Delightfully Cranky

Last night I co-hosted a fundraising house party for the kick-ass feminist media organization Women in Media and News. I've been involved in the organization since its planning and launch, and am proud to be its founding board chair.

NARAL's letter-writing link is here (goes to Congress). Planned Parenthood's is here (goes to the White House).

And, courtesy of commenter softpieces on yesterday's post, Department of Health and Human Services contact info:
Secretary Mike Leavitt's office: 202-690-7000

Someone on my favorite feminist- and media-related listserv just pointed me to this article, by the ever-knowledgable Cristina Page, about a new Health and Human Services Department proposal that would define the pill, the patch, the shot, the IUD, the ring, and Plan B as abortion rather than contraception.

This morning in my in box was an e-mail titled, "An Open Letter to the South End Press Community." I clicked right on it, before I read my daily-headlines e-mail or the note from Debbie asking my opinion on a Very Important Matter—and even before I read the note from the boy I am currently most crushed out on. Because I am a member of their Community Supported Publishing program, which means I get a copy of every single book they publish as a thank-you for my monthly donation, and that's how much I love South End, the publisher of some of the most important political books being pubished today. Just to make sure you know.

If you're not already familiar with South End, you should get to know them right now. They are, as their letter notes, "the nation's only unapologetically radical, feminist, mission-driven, and majority women of color publishing collective." Their list is tremendous: big names like bell hooks, Vandana Shiva, and Howard Zinn, plus less well-known but no less important books from Incite!, Andrea Smith, Kristian Williams, and many more.

And they're in trouble, because Borders is in trouble, and the unfortunate thing about the publishing business is that the actual producers of actual content are generally at the mercy of retailers and distributors when it comes to our financial survival. Just like Bitch, South End is a nonprofit organization that relies on its community of readers to get how important media is to social justice and to back that understanding up with cold, hard cash.

Last night I went out to my neighborhood queer bar, the White Horse Inn, to see the East Bay Kings put on the most kick-ass drag show ever.

So last week I tried to buy my plane tickets to the ever-awesome Allied Media Conference in Detroit, June 20-21. I was really looking forward to being in the presence of so many radical media folks, building coalitions, hearing about the work other people are doing, and just hangin' out. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a ticket under $600, so it's not going to happen for me this year. A lot of people are surely in the same situation, so I figured I'd spend some of what I budgeted for travel on helping other folks get there; if you can, please do the same (and consider donating to Bitch, too, to help with our very own Debbie Rasmussen's costs).

In other not-entirely-unrelated news (I can't say I'm unhappy about the high fuel prices driving up the cost of flying and driving and making people reconsider their destructive habits), on Wednesday morning Jen Angel (one of the founders of the late lamented Clamor and the aforementioned AMC) convinced me to go with her out to Chevron's corporate headquarters in San Ramon, California, to take part in a protest at their annual shareholders' meeting.

So The Angry Black Woman has called this Carnival of Allies, which these days feels to me like the best idea ever, because I really need some guidance. One of the many, many things the events of the last month and change have taught me is that, um, to put it mildly, my anti-racist ally skills could use some honing.

What that means is that right now I need to listen to people who know more than me: to their analysis, to their experiences, to their strategies (not that I'm expecting anyone to hand me the answers on a silver platter, or that I think it's up to other people to tell me all about what's wrong with the world I live in, or that I plan to rely on others to do my intellectual heavy lifting, or that...yeah, you get the picture). And I'm eager to read what the carnival brings forth.

But if I just want to listen, why the hell am I talking?

Here are a few of the amazing, insightful, powerful, not-to-be-missed things I've been reading over the past few days.

On some of the work that is cut out for feminists committed to making anti-racism and anti-imperialism central to our movements: Diary of an Anxious Black Woman on International Women's Day, She Who Stumbles on tactics and privilege.

On how white feminists need stop fucking up: An Open Letter to White Feminists. (Though I have to add how sickening it is that this essay is even necessary.)

A coda from Brownfemipower.

And one thing that you can act on right now in a small but concrete way: Diary of an Anxious Black Woman on rape in the Congo and the corporations who benefit (with addresses for your letter-writing ire).

Sorry for the terrible photo quality—I took this with my phone out the window of a car on the way to my acupuncture appointment the other day. I wanted to stop on the way back and get a better shot, but I was late getting the car back (I don't have my own but use the awesome City Car Share program when I can't bike or get somewhere on pubic transit), so I couldn't.

The sound of respectful listening is silence. The sound of complicity is also silence. I've been silent a lot lately. And sometimes I can't tell which is which.