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If you haven't heard about While She Was Out, you're definitely not alone. This low-budget horror/thriller written and directed by Susan Montford opened in just a handful of theaters this weekend, and I was one of the two people who showed up to see it during an opening night showing in NYC. It's a pretty sure bet that this would have gone direct-to-DVD if it didn't have Guillermo del Toro among its ten (!) producers. But I'm glad it did make it to theaters, because despite its shortcomings, While She Was Out is actually worth a look.... (more after the jump).

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.

I don't know whether to thank my friend Elise for bringing this to my attention, or gently curse her:

High heels. For babies. That is all.

Also, when Fox News's Megyn Kelly starts sounding hard-hitting and feminist, the apocalypse is clearly nigh.

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.

Yesterday, we lost one of the most critical voices in feminist media/justice. 

I don't know what I should be doing or saying publicly about everything that's happening. Some voices in my head tell me to be quiet and make space; others tell me to stand up and scream. Some voices tell me it's pointless to try to do anything; others tell me I need to do anything and everything possible. Some voices tell me to focus on positive change; others tell me to keep fighting...

Up until now, I've been a little scared of this blog – scared, mostly, of seeming too self-indulgent. But I'm realizing that my own fears are way beside the point.

By Lisa Moricoli-Latham

If ever there were a film that ought to be required viewing for the readers of Bitch, it would be Lisa F. Jackson's The Greatest Silence: Rape in the Congo, which premiered on HBO last night. And not for the bleeding-heart liberal reasons that instantly spring to mind.

If you, like me, aren't sure you can stomach another season—'scuse me, "cycle"—of Tyra Banks, the two Jays, and a handful of hot messes who will never be models, but you still kind of want to keep up on the show, might I suggest reading the excellent recaps on SFGate.com's Culture Blog?

I don't know if there's a clearer sign that the writer's strike is killing good television than the insanity broadcast last night on the CW.