These women from the Standing Rock Indian Nation in North Dakota are only holding this Nazi flag up to the camera because they’re about to burn it, having captured it from public display on the property of a white supremacist in the nearby very small town of Leith, ND.
those who do not know are doomed to repeat etc, besides it’s fascinating
In honour of annual Talk Like a Pirate Day, this week’s Friday Hoyden is being brought forward a day, and is the fearsome pirate admiral, Madame Ching Shih.
This month, Dublin City Council voted to name the new bridge over the river Liffey ‘Rosie Hackett Bridge’. This was in response to a huge campaign from Dubliners, mostly women, who felt Rosie was due a decent and long-lasting public memorial. All of the 16 previously existing bridges in the city are named after men. Rosie Hackett was a pioneering trade unionist who co-founded the Irish Women Workers’ Union (IWWU) in 1911.
The Rover is one of the all-time great Restoration comedies. One of the greatest silly romps of any era of playwriting, in fact, because it has everything: disguises, sword fights, carnival, a girl dressed as a boy, thwarted lovers, drunken shenanigans, sex, danger and a jilted courtesan. And its heroine, Hellena, is the ultimate witty wench.
It’s become unfashionable to talk about The System as a mechanism for oppression, but let’s ask ourselves the ever-relevant question made famous by Cicero: cui bono?
I plan to head into town tomorrow for NAIDOC in the City in Hyde Park – the forecast is for a beautiful sunny day, so it should be especially joyous.
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light!
I have seen this poem reproduced twice on merchandise, attributed to two different male poets.
On a whim, I just followed one of the “Related Posts” links at the bottom of today’s Quick Hit from Mindy, and found my way to her earlier link to a post at The Hairpin about a book of poems by Alice Duer Miller, published in 1915.
Three days ago marked 100 years since the day Emily Wilding Davison, carrying out a suffragist political protest, was trampled by racehorses at the Epsom Derby and later died. I always heard it told as “threw herself under the King’s horse”, but informed discussion around the incident suggests that I shouldn’t make such a simple, firm statement about what happened. What we must not forget is how brutal the response was to all forms of activism by women demanding something as basic as the vote.