On the BBC website, and on the radio, author Sarah Dunant asked, “Does the sex debate exclude men?”  While I recommend reading the whole article in order to fully engage with why I disagree with her, she makes a comment that, to me, negates her thesis, which I wouldn’t have agreed with anyway.  That said, I think there is room to talk about the roles of men in these discussions; men, and their opinions, are key allies in all genders gaining sexual equality.

The author states: “We accept that in the aftermath of feminism growing up male can be hard: but where are the big public conversations about men’s sexuality,” and that is the problem with her thesis.  We are not in the aftermath of feminism, nor in a post-feminist society.  Growing up male is hard because society has gender roles and gender norms that negatively affect men as well.  Feminism seeks to eradicate those gender norms.  I have little pity for men grappling with growing up in a society where women are beginning to have some of the same rights and power men have always had. 

Perhaps she meant “since the advent of,” but it’s hard to know, especially as “aftermath” is most often used, and most commonly defined as, describing events following a disaster.  I don’t mean to mince words, but in an article that wonders why there isn’t more debate from men, unclear language only hinders her argument.  But if I take the common uses of “aftermath,” her whole argument relies on the presumption that feminism succeeded.  I also don’t think, since raping women is no longer acceptable courtship, that we have ample cause to say “Look how far we’ve come!”  I think there’s reasons to be optimistic (it was hard for a woman to open a bank account in the 1950s without a husband) about the progress we’ve made, but there is so much left to do, especially as feminism has traditionally, and still does, overwhelmingly benefit white feminists.  Perhaps it’s different in the UK, but the language debate about rape in the US is terrifying and feels like we are at risk for losing progress because we are- many US states have been imposing stricter and draconian abortion laws.  These men are being shot down by women because their views are misogynistic, Galloway’s view that Assange practiced bad sexual etiquette for example, and I don’t believe ill informed, hateful, speech deserves to be given the equal consideration of thoughtful discourse.  Should I applaud Galloway for speaking up to defend rape culture?  How brave of him?  Do I believe in the possibility that having a conversation with Gallaway about why his views are harmful and perpetuate rape culture in the hopes his views will evolve is worthwhile?  Yes.  Does that mean his comments shouldn’t be bashed online.  No.

However, men do need to be talking about rape.  In high school, discussions about rape, date rape, and understating consent (anyone who doesn’t believe what Assange did is rape does not truly understand consent) could go a long way to combating rape culture and sexual violence.  That is the silence I am most considered about- all genders must fight sexual violence, whether it’s rape or laws limiting a women’s right to chose, the most harmful side effects of societies, that for all the sexual revolution did accomplish, still fear women’s sexuality and power.  Imagine debating 50 Shades of Grey in a society without sexual violence?  We could actually focus on the different facets of human sexuality and pleasure or on the bad writing!  If we believe feminism accomplished all it set out to do, our hope for progress and true sexual equality is dire.

from NYULocal’s showlistings:

Amy Klein and the Blue Star Band at the Hive

8:30 p.m., Free All Ages
Amy Klein, former member of the intense and beloved Titus Andronicus, will be playing some feminist benefit. Amy Klein is one of those people who can be all bra-burning and feminist, but not annoying about it. The show is technically free ($5-10 suggested donation) so there’s really no reason not go.

First of all, the show is not a benefit concert, but if it was (the band plays many), I’m glad you trivialize the idea of people giving back to their community by donating their time and art.  Secondly, sliding scale is not free, so you are wrong again. 

But most of all, that is an incredibly sexist description of an incredibly talented all female rock group.  What exactly is being all bra burning and feminist mean to you?  Are you referring to the time Amy organized a rally to protest the acquittal of Officers Franklin Mata and Kenneth Moreno? Or maybe last week when the band’s cello player Heidi organized a benefit concert for Sister Somalia, the only organization in that country helping survivors of sexual violence.  Or is it that keyboard player Kiri tirelessly works to book shows showcasing female musicians in an effort to create a space for woman that is supportive and not sexist, a space, unlike your column, where they be will taken seriously for their craft.  You are right.  These things are feminist, and they are important and necessary.

Does my standing up against your sexist, trite cliches annoy you?  If so, I’m not sorry.

PS. I’m not even wearing a bra today, so bwahahahahaha. (But if I was, I wouldn’t burn it.  That shits expensive!)

PPS. tweet @NYULocal if you don’t think sexist show listings are okay either.

When I was younger, I thought I was related to Sigmund Freud.  A black and white picture of the father of psychoanalysis sat perched in our living room for as long as I can remember, so I always assumed he was some relative. I am not sure at what age I realized this was not the case, but I’m sure the confusion would be a nice anecdote in my unwritten memoirs. As the granddaughter of the psychiatrist, Dr. Brandt Steele, and the daughter of a psychiatrist and a clinical social worker, much of my formative years and opinions were shaped by the psychiatric discussions and thought that surrounded me; I could point out a typical anxiety dream from a very young age.

In turn, A Dangerous Method traces the formative years of psychiatry and is filled with philosophical discussions that would long shape the field, but the film is made poignant by the confusions and missteps the main characters bring to life. What struck me most about David Cronenberg’s new film was how it seemed like a Wild West of Psychiatry, and I believe it seemed that way because it was.  The field was new, as were the methods, and especially in the depiction of Jung, the doctors seemed to be struggling to treat themselves as much as their patients. The film centers on the mentor relationship between Freud, played by Viggo Mortensen, and the younger heir apparent, Carl Jung, played by the currently ever-present Michael Fassbender, and Jung’s relationship with his patient, then lover, then colleague, Sabina Spielrein, played by Keira Knightley. If you’ve not taken Ms. Knightley seriously as actress based on her roles in The Pirates of The Caribbean franchise, you are sorely missing out. For me, Ms. Knightley’s turn in The Duchess and now A Dangerous Method prove that she does not merely look good in period costume, but that she has the capabilities to portray the women of the time, who look proper and were often limited in their choices, but who have much deeper desires and limitless nuances burning below the surface. Isn’t that the human condition as a whole, the film asks? What do we repress in order to live in an ordered society, and how does the resulting repression play havoc on our psyches?

In A Dangerous Method, we first find Spielrein in a bout of hysteria, resembling more wild animal than well-bred Russian daughter, and Ms. Knightly is in full possession of her character much as her character is possessed with anxiety, inner demons, and confusion. While she recovers from her hysteria, she manages to be at once both composed and prone to do or say anything at any time. One could argue that her character is the most emotionally and intellectually free of all the three main characters, and Ms. Knightely captures this essence. I think it has been pointed out that she might be overplaying at the beginning of the film, but that misses the point; we are animals, which we in many ways have to repress in favor of a functioning, ordered society.

As Freud, one of the first minds to try to understand our natures from a psychoanalytical perspective, reduces everything to sexuality, the film goes on to explore the increasingly sexual relationship between Spielrein and Jung. While it is absolutely unforgivable in this day and age for a doctor to sleep with a patient, and for good reason, it is so incredibly forgivable in the film, for Spielrein not only allows Jung to find a freedom in himself, she turns out to be a great psychiatric mind herself. As Spielrein and Jung go on to to have increasingly masochistic sex, you almost feel as if they are discovering masochistic sex for the first time in human history.

While Freud and Jung fall out by the film’s end based on Jung’s desires to explore more non-conventional scientific thought, which Freud fears will jeopardize the nascent field, the viewer is first treated to Jung’s descriptions of his dreams for Freud – and it’s fascinating to be in the inner sanctum of these great minds, to see their vulnerabilities, through their inner thoughts and personal relationship, as they continuously strive to understand the vulnerabilities in others.

The film is beautifully shot in Zurich and Austria, and Croenberg masterfully sets up shots that mirror the inner state of the character’s minds. I can’t get this shot of Jung and Spielrein in Jung’s sailboat out of my mind. Vincent Cassel also does a great turn as the psychiatrist, Otto Gross, who actually recommends sleeping with his patients and comes to be treated by Jung, only to end up having more of an effect on Jung. All the actors deserved nods for their portrayals, and it increasingly speaks ill of the Academy for failing to recognize truly great performances each year.

It’s a remarkable film that I highly recommend because it really makes one think, as the best art should. That it is a film about some of the great thinkers is such an added bonus. While the field of psychiatry has come a long way since The Talking Cure – the first name for psychotherapy and the name of the book upon which the film is based – was first proposed, psychiatry is still looked at rather dubiously by some who don’t trust it and also by a society that vilifies mental illness by refusing to understand it. The field may not be in its Wild West stages anymore, but each of our minds is our own personal Wild West, and  A Dangerous Method will leave its viewers with much to explore about themselves and the human condition.

Last night, I came home from dinner and drinks with friends and decided I wanted a cookie.  I’ve been baking a lot recently as you have to do something when you’re unemployed and your self esteem craves validation, which it then gets in the form of your friends giving you a muffled “mmmmm” as they eat pumpkin bread with chocolate chips while you stare at them as they chew.

While I’ve cooked for myself regularly for a while now, baking is new, and with cooking you can sort of wing it, but I’ve always been under the impression that baking is precise.  I figured I probably had most of the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, and as I realized I only had one egg in the fridge, I decided to look up a vegan cookie recipe. It called for an egg substitute the equivalent to one egg, so I was golden. I also only had half the amount of chocolate chips I needed, but I had some walnuts.  And then the recipe called for both brown sugar and regular sugar, and I only had the latter.  I forged ahead since I had organic cane sugar which is a little darker than white sugar, and I also decided I would add an extra 1/4 teaspoon vanilla to give the cookies more depth.  Does adding an extra 1/4 teaspoon vanilla give chocolate chip cookies more depth?  I have no fucking idea, but boy did I feel smug.

And then…

When I went to get the teaspoon out of my kitchen drawer, I sliced my finger open on a citrus zester.  Badass, right?

Now, I’ve had this zester for about a year, but I’ve never used it until recently when I was making a blackberry compote for vegan chocolate cake.  The compote was too sweet, so I zested some lemon rind in to balance the flavors (that is actually badass).  The zester had a protective plastic case, which I assumed was just store packaging and threw away.  Of course, what does every high school math teacher say about making an assumption?  That you’ll slice your finger on the most unused kitchen appliance in your arsenal.  Since the flour and butter were already out and in bowls, I forged ahead, one handed.  The dough seemed a little dry, so I did added some Canola Oil to the recipe, thus allowing my smugness as a baker extraordinaire to return, even if my finger didn’t stop bleeding for a good twenty minutes, and I had to crush walnuts with only my left hand, which is one of the lesser known Zen Koans. 

Since I had played around with the ingredients, I made sure to test the dough first, and as I would have inhaled it whilst stoned in high school, I threw those bad boys in the oven and googled “Do I need stitches?”

I didn’t need stitches (verdict still out on whether I could have used a stitch, however) and my finger hurts like hell, but the cookies were amazing.

I don’t judge anyone who waxes.  I sometimes wax my armpits, and sometimes I don’t shave them for months, (and yes, I know this wasn’t suggesting armpits).  I just hate the way we are constantly told, as women, that we are not good enough.  I think what irks me most about this ad, is the suggestion that waxing isn’t something we do (or could do) for ourselves and our personal preferences, but is only something we do for our partners, to keep them.  My critique is of course very surface level because you could argue that society has conditioned women about hair removal and men to expect it (I would argue that), but in the absence of writing an essay here, I think I’ll just say ughhhhhh.

And that’s why this is a blog and not a dissertation.

*In case you can’t read the screenshot, it’s an email from Lifebooker, an online spa booking service, that says “All you need is love (and a wax).*

The original Eggs Benedict was supposedly created at Delmonico’s for regular customers Commodore E.C. Benedict and his wife.  It was an off the cuff dish suggested by the server in response to the Commodore asking if they had anything new to serve.  I’m not surprised that not a lot of thought went into its creation; the traditional recipe is not that good or inspired.  For years, particulary the hungover ones of college, I have been ordering variations in restaurants, which I usually further vary.  After many years of hungover brunching, I created Eggs Rachel for Christmas Brunch with my family, and it’s been a huge hit.

INGREDIENTS (SERVES 6)

1 Package English Muffins (Original or Whole Wheat),1 Dozen Eggs, 4 Roma Tomatoes (Romas are the best bet for flavor, especially in the winter), 2-3 Avocados, 1 Package Bacon, Milk, Butter, 1 Package Hollandaise Sauce (We use McCorkmicks. You want to make your own Hollandaise sauce, you say? Oh, you fancy!)

NOTE: A big key to the whole dish is timing.  You don’t want to toast the English Muffins too far in advance.  For a large group, toast the English Muffins in the oven and start right before the first group of eggs.

1. Slice the Tomatoes.  I like to season them with a little bit of salt and pepper.

2. Begin to fry the bacon, turning every now and then.  The bacon should be on the very crispy side.

3. Prepare Sauce according to package.

4. Slice Avocados towards the end of the frying the bacon and sprinkle with lemon juice to stay fresh.  I also season these with a little bit of salt and pepper.

5. Coarsely chop bacon.

6. Poach Eggs* for 2 1/2 minutes for perfect soft eggs.  Like your eggs over medium you say?  Don’t come to brunch at my house.

Arrange English muffins on plate and top with a slice of tomato and two small slices of Avocado per muffin. 

Top with poached egg, hollandaise sauce and a generous amount of chopped bacon.

*We usually end up eating in shifts in my house, as our poacher can only do 4 eggs at a time, but we’ve resolved to buy an extra poacher for next year.  Don’t use a microwave poacher.

Spent Sunday afternoon filming my good friend and Percussion Lab resident, Nooka Jones, playing records and talking about some of the LPs in his collection.  Look out for the video, Five Records with Nooka Jones, in the coming weeks!

That’s the very talented Victor Tadashi behind the camera.

My love, Wildschild, repped Annie Hall out in Colorado. <3 soulmates <3

Annie Hall or Williamsburg?

I’ve been sick for days, but yesterday I finally felt good enough to venture out of the house.  I met my friend on the highline to catch up and people watch, and then headed over to Film Forum to see Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life, which I believe has been held over due to demand, but is set to close soon.  Far from the conventional biopic, the film is wildly imaginative, as director Joann Sfar hails from the comic book world, and features a puppet alter ego which if anything illustrates how our minds really do behave and presents a look at the insecurities of a man who acted always with bravado.

Gainsbourg is legendary in France, though for sure known in many circles in the US, and  the film is like a traditional biopoic in that it is great fun to see all the other characters in Gainsbourg’s radius brought to life, Bridgette Bardot, Jane Birkin, a young Charlotte.  The film is also spectacularly well made, superbly acted, and with my favorite cinematography I’ve seen in a while.  And while the trailer and title certainly make Gainsbourg out to be a hero, he is both a tragic hero and a flawed one and the film does not mince that point at all.  Unlike many of it’s American counterparts, the film doesn’t end on a sappy or high note, but rather on a encapsulating note in the life of a truly great artist, famed lover, and flawed human with a personality which is almost too big for the big screen.