Awesome Website: Take Back Halloween!

Suzie posted a link to this wonderful website today on Echidne's blog; the site is called Take Back Halloween!, and it's full of cool ideas for Halloween costumes based on powerful female figures from history and mythology.

(The name, Take Back Halloween!, refers to the current trend for women's Halloween costumes to be a "sexy" version of some generic category or character: I've blogged before about unimaginatively "sexy" superhero costumes. The ladies at Take Back Halloween! want to see more thoughtful, creative, personalized Halloween costumes; it's not sexiness per se but rather homogeneity and lack of imagination in Halloween costumes that they lament. See the Take Back Halloween! About page for more details.)

My favorite costume on that site, so far, is actually one that had occurred to me before as someone it would be cool, and relatively easy, to dress up as: the famous female pharaoh Hatshepsut. Here's what Take Back Halloween! says about her:

Hatshepsut (ca. 1508-1458 BCE) was an extremely successful pharaoh whose reign was full of accomplishments --- important trade missions, gorgeous architecture, a booming economy. But the thing she's most famous for, at least nowadays, is that she had herself depicted as male on her monuments. There she is, King Hatshepsut, striding across the ancient bas reliefs with her broad shoulders and her beard ... it's a little weird until you understand what's going on. The role of pharaoh was gendered male in ancient Egypt, and Hatshepsut was just assuming the badges of office. She wasn't pretending to be personally male, and the texts unmistakably refer to her as female: "she" is the beloved "daughter" of Amun, destined to rule, and so forth. But Egyptian iconography and religion called for the pharaoh to have a male form, and so Hatshepsut had herself depicted with beard, kilt, the whole bit.

Take Back Halloween! suggests a standard dime-store Egyptian Queen costume, with the stripey headdress of a pharaoh substituted for whatever crown the costume comes with.

My own idea, when I conceived of a Hatshepsut costume, was to dress as the masculinized "King Hatshepsut" character --- fake beard, stripey headdress, crook and flail, pleated linen kilt, boobs bound down with a strip of the same material I'd used for the kilt. (This would be, obviously, only practical if the weather was warm, or if I was going to wear it to a party or other indoor event. In Kansas, it is usually too cold at night in late October to be running around outside with that little clothing on).
I would also wear a cardboard cartouche around my neck on a string, with (if I could find them) the hieroglyphs spelling Hatshepsut's name painted on it.

Another thing I thought would be fun to add to this costume, to throw a little gamer-geekery into the mix, would be to wear shoes evoking the "Freudian slippers" card from Munchkin, which allow your character in that game to function as whatever gender you say they are, even both at the same time. I thought that would be particularly a propos for Hatshepsut, who is female, but yet also male in her role as Pharaoh.

They also have lots of ideas for mythological-character costumes, which is another area of geekery that is dear to my heart. I was actually just pondering the best way to make a Gorgon costume that wasn't just a bunch of rubber snakes braided into one's hair --- the Gorgons, depending on what version of the myth you're reading, might have talons of bronze, wings of gold, and tusks like a wild boar or hippopotamus, or they might just be scaly and dragonlike; either way, "normal-looking woman with snakes on her head" falls short of the level of fearsomeness required.

Unfortunately, their Medusa costume is just a snake wig and a coat. Blah.

But they've got an impressive array of ancient-goddess costume ideas: there's the winged Egyptian goddess Isis, the Mayan goddess Ix Chel, the Japanese sun goddess Amaterasu, and the Sumerian goddess Inanna. And those are only the goddesses I'd heard of before going to the site!

Who's That in the Mirror? Autism and the Developing Sense of Self

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: A small, exploratory British study of preschoolers with either autism or Down syndrome and typically developing toddlers looked at how each group of children acted toward their reflections in a mirror. They looked for trends, both group trends (i.e., how do autistic children differ from their non-autistic developmental peers, represented in different ways by the Down syndrome group and the younger typically developing group, whose chronological age matched the developmental ages found for both developmentally-disabled groups), and within-group trends relating mirror behavior to performance on a test of mirror self-recognition (i.e., do they know that the person in the mirror is their own reflection).

They found that although the autistic children did not differ from the younger, typically developing children in the amount of time spent looking at their own faces, but that they did spend a lot more time looking at objects in the mirror, and that their behavior toward their reflections differed from that of either control group. The autistic children did not generally try to relate socially to the person in the mirror; what they did instead varied according to whether they recognized their own mirror images or not.
_____________________________________

(The Evil Queen from "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" with her Magic Mirror)

BPS Research Digest spotlighted this study published in last month's issue of Autism, which claims to describe another type of subtle behavioral difference between autistic, otherwise developmentally disabled, and typically developing children.

Autistic children, they hypothesized, would act differently toward their own images in mirrors than either typically developing toddlers or developmentally delayed --- but not autistic --- children (in this case having Down syndrome) of similar ages to the autistic children. They would look in the mirror, and would experiment with it (i.e., doing things to see those things reflected back to them, using the mirror to look at things behind them, etc.), but would not try to engage the person in the mirror socially; would not talk to it, smile at it, or try to show it things.

(Reading this, I was kind of surprised to see that it was normal to treat the mirror image as if it were a real person! It doesn't act like one, and you'd think that if you recognized it as yourself, you'd know you couldn't actually talk to it or interact with it, because it would just do the same things you did. Of course, the children in this study were very young --- the typically-developing ones were about eighteen months old, and the Down syndrome and autistic kids three or four years old.)

Methodologically, the study's not that interesting: the researchers went into the homes of each of their subjects (38 in total: 12 with autism, 13 with Down syndrome, and 13 typically developing toddlers), produced a mirror, filmed the children interacting with it freely for two minutes, and then tested to see if the children recognized themselves in the mirror by having their parents put a sticker on their faces to see if they removed the sticker after seeing it reflected in the mirror. If they removed it, they were said to have passed the "Mirror Self-Recognition" (MSR) test*.

Later, the researchers watched the videos they'd made of the children interacting with the mirror, looking for group differences (between autistic, Down syndrome, and typically developing children, but also between passers and failers of the MSR) in such things as level of interest in one's own face (i.e., how long does the child look at hir own face, rather than at other things reflected in the mirror), kind of actions directed at one's reflection (i.e., does the child greet hir reflection, talk to it, perform in front of it, or show things to it), and affective response to one's reflection (does the child appear pleased to see hirself, do they appear self-conscious, coy or embarrassed, do they smile at themselves).

Compared with the other groups, the autistic children spent a lot more time looking at objects in the mirror. However, contrary to what you might expect given the common wisdom about autistic people avoiding eye contact/looking at faces, though, they did not differ much from the typically-developing ones in how long they spent looking at their own faces. (The children with Down syndrome spent the most time looking at their own faces).

Figure 1, in Reddy et al. (2010). The panel on the left shows the amount of time (expressed as a percentage) that the different groups of children (autism, Down syndrome and typically developing toddlers, each subdivided into passers and failers of the mirror self-recognition test) spent looking at their own faces. The panel on the right shows the amount of time they spent looking at other objects in the mirror. In both graphs, the placement of the bars (i.e., are they higher or lower) is what tells you how much time a given group spent doing a given thing. The size of the bars (i.e., are they long or short) tells you how much variation there is within that group.

The autistic children also differed from the other two groups in what kinds of things they did in front of the mirror; autistic children, whether they recognized themselves in the mirror or not, spent a lot less time trying to relate to their reflections socially. What they did instead varied with whether or not they understood that they were looking at themselves: autistic children who passed the MSR test spent most of their time experimenting with the mirror, tilting it to see things around the room, doing things with toys or with their faces while watching to see those actions reflected back to them, while autistic children who failed to recognize their own reflections spent more time simply watching the person in the mirror.
Children with Down syndrome also spent more time watching their reflections if they failed the MSR test; the typically developing children spent about the same amount of time watching themselves whether or not they seemed to know they were watching themselves. They also spent more time watching themselves, relative to other actions, than either of the atypical groups. The study authors hypothesize that "[a] watchful focus on the self could be due to imminent self-recognition (suggested by the finding of a short-term alignment between watching and self-recognition in typical development, Nielsen et al., 2003)."

The typically developing children also did not show any relationship between MSR and social-relating behavior toward the mirror: whether they recognized themselves or not, they were just as likely to act as if their reflection were a social partner or an audience, as opposed to just a reflection (which is how the autistic children tended to treat their reflections, if indeed they recognized them as such). The children with Down syndrome tended to do *more* social relating with the reflection if they passed the MSR test, which seems counterintuitive to me. You'd think someone would be more likely to try to establish a rapport with something they believed to be another person, rather than with what they knew was only an image of themselves. (Oh, well --- like I said before, I'm no developmental psychologist!)

So, what do this study's authors (the University of Portsmouth's Prof. Vasudevi Reddy and Cristina Costantini, the University of Surrey's Dr. Emma Williams, and Britta Lang) think their results mean?

Their study was published in a special issue of Autism pertaining to how a sense of "selfhood" develops in autism, and indeed they do manage to tie these findings to an alleged autistic impairment** in developing this sense:

Difficulties in interpersonal relatedness in autism appear to extend to difficulties in relatedness with the self, supporting arguments about a reciprocal relation between a sense of self and a sense of other (Hobson, 1990; Mclaren, 2008). In typical development the affordance of the face is almost unavoidably social, with direct gaze attraction attention from birth (Farroni et al., 2002) and acting as an ostensive signal (Senju & Csibra, 2008). In autism, perhaps particularly in mirrors where there is no one else to initiate engagement and no other social behaviour to highlight interpersonal cues, this affordance may be even less potent in inviting interaction. Engaging with the self can also provide opportunities for learning about expressions and interaction. Given the enjoyment that typically developing children and children with some other developmental disorders derive from such engagement, the loss of this opportunity in autism might potentially contribute to further impairments in the development of a sense of self.

This passage, along with a passage I will also excerpt from the Introduction ---

In developmental psychology the mirror has become synonymous with the identification of the self ... . But mirrors can also symbolise and allow a relation with the Other. They can reflect the self back as the Self, as an Other, as seen by an Other (Kernberg, 2006) or, indeed, as just another reflection. How one reacts to the self in a mirror allows us to study the extent to which the self is perceived and presented as a social being.

--- argues that there is a social dimension to the sense of self, which seems to start developing pretty early.

It also echoes the feedback-loop theory I've read about in connection to another early-childhood marker of autism that's been studied recently: eye gaze. Autistic infants have been found not to prefer looking at human faces, which, the theory goes, leaves them without motivation to pay special attention to them, while their typically developing peers, who do derive pleasure from looking at faces, learn to specialize in reading faces. Reddy and her colleagues' suspicion that the mirror does not "invit[e] interaction" for autistic children in the same way it does for their typically developing and Down syndrome peers extends this notion to the broader realm of reciprocal social behavior in general.

I have one more thing I'd like to bring up in connection with this study, and with mirror self-recognition tests in general: this earlier post on BPS Digest describing cross-cultural studies of mirror self-recognition tests. Apparently, children from different cultures perform differently on the mirror self-recognition tests (which involve placing a spot on the child's face and waiting for hir to remove it when ze sees it on hir reflection), with children in some cultures failing to remove the spot even at ages much older than the second year of life, which is when children in the U.S. (and similar cultures) start passing the test. This is not because these children don't understand that they are looking at themselves, but because their cultures have different standards for how children are supposed to behave in adult company. The children may not know if they're *supposed* to remove the spot, so they might choose to do nothing rather than act rudely and be punished for it.

I bring this up, even though I'm not sure it has any direct bearing on the results of this mirror self-recognition study, because I think it is important to remember that autistic children's social behavior, in this (U.S., white, middle-class) culture and others like it, is policed much more aggressively than typically developing children's behavior is. Autistic children learn quickly that their natural ways of speaking, acting and relating to people are wrong, so they might well adopt a more passive social posture until they've seen enough to know what's expected of them.

Again, I don't think that's necessarily at work in this particular study (the children are so young, I doubt they've yet gotten much negative feedback about how they act), but I want to mention it because I don't know that many autism researchers consider the effect of culture and socialization on autistic children, much less ways autistic children are socialized differently than non-autistic ones. Instead, the common wisdom seems to be that we are immune to culture and socialization.

*An explanation of this test, and what it supposedly says about sense of self, can be found here at Noah Gray's blog, Nothing's Shocking, hosted by Nature.com. Basically, if the subject (human or animal) knows to remove the sticker (or wipe off the spot of paint, or whatever) based on having seen it in the mirror, we can reasonably infer that they know the mirror is showing them an image of themselves, not another person or animal.

**I think it's funny, if only from an etymological standpoint, that AUTistic people are now thought to have an impaired sense of self.

Reddy, V., Williams, E., Costantini, C., & Lan, B. (2010). Engaging with the self: Mirror behaviour in autism, Down syndrome and typical development Autism, 14 (5), 531-546 DOI: 10.1177/1362361310370397

Ari Ne'eman Interviewed at Wired.com

Ari Ne'eman, founding president of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network and now a member of the National Council on Disability, spoke to Wired.com back in July, and they have now posted the interview on their Wired Science blog.

Here are some excerpts from the interview that I thought were particularly awesome:

Wired.com: Many Wired readers work in the tech and software industries. How could they help improve the lives of autistic people?

Ne'eman: If we put one-tenth of the money currently spent on looking for causes and cures into developing technologies that enable autistic people with speech challenges to communicate more easily --- so-called augmentative and alternative communication [AAC] --- we'd have a vast improvement in the quality of life for autistic people and their family members.

We've already seen some very promising tools for AAC and other assistive technologies start proliferating on the iPad and the iPhone. But Medicaid won't pay for such dual-use devices, despite the fact that having an AAC app running on an iPad may be much cheaper and more functional than carrying around a dedicated AAC device. That should change, because AAC devices are currently too expensive and often not versatile enough to be used in a diverse set of circumstances.

Second, I'd love to see research into ways of using social media to improve access for disabled people. If there was some kind of web-based tool or mobile app that enables people to flag buildings with "very good" or "very bad" access, it could spur a lot of positive social change.

Finally, there should be websites or apps that enable disabled people to rate their service providers and record their experiences, like the websites that already exist for college students to rate their professors. The internet has proven to be very important for autistic people, because it's given us a chance to connect with each other and start to form a culture of our own. We've barely begun to tap the potential of handheld networked devices to assist with the kinds of deficits in executive functioning and life skills that many of us on the spectrum face. Mobile devices and apps could be very helpful in improving prospects for employment and education across the whole life span of autistic people --- not just when we're kids.

I love Ari's ideas about assistive technologies --- I would never have thought of using an iPad or iPhone as an AAC device*, but now that he suggests it, I can imagine it working well for that. I'm also enthusiastic about the web-based accessibility- and caregiver-rating. The accessibility-rating for places could speed up the currently-very-slow process of getting city governments to respond to people's complaints about poor accessibility through the Internet's ability to gather a critical mass of people calling for a given thing much more quickly than traditional, localized grassroots organizing. (Darned if I know how mobile devices and apps could help with education and employment, though, apart from their utility as AAC devices that he already mentioned).

(I can pretty easily imagine why Medicaid officials --- assuming they know about AAC apps for iPad/iPhone, which maybe they don't --- would be loath to use Medicaid funds to cover those things, even if they are cheaper and more practical: can you imagine the scandal if some deficit hawk in Congress were to discover Medicaid funds being used to provide iPhones to poor people with disabilities? The horror!)

More Ari:

Wired.com: Some of your critics suggest that as a "high-functioning" person with Asperger's syndrome, you present an overly rosy picture of life on the spectrum. You work in D.C., do a lot of public speaking and networking, and are obviously capable of things that someone who lives in a wheelchair or can't speak cannot do.

Ne'eman: I know quite a few people in D.C. who use wheelchairs, and I know people who use AAC devices and work in public policy. Some of my mentors fall into those categories. So while I'd agree that there are many things I do that some other autistic people can't, I wouldn't say that it's the fact that I'm not a wheelchair user or an AAC user that makes that the case.

I recognize that I'm fortunate in many respects and am able to do things that some other autistic people can't do. But I would also point out that these things didn't --- and don't now --- come easily to me. I've been fortunate to be able to count on the inclusive culture of the broader disability-rights movement to help support me.

There's a strange idea out there that neurodiversity advocates think that autistic life is all flowers and rainbows, but I don't know anyone who thinks that way. Most of us have had deeply personal experiences with social isolation, bullying and abuse, lack of support, discrimination, and plenty of other problems. But it's much more productive for us to focus on how we can improve people's lives than to keep presenting people as pitiable burdens.

No more pity. It doesn't help anybody.

Many of the bad things that autistic people struggle with are things that happen to us, rather than things that are bad about being autistic. Why is that an important distinction? I remember reading a blog post from a parent who pointed to two news stories. One was about a mother who had murdered her autistic child because she couldn't deal with the fact that he wasn't normal, and the other was about a school aide who had abused a child. And the blogger said, "This is what autism is like. That's why we need to find a cure."

I find that kind of thinking despicable: One would think the fault there isn't with autism, but with abusers and murderers! As long as we confuse bad things that happen to autistic people with what it means to be autistic, we're not going to be solving the problems that autistic people face in any meaningful way.
...
Wired.com: Though you criticize groups like Autism Speaks for focusing on a cure, if someone offered you a pill to wake up tomorrow without autism, would you take it?

Ne'eman: That's an intensely silly question. How can I draw a line around one part of my brain and say this is the autistic part, and the rest of me is something else? That way of looking at autism is predicated on the strange idea that there was or is a normal person somewhere inside me, hidden by autism, and struggling to get out. That's not reality.

As a society, our approach to autism is still primarily: "How do we make autistic people behave more normally? How do we get them to increase eye contact and make small talk while suppressing hand-flapping and other stims?" The inventor of a well-known form of behavioral intervention for autism, Dr. Ivar Lovaas, who passed away recently, said that his goal was to make autistic kids indistinguishable from their peers. That goal has more to do with increasing the comfort of non-autistic people than with what autistic people really need.

Lovaas also experimented with trying to make what he called effeminate boys normal. It was a silly idea around homosexuality, and it's a silly idea around autism. What if we asked instead, "How can we increase the quality of life for autistic people?" We wouldn't lose anything by that paradigm shift. We'd still be searching for ways to help autistic people communicate, stop dangerous and self-injurious behaviors, and make it easier for autistic people to have friends.

But the current bias in treatment --- which measures progress by how non-autistic a person looks --- would be taken away. Instead of trying to make autistic people normal, society should be asking us what we need to be happy.

*Partly because I can speak, and thus don't need to spend a lot of time pondering AAC, but mostly because I am kind of a technophobe and don't use a mobile computer; I don't always grasp everything they're capable of doing.

These Are Not the Eternal Verities of Biology - Part II

I wrote this post almost a year ago, but it's always been my plan to add to it. And now Echidne (who is, among other things, a tireless debunker of gender-essentialist pop evolutionary psychology) has inspired me to come back to this topic.

She describes a recent study in Evolution and Human Behavior (full text here) by Jaime C. Confer, Carin Perilloux and David Buss that tried to characterize how men and women choose short-term or long-term sexual partners.

Briefly, what the study did was sit 192 straight male and 183 straight female (the six --- only six?! --- would-be participants who said they were gay were screened out) college students down and show them a (clothed) picture of a member of the opposite sex, whom they were supposed to evaluate as a potential sex partner. (Half of them were told to consider the person as a short-term partner; the other half were told to think long-term). The picture was initially covered up, with one box covering the face* and another covering the body; study participants were given a choice which box to remove.

When evaluating the pictured person as a potential long-term sexual partner, the sexes behaved almost identically: sixty-eight of the men (75%) and sixty of the women (73%) chose to look at the person's face. The sexes also showed a similar change in strategy between long- and short-term conditions: both looked at the face more when they were asked to evaluate a potential long-term partner, and both looked at the body more when asked to evaluate a potential short-term partner. For the men, though, the change in strategy was much more dramatic: they went from three-quarters of them choosing the face in one set of circumstances to half and half in the other (roughly speaking); for the women, it was a much smaller decline, from (a little less than) three-quarters to two-thirds. The men's change, but not the women's, was considered statistically significant.

That's not the narrative Confer, Perilloux and Buss use to describe their findings, though: rather predictably, they see a marked sexual dimorphism in mate-choosing strategies, reflecting deeply ingrained male preferences for fertile mates (i.e., younger women with neotenous, "hyperfeminine" facial features as long-term partners, but also obviously sexually mature, fertile women with low waist-to-hip ratios as short-term partners) and an equally ingrained lack of female preferences for youth or bodily beauty in her partners.

The study, its findings, and the way its authors chose to present those findings are not what I really want to look at in this entry, though. (Echidne has already covered those angles really well). No, what I want to look at is the imaginary scenario the study's authors set up for its participants: what they were asked to do, essentially, is evaluate a third (absent) person's suitability as a sexual partner based on one quick look.

It came up in the comments at Echidne's blog, and I agreed wholeheartedly, that this scenario resembles today's anonymous, superficial meat-market dating scene a lot more than it does the likely pattern of courting and mating behaviors that early humans would've shown. Early humans, like other primates and modern-day humans still living a hunting-and-gathering lifestyle, lived in small, close-knit bands, where you would probably have known the people you ended up having sex with for quite a long time before you had sex with them. Accordingly, things like waist-hip ratio, facial symmetry and whatnot would've been less important than, say, each partner's social and family ties (i.e., does she have sisters, aunts or a mother who would help out with childcare? Do these aforementioned relatives *like* the prospective mate? What about his relatives? How does he get along with the other men in the tribe? Is he a social asset or liability?) or lack thereof.

This is another of the weird things I've noticed about much of evolutionary psychology --- it seems to be less a historical science (like paleontology or archaeology) and more an extended thought-experiment in What Human Nature Would Be Like If It Weren't for All This Pesky Civilization Crap. The ev-psych model for heterosexual relationships seems to assume that the man and the woman are both relatively isolated: the woman depends solely on the man for support, for herself and her children; the man, while he is not correspondingly dependent on the woman, and is thought to be impregnating --- or trying to impregnate --- other women whenever the opportunity arises, his relations to other men resemble the Hobbesian state of "war of all against all." (Similarly, other women are invisible unless and until the man in the thought-experiment has sex with them).

This highly individualized, atomistic way of thinking about people is actually very new in the history of ideas, and notably it does not compute to modern-day people who actually live in extended-family communities.

*This experimental setup apparently poses a temptation for commentators to make "butterface" jokes. I am trying to resist this.

Andrea Dworkin on Female Rebellion

In her book Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin includes a chapter on female virginity, citing Joan of Arc and the two female saints who inspired her as examples of celibate women refusing to live the narrow, cramped lives to which their societies consigned them. For these women, their virgin state was both a practical strategy (since it's easier to risk your life when you have no children who depend on you, and no husband whose property you legally are) and a defiant gesture in itself:

The Church that killed [Joan of Arc] may now identify her as a martyr; but for women inspired by her legend, she is a martial hero luminous with genius and courage, an emblem of possibility and potentiality consistently forbidden, obliterated, or denied by the rigid tyranny of sex-role imperatives or the outright humiliation of second-class citizenship. Women have many martyrs, many valiant pacifists, sung and unsung; few heroes who made war. We know how to die, also how not to kill; Joan inexplicably knew how to make war. At her trial, Joan insisted that she had never killed on the battlefield, improbable since the combat was hand-to-hand; but she was known among her own men for standing against the commonplace practices of sadism on the battlefield. It is hard to believe that she did not kill; but whether she did or did not, she was an exemplary martial liberator -- nearly unique in the iconography and history of the European female, that tamed and incomprehensibly peaceful creature. Joan's story is not female until the end, when she died, like nine million other women, in flames, condemned by the Inquisition for witchcraft, heresy, and sorcery. Precisely because she was a hero whose biography brazenly and without precedent violates the constraints of being female until the terrible suffering of her death, her story, valorous and tragic, is political, not magical; mythic because she existed, was real, not because her persona has been enlarged over the centuries. Her virginity was not an expression of some aspect of her femininity or her preciousness as a woman, despite the existence of a cultish worship of virginity as a feminine ideal. She was known as Joan the Maid or, simply, The Maid ("La Pucelle"). Her reputation, her declaration, preceded her, established her intention and her terms; not in the context of being a holy or ideal female but in the context of waging war. Her virginity was a self-conscious and militant repudiation of the common lot of the female with its intrinsic low status, which, then as now, appeared to have something to do with being fucked. Joan wanted to be virtuous in the old sense, before the Christians got hold of it: virtuous meant brave, valiant. She incarnated virtue in its original meaning: strength or manliness. Her virginity was an essential element of her virility, her autonomy, her rebellious and intransigent self-definition. Virginity was freedom from the real meaning of being female; it was not just another style of being female. Being female meant tiny boundaries and degraded possibilities; social inferiority and sexual subordination; surrender to male force or violence; sexual accessibility to men or withdrawal from the world; and civil insignificance. Unlike the feminine virgins who accepted the social subordination while exempting themselves from the sex on which it was premised, Joan rejected the status and the sex as one thing -- empirical synonyms: low civil status and being fucked as indistinguishable one from the other. She refused to be fucked and she refused civil insignificance: and it was one refusal; a rejection of the social meaning of being female in its entirety, no part of the feminine exempted and saved. Her virginity was a radical renunciation of a civil worthlessness rooted in real sexual practice. She refused to be female. As she put it at her trial [a full transcript of which is available online here - Lindsay], not nicely: "And as for womanly duties. She said there were enough other women to do them."

...

We have role models; Joan had voices. Her voices were always accompanied by a radiance, illumination, an expanse of light. She saw angels and was visited by saints. Her two special voices, guides and consolation, were St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Margaret of Antioch. While many of the elaborations on their legends show the iconoclastic individuality of the two saints, the main outlines of their lives -- the substance of their heroism -- were virtually identical. Both were desired by powerful men (heads of state), turned them down, were tortured and decapitated. Both were in mortal combat with male power, were militant in their opposition to it, did not capitulate, and were killed for resisting. Both were virgins.

St. Catherine was the patron saint of unmarried girls and also of philosophers and students. She was famous for her erudition, one of the rare and great women of learning. Her father, a king, wanted her to be married but she kept turning down suitors. One night she dreamed that Mary, holding Jesus, asked her if she wanted to be his bride. She said yes, but Jesus turned her down because she was not a Christian. She got baptized; that night Jesus, surrounded by angels and saints, put a wedding ring on her hand. When the Emperor Maxentius ordered all the Christians in Alexandria killed, Catherine went to him to argue for her faith. The Emperor made her debate fifty learned men, skilled orators; she won each debate and the fifty men were burned. The Emperor wanted Catherine for his mistress and promised that her image would be worshipped everywhere if only she would make a sacrifice to the gods. She refused, for Jesus and her faith. The Emperor threw her into prison and she was terribly tortured. The Catherine wheel, an instrument of torture, was invented for the purpose of eviscerating and killing her; but an angel destroyed the wheel. Catherine was killed by decapitation.

St. Margaret was the patron saint of peasants and women in childbirth, the latter not because she had children but because she was swallowed by the devil in the form of a dragon, and her purity and resistance were so great that he had to spew her up again whole and unhurt. Viewed as someone miraculously reborn uninjured, she became a symbol of hope in the life-and-death agony of childbirth. Margaret's father was a pagan priest, but she was secretly baptized. She tended animals in the fields. The governor, Olybrius, saw her, wanted her, and had her brought to him. She refused him and declared her faith. She was imprisoned, flogged, and terribly tortured. In prison she was swallowed by the dragon; and when she triumphed over the dragon, the devil confronted her again, this time in the form of a sympathetic man who told her that she had suffered too much:

But she seized his hair, hurled him to the ground, and placing her foot on his head, exclaimed:
"Tremble, great enemy. You now lie under the foot of a woman."

She was burned, torches applied to various parts of her body, but she acted as though she felt no pain. She was killed by decapitation.

The legends of both saints were well known in Joan's time and environment, common stories for everyone, not arcane anecdotes for the educated. The narrative details were so familiar that an evil and stupid person was even referred to, in the common parlance, as an "Olybrius." Women were named after these saints and celebrated name days. These saints were figures of mass adoration in stories of adventure, romance, and heroism. There was an elaborate and epic imagery in the churches to communicate visually the drama and scale of their bravery and martyrdom. The artifacts and paintings in the churches told the stories of the saints and their heroism and suffering in dramatic, graphic pictures; a bold, articulate, mesmerizing iconography not rivaled for effect until the invention of the wide screen in cinema. St. Catherine was pictured with the wheel named for her, St. Margaret with a dragon, both with swords. They were shown with swords because they had been decapitated, but the abridgement of the narrative into a martial image conveyed militance, not just martyrdom. Each faced what amounted to a state-waged war against her person: the whole power of the state -- military, physical, sadistic -- arrayed against her will and her resistance and the limits of a body fragile because human. This goes beyond the timorous ambition of today: a woman fights off a rapist. Each of these women fought off a rapist who used the apparatus of the state -- prison and torture -- to destroy her as if she were an enemy nation. Each refused the male appropriation of her body for sex, the right to which is a basic premise of male domination; each refused a man in whom male power and state power were united, a prototype for male power over women; and each viewed the integrity of her physical body as synonymous with the purity of her faith, her purpose, her self-determination, her honor. This was not a puerile virginity defined by fear or effeminacy. This was a rebel virginity harmonious with the deepest values of resistance to any political despotism.

Joan identified deeply with these women ... [s]he learned from them the way a genius learns: she did not repeat them in form or in content; she invented new form, new content, a revolutionary resistance. Joan did not die because men desired her; but because she refused the status, including the outward trappings (female clothing), of one who could be so desired at all. Virginity was one dimension of her overall strategy, one aspect of her rebellion; and, interestingly, her refusal to have sex with a man was not a dogmatic or ideological one. As Marina Warner points out in her book on Joan, the name Joan called herself and by which she was widely known, La Pucelle, "denotes a time of passage, not a permanent condition." Her own testimony at her trial seems to confirm this nuance:

Asked whether it had been revealed to her that if she lost her virginity she would lose her good fortune, and that her voices would come no more to her.
She said: That has not been revealed to me.
Asked whether she believes that if she were married the voices would come to her,
She answered: I do not know, and I wait upon Our Lord.

Had Joan simply learned a Church precept by rote or had she wanted to conform to a theological code of sexual purity, she would have held virginity to be a sacred state of being, one that would ennoble her for the duration of her life, a passive state intrinsically holy and magical with God's blessings. In her society, virginity was "an ideal wreathed in the finest poetry and exalted in beautiful Latin hymns and conventual chants." It was a common belief cited as fact by Church authorities with whom she came into contact that "God had revealed to virgins ... that which He had kept hidden from men." Instead for Joan -- and Catherine and Margaret -- virginity was an active element of self-determined integrity, an existential independence, affirmed in choice and faith from minute to minute; not a retreat from life but an active engagement with it; dangerous and confrontational because it repudiated rather than endorsed male power over women. For all three women, virginity was "a passage, not a permanent condition," the precondition for a precocious, tragic passage to death. As rebellion, virginity amounted to a capital crime. No woman, however, had ever rebelled the way Joan of Arc, virgin, rebelled.

Later in the chapter, Dworkin contrasts Joan's rebellion with the rebellion of a much later --- and fictional --- French heroine, this one created by a male novelist:

[Gustave Flaubert] wrote what a current paperback edition of his masterwork hails as "the greatest portrait ever written of a woman's soul in revolt against conventional society." The book is not about Joan of Arc. It is, instead and on the contrary, about Emma Bovary, a petite bourgeois whose great act of rebellion is to commit adultery. With this woman, called "my little lady" by her creator, the modern era begins: the era of the petite bourgeoisie seeking freedom. Female freedom is defined strictly in terms of committing forbidden sexual acts. Female heroism is in getting fucked and wanting it. Female equality means that one experiences real sexual passion -- driven to it, not faking. There is an equation between appetite and freedom, especially promiscuity (as one form of appetite) and freedom. A romantic distinctly not in the traveling, lyric tradition of Shelley or Byron, indeed, a female romantic with lightness in the head and fragmented fantasies feverish on the brain, "she had a cult for Mary Stuart and enthusiastic veneration for illustrious or unhappy women ... who stood out to her like comets in the dark immensity of heaven ..." For Emma, Joan was such a comet, a figure of fantasy, in the ether, not ever having lived on earth in the framework of real human possibility. Emma's mind, murky with religious and romantic fantasy, wanted "the rare ideal of pale lives, never attained by mediocre hearts." In her sentimentality, "she loved the sick lamb, the sacred heart pierced with sharp arrows, or the poor Jesus sinking beneath the cross he carries"; and in her effete impotence, "[s]he tried, by way of mortification, to eat nothing for a whole day. She puzzled her head to find some vow to fulfill." Alternately agitated and bored, having a mind filled with fantasies rather than ideas or possibilities, having no purpose or commitment, having no action, no vocation, only the boring chores and obligations of domesticity; too self-involved to find either passion or emotion in commonplace human relations, including motherhood, she is incapable -- to use the language of Iris Murdoch -- of moral or artistic excellence, defeated because she is immersed in personal fantasy, "the chief enemy of excellence," "the tissue of self-aggrandizing and consoling wishes and dreams which prevents one from seeing what is outside one." ...

Preoccupied with fantasy, Emma does not see or experience the world outside herself except as a deprivation of attention from her inner fog, and so she remains essentially untouched -- by the husband who fucks her and by human possibility in the wider world of real events. Virginity is redefined through her, given a modern meaning: a woman untouched is a woman who has not yet felt sexual desire enough to be made sick by it, experienced sexual passion enough to crave it, and broken rules in order to be carnal; a woman fucked by her husband but feeling nothing, or not enough, no lust, no romance, no brilliance of sensation, is still a woman untouched. This new virginity of body and soul survives marriage, and marriage itself generates new, incoherent fantasies of romantic or sexual grandeur: "Domestic mediocrity drove her to lewd fancies, marriage tenderness to adulterous desires." There is no freedom, no heroism, no ambition, no equality, outside the domain of sex experienced as carnal passion and also as the breaking of a rule. Danger is in the extremity of feeling and the risk of flouting convention; and the danger verifies the authenticity of the event, hidden from history yet having the significance of a male act of freedom inside history. The large, brave world of Joan becomes the tiny, suffocating world of Emma: and in it we still live. The old virginity -- with its real potential for freedom and self-determination -- is transformed into the new virginity -- listless, dissatisfied ennui until awakened by the adventure of male sexual domination: combat on the world's tiniest battlefield. It took Freud to call the refusal to fight on that little battlefield "repression" and to name the ambition to fight on the large one "penis envy." The cell door closed behind us, and the key turned in the lock.

Wow, A Blog Award!

Clay and Corina have both decided to give me the Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you, to both of you. You are both good writers, and you both handle such a broad range of subjects so well, it's an honor to be chosen by you.

Anyway, this award, like so many others, comes with a meme: now that I have it, I have to share seven things about myself and then pass the award on to seven other bloggers I like (and, presumably, think are versatile).

Seven weird, random fun facts about me:

1. If you follow pop psychology at all (and I do --- we all need something to snicker at), you'll have heard something about digit ratio; if the ring finger is longer than the index finger, it means you're more masculine. Simon Baron-Cohen has also tried to tie digit ratios to autism, as per his theory that autism = hypermasculinity.

Being a big, butch, queer autistic woman, I naturally wanted to see if I displayed the expected masculine pattern of finger lengths, so I measured mine --- all the while taking it about as seriously as a newspaper horoscope or a fortune cookie, mind --- and found that each of my hands has a different digit ratio. On the left hand, the ring finger is longer than the index finger; on the right, they're the same length.

2. I have enormous trouble telling right from left. At *best*, I have to hold up my hands in an "L" shape and see which one makes the "L" point the right direction to determine right from left; at worst, I forget which way an "L" is supposed to point so I just pick one at random.

This runs in my family; my grandmother and sister are like that too. (My grandmother would always get teased at work about "Polish lefts").

3. I've flown an airplane! A Cessna 172. It was one of those introductory flying lessons, where the instructor helps you do the pre-flight checks and sits next to you while you take off and fly around, then takes over when it's time to land.

4. I love M&Ms, but have "rules" for eating them. I eat them in groups of 3, 5 or 6, either all the same color or one of each color. (If its groups of three different-colored ones, lately I've been only eating primary colors. Other colors I just eat in single-color handfuls).

5. When I was a kid, I was terrified of bees and wasps. Like, if I saw one I would freeze up and have to go inside RIGHT AWAY. I am still jumpy around wasps, as they seem to be less predictable than bees.

6. All Gatorade tastes green to me.

7. My oldest T-shirt, which has a design of a cow skull on the front, a bald eagle carrying off a diamondback rattlesnake on the back, with red, blue and black tie-dye on the sleeves and sides, dates from when I was 8 years old. This is impressive when you consider how large I am now --- I bought begged my mom to buy the shirt not in the size I wore then, but in a bigger size I could grow into. That bigger size was a men's large; as a kid I had the notion I would grow up to be as big as my father. (Yes, I knew I was a girl, and knew I would not grow up to be a man. I still thought I would grow up to be just like my father, only female).

So, now, seven people I think are versatile bloggers!

Urocyon
Amanda Baggs (probably a bit hubristic for me to name her, since her writing helped make up the foundation of online neurodiversity, but she practically defines "versatile blogger," so I'd feel weird not naming her)
Clarissa
Astrid
Daisy

... and two more who don't seem to be writing for the general public anymore, but who are both terrific writers who tackle a broad array of topics with aplomb: Anemone Cerridwen and Kowalski.

Post #200!

Right now, this is the 200th post on this blog, though that will probably change once I finish up some very old posts in the draft queue --- some of which I'll want to keep backdated so that they will appear in chronological order as part of a series.

There's also another milestone I passed recently: this blog is now a little over three years old.

Two hundred posts over three years means I average about a post a week, with two every third week. Given how long it's taken me to write posts lately, that sounds incredible.

Through a (Brain) Scanner, Darkly

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: In the August 11 issue of the Journal of Neuroscience, Christine Ecker and her colleagues at the Institute of Psychiatry at King's College in London describe a new tool they've developed for finding differences between autistic and non-autistic brains that go beyond "x brain structure is bigger/smaller in autistic people"; their method takes into account overall patterns of gray matter structure and organization. Their tool not only identifies these subtle, pervasive differences, it also "learns" them, using them to classify individual (computer models of) brains as autistic or not-autistic. The tool works quite well for that kind of classification, doing significantly better than chance on almost all its individual components, and reaching 65 to 85 percent accuracy as a whole. It can also distinguish between autistic brains and some other kind of non-neurotypical brain, in this case ADHD.
___________________________________

(Still image from the TV show "Dollhouse")

Apart from this brief mention on Amanda's blog, I hadn't read anything at the time about the new multidimensional brain scan described last month in the Journal of Neuroscience. I was intrigued, because one thing that's been awfully elusive to autism researchers is a consistent, reproducible biological marker that's specific to autism.

There've been some hints of neuroanatomical differences between autistic and non-autistic people in previous studies, but those differences --- in, say, the size and activity of the amygdala, the size and shape of the hippocampus, the size of the cerebellar vermis, the distribution of gray matter and white matter, the density of certain cell types within the cerebellum, the thickness of the cerebral cortex, or even in the overall size of the brain --- don't always show up when researchers look for them, nor do they always show up in every member of the (very small, carefully selected and usually quite homogeneous) group of autistic people being studied.

The authors of the recent study --- Christine Ecker, Andre Marquand, Janaina Mourão-Miranda, Patrick Johnston, Eileen M. Daly, Michael J. Brammer, Stefanos Maltezos, Clodagh M. Murphy, Dene Robertson, Steven C. Williams and Declan G. M. Murphy --- suspect that there might be a broader, more pervasive pattern of altered brain structure that underlies all the different, highly variable, changes to individual structures within the brain that are sometimes seen in autism:

[R]eports of region-specific differences in ASD are highly variable [for review, see Toal et al. (2005) and Amaral et al. (2008)]. Such variable findings may simply be explained by confounds such as clinical heterogeneity between studies, or analytical techniques. Alternatively, variability in findings may indicate that differences in brain anatomy in ASD are relatively subtle and spatially distributed, and are difficult to detect using mass-univariate (i.e., voxelwise) approaches. Last, given the multiple etiology of ASD, it is likely that its neuroanatomy is not confined to a single morphological parameter but affects multiple cortical features.

To try to find out what kinds of subtle, structural differences might characterize the brains of autistic adults, the researchers scanned the brains of twenty autistic men*, twenty men without any psychiatric, neurological or developmental disorders, and nineteen men without autism but with ADHD (to provide a non-autism, but also non-neurotypical, control group to try and isolate neuroanatomical variations particular to the autism group), used the MRI data to create three-dimensional computer maps of each subject's brain, and then fed the values of five different measurements taken at each vertex of the computer model (which is made of tiny triangular facets meant to approximate the brain's curved surfaces) into a statistical-analysis algorithm called a Support Vector Machine, which Neuroskeptic describes much better than I could in this post.

The five things they measured at each vertex of their virtual mock-brains are as follows: average convexity/concavity of the cortical surface (i.e., the distance between the cortical surface at a given vertex and where the cortical surface would be if the brain were smooth); cortical thickness; mean (radial) curvature (i.e., the radius of the circle that could be drawn underneath the curve of the cortical surface); metric distortion or Jacobian, which is the ratio of the areas of the triangular facets making up the cortical surface and the gray/white matter interface; and the pial area, which is the average area of the triangular facets touching each vertex.

Since some of these things are very hard to visualize, here's a diagram:

Figure 1, in Ecker et al. (2010)

Overall, this five-parameter model works pretty well at predicting who is autistic** and who isn't, though I was surprised to see how much its accuracy differed from one side of the brain to the other. On all measures, there's a huge gap --- a gap of 20 percentage points or more, in all but one instance --- between the two brain hemispheres in terms of a given measure's accuracy (i.e., its ability to sort all subjects into the correct category), sensitivity (ability to correctly identify autistic subjects --- i.e., having a high number of true positives and a low number of false negatives) and specificity (ability to correctly identify non-autistic subjects --- i.e., having a high number of true negatives and a low number of false positives).

For whatever reason, the left hemisphere much more than the right showed consistent neuroanatomical differences between autistic and non-autistic subjects.

Here's a classification plot showing the two categories as determined by applying the five-variable classifier to the left hemisphere:
Here, all but two autistic subjects are placed into the positive (i.e., autistic) category, and all but four control subjects are correctly placed into the negative category.

Contrast that with the right-brain results ---

--- where you see a lot more crossover between categories, plus several subjects straddling the border line. It is also only in the left hemisphere that any correlation is observed between how far to the right of the dividing line a person is and their ADI scores in the social and communication domains.

Some parameters also performed better than others: cortical thickness had the highest accuracy levels of any parameter (90% in the left hemisphere!), followed by metric distortion.

Finally, in the left hemisphere the model also succeeded in distinguishing ADHD subjects from autistic ones. (In the right hemisphere, it placed about equal numbers of ADHD subjects in each category). That's important because it shows that the model is actually picking up on characteristics of autistic brains, instead of just registering all deviance from "normal."

So, what *ARE* these characteristics of autistic brains? Well, they vary by region --- not only in terms of which parameter is relevant, but also in terms of how autistic people differ from neurotypicals on a given parameter.

For instance, if you look at this map of how the autistic subjects' brains differed from the controls in terms of cortical thickness, you can see that some parts of the brain (mostly on the temporal lobe) tend to have a thicker layer of gray matter in autistic people, while in other areas (mostly on the frontal and parietal lobes), the cortex tends to be thinner in autistic people.

Figure 4 (A), in Ecker et al. (2010); red areas represent more gray matter in relation to average non-autistic brain, blue areas represent less gray matter.

Some of the areas that showed up as having an "excess" of gray matter surprised me, as differential activity in those areas (fusiform gyrus, superior temporal sulcus) had previously been theorized to underlie autistic "deficits" in making sense of faces.

Besides these differences in amount of gray matter, there were also some strong differences in gray matter geometry: first, the autistic subjects showed greater sulcal depth in two regions --- the intraparietal sulcus and the superior frontal cortex --- and second, the inferior parietal lobes and certain regions in the right frontal lobe --- the right supramarginal gyrus, postcentral gyrus, and orbitofrontal cortex --- along with the precuneus, showed different patterns of cortical folding.

For example, here's the right intraparietal sulcus:

From Figure 5 (B), in Ecker et al. (2010)

The blue line represents the cortical surface for the average control subject; the red line represents the average autistic subject's cortex. You can see that the sulcus goes down deeper in the autistic subjects, and also that the gyri on either side are a bit steeper.

I would like to point out, again, that it's not necessarily any single variation at any one region of the brain that this statistical analysis has tied to autism, though --- it's a pattern of gray-matter distribution. It's also a pattern that's so far only been observed in a tiny, rather homogeneous sample of autistic men --- much larger, broader-based studies of this classifier need to be done to see if the same patterns hold up for all of the people currently lumped together under the category "autistic," or whether separate neuroanatomical phenotypes will define autistic subtypes.

I would also like to see future studies done using different diagnostic tools to define the autistic group --- if the goal of this research is to establish a biomarker for autism diagnosis so that we can finally be done with frustratingly ambiguous diagnosing-from-behavior, it will hardly do to have the biomarker be dependent on one of the older behavioral diagnostic tools for its template!

*According to this table showing demographic data on the autistic and control (but not the ADHD) subjects, the autistic subjects were mostly young, and some middle-aged, men (the average age (33) was much closer to the age of the youngest person (20) than it was to that of the oldest person (69)) and had a very wide range of IQ scores as measured by the Weschler Abbreviated Scale of Intelligence. The standard deviation, for full-scale IQ and for verbal and performance IQ, was around 20 points for the autistic group, and scores ranged from 76 (just one point over the cutoff point the authors chose to designate intellectual disability, which is a full-scale IQ of 75) to 141, with verbal IQs ranging from 78 to 133 and performance IQs from 77 to 138. These subjects, I'd like to point out in the spirit of adding to Michelle Dawson's recent post on functioning levels, were all defined as having Asperger's or high-functioning autism.

**Autistic subjects were determined to be such using either the ADI-R (for fifteen subjects), the ADOS (for five) or both (two).

Ecker C, Marquand A, Mourão-Miranda J, Johnston P, Daly EM, Brammer MJ, Maltezos S, Murphy CM, Robertson D, Williams SC, & Murphy DG (2010). Describing the brain in autism in five dimensions--magnetic resonance imaging-assisted diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder using a multiparameter classification approach. The Journal of neuroscience : the official journal of the Society for Neuroscience, 30 (32), 10612-23 PMID: 20702694

Link Roundup: Fat Is a Feminist Issue Edition

Within the last week or so, there's been a spate of really good feminist blogging about intersections between feminism and fat acceptance.

From Feministe, three guest posts: one by Atheling, who blogs at This Wicked Day, about similarities between slut-shaming and fat-shaming; one by zuzu, who used to be a Feministe contributor and now writes mostly at her own blog, Kindly Póg Mo Thóin, that deals with how fat-shaming health alarmism actually harms fat people's health, both by keeping them out of doctors' offices and by leading doctors to look no further than their patients' BMIs to explain their various health problems; and one by Spilt Milk (who writes an eponymous blog) about how body-shaming permeates mother-daughter relationships and how fat acceptance is radical because it's based on kindness and, well, acceptance, first of yourself and then of others.

There's also this terrific post by Meowser at Fat Fu, which contrasts the reasonable things fat-acceptance advocates are actually saying with the raving denialism everyone else seems to hear:

We say, "Weight is, for the most part, not a very good proxy for health, and there are much better ones, like socioeconomic status." They hear, "Being dozens of pounds over (or under) your baseline weight is just ginchy for you, and your doctor should never bring it up ever." ...

We say, "What causes people to weigh what they do is complex and multifactorial, and varies a lot from one person to another - and you can't tell what people's habits are from their pants size." They hear, "Weight is purely inherited and has nothing whatsoever to do with behavior." ...
...
We say, "Hounding kids about their weight is not likely to result in happier or healthier kids OR adults, for the most part." They hear, "We don't care if all the children lose their toes to dry gangrene by the time they're 12, as long as we can eat all the baby-flavored donuts we want."

Finally, there's this post by Aunt B at Tiny Cat Pants. She talks about two important things that often go unacknowledged in discussions about fat, public health and how U.S. society has changed: first, the class aspects of sitting around waxing oracular about why Those People are so fat and what they must be doing wrong ...

... [W]e talk about obese people having no self-control or being too stupid to know what to put in their bodies or lacking access to experts who could tell them what to do with themselves; the narrative is all about how obese people put all kinds of things in their bodies because they're too stupid (or uneducated to know better) and they thus have really negative life outcomes. Now, read that same sentence and swap out "obese" for "poor."

It works just the same.

I find that interesting. In both cases, it's about a group that has too many people in it, who need education and expertise and guidance, and who are deemed failures or troublemakers if they resist efforts from the outside to improve them.

The word "class" doesn't quite fit, but I think it has to do with demanding people want to strive to remove evidence of what has been deemed their shitty circumstances. Yes, of course, you will be punished for striving. But you will be punished worse for not striving.

It's almost as if the obese/the poor, by their very existence, insult their "betters" by not recognizing and properly responding to their "betters'" expertise on how best to live life.

... and, later, about implicit sexism in how most people --- even most feminists --- talk about fat:

Is it really not clear to feminists how the "obesity epidemic" is about reasserting the right to police women's bodies? Except now, we're doing it for your health!When people talk wistfully about how "nobody cooks at home anymore" who do you think that "nobody" used to be? When people talk about how kids don't get the same free rein of the neighborhoods they used to have, who is the unspoken monitor of all that free time?

Who has, supposedly, fallen down on the job causing us all to be fat?

Spilt Milk also addresses the mother-blaming aspect of obesity panic in her post --- she describes the double bind mothers find themselves in where, if a daughter develops an eating disorder, it's the mother's fault for being too uptight about food and teaching the daughter to hate her body, while, at the same time, if the children are fat, the mother is blamed for being too lazy to cook healthy food and make sure her children get enough exercise!

EDIT: Radical feminist blogger The Bearded Lady has also written two recent posts on fat acceptance: one --- like zuzu's that I linked earlier --- about fat women and doctors, and how doctors both miss underlying conditions that need treatment because they think fat people just need to lose weight, and also how doctors will see a fat woman's fatness as so dangerous, so unhealthy, that they will prescribe extremely aggressive measures to get them to lose weight. Her other entry is about her personal journey toward fat acceptance, and how for her, accepting her body came as part of her radical feminism, and her rejection of heterosexuality:

[A]lthough I had previously strenuously denied any connection between hating my body and wanting men to like me, when I stopped wanting men to like me, I stopped hating my body. Not immediately, in a flash of insight, but gradually, over time, I realised that I was looking at myself in the mirror and not thinking 'ugly' -- not thinking anything at all, really, just looking for toothpaste on my chin or whatever.

Hating my body/self was, for me, expressed not only in extreme dieting and thinking myself deeply ugly, inside and out. I also hated my body by allowing men to use it, by letting men fuck me, when I (the tiny little voice inside me that was barely allowed to speak) knew that I was being violated and used. It was a joyful moment when I realised I could just stop.

I especially liked that entry of hers, because it's probably the closest any other woman has come to describing a relationship to her body, and to the concept of "attractiveness" and whether one possesses it or not, that resembles mine. It's not a total match, and some things are actually very different between the two of us --- I never went through a period of intense dieting and *wanting* to be thin and conventionally attractive like she did, for instance --- the end state she describes is very close to what I have, and it entails a rejection of beauty and attractiveness rather than the reclamation of those things that seems to be a lot more common for large women who learn to love their bodies. I might write more about how that came about for me later, but for now I was just really happy to see someone else articulate these feelings that I also have, and have struggled to characterize accurately.

Neither This Blog Nor My Etsy Store Is Dead ...

... and what better way to demonstrate those two facts than by posting pictures of my latest offering?
One reason I haven't been posting, reading or commenting as much on blogs is because I've been having a glut of ideas for jewelry pieces, and thus have been spending a lot of time making them.

Most of them are sitting around in a half-finished state, as problems arise and have to be troubleshot, worked around or --- sometimes --- the piece in question needs to be started over altogether.

(Problems usually take the form of too many loose ends not staying hidden, too many unsightly knots or awkward bulges, or a bead unexpectedly shattering as I try to force too many strands of thread through it.)

But I have two new projects that *are* totally done, and here's one of them!

As I might have mentioned before, I love geometric shapes. I also love contrasting colors.
This panel bracelet manages to tie both of those things I think are awesome together, with its framed boxes in alternating canary yellow and ... whatever you call a light blue that has a (very slight) hint of teal or turquoise in it. Each of those panels is made of twelve rows of twelve seed beads, all woven together with peyote stitch. (The beads are wider than they are long, so a 12 x 12 matrix ends up being a rectangle, not a square).
Another thing I love --- on bracelets, at least; on necklaces they tend not to stay fastened --- is a button or toggle clasp. Much easier to open or close than those thumb-operated ones with the tiny levers that require you either to have long fingernails (nope) or to never, ever lose your grip (also nope) in order to open them one-handed. Lately, just about everything I make has a button clasp, but I did get a set of toggle clasps recently that I decided to use making these:

(That's my arm --- big, hairy, and stylish!)

I made three of these; two to sell/wear myself until they are sold, and one I gave as a gift.

I really like this motif of the rectangular panels with geometric designs on them strung together on a sort of cuff. I think it's one of the more original design templates I've come up with, and I'm definitely doing a lot more with it.