lotesse: (afrofuturist)
two things make a post:

-I'm starting a first watch of Lois & Clark; i hear it gives good het, and Dean Cain is a toothsome fucking morsel. 20 minutes into the first ep and I'm (mostly) hooked: the 90s gender stuff is egregious, but the Due South-y/Quantum Leap-y sugar and social responsibility vibe is v. nice. And also damn the old lady reciting Chekhov in the condemned theatre is giving me all kinds of feelings about my own grandmother and maybe choking me up a little.

-Apparently the release of Harper Lee's Go Set a Watchman this week is actually going to be really exciting? could be spoilery i guess? )

(there's going to be so much scholarship. like, easily a decade of publications. a big first wave in a year or so. I can't wait.)
lotesse: (freedom)
Selma might be the most absorbing, intense, engaged viewing experience I've had since first watching The Fellowship of the Ring as a teen. I will fight anyone who says shit about this picture; apart from a couple of complaints about the handling of Coretta Scott King, it was flawlessly done. And imo less violent/brutal than it could have been; I felt very safe seeing it on the big screen. It made me feel stronger, not weaker; affirmed, not beaten.
Read more... )
lotesse: (freedom)
things that are making me want to ragequit the universe, racism edition:

The Economist thinks that slavery was a perfectly cromulent economic strategy, the City of Ferguson thinks that an all-white PR firm is just what they need right now, and white teachers in the New York City public schools seem to be of the opinion that wearing t-shirts in support of the NYPD isn't a massive fucking betrayal of their students of color, a clear sign that the halls of public education aren't for Black children or their police-brutality-resultant trauma.
lotesse: (Default)
in photos, murdered innocent Michael Brown looks so much like J. did the year we met - and he was just 21 then, not much older than Mike - it just consistently freaks me out. Because I miss J. and I'm sad that things didn't work out with us. Because I remember what he was like that first year of grad school, and I'm so fucking sad that Mike Brown is never even going to have a chance at college.

I can't decide if I'm relieved or sorry to not be teaching critical race theory to the 18-year-olds of Indiana this fall, against the context of this summer. It was fucking exhausting, trying to get those white kids to give a shit, and their indifference could get heavy. But I also got to witness some beautiful moments of connection between Black students and Black history/theory - it's such a great thing to be able to hook someone up with the tools they need, especially when you get to work to reverse the flow that seeks to distance Black children from Black wisdom.

lynch law

14 Aug 2014 12:52 am
lotesse: (freedom)
I am sick with horror at events in Ferguson, Missouri, because once again white pride has trumped the right of black children to exist. I am sick with terror at events in Ferguson, Missouri, because this is the creep of violent fascism in action, and we should fucking all be afraid.

And I feel sick with grief, too. That poor beautiful little boy.
lotesse: (hmmm)
Dear Mr. Dawkins,

in re: your dumbass tweet,

Natasha Trethewey is a better poet than Shakespeare, Fabiola Gianotti, Higgs Boson discoverer, is a better scientist than Einstein, and Zitkala-Ša was a greater musician than Schubert.

be pleased to note that this was not difficult.

up yours,
lotesse: (Default)
Had a fight this morning with my Mormon friend, who for whatever reason saw fit to break our usual detente with a bunch of crap pro-violence pro-war bullshit; I ended up yelling and hanging up on him, but it's kept bothering me. I hate having to know that people I like - well, I guess that's what comes into question, isn't it? if they really are people that I can like. G. repeatedly described himself this morning as "pro-imperialism," and I sort of think you can't come back from that. He doesn't get it from nowhere - like Orson Scott Card, my friend did mission work in Brazil, and however much they dress it up as charity or whatever the Mormon missionary scene is totally imperialism in practice. And, no matter the polygamy bans, the Mormons are really patriarchal, moreso than I think people understand. This is the religion that makes eighteen-year-old white boys "priests" with all these "spiritual powers." See the recent excommunication of Kate Kelly for Mormon patriarchalism in action.

but we're getting old enough that this shit is no longer cute.

It's always creeped me out a bit that my family contacts with Mormons have been so gendered: we've got G. and an older friend of his, a painter like my mama, and the both of them do this man-about-town skirt-the-rules thing where they drink cocktails and mama's friend paints nudes. Mama and her friend go gallery-hopping in New York, and he's married, but his wife is never with him: he explores the city art scene while she, seemingly, stays home with their children and obeys the laws of their church. It's like the men have the authority to bend the rules, and so can make fun playmates for leftist folks like me and mine - but that actually kind of makes it all worse, because they're not only cult members, they're hypocritical cult members who subject their women to harsh standards that they themselves cannot keep to.

(The OSC link above goes to a fascinating chapter-by-chapter deconstruction of Speaker for the Dead. before reading through it, I'd managed to forget enough of the book to think that I liked it better than Ender's Game,, and had tended to position it as the one thing of Card's that was maybe still worth it. There are now a number of things freaking me out about my own personal relationship with Speaker. I'd managed to miss the implication, as a child, that Novinha and her family are Black, and it's breaking my brain, because on the one hand, I'm not surprised that OSC didn't succeed in getting a message of diversity across - and then on the other I wonder if I wasn't engaging in defensive ignorance, because as the linked decon shows, Ender's interactions with the Ribeiras are fucking horrific if he's the lone white dude on a Black planet. Even as a twelve-year-old, I knew I didn't want to read an interracial romance authored by Card! I kind of wish I didn't have to know now! but then again, erasure and whitewashing are, we know, not cool responses to a text. Gahhhh. In even further "I don't know what to do with this," I was also struck, given the really really central place that Komarr has had in my ability to think through my abuse, with how much Speaker felt similar: I can really see Miles/Ekaterin as a rewriting of Ender/Novinha, even down to the role of the children. idek man.)

(I've been feeling angry and bitter and intense and fighty a lot of late, and idek about that either. are things more shit than usual in the world, or is it just me?)
lotesse: (sorrow)
I've also been thinking about bell hooks' critique of 12 years a slave, because I'm on the record as loving it and wanted to account for the discrepancy.

Looking back at my own viewing notes, I see that I was already uncomfortable with media narratives about Patsey/Lupita Nyong'o. hooks asks us to imagine the movie without her - and for me personally, that's not actually that hard to do, since I connected most heavily with Solomon and Eliza. Adepero Oduye's work in the film has really haunted me, and if I think about it I think I'm really frustrated with how much Lupita has eclipsed her in the public eye. And yes, I do think there are reasons for that that have to do with beauty, and now that hooks has me thinking harder probably there's also some things going on with Patsey in white response to Nyong'o - one thing that's about the slave girl turned award-show Cinderella, how good and meritocratic it seems, and also maybe an erotic thing about her naked and beaten body in the film; it tries hard to short-circuit that, but it's also super possible that the filmmakers overestimated audiences in assuming that a beaten Black body could escape erotic charge no matter what.

I also observe that my notes slide more and more into film language as Patsey's narrative rises; I'm paying attention to how it's done instead of fully empathizing as I had earlier in my viewing experience. bell hooks has to have something about the presence of the gaze; there I am tracking it. there was some amazing manipulation and subversion of the gaze going on, but tbh I'm not sure I think the film would lose all that much if Patsey's body hadn't become so focal. it's the earlier parts at the Cumbermaster's plantation that draw on me most; the roses in the arbor on Sundays, Solomon's feet searching slowly for the ground, the tremendous opening visual metaphor of human bondage and tightening violin strings, Eliza being told by her "kindly" white mistress that she'll soon forget the loss of her children.
lotesse: (freedom)
bell hooks ain't wrong. have been experiencing SO much anger watching as pop feminism and its whiteboy hangers-on dismiss her as old, jelly, a bitch. you sit your ass down so it can get schooled, ms. hooks is willing to dispense a drop of her brilliance & you should be grateful.

I've been thinking a lot about Audre Lorde's language, which hooks refers to above: the master's house will never be dismantled by the master's tools. When I first read that back in college I heard it but was resistant, I think because I was still so deeply in at that point with white man's culture. I was all Tolkien and Joss Whedon and I wanted to dismantle patriarchy with Buffy and I wanted it to work. And of course I was just really coming in to "wifely" living with my whiteboy partner.

The place where I'm at now? If I could have believed Lorde then, maybe I never would have come to be here. I get why the process was necessary, but - I had thought that I could work revolution from within, you know? marry a man and have his children and raise them to be feminists. get a cozy academic job working with old white culture in new intersectional ways, that'll work out just fine, right? I didn't, I haven't LIKED to acknowledge the depth of white culture's damage and complicity, but I'm realizing now that it's emotionally and psychologically dangerous not to. Like, it should not have been so surprising to me that the Victorian Studies department of Indiana University wasn't all that in to revolution. Lipservice yes, but if you rock the boat too hard stuff gets wet; maybe your scholarship on Dickens stops being seen as so centrally significant, maybe your dept switches places with the black studies dept and YOU have to be the poor underfunded sideshunted ones.

well, above, bell hooks said it pretty good: we're not going to be able to take our wealth with us through decolonization.

I'm going to try and listen better.
lotesse: (sg1_pilgrim!daniel)
At my sibling's poking I'm trying to pick up SGA - but having exactly the problem that I knew I would, which is that I keep peering around McKay and Shepard for Jack and Daniel. This is why I really wish sequels that centered on new characters would at least skip a generation, so that I wouldn't keep getting distracted by how frustrating it must be for Daniel to not go to Atlantis, what do you mean Daine and Numair got oops pregnant and shotgun married, hey no wait what happened to Aang and Sokka and Toph and why are they dead, et cetera et cetera. I just have a really hard time attaching to new characters when previous BSOs keep popping up to draw my eye. so anyway now I'm looping back to SG1 S1. Someday, maybe, I might make it all the way through "Rising" without getting distracted by the JacknDannyness of it all, but today is not that day.

links of interest: this completely terrifying case where a judge chastised a pregnant woman for absconding with her male partner's fetus; my word of the day, misogynoir, coined by the Crunk Feminist Collective.
lotesse: (witchwife)
On the one hand, the workers' rights advocate in me is horrified by the fact that so many American businesses are going to be open on Thanksgiving this year. My mama tells stories about having oddly-timed holidays as a girl because my grandpa often chose to work at the steel mill on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day - but since that was an oldschool union job, he had the choice, and the reason he chose to work was that he got time and a half and every little bit helped. It's really terrible to think about similar families now being torn apart on holidays against their wills because workers no longer have rights to holidays or even the right to request unpaid time off. It reminds me of indenture. It feels really wrong.

But on the other - oh how I long for a War On Thanksgiving to be properly fought and won. I don't know if my dislike of potatoes is a factor here, but I hate hate hate Thanksgiving. Bland-ass food, and sure you can dress it up to taste better but why eat turkey and potatoes when you can eat red curry or beef bourginon or spicy tortilla soup? There's a reason we only eat traditional Thanksgiving foods once a year, y'all. Thanksgiving break cuts academic semesters really awkwardly - just as students need to be gearing up for finals, oh, no, go home for a week and forget everything you've learned since you left high school. Thanksgiving break comes when I least want to see people, when I'm most tired and irritable and overworked and underpaid and no I don't want to drive nine hours north, thanks, can't I just stay home?

And the racism. Columbus Day might be the most overtly racist of all US holidays, but Thanksgiving was the one they got me on back then; I was raised by a leftist family with a pretty good grasp on decency around diversity, but Thanksgiving was one major vector of racist indoctrination they missed. Year after year as a child I was encouraged by teachers and grandparents and other adults to bedeck myself in construction-paper-feather crowns, wear lipstick "war paint" and two fat blonde braids and brown-colored clothes and the pink fringy moccasins that I got every summer up on Mackinaw Island. So shamed of that shit; can't believe they let me do it, can't believe I didn't get that it was wrong. I was a dressup queen who'd grown up watching a blonde white Tiger Lily dancing with Mary Martin's Peter Pan singing uggawug songs. Blonde girls playing Indian Princess was modeled behavior.

And I got told stories about Squanto, about Pocahontas, about "The First Thanksgiving," came away with the impression that NDNs were all gone now, wasn't it sad, nothing we can do about it. Indiana, they called this place, the land of the Indians. There are burial mounds on the farm where I live, or we think that's likely what they are; no matter how good it feels to walk barefoot in the grass here and feel the vitality of the soil under my feet, this is not actually my land. My own relatively recent immigrant progenitors might not have been around to contribute to NDN genocide and marginalization, but we profited by it, picking up the good land that had been taken from native peoples. This is the knowing that Thanksgiving covers up: celebrate your harvest, sure, because winter gets long, but don't act like we have some sort of peaceable history with the native inhabitants of the land you live on, the land whose bounty you celebrate. Wouldn't a just and historically-minded nation have a day of restitution, or mourning, or anything other than self-satisfied celebration? We survived another year at others' expense, go us, let's throw ourselves a party.
lotesse: (neverland)
If you were to give Tiger Lily a tribe, what would it be? Textually, her people are the "Pickaninnies" (oh my god, Barrie, oh my god), and they're contrasted with the Hurons and the Delawares, both of which are Northeastern peoples, but the pirate stuff in Neverland always makes it seem vaguely Caribbean to me, which is going to be Arawak peoples. "Happy hunting grounds" and "tomahawk" are not good cultural markers - and apparently beating the tomtom was actually a Desi Imperialism thing.

Digging through critical writing on Peter Pan's race issues, I keep turning up stuff about the Disney film, rather than Barrie's work, and looking for stuff on Victorian stereotypes of Indians turns up Desi Imperialism stuff.

(this post has no relationship to the fact that I sat up in bed at 1:30 am and started writing Pan fic, and then got stuck on trying to make Bechdel passes happen with grossly stereotypical characters. what would give you that idea?)

Also, a somewhat-related link: Andrea Smith's piece on the problem with privilege and the way that privilege has become yet another empty way for white people to feel better about racism without having to deal with any icky POC really resonated with me, as a white girl trying to teach a white classroom N.K. Jemisin and Janelle Monae.

(how good is her new album, y'all? down in southern Indiana, we be jamming!)
lotesse: (Default)
Just now listening to President Obama's words on the murder of Trayvon Martin - seriously tearing up, and suddenly feeling much much prouder of my 2012 vote. It seems like a really big thing to have this case addressed at the same level as national tragedies like Sandy Hook, for the president to acknowledge a Black child's death as something impactful on the health, balance, and strength of the community, something that needs to be talked over and worked through instead of brushed under a rug. It feels like this might be a really big deal. I don't remember ever hearing this kind of aware, critical, complex analysis of race - with an emphasis on race history! oh, the emphasis on race history! - coming from my elected representatives ever before. It's still an awful, bitter thing that a Black child died, and any good that comes of this will never be able to ameliorate that total loss. But it was a beautifully-taught lesson.
lotesse: (thetimeisnow)
God, god, nothing ever changes. Audre Lorde from 1978:

A Woman/Dirge for Wasted Children
Audre Lorde

rumors of the necessity for your death
are spread by persistent screaming flickers
in the morning light
I lie
knowing it is past time for sacrifice
I burn
like the hungry tongue of an ochre fire
like the benediction of fury
pushed before the heel of the hand
of the thunder goddess
parting earth's folds with a searching finger
I yield
one drop of blood
which I know instantly
is lost.

A man has had himself
legal guardian of fetuses.
Centuries of wasted children
warred and whored and slaughtered
anoint me guardian
for life.

But in the early light
another sacrifice is taken
a small dark shape rolls down
a hilly slope
dragging its trail of wasted blood
upon the ground
I am broken
into clefts of screaming
that sound like the drilling flickers
in treacherous morning air
on murderous sidewalks
I am bent
wiping up blood
that should be
lotesse: (merlin_morgana)
I do not know what to do with the amount of humor that George Zimmerman and his people seem to be approaching this trial with. From the defense attorney's kids posting jokes about their dad "killing it" (IT!) in court, to said defense attorney's fucking knock-knock jokes, to George Zimmerman fucking CHUCKLING in court - what the fuck is this shit?

At first I thought it was a weird tactic, because in order to find Zimmerman innocent, the jury is going to have to believe that he felt threatened by Trayvon Martin, that he was afraid - and that laughing shithead does not look like someone who went through that kind of fear. But I figure - they know just how stacked this deck actually is, and that's got to be why they're laughing. Because they know that, in this case, history is on their side. Murdering Black children has historically been something of an American value. LeVar Burton's point, that he takes the precautions with the police that he does BECAUSE this is America, not in spite of it, is demonstrated in these jackholes' laughter and smirks.

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, and I am wholly disgusted with my country.
lotesse: (sarc_fuckoff)
I hadn't watched any of the footage of Rachel Jeantel's testimony or cross-examination until today, because I've been finding the proceedings of the Zimmerman trial unbearably sickening, frustrating, appalling - mainly because folk keep acting like it would be less surprising for Trayvon Martin to have been the aggressor in his own murder than it would be for a demonstrably proven paranoid racist to have killed a Black child, as so many have done before him. But I've been reading a lot about Rachel Jeantel, because media attacks on young fat Black women tend to be something that come up in spaces that I frequent. The reason why I finally opened up a YouTube tab to listen to her speak was that so many of the pieces defending her, or parsing the attacks on her, have included still photos of her, and every single time I've found the look in her eyes absolutely arresting. I know it's not entirely helpful to fight accusations of ugliness with assertions of beauty - it shouldn't matter what Rachel Jeantel looks like, and even if she were ugly as sin it wouldn't change Zimmerman's guilt or innocence - but she's not. She's so beautiful, with her hair shining and her eyes blazing and her mouth held firm. She's so beautiful.

I was surprised, though, by what I heard when I started watching video of her. From both troll comments and feminist editorials, I'd gotten the impression of a loud, angry, even maybe rude woman - and because I support her right to be all those things, considering, I'd been ready to cheer her for it. But she was calm and soft-spoke and sure. Angry, yes, but cool angry; angry that knows what's true and isn't going to be flustered. It's the kind of anger I aspire to find in myself; I think a lot of the reason I tend to avoid conflict is that I don't trust myself to control my anger, and when I get angry I get shrill and tearful and other things that make people not take you seriously. She didn't speak unclearly. It was more like Zimmerman's defense lawyer didn't want to hear what she had to say, when he made her repeat herself - or that he wanted her to appear to have spoken unclearly. And, lord, when he asked her if characterizing Zimmerman as a cracker was a racial remark, again and again - that wasn't rudeness, that was knowledge. It is not a racial remark. It is a linguistic reminder of some of our nastier history, when whites - often poor ones - physically abused enslaved Black people. That happened. It was real. And that history still impacts us today, because of course it does! Think how long a simple family disagreement can drag on for! The kind of horror that has been American race relations is not the kind of thing that can be cleared up in a few short decades. "Cracker" reminds us of our place; unlike the n-word, though, "cracker" is an epithet we earned ourselves, because that really truly was our place, one that white America chose. And the murder of Black children has been a tactic of crackers for a long, long time.

When I heard him say that, about "cracker" being a racial slur, I yelled and punched my couch until I whopped my thumb on its arm, and I'm neither a Black woman nor a close friend of a murdered boy who had to listen to him die on my phone. I admire her restraint, and I'm so impressed and inspired by the cool certainty of her understanding.
lotesse: (neverland)
I took the first two seasons of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman out of the library, on a whim and because I think Jane Seymour is really really hot and I enjoy looking at her shiny shiny hair. I kind of embarrassingly love it? It reminds me so much of the "benevolent" liberal rubbish I was raised on: "The Song of Hiawatha" and the Just So Stories, being encouraged to dress up as cultures for Halloween because it provided the opportunity for cultural education (so we read a bunch of books and then put on bathrobes and painted our faces and trick-or-treated as geishas. so much side eye, parents), and American Girl dolls (I had the Black one and the Mexicana one, and while I do think it's no bad thing for white girls to grow up playing with dolls of color, there's still something uncomfortably consumptive about the whole scene), and YA Holocaust novels (I had a phase. It was a shameful one).

I'm never quite sure how to feel about that particular kind of rubbish. Because obviously it's wrong; Dr. Quinn is alternatingly making me squirm with happy id satisfaction and go "impure impure impure" while making the sign to avert Nice White Racism. But I also kind of see the logic - I don't like it, but I see it - of incremental education in anti-racism. I feel like Nice White Racism helped render me receptive to Black and Chicana feminisms when I encountered them, which in turn have made me much more willing to try and ditch Nice White Racist stuff like the Tone Argument, or the fantasy of the White Savior (tho I apparently still kind of fetishize the Barbarian Lover; sexuality forms around kyriarchy same as anything else). To some degree, I maybe do it with my students, in that I deliberately never let myself be judgmental of racist ideas they communicate, because I want to keep them on my side, where I feel like I can still maybe have some effect. I try to set up easy paths for them: last semester, I started with "There was racism in the past and it was bad," which seems to be pretty easy to get people signed on to, and then did "History still impacts us now," and only then pulled the two moves together into "racism still impacts us now and it still is bad."

But at the same time, while I find nostalgic pleasure in some Nice White Racist stuff, I would feel really weird about giving it to a kid, or engaging with even fannish people about it that I didn't already know were committed to anti-racism. And I definitely don't plan on letting my own hypothetical children do cross-cultural Halloween dress-up.
lotesse: (feminism_lorde)
A thing I do not get about my fellow white people: why is pain so worthless to us as a form of evidence? I bit the bullet today and used the last five minutes of my comp courses to throw up the we're a culture, not a costume posters, and address the total lack of necessity for we white kids to keep dressing up as POC when POC keep saying it hurts them.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I have been guilty of this sin. I think my mama and my daddy thought that dressing up as POC was good for our awareness of diversity, and they totally encouraged the geisha girl/indian princess thing. In high school, when I was heavy into yoga, I habitually wore bindis, which I still think are incredibly pretty. But then I got me an education - and more importantly started actually meeting/listening to POC, both in person and online. And they've kept saying, yeah no please don't do that, we don't care that you're only doing it because you think our culture is cool/pretty/more authentic than yours. This hurts us, please don't. So, you know, I stopped. Because why the fuck wouldn't I? My ability to play Tiger Lily < POC pain.

I downplayed it in the classroom, kept it light, admitted my own complicity, made jokes. Only talked about it for four minutes. I debated back and forth whether I should do it at all, and then five minutes before class s. e. smith posted there's still time to not be racist for halloween, and then I had to. But they still tried to get into it with me, and I just don't get it. Because what they kept saying, implicitly, was that POC pain wasn't a good enough reason for them to do anything. They don't accept POC pain as a valid form of evidence. I don't know what they would accept - like, what, you want studies? Those have been done. You want white men to tell you this? That's happened. And the word of POC still doesn't seem to mean jack to them.

It reminds me of the white person habit of "trying on" different ethnicities/races in order to "prove" that oppression is real. White girl pins on her mama's scarf for an afternoon at the mall and then she can tell you all about how it sucks to be a hijabi. Hell, wasn't there an old Lois Lane comic where she was "magically" turned Black for an issue, and she suffered from racism and reverse racism at the same time, boo fucking hoo cue the learning moment? And I don't get why the testimony of actual Muslim women, actual Black people, isn't enough to establish the reality of their oppression. We'll believe that white girl when she affirms the existence of religious and cultural intolerance, but - she must have been told by a Muslim woman once, either in person or in print or through some other medium, and for some reason that woman's testimony based on lived experience wasn't enough. It's amazing how much more weight we give to experiential learning when it happens to pasty people.

Off to reread Patricia Hill Collins nao. Because, as usual, she's got all the answers.
lotesse: (jewel-boxes)
from Mary Seacole's The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands (Seacole was a mixed-race Jamaican nurse who revolutionized care in the Crimean War) -

"What I did carry away was very unimportant: a gaily-decorated altar-candle, studded with gold and silver stars, which the present Commander-in-Chief condescended to accept as a Sebastopol memorial; an old cracked China teapot, which in happier times had very likely dispensed pleasure to many a small tea-party; a cracked bell, which had rung many to prayers during the siege, and which I bore away on my saddle; and a parasol, given me by a drunken soldier. He had a silk skirt on, and torn lace upon his wrists, and he came mincingly up, holding the parasol above his head, and imitating the walk of an affected lady, to the vociferous delight of his comrades. And all this, and much more, in that fearful charnel city, with death and suffering on every side."

I love this image so much - the crossdresser and the mixed-race woman meeting for a moment in the scene of war.

eta: "With the theatricals directly I had nothing to do. Had I been a little younger the companies would very likely have been glad of me, for no one liked to sacrifice their beards to become Miss Julia or plain Mary Ann; and even the beardless subalterns had voices which no coaxing could soften down. But I lent them plenty of dresses; indeed, it was the only airing which a great many gay-coloured muslins had in the Crimea. How was I to know when I brought them what camp-life was? And in addition to this, I found it necessary to convert my kitchen into a temporary green-room, where, to the wonderment, and perhaps scandal, of the black cook, the ladies of the company of the 1st Royals were taught to manage their petticoats with becoming grace, and neither to show their awkward booted ankles, nor trip themselves up over their trains. It was a difficult task in many respects. Although I laced them in until they grew blue in the face, their waists were a disgrace to the sex; while—crinoline being unknown then—my struggles to give them becoming [Pg 181] embonpoint may be imagined."

daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin


expand cut tags

No cut tags


RSS Atom