a dozen states also have civil remedies for victims. In other words, a victim can sue their offender…[But] suing never resolves what is often a victim’s main priority—getting that material the hell off the internet. The internet, as they say, is forever. So what happens to victims who [do pursue criminal charges] over materials uploaded online? Does the law offer any assurances that those images will be removed, and if so, whose responsibility is it to remove them? There is no legal fix for getting pictures off the internet. Criminal cases have the goal of punishing the offender, while civil cases have the goal of “making the victim whole” through financial recovery. But, there is federal law, Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which has been interpreted by our courts to shield platforms (i.e. Instagram, Facebook, YouTube) from any responsibility for material that users post. It really falls on the victim to try to use things like copyright law and appeal to the goodwill of websites and social media companies and to be persistently searching the internet for material. What needs to change to better protect victims? The current laws are not adequate….While we’ve made so much progress in the last decade with getting new laws, we still need federal law. In honor of International Women’s Day, several lawmakers reintroduced the Stopping Harmful Image Exploitation and Limiting Distribution Act (the “Shield Act”). This is bicameral and bipartisan legislation that makes the nonconsensual dissemination of intimate images a federal crime. Another gulf in our laws involves celebrity victims. We’re now seeing defendants try to claim that sharing nude images of celebrities is protected speech. With Pamela Anderson, we saw a court hideously claim that she had no legal rights because her body belonged to the public. We need the right of privacy to extend to everybody—whether you are a teacher, student, nurse, congress member, cashier, or supermodel. ![]() You have our enthusiastic consent to share this newsletter with all of your friends. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! 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There's no vaccine for stupid
No images? Click here ![]() March 4, 2022 I am first a fraud or a trick. Or perhaps a blend of the two. Hello pals. This riddle has been rattling in my brain for a solid two days since watching The Batman, starring reformed vampire Robert Pattinson. The movie was pretty good if you’re into darkness and brooding. Speaking of darkness, Jennifer Finney Boylan writes this week about the start of the most difficult time in recent memory—the start of the coronavirus pandemic, which unimaginably began two years ago on March 11. I still remember those early days when we thought it would last just few weeks; two pandemic puppies later, I’m still working in pajamas, and you may be too. Also in today’s letter, Julianne Escobedo Shepherd recommends some escapism for those of us who still need it. Thoughts on The Batman (when I say thoughts, I mean please give me the riddle answer), the end of the pandemic or anything else? Send us some Batmail at [email protected]. —Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON (IN UKRAINE)
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![]() TWO YEARS LATERThere’s No Vaccine for StupidThe world we’re returning to is not the one we leftBY JENNIFER FINNEY BOYLAN ![]() NURSES AT THE VA HOSPITAL IN THE BRONX, NEW YORK DEMANDING BETTER PROTECTION AT THE START OF THE COVID 19 PANDEMIC (PHOTO BY SPENCER PLATT VIA GETTY IMAGES) It was going to be just like old times. I’d been preparing for a reunion of my best friends from high school, that weekend in March 2020. The four of us—members of the class of 1976—were going to gather at a shore house in Atlantic City. My hope was that all those old faces might make me feel young. Then I learned that, as of that Sunday night, there had been a total of 31 confirmed deaths from the virus in this country. Damn, I thought. I guess we need to make another plan. By Friday the 13th, my classes at Barnard had gone remote, and the reunion with the boys was canceled. I grabbed a ride with my daughter back to our home in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. And there, with a few exceptions, I would stay for the next twenty-two months. There was an election. There was an insurrection. There was an inauguration. I got two Moderna vaccines, and a Pfizer booster. There was Delta, and Omicron. Finally, in New York at least, the number of cases began to subside. Like so many others, I began, tentatively, nervously, to return to the world. This January, I found myself back on the Barnard campus, walking down the familiar corridor in my department known as the “English channel,” and trying my key, for the first time in almost two years, in the lock of my office door. As it swung open, I thought of the description of archeologist Howard Carter opening the burial chamber of King Tutankhamun—100 years ago this November. “At first, I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker,” he later wrote, “but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist.” ![]() A MEMORIAL IN AUGUST OF 2020 FOR THOSE WHO HAD DIED FROM COVID-19 (PHOTO BY MICHAEL M. SANTIAGO VIA GETTY IMAGES) There they were: all the pieces of my life, right where I’d left them. There was a stack of books I’d borrowed about Zora Neale Hurston, Barnard’s first African-American graduate; I’d been planning on writing a column about her. There was a stack of graded papers I’d never returned to their authors. On one wall was a long to-do list of things I had to write, and the deadlines. There were details for the national book tour I was supposed to go on. That tour, of course, been cancelled, along with so many other things: my son’s in-person graduation from the University of Michigan, my daughter’s wedding. For a moment I found it hard to remember the person I once had been. I sat down at my desk, intending to get started with the semester’s business, but instead, I just sat there for a long moment, feeling the tears in my eyes. They were tears of sadness, of course, sadness for everything, and everyone, we’ve lost. But they were also tears of rage. This crisis ought to have been a time when we got to see how good people can be. And we did see that, in sacrifices big and small; health care workers, and grocery store employees, especially emerged as heroes. But so many others showed us their cruel and narcissistic sides instead: distrusting and hobbling government, when what we needed was good governance; mocking and questioning medicine, when what we needed was reliable science; and above all, singing the songs of conspiracy and selfishness at a time when what we needed above all was to be looking out for, and caring for, one another.
The vast majority of people dying from COVID now are unvaccinated. With over 900,000 Americans dead, rather than publicizing the efficacy of vaccines, a whole cohort of frauds and blowhards has instead advocated horse de-wormer. Another genius suggests drinking your own urine. In Florida, Oklahoma, Texas, and Utah, laws were put into effect preventing schools from mandating the masks that could hinder the spread of disease. Because freedom, I guess. I am hopeful that COVID will eventually subside into something like the seasonal flu—an endemic virus that, within reason, we will be able to control and endure. But how do we live with the knowledge that, at the moment of greatest crisis, so many of our fellow Americans opted for ignorance instead? In fits and starts, we are slowly returning to our lives. But we are forever changed by what we have been through, and by what was revealed about so many of the people with whom we share this country. What was revealed to you? Did you find new sources of resilience and hope? I found some of that, to be sure. But I fear the pandemic has shaken me forever—not because of the disease itself, but because of what it forced me to see. Omicron may be on the wane, but the virus of heartlessness and ignorance is thriving. It may yet end us all. ![]() Jennifer Finney Boylan is the Anna Quindlen Writer in Residence and Professor of English at Barnard College. She is a Trustee of PEN America and a Contributing Opinion Writer for the New York Times. ![]() THE METEOR RECOMMENDSWhy I’m Binging a Fantasy Show About DruidsBrittania's Trippy EscapismBY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD ![]() SOPHIE OKONEDO AS HEMPLE ON BRITANNIA (IMAGE VIA METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER STUDIOS/EPIX) Like a lot of people, the last two years of social distancing has turned me into a voracious television consumer. In the absence of seeing friends or going dancing, I just binged what seems like every show ever made and, thanks to glut and languishing, promptly forgot 95 percent of any given storyline. But one genre of TV has stuck with me: ancient historical fiction in which women are situated as the most powerful, interesting characters. This week, Netflix released its sequel series to the great Vikings, Vikings: Valhalla, which is currently in its top two most-watched shows, and includes great fictional portrayals of real-life heroines Freydís Eiríksdóttir and Queen Emma of Normandy. I binged it, as well as the Netflix show The Last Kingdom (also about Vikings), but my favorite of all these early historical dramas is Britannia on Epix, which is set in 43 AD and concerns the Romans trying to get over on the Celtic Druids, who have a lot of tattoos. Britannia also has a fantastical element, with the Druids getting looped up on psychedelic brews and talking to their gods about prophecies, all to a classic rock soundtrack. (Its theme songs include Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man” and “Season of the Witch.") But the plot mostly hinges on Cait (Eleanor Worthington Cox), a young Celtic girl who embarks on a mystical hero’s journey to discover she is the Chosen One, meant to protect the Druids from the murderous Romans and basically rescue all humanity from war along the way. Season three is airing now and I’m thrilled by it, particularly as it’s added the great Sophie Okonedo to the cast—she’s one of the best actors alive and is brilliant and terrifying as a powerful high priestess. Truly, I will proselytize to anyone about how much I love this show. I’ve been watching all the other stuff, too—ask me about 2020 when I saw approximately 236 episodes of Love Island in nine months—but the immersive and often funny tone of Britannia has hit my perfect escapist sweet spot. (Though, let’s be real: I am also just a sucker for a big budget and a tattoo.) ![]() You can't spell friends without s-e-n-d! So be a pal and share this newsletter with all of your faves, we'd really appreciate it. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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Reinventing the girlboss
No images? Click here ![]() March 2, 2022 Hi, and welcome to the day after the State of the Union. Last night, Biden was in prime presidential form, which is to say his face was beat to the gods. On the issues, well—aside from his support of Ukraine, which included a solemn and moving ovation for UN ambassador Oksana Markarova, for me, his big shining moment was when he spoke up to defend trans kids and their parents via the Equality Act (though, as the journalist Katelyn Burns pointed out, the Equality Act won’t be passed as long as the filibuster exists). Generally, I liked what Rep. Rashida Tlaib said in response to the speech: that Biden should use his executive powers to cancel student debt and reduce carbon emissions, and everyone needs to get back to enacting Build Back Better (which of course won’t *presses rewind* happen as long as the filibuster exists). Also, I learned that a lot of powerful people (including the President) still don’t know what Defund the Police actually means. But more on that in the news below, along with Shannon Melero’s look at the current TV trend—via Inventing Anna and Hulu’s upcoming Elizabeth Holmes show—of pinkwashing female white-collar criminals with a girlboss sheen. Hope that you and yours are well and safe. —Julianne Escobedo Shepherd ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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—JES ![]() CRIME TIMEThe Yas Queenification of White Women ScammersThere’s a reason we’re so fascinated with Anna SorokinBY SHANNON MELERO ![]() JULIA GARNER AS ANNA DELVEY, JUDGING YOU FOR YOUR OUTFIT (IMAGE VIA NETFLIX) In 2018, when every New York glossy started covering the escapades of Anna Sorokin—a young woman who had defrauded her “friends” and several financial institutions (including City National Bank) by posing as a German heiress named Anna Delvey—I largely ignored it. The woes of New York’s elite monied classes simply weren’t of interest to me—that part of New York is so disconnected from what I know as a native New Yorker that it may as well be a fantasyland. If those over-educated Patagonia vest wearers got conned by some girl, that was their business. I saw no reason to engage with the Anna Delvey news cycle. Ultimately, the joke was on me: Recently, I spent an entire weekend glued to Netflix’s Inventing Anna, a fictionalized version of the New York magazine story that first broke the news of Sorokin’s crimes. After a solid two days of talking at my husband (he didn’t watch, so I had to reenact some scenes for clarity) about all the different angles the series covers, it occurred to me that the whole thing functions as a bit of a Rorschach test: Is the viewer looking at a criminal or just a misunderstood girlboss? If you haven’t seen the show or read the articles, think-pieces, and best-selling book about Anna Delvey, here’s the quick and dirty. Delvey got herself one step away from securing a $25 million loan from a bank to fund what she called the Anna Delvey Foundation, her concept for an exclusive social club for the mega-wealthy in New York. To create the illusion that she was a wealthy German heiress and hide the fact that she had no money and nowhere to live, Delvey (born in Russia) stayed in some of the most expensive hotels in New York City and skipped the bill at nearly every single one. She was arrested twice in 2017 for failure to make payment, and was ultimately found guilty of almost all of the charges brought against her, including first-degree attempted grand larceny, theft of services, and second-degree grand larceny—just to name a few. It is an incredible crime story that not even the writers’ room of Law and Order could have conceived, but what’s more fascinating is the story that came after the story: The heroic myth of Anna Delvey. ![]() CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF ANNA WAS NOT CHARGED FOR THE CRIMINAL ACT THAT IS THIS EYELINER/MATTED LASH COMBO (IMAGE VIA NETFLIX) Shaping the latest retelling of this myth is Inventing Anna creator Shonda Rhimes, who’s constructed a series that deals in a certain degree of subtle manipulation. One episode at a time, it chips away at the perspective that Sorokin is a scammer who got off easy (she served the minimum length of her sentence), giving her just enough girlboss and pseudo-feminist rhetoric to imply that maybe, just maybe, she was simply a savvy business person faking it till she made it. What Inventing Anna manages to portray so expertly is the iron grip that girlbossery had over the masses during the 2010s, when Anna began her climb to and subsequent fall from the top. She is a scammer; there's no two ways about it. But her scam worked thanks to one nefarious aspect of girlbossology: because she is a white woman who came from nothing and almost created a social club without a dime to her name, she enjoyed a unique benefit of the doubt from bankers, hotel managers, socialites and the public—which is played up in the series. And this is where Inventing Anna starts weaving in the girlboss narrative. TV Anna, played by Julia Garner, makes sweeping speeches about how women aren't taken seriously in business. Even as she sits in a prison cell, her reputation as an entrepreneur is more important to her than her freedom. One ancillary character describes the way Anna had to change her appearance—ditching the blonde for serious girl brunette, putting on glasses, wearing all-black power suits—to even be heard in the offices of some of the most powerful bankers and lawyers in New York, a strategy that somehow worked.
This is one of the subtle manipulations happening in the show: it’s so easy to relate to this moment. Who among us hasn’t tweaked her appearance to some degree to be perceived a certain way in the workplace? These moments of relatability between Anna and the audience work as perfect distractors from the fact that she also took large sums of money from non-rich, non-white acquaintances who were left to pick up the pieces. The show even goes so far as to subtly place blame on these individuals by making it seem like they deserved what happened to them because they had benefited from their friendship with Anna. Instead of focusing on the nature of the crime, the focus is on transactional relationships—before you know it, you’re thinking about that one friend who is always out but never pays for anything. It’s truly a masterclass in don’t look over here, look over there! Inventing Anna’s affinity for Sorokin is put to its biggest test during the incident between Anna and Rachel Deloache Williams—a writer and friend of Anna who was allegedly scammed out of a large sum of money and eventually cooperated with the police to apprehend her—which functions as a sort of line in the sand in the series. You’re either on Rachel’s side or Anna’s side; there’s no room for middle ground. Rachel believed she was defrauded out of more than $60,000 on a trip to Morocco. Anna (and her attorney) painted Rachel as a weak social climber who was just mad that she had to pay for a lavish vacation that she had planned. Now don’t get me wrong, in the Rachel episode, Anna’s behavior is deplorable and frightening. But as the series progresses, it tosses out tiny breadcrumbs in Anna’s defense and raises questions about Rachel’s responsibility in the Morocco ordeal. If Rachel could not afford her share of that suite, then why book it? Why did Rachel bring a work credit card on a personal vacation? What the fuck is up with that garden? Everyone is wrong, and no one is wrong. (Everyone is also a winner here: In real life, Williams turned a few pretty pennies for selling her story, and Anna Sorokin was found not guilty on that specific charge.) ![]() KATIE LOWES AS RACHEL DELOACHE WILLIAMS (IMAGE VIA NETFLIX) The series also makes abundantly clear that Anna could only achieve what she did because she was white and able to move in certain circles without anyone giving her a second glance. Her achievements are entirely rooted in her whiteness and ability to position herself close to powerful white men. This is one aspect of the storytelling that the show gets right. But her portrayal as a girlboss—an unyielding byproduct of feminism as corporate branding—is far too generous for someone who carried out a staggering amount of white-collar crimes in such a short amount of time. It’s an unearned framing that only worked because she was able to fool so many men and for that aspect alone, the series awards her a proverbial Yas Queen trophy. It’s also a stark contrast to the way creators are compelled to cover “bad” men like Bernie Madoff or all of the investor bros from The Big Short. Where is the philosophical exploration of their manhood being the biggest motivating factor for their actions? On Thursday, March 3, another scorned girlboss will get the starlet treatment when Hulu releases its limited series on Elizabeth Holmes, The Dropout (there’s also a book and documentary about Holmes, if fiction doesn’t do it for you). It tells another story of another white woman who built another castle of sand, was praised as if she was the first woman in the history of women to accomplish anything, and watched it all come apart because she was selling her own pipe dream (and defrauding investors). I will absolutely watch it because I am a child of television, doomed to view whatever my overlords offer me. But underneath my own insatiable hunger for storytelling, I feel resistant to projects like The Dropout or Inventing Anna. It’s not that I’m against works that glorify crime—there are plenty of great movies about mobsters and murders (The Godfather is not one of them, come at me). Instead, it’s the implication that because these criminals are women, they are noteworthy in some way—or motivated by something greater, some higher calling from Lilith or Eve to commit crimes for the advancement of womankind. But sometimes, a crime is simply not that deep. ![]() Shannon Melero is a Bronx-born writer on a mission to establish borough supremacy. She covers pop culture, religion, and sports as one of feminism's final frontiers. ![]() READER QUESTION WEDNESDAY!Earlier this week, The Meteor held a briefing on the state of the caregiving crisis, which you can watch here. We’d love to hear from you on that issue. Tell us: Have you left your job in the past two years in order to care for a child or other family member? And if so, what would you have needed to be able to stay? Send your responses to [email protected], and we might feature your answer in next week’s newsletter. ![]() We're new here and we'd appreciate it if you help us get by with a little help from your friends by sharing this newsletter with them. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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When your existence is illegal
No images? Click here ![]() February 25, 2022 Hello Meteor readers—it perhaps goes without saying that it’s been a rough week in the world; as I write this, Russian troops have invaded Kyiv, and stories are pouring in about people fleeing Ukraine to Poland, having walked on foot for a full day. We’ve compiled a list of ways to help Ukrainians on our Instagram here. In today’s newsletter, we’ve got four transgender writers reflecting on how Texas Governor Greg Abbott’s hateful decree—and the transphobic legislation being passed across the country—affects their lives. After that, read Shannon Melero’s interview with Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman, editor of a new book called The Black Agenda: Bold Solutions for a Broken System, which elevates Black expertise in areas where it’s rarely sought. There is some good news, thank goodness. President Biden has nominated Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson to the Supreme Court; he kept his promise that he would nominate the first Black woman to SCOTUS, but what’s most exciting is that he’s nominated the most progressive judge among the candidates he was reportedly considering. (Lawyer and writer Dahlia Lithwick predicted her nomination in a recent edition of our newsletter.) More on that below. Hold the line, everybody. And drop us one, too: [email protected]. —Julianne Escobedo Shepherd ![]() WHY IS IT ALWAYS TEXASOur Existence Is a Crime ![]() TEXANS PROTESTING PROPOSED BANS OF TRANS ATHLETES IN TEXAS, 2021 (PHOTO TAMIR KALIFA VIA GETTY IMAGES) On Wednesday, Texas Governor Greg Abbott signed a decree that essentially criminalizes trans kids and their parents, demanding that the Department of Family and Protective Services investigate parents who support and affirm their kids' gender identity as child abuse. Abbott also ordered doctors and teachers—and deputized individual citizens—to report trans children receiving life-affirming care. This draconian, hateful step was the most recent measure in a right-wing war on trans people in multiple states, which includes 125 anti-trans bills currently on the table, according to the Human Rights Campaign. So what does the Texas news mean to the people most affected? The Meteor founding member Jennifer Finney Boylan asked four writers to answer that question here. Brynn Tannehill
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How equal-pay victories really happen
No images? Click here ![]() February 23, 2022 Hi, and welcome to our Wednesday edition. I’m still reeling from yesterday’s New York Times crossword (IT WAS A REBUS! BASED ON 2/22/22! Come ON) and freaked out by the fact that it’s 61 degrees in Brooklyn today. Empirically, I feel confident in saying that we are having a climate crisis. In today’s newsletter, we’ve got Shannon Melero fulfilling one of her life’s goals: writing about (and celebrating!) the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team settling their long-running equal pay suit against U.S. Soccer. Believe her when she says she’s been following this case closely for six years like Nancy Drew with a magnifying glass. She’s cautiously optimistic, but also asks the important questions, like: when are all the other women’s sports teams going to get paid equally, too? But first, the news! And if you’d like to email us about what’s on your mind, or just tell us what you’re up to today, we’d love to hear from you: [email protected] —Julianne Escobedo Shepherd ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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—JES ![]() THE BEAUTIFUL GAMEThe History of the U.S. Women’s National Team’s Fight for Equal PayI hope these women are drinking champagne out of a trophy this weekBY SHANNON MELERO ![]() AN ASSEMBLY OF WINNERS (PHOTO BY BRUCE BENNETT VIA GETTY IMAGES) I cried when the United States Women’s National Team (USWNT) won their fourth World Cup in 2019. They were tears of excitement, tears of joy, and tears of immense pride at seeing these women—some of whom I’d watched play on a college field in Piscataway, New Jersey, because their league team didn’t have a stadium—be recognized by hundreds of millions. But they were also tears of anger. In the same year that the USWNT won that historic victory, they had, as a team, filed a gender discrimination lawsuit against the United States Soccer Federation (USSF) for unequal pay. Their claim argued that they were being paid less than the US Men’s National Team and were being given unequal resources—even though they had more World Cup wins than the men’s team, which to this day has won a total of *pulls out abacus* zero World Cups. On Tuesday, the USSF and USWNT finally reached a settlement in the lawsuit—to the tune of $24 million. This is an enormous achievement for the team. But as with everything that has to do with labor and money, it’s a little more complicated than that. For casual soccer fans, this case became news fodder on International Women’s Day 2019, when all 28 players on the USWNT filed that lawsuit. But this really all started in colonial America when the European settlers imposed their—just kidding! We don’t need to go back that far. (We could, but we won’t.) The struggle began in earnest in 1999 when the now-famous ’99ers won the Cup in a dramatic penalty kick-off against China. Don’t remember that match? I’ll bet you remember seeing a photo of Brandi Chastain, who scored the winning goal, kneeling on the grass, fists up in the air with nothing but her shorts and a sports bra. It’s the photo that launched a hundred sports bra campaigns. ![]() THE ICON BRANDI CHASTAIN ON THE DAY SHE INVENTED THE CONCEPT OF ATHLEISURE AS FASHION (PHOTO BY RICH LIPSKI/THE WASHINGTON POST VIA GETTY IMAGES) But it also marked a more critical turning point: Over 90,000 people showed up to the stadium for that game, and 40 million tuned in to ABC to watch from home. Women’s soccer—which at this point didn’t have an American professional league—was finally in the spotlight. The ’99ers capitalized on the moment to expose just how poorly America’s champions were being treated. They went on strike, refusing to appear in a scheduled tournament in Australia, to protest not just the pay gap between themselves and the men’s team but the complete lack of maternity leave. In an interview with a few of the ’99ers, the Washington Post described the USSF’s stance as “treating[ing] pregnancy as a “career-ending injury,” where players like gold medalist Kate Markgraf weren’t offered contract renewals because they’d given birth. Thanks to public pressure, and the desire to ensure the top players showed up at the 2000 Olympics (where they won silver), the ’99ers were able to get maternity language introduced into USWNT contracts. (The policy wasn’t great, but at least women could no longer be cut from the team because they’d had a child.) After 2000, women’s soccer struggled to translate into a profitable American league, and the pay discrepancy issue was silenced by the fact that the men’s league, Major League Soccer, was thriving. Out of sight, out of mind. And the National Team itself had its own internal strife over differing views on LGBTQ representation. This changed in 2012 when the National Women’s Soccer League (NWSL) was established, and talents like Ashlyn Harris, Christine Sinclair, Tobin Heath, and Alex Morgan brought back the excitement of soccer on a season to season basis. Then, in 2016, Hope Solo, Megan Rapinoe, Alex Morgan, Carli Lloyd, and Becky Sauerbrunn filed a wage discrimination action with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Their charge: Unequal pay and treatment between the men’s and women’s national teams, and even though the USWNT was doing superior work, the movement they began was called Equal Play, Equal Pay. (Just in case you forgot, the men’s team had not won a World Cup by this point, while the women’s team had three World Cup wins and four Olympic golds.) After that suit was filed, the team spent months carrying out their contractual obligations and negotiating a new contract behind the scenes—and according to a recent Instagram post from Hope Solo, the 2016 suit “still stands.” (It’s worth noting here that Solo does not see this settlement as a win, and is not entitled to the backpay included in the $22 million. She also does not believe the team will be able to successfully negotiate equal pay into their next contract.)
In 2017, the USWNT negotiated a new Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) that addressed portions of the discrimination action. They were given increased per diems, better base salaries, and improved accommodation. It was a short-lived win. The women’s team had gotten a shred of parity, but it was in comparison to the old contract the men had. Once the men’s team got to the negotiation table with the USSF, there was another drastic change. The men were offered an entirely different (and lucrative) pay-per-play bonus structure which still saw them making more money per match than the women. As The Guardian calculated in 2019, the women’s team earned a $37,500 bonus (per player, with rookies expecting slightly less) for qualifying for a World Cup. On the other hand, top players on the men’s team would have been paid over $108,000 if they managed to qualify. The numbers become more staggering from there once you factor in brand sponsorships, appearance fees for post-match events, and base salaries. The women had to perform twice as well to get close to the income of a men’s team that couldn’t win their way out of a pie-eating contest against a toothless infant. (Not you, Tim Howard, you’re okay.) But now, six years, two medals, one documentary, and several hundred pages of legalese later—here we are. ![]() ACCURATE SIGN IS ACCURATE. (PHOTO BY IRA L. BLACK VIA GETTY IMAGES) I cried when I saw the news Tuesday morning, not because I was joyful and overwhelmed. But because I was so shocked to read it that I literally dropped my phone on my face during my morning Twitter scroll. Like every fan and sportswriter who has followed this story through its nonsensical twists and turns, I am optimistic, but cautiously so. The 28 players who filed suit will have to agree on how to split $22 million in back pay, while an additional $2 million will be placed in a fund to support their post-career ambitions and charities (each player can apply for up to $500,000 from the fund). That money is contingent on the ratification of a new CBA, but that’s a necessary formality; they’ll get their cash. “Once a new CBA has been ratified, the district court will be able to schedule the final approval of this settlement,” The Athletic's Meg Linehan reported. But as any union member knows, the key to pay equity in the long term isn’t a one-time payout; it’s a solid contract that codifies equal pay as a basic standard, an outcome that Hope Solo does not believe is imminent. The plaintiffs in the 2019 case have said on numerous occasions that the fight is about more than just the back pay. It’s about ensuring the women who come after them will never have to go through all of this to get paid what they deserve. On that score, things look promising–but I’m too much of a cynic to call it certain. The Federation is pledging that under the new contract (the current one expires in March), they’ll work with the Player’s Union to establish equal pay between the national teams, and there’s reason to believe they’ll hold true to this promise. Cindy Parlow Cone, the current USSF president, has already made enormous strides in good faith, most notably in December, when the USSF agreed to equal working conditions for the teams. So yes, let’s all celebrate and anticipate a fair contract. But tomorrow, when the confetti is cleared and the hangover lifts, there are still equity battles to fight in the NWSL where Trinity Rodman signed a four year $1 million contract making her the highest-paid player in the league—which is $13 million less than what the 2021 MLS rookie of the year was given just to switch teams. Let’s also not forget the many fights still ahead at the WNBA, a league that has some of the best, most interesting athletes ever to touch a basketball but still gets asked to prove they deserve the financial and media investments the NBA takes for granted. There is still so much to do in the landscape of women’s sports, but what the US Women’s National Team has shown everyone is that it’s possible. It’s not easy, fast, or simple, but it can be done. So to borrow a line from Megan Rapinoe: “Let’s fucking go.” ![]() Shannon Melero is a Bronx-born writer on a mission to establish borough supremacy. She covers pop culture, religion, and sports as one of feminism's final frontiers. ![]() BEFORE YOU GODo you ever wonder why the US doesn’t provide paid parental leave when some of our global neighbors have already proven it’s possible? Why does it feel like there is a news item about child-care nightmares with parents and teachers clamoring for help every other week? Do you wish someone could give you concrete steps to address these issues without going absolutely nuts? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you’re a) human, and b) officially invited to join us Monday night for a special briefing. With America’s care economy in crisis, it’s time to talk about what’s next in the movement for child care, family leave, and sustainable wages for care providers. Join us on February 28 to find out more. We’ll be joined by SuperMajority Executive Director Amanda Brown Lierman, Caring Across Generations chief of advocacy and campaigns Nicole Jorwic, Marshall Plan for Moms founder Reshma Saujani, and activist, writer, and filmmaker Paola Mendoza. ![]() Thank you for being a friend. We'd love it if you threw a party and invited everyone you knew to read this newsletter. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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What book bans are doing to kids
No images? Click here ![]() February 19, 2022 Cheers to the BookTokers, book worms, book lovers, and even actual books–this newsletter is for you. The subject of book banning is everywhere right now—but for school librarians, it’s more than just a talking point. So in today’s issue, Julianne Escobedo Shepherd spoke to the president of the American Association of School Librarians, Jennisen Lucas, about what it’s like to be on the front lines of this “life-or-death” issue. We’ve also got Suzan Skaar, a rad librarian from Wyoming, with a personal account of what happened after members of the organization Moms for Liberty challenged books in her Cheyenne school district. “The whole country is divided,” she says, “and Wyoming is no exception.” Before we dive into all that, a small favor. We’re new here, and we’d love it if you sent this email to a friend, or three! Or pop it in the group chat. Consider it your good deed of the day. Call us, beep us, if you wanna reach us at [email protected]. —Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ON
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—SM ![]() LIBRARIANS AT WORKWhat Are Book Bans Doing to Kids?“It leads to ‘I’m all alone’ kind of thinking”BY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD ![]() SOME CLASSIC READS ARE BEING CHALLENGED BY MOMS FOR LIBERTY, A GROUP BENT ON LIMITING THE LIBERTIES OF KIDS WHO JUST WANT TO READ. (PHOTO VIA GETTY IMAGES) The image above depicts just a few of the books that have been banned or challenged over the last few years, though today, some are considered cornerstones of American literature. And now in 2022, the censors are back at it, with legislators, school officials, and parents across the country engaged in a new, frenzied effort to ban certain book titles from school libraries. These ban attempts often cite “pornographic material” as their concern, but in reality, work to suppress certain points of view: The book Gender Queer, for instance, an illustrated memoir by nonbinary author Maia Kobabe, has been especially targeted in the last year, as have books like Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give, which deals with police brutality, and George M. Johnson’s All Boys Aren’t Blue, about growing up queer and Black. And last month, a Tennessee school board banned Art Spiegelman’s Maus, a canonical graphic novel about the Holocaust, citing cursing and the apparently objectionable nudity of cartoon mice. Many of these challenges have been spearheaded by members of Moms for Liberty, a conservative organization championing “parental rights.” (There is, hearteningly, a counterinsurgency of suburban moms called Book Ban Busters.) And while bans have been most successful in conservative states like Florida and Texas, books have also been challenged in nearly every state in the country, turning typically sleepy school board meetings into hotbeds of right-wing grievance. I spoke with Jennisen Lucas, president of the American Association of School Librarians, an organization on the front lines. Book bans and challenges are happening across the country. What are your broad, bird’s-eye-view thoughts about what’s been going on? Jennisen Lucas: This is, to me, extremely concerning [because] it’s so widespread and so large. At the American Library Association (ALA) and the Association of School Librarians, we’re trying to figure out, “How do we work with this at this huge large scale?” We definitely stand against censorship; we stand for intellectual freedom and the idea that students have the right to decide what they’re reading. [But conservatives] have branded ALA as being a very liberal organization and not somebody that you want to listen to. So how do we motivate people to say that there are definitely a lot of people out there who don’t think that we should be banning books? We tend to go with the idea that parents should be talking to their children about what they’re reading and not whole-scale trying to remove things from them. And then the fact that [the bans are] very specifically targeted: they’re targeting LGBTQ, they are targeting race. So it’s a challenge to erase those voices. And that’s not something that is really good for our constitutional republic. Most of this seems to come from Moms for Liberty, which consists of parents and seems extremely well-funded. It’s definitely a very well-funded and well-organized movement. But they are approaching this as, let’s get people riled up so that they go and talk to their school boards themselves. [The ALA says], Well, you do have rights for your kid, and when a parent comes to a librarian and says, “Hey, I’m concerned that my child should not be reading this,” we back the parent up. That’s their prerogative as a parent. The issue gets much bigger when it’s like, “No. I need that removed because I don’t think any kids should have access to that.” And we’re also being hit with a lot of varying definitions because people are coming in with, “Oh, that’s pornographic.” For most of them, this is normal teenage activity and has been for generations.
When you think about the books that have been banned—books like Gender Queer or The Hate U Give—it seems like they’re not just targeting whatever they think might be salacious material. They’re targeting specific identities in children. What we’re seeing as a national trend is a conflation between “pornography” and LGBTQIA+. Even if there is not any sex at all in the book, [book banners are] still claiming pornography because that’s not what they approve of as a society. Part of [our] concern is that the conversation itself is harmful to our students that identify in any of those categories; that when they’re hearing people say, “Hey, this is pornographic, and this is not acceptable, and this is just disgusting”—and these are some of the words that are coming from parents—that is not good for the mental health of our students. Each of our students needs to be able to see themselves in books and have that representation. It’s extremely important, and personally, to me, this is a life-or-death situation for some of our kids. If they are completely turned off from and denied access to materials like that, it leads to “I’m all alone” kind of thinking, which is a precursor to severe depression and suicidal thoughts. I wanted to ask you about that—I feel like we’re having this national conversation about politics, but the actual students and how they feel are getting lost. I have talked to my students about this, and it’s interesting to watch them get heated up about it. Especially our high school kids, who are preparing for adulthood and are in that situation where today I’m 17 and a minor and tomorrow’s my birthday. You’re at that cusp of legally being able to do all of this stuff on your own. They almost feel micromanaged. But the number of students around the country who are forming banned book clubs who are standing up and speaking at school board meetings—it’s all [types of students, even if they don’t identify as LGBTQ or BIPOC]. Books with LGBTQ content, books talking about race, and the history of race are for all kids. Everybody needs to be able to see that perspective. ![]() Julianne Escobedo Shepherd is a Wyoming-born Xicana journalist and editor who lives in New York. She is currently at work on a book for Penguin about her upbringing and the mythology of the American West. ![]() CHEYENNE, WYOMINGReport from a Red State LibrarianA CONVERSATION WITH SUZAN SKAAR, BY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD ![]() LET THE TEENS READ! (PHOTO BY JOHN KEEBLE VIA GETTY IMAGES) So how does it feel to be a librarian in one of the schools Jennisen Lucas describes? Suzan Skaar, a librarian at South High School in Cheyenne, Wyoming, knows. Last December, books by two authors—Tiffany D. Jackson and Ellen Hopkins—were challenged in Cheyenne by local members of Moms for Liberty. Though the upset seems to have died down now, it alarmed members of the school district, including teachers and librarians. Skaar talked to us about what it was like to be a school librarian at the center of one of these challenges. The whole country is divided, and Wyoming is no exception. Right now, there are seven certified secondary librarians in Cheyenne—we’re a pretty tight group. [Before the local book challenges], we worked with our new superintendent, and we prepared some information to put on the district homepage about book selection and how you can challenge books, that kind of thing. We’re lucky enough to have a really good board policy around selection and collection development. So we kind of met it head-on, in a very subtle way. What they were specifically challenging was Ellen Hopkins; she writes about issues kids are influenced by or have to deal with in their lives. [Hopkins’ YA novel Traffick focuses on the lives of five teens who escaped sex trafficking.] And, and so for some reason, they picked on her—well, she’s always picked on, she’s probably one of the most likely authors to be challenged. Then they picked up on Tiffany D. Jackson, and I spent Christmas break reading all of her novels. She’s a Black American author who writes about social issues that are really close to more urban-area Black teens, but they’re things that my kids identify with. [They’re so popular that] I can’t keep them on the shelf; I had to actually go read the books from the state app because all of my books were checked out over Christmas.
[After the initial objections at the December board meeting], our superintendent asked us, “So how many of you have had a request for the form to start a challenge process?” And not one of us had received an official challenge from the community. That just makes you wonder: it’s a national trend, but is it just a lot of yelling, or is it really a concern? I don’t believe that in a democracy, this should even be an issue. In Wyoming, we’re a little bit of “live and let live,” you know. “My kids are gonna read what I want them to read, but you can’t influence what my kids read—we all get to do that for ourselves.” I want to tell you something that happened this morning. We had a pep assembly, and we had a bunch of kids that didn’t want to go, so I let them come in here. And one little girl was looking around, and I said, “Can I help you find something?” and she said she wanted to look for a specific mental health disorder. So we went to the catalog, and I showed her how to look for it… and took her to the section. And her eyes strayed from the Mental Health section and went straight to LGBTQ Nonfiction. She said, “Oh my god, do you have this book? Can you have this book in this state?” And I said, “Well, so far, we do. I purchased [it] for our students because there’s a high interest in that topic and a lot of questions.” And she grabbed it—I don’t know if you’ve heard of the book, This Book Is Gay—and she goes, “Forget about the mental health. I’m checking out this one.” I have trust and hope in the generation coming up. They’re more savvy about how to deal with all the information that’s thrown at them. ![]() WE'VE GOT A QUESTION FOR YOUDid you read in school? Of course you did! What's a book you remember reading that might be banned now and what did you get out of reading it? Tell us at [email protected], and we'll feature a few of your responses in a future newsletter. FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Wednesdays and Saturdays.
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