Oh, so the photo of the all-male group of Famous Late Night TV Hosts was in Vanity Fair. Christina Cauterucci at Slate talks about the reaction and the reaction to the reaction.

The reaction to Monday’s Vanity Fair comedy dudefest was swift and unified. Moments after the magazine published a photo of 10 men to illustrate its article on why late-night TV is “better than ever,” Twitter erupted the way only Twitter knows how.

Good. That photo is a slap in the face.

Whether or not Vanity Fair intended the photo as a jarring critique of the endemic sexism in contemporary comedy and television—let’s go with “not”—it is an effective visual signifier of a bleak reality that can’t be explained away as coincidental or merit-based. For anyone who thinks about issues of diversity and gender equity, looking at the overwhelming maleness of this bourbon-nursing pack is like looking into the sun.

Cauterucci quotes Trevor Noah – one of the guys in the infamous photo – talking to Newsweek about women-in-comedy.

I guess what we need to look at is how is that evolving? The first step in that is you go, OK, there’s two men of color. That’s a big jump. Pretty soon there will be a woman that’ll be added to that. And there will probably be more women, which is gonna be fantastic. And over time, that’ll happen; it’s a conversation that we need to continue having.

Pretty soon? What does he mean pretty soon? Starting from when? Pretty soon might sound ok if you thought history started a couple of years ago, but why would you think that? It’s not as if nobody had noticed that women are scarce in jobs like hosting late night tv shows until yesterday. We noticed that a long time ago. Decades ago. We noticed the way even in a world where women have equal rights on paper, that does not mean women do not routinely get passed over for desirable jobs. We noticed that such a long time ago. So what can “pretty soon” possibly mean in that context? It hasn’t happened yet, so why would it happen “pretty soon”? And why would that be good enough anyway?

Notwithstanding Noah’s history of problems with women, his complacent, tepid hope for incremental gains is a major part of the entertainment industry’s gender problem. There’s a prevailing attitude that gender and race equity are inevitable—that if we wait long enough and stop griping over quotas and diversity initiatives, they’ll happen on their own.

And how long is long enough anyway? And if they’re so damn inevitable why haven’t they happened yet?

But TV lineups aren’t chosen by an algorithm that spits out a steadily rising number of female hosts each fall. There are human decision-makers behind these TV networks: producers, investors, and executives who usually hold more power than the (sometimes female) stars themselves—and who sometimes have some bizarre ideas about when diversity is and isn’t appropriate, as was the case with Matt Damon on Project Greenlight. While the harsh reaction to Vanity Fair’s photo should be read as an indictment of barriers to women in comedy, Vanity Fair editors, too, make deliberate choices that affect the gendered landscape of TV. Noah won’t start at his post until Sept. 28, but he made it into the boys’ club; Samantha Bee and Chelsea Handler, both of whom have forthcoming late-night shows in the works, did not. The next time a magazine pulls a move like this, Noah would find better footing lampooning his own industry from The Daily Show pulpit than defending it.

Damn right.

Fabulous. A kid makes a techy creative science project clock and takes it to school and he gets arrested. Brilliant. God bless America.

At a press conference this morning, Irving Police Chief Larry Boyd said charges won’t be filed against Ahmed Mohamed, the MacArthur High School freshman arrested Monday after bringing what school officials and police described as a “hoax bomb” on campus.

Boyd said the device — confiscated by an English teacher despite the teen’s insistence that it was a clock — was “certainly suspicious in nature.”

Oooooh yeah, and so is the inside of this laptop I’m typing on, and so is the inside of every computer in MacArthur High School, along with all the phones and tablets and every other ELekTronIck device anyone in the building has.

School officers questioned Ahmed about the device and why he’d brought it to school. Boyd said Ahmed was then handcuffed “for his safety and for the safety of the officers” and taken to a juvenile detention center. He was later released to his parents, Boyd said.

“The follow-up investigation revealed the device apparently was a homemade experiment, and there’s no evidence to support the perception he intended to create alarm,” Boyd said.

So, no harm done. Except to Ahmed, but hey, he’s just some kid. A talented kid, yes, but still just a kid.

Soon after the press conference, Obama tweeted:

Cool clock, Ahmed. Want to bring it to the White House? We should inspire more kids like you to like science. It’s what makes America great.

Yaboosucks, Irving police department.

Rebecca Solnit was giving a talk on Virginia Woolf a few years ago, and the audience for some reason wanted to talk about whether Woolf should have had children…as opposed to talking about the thing that makes Woolf of interest: what she wrote.

In the talk I had quoted with approval her description of murdering “the angel of the house,” the inner voice that tells many women to be self-sacrificing handmaidens to domesticity and male vanity. I was surprised that advocating for throttling the spirit of conventional femininity should lead to this conversation.

What I should have said to that crowd was that our interrogation of Woolf’s reproductive status was a soporific and pointless detour from the magnificent questions her work poses. (I think at some point I said, “Fuck this shit,” which carried the same general message and moved everyone on from the discussion.) After all, many people have children; only one made To the Lighthouse and The Waves, and we were discussing Woolf because of the books, not the babies.

But she was a woman, so let’s talk about the babies anyway.

The line of questioning was familiar enough to me. A decade ago, during a conversation that was supposed to be about a book I had written on politics, the British man interviewing me insisted that instead of talking about the products of my mind, we should talk about the fruit of my loins, or the lack thereof. Onstage, he hounded me about why I didn’t have children. No answer I gave could satisfy him. His position seemed to be that I must have children, that it was incomprehensible that I did not, and so we had to talk about why I didn’t, rather than about the books I did have.

I guess she should consider herself lucky he didn’t ask her about her penis envy.

The interviewer’s question was indecent, because it presumed that women should have children, and that a woman’s reproductive activities were naturally public business. More fundamentally, the question assumed that there was only one proper way for a woman to live.

But even to say that there’s one proper way may be putting the case too optimistically, given that mothers are consistently found wanting, too.

Women are the permanent children of the world, always subject to questioning and scolding by the adults.

We talk about open questions, but there are closed questions, too, questions to which there is only one right answer, at least as far as the interrogator is concerned. These are questions that push you into the herd or nip at you for diverging from it, questions that contain their own answers and whose aim is enforcement and punishment. One of my goals in life is to become truly rabbinical, to be able to answer closed questions with open questions, to have the internal authority to be a good gatekeeper when intruders approach, and to at least remember to ask, “Why are you asking that?” This, I’ve found, is always a good answer to an unfriendly question, and closed questions tend to be unfriendly.

Yes indeed they do.

Microagressions at Oberlin. It could be the title of a new sitcom; someone should pitch it.

No but really, Conor Friedersdorf in the Atlantic gives us a case study.

Last fall at Oberlin College, a talk held as part of Latino Heritage Month was scheduled on the same evening that intramural soccer games were held. As a result, soccer players communicated by email about their respective plans. “Hey, that talk looks pretty great,” a white student wrote to a Hispanic student, “but on the off chance you aren’t going or would rather play futbol instead the club team wants to go!!”

It would help if he hadn’t made it white student / Hispanic student, since white can be Hispanic and Hispanic can be white. But anyway: the “Hispanic student” was pissed off by the email.

After initially emailing the student who offended her, she decided to publicly air the encounter that provoked her and their subsequent exchange in the community at large, hoping to provoke sympathy and antagonism toward the emailer by advertising her status as an aggrieved party.

She did so in a post to the web site Oberlin Microaggressions, a blog  “primarily for students who have been marginalized at Oberlin.”

Ooooooooh I want to check out that blog, I bet it makes for some great reading.

The aggrieved student quoted the aforementioned email: “Hey, that talk looks pretty great, but on the off chance you aren’t going or would rather play futbol instead the club team wants to go!!”

Then she explained her grievance:

Ok. 1. Thanks for you thinking that the talk is “pretty great”. I appreaciate your white male validation. I see that it isn’t interesting enough for you to actually take your ass to the talk. 2. Who said it was ok for you to say futbol? It’s Latino Heritage Month, your telling people not to come to the talk, but want to use our language? Trick NO! White students appropriating the Spanish language, dropping it in when convenient, never ok. Keep my heritage language out your mouth! If I’m not allowed to speak it, if my dad’s not allowed to speak it, then bitch you definitely are not supposed to be speaking it. Especially in this context.

That’s disgusting. All of it.

“Who said it was ok for you to say futbol?” Excuse me? Since when do people need permission to say things? We don’t. If it’s not clearly done to jeer or mock, nobody needs permission. And damn, “Keep my heritage language out your mouth” is just appalling. It’s not “appropriation” to attempt to speak other languages; it’s provincial not to.

She has more:

She also published the email that he sent to the white student:

1. Your not latino, call it soccer. You don’t play futbol. Futbol is played with people (LATINO) who know how to engage in community soccer, as somebody who grew up on the cancha (soccer field) I know what playing futbol is, and the way you take up space, steal the ball, don’t pass, is far from how my culture plays ball.

2. I’m not playing intramural once again this semester because you and your cis-dude, non passing the ball, stealing the ball from beginners, spanish-mocking, white cohort has ruined it (for the second time). Unless I find another team you won’t be seeing me.

Cis-dude? What’s that got to do with anything?

There’s more. It’s gruesome.

But at least modesty cultures are very respectful of women.

Just kidding.

Sometimes it is just stares. As I am walking down the street, I see him coming across me. He is several metres when I am already cringing. I lower my stare, or look away.

I want to close my manteau – the medium-length, light jacket worn by some Iranian women instead of chador – to avoid his snooping glare, but it’s too late. As I walk past him, I feel his piercing eyes looking for my breasts under my thick cloak, sizing up my figure with acute intensity. Riveted to my body, they follow me up until I feel them burning my back as he is already behind me. There isn’t even the slightest pretence of hiding: the ogling is unabashed, both nonchalant and full of aplomb.

Every so often, there are sounds. As he walks by, he turns his head towards me and slams his tongue against his palate. Or kisses the air loudly. There are so many shades of whistling, hissing, smacking, licking, puffing that I am amazed at the capacities of the human mouth. Sometimes it comes from behind me: a hiss directly in my ear. Sometimes it’s a last-second move as we walk past each other, like a snake suddenly sticking out its tongue. Every time, it is the same hideous expression of unhindered lust sending shivers through my spine.

Oftentimes, it is words too. Fortunately, my Persian is not good enough to grasp the profanity thrown in my face. Or maybe I don’t want to know anyway.

Yeh he’s probably not saying “welcome to Iran, I hope you have a pleasant walk.”

Sexual harassment in public places is a reality of every day in Iran. At first, I thought my foreign looks and my somewhat liberal style (vivid colours, open manteau, scarf thrust to the back of my head) made me a target. But when I opened up to friends, I realised this is a ubiquitous reality for young women of all styles and backgrounds.

“Growing in a Muslim country where the hijab is not mandatory, I have always been told: the hijab is there to protect women from men’s desire, because our body is ‘awra’ (intimate parts of the body that should be covered) that can spread ‘fitna’ (chaos) among men,” says Sahar, a 26-year old non-Iranian who has been studying in Tehran for a year. “But then I came to Iran, where hijab is mandatory, and I am still harassed in the streets. Men aggressively stare at me, talk to me, call me names. I feel naked, and worthless.”

Intelligent design – in which one sex hates the other sex and won’t leave it alone. What a way to live.

For women, walking in the street can become an excruciating, fearful experience.

“I feel deprived of one of my favourite things in Iran: walking alone,” says Sahar. “Every day, when I leave home, I wish for one thing: to be left alone. Because of this, I started taking cabs, even for a five-minute ride, just to avoid these encounters.”

…

The hunting happens everywhere in broad daylight, with the tacit approval of all – including the very authorities supposed to protect women. There is no risk in this hunt.

The feeling of incapacitation and helplessness for women is overwhelming. “It gives you a feeling of powerlessness because it seems that, since they aren’t physically attacking you, you don’t have a right to do anything to them,” says Lucille.

I remember that feeling so well in Paris as a teenager. I would tell them to leave me alone and it did no good – it was so frustrating and infuriating – as if I had no right to myself, no right to walk around, no right to be left alone, no right to tell men to stop intruding on me.

My sense is also that these daily interactions have become so habitual that most women don’t bother to bring it up, unless there is a special instance of outright groping for instance.

“Should we disappear? Should women just disappear?” asks Sahar.

This is a feeling many women have shared with me: the desire to become invisible, to suppress one’s physical being in order to avoid the intrusive, defiling daily looks, hisses, words and gropes.

Just to be able to move about in the world unmolested.

But then what about Charlotte Proudman, eh? Humorless feminazi? Tiresome PC pain in the ass? Shrill angry demanding witch?

Barbara Ellen at Comment is Free says no.

With wonderful inevitability, human rights barrister Charlotte Proudman has been accused of overreacting to solicitor Alexander Carter-Silk commenting on her photograph on LinkedIn. For those who aren’t aware, Carter-Silk wrote to Proudman: “I appreciate that this is probably horrendously politically incorrect but that is a stunning picture”, awarding her best photo he’d seen on LinkedIn (Carter-Silk says he was remarking on the quality of the photo).

Proudman responded that his remarks were “unacceptable and misogynistic”, then shared their interaction on Twitter, remarking that men were using LinkedIn like Tinder. For this, she has been castigated for not being able to take a compliment, branded a “feminazi” and told that she has committed career suicide. And yet, if we remember, it’s Ms Proudman who’s supposed to have overreacted.

Look…Carter-Silk (was there ever such an apt name?) said himself he was probably being horrendously politically incorrect, so why are people jumping all over his target? You know, if I say “this is probably a horrendously cruel thing to say” that doesn’t mean I get to go on to complete the sentence with “but you are boring and smelly and no fun.” Starting a sentence with an admission that what you’re about to say is shitty is not a way of giving yourself permission to go ahead and say it. If you start a sentence with a warning that should be a sign that you should stop, not that the recipient should brace herself, much less that she should laugh merrily and ask if you want to fuck.

Ellen makes a related point.

Carter-Silk signals that he’s entirely cognisant that these kinds of remarks should not really be made, yet still he makes them, all the time grimly clutching what he fondly imagines to be some sexist version of a get-out-of-jail-free card. But then, as some feminazis out there might be groaning sourly by now – what’s new?

Many women would recognise this kind of behaviour as a form of “cheeky chappie chauvinism”, where some men style themselves as wicked, naughty, devilish, refusing to be tamed, not playing by the rules (or whatever they tell themselves as they’re squirting on the Lynx). But conversely they’re not above a bit of nifty linguistic arse covering should it prove necessary.

Basically, it’s an evolution from sexism proper, as in, the sexism still happens, the inappropriateness is still there, the women are still having to deal with it, but the man slyly references it, in an attempt to destabilise and neutralise any potential objection.

It’s so infuriating – thinking that neutralizes the potential objection. “Hi, I’m about to say something shitty. Get ready! And because I’ve admitted it, you don’t get to say it’s shitty.” No; why would that be the case?

One supposes the woman is meant to be either disarmed or confused – and it must come as a grave disappointment when, like Charlotte Proudman, she turns out to be neither.

The fact that some men do this is one thing. The inference that women are too dumb to have noticed them doing it is a whole new stratosphere of insult to anyone’s intelligence.

Well, you know, women are just part-time agents.

An ad for a real estate company in a suburb of Seattle:

Who ya gonna hire? Huh? Some dumb broad with a buncha kids who tie her up? Or two manly men who are professionals? Some sloppy part-time female “agent” in jeans or two well-groomed full time PROFESSIONALS who stand up straight and aren’t surrounded by children?

The choice is yours.

The company apologized for the ad once people pointed out the subtle hard-to-see problems with it.

Amanda Marcotte notices some online misogyny so that we don’t have to.

David Futrelle of We Hunted the Mammoth alerts me to the fact that some drunk MRAs recorded their bizarre sexual fantasies about myself and Jessica Valenti and, for some reason, felt it appropriate to put it on the internet:

https://youtu.be/WfimcqjWHIQ

I watched the video. It’s even more pathetic than it sounds from Amanda’s description. It’s just some highly unpleasant guys making a big point of how unpleasant they are. There’s some laughter but it sounds forced. The “humor” is that they tell Jessica Valenti that no, she can’t give them a blow job. Ha ha…ha? Why is that funny? When she obviously wouldn’t want to and never said she did want to? It wouldn’t be funny for me to make a video telling Bill Gates no, he can’t give me a billion dollars. It would just be weird and pathetic. It’s the same with the sad guys in Paul Elam’s living room.

Maajid also defended Charlie Hebdo against new accusations of “Islamophobia” in a public Facebook post:

New Charlie Hebdo cartoons about Aylan Kurdi are causing online “Islamophobia” outrage:

Fellow Muslims, please, if you don’t get satire just *ask* someone before assuming an intelligent left-wing satirical magazine isn’t … satire.

Taste is always in the eye of the beholder. But these cartoons are a damning indictment on our anti-refugee sentiment.

The McDonald’s image is a searing critique of heartless European consumerism in the face of one of the worst human tragedies of our times.

The image about Christians walking on water while Muslims drown is (so obviously) critiquing hypocritical European Christian “love”.

Fellow Muslims, not everything and everyone are against us, every time. But if we keep assuming they are by reacting like this, they will surely become so.

Maajid Nawaz has been extracting the Michael from Max Blumenthal on Twitter:

maajid nawaz ‏@MaajidNawaz Sep 13
maajid nawaz retweeted Max Blumenthal
A non-Muslim regressive-lefty calling me (a Muslim) an Islamophobe. But… isn’t that ‘cultural appropriation’?

Max Blumenthal ‏@MaxBlumenthal
.@HarvardIOP is hosting two of the most belligerent Islamophobes for a panel on “Islam & the future of tolerance”

Seriously. What is Max Blumenthal doing calling Maajid Nawaz – who is a Muslim! – an “Islamophobe”? Maajid is a liberal critic of reactionary Islamists; that hardly makes him a hater of Islam. Does Blumenthal think the only authentic Muslim is a murderous (male) reactionary misogynist theocrat? If so, he’s much more of an Islam-hater than Maajid is.

Via Scott Benson (no relation) on Twitter:

Quite striking, isn’t it.

Malibu. The beach. Millionaires’ McMansions built directly ON the beach. Millionaires trying to convince everyone that they own the beach.

Many celebrities and multimillionaires own sprawling Malibu homes overlooking the Pacific, including actors Robert Redford and Angelina Jolie, the rapper Dr Dre, the director Rob Reiner and media mogul David Geffen. In an effort to protect their privacy, some homeowners have now taken matters into their own hands by employing security guards to patrol the sands in front of their houses.

Twice in the past few weeks, members of the public have been asked to leave Malibu’s Escondido Beach by a uniformed security guard who wrongly claimed they were on private property and threatened them with a fine for trespassing.

So members of the public should start asking the uniformed security guards to leave the beach, and calling the cops if they refuse to comply.

“There’s 27 miles of beach in Malibu – it’s one of the few public spaces we have in LA County – and out of those 27, 20 are blocked by private development,” says Jenny Price, an environmental writer and co-creator of a popular app which tells the public how to access specific beaches. “Those 20 miles have for decades been treated as a private riviera … It’s the most egregious example of privatisation of public land in Los Angeles.”

People do that here too. There’s a park in Alki in West Seattle that runs along the beach for miles and then abruptly hits a sign saying private property past this point DO NOT PUT A TOE HERE. But it’s beach – I don’t think they can own the beach, any more than they can own Puget Sound.

The state’s earliest laws dictate that the area between the water line and the mean high tide line is public land. To put it simply: wet sand equals public beach. In theory, anyone could walk the 1,100 miles of California’s coast and never set foot on private property.

Of late, however, wealthy homeowners have taken to erecting their own “No trespassing” signs and putting out traffic cones to discourage people from parking their cars. The hiring of private security guards is the newest skirmish in a long-running battle.

It’s like the battle over footpaths in the UK, and before that, the enclosure of the commons. It’s also like the battle over cattle grazing on public land here in the US.

According to Price, the problem stems from the City of Malibu’s disinclination to stand up to homeowners. Price recently sent a folder of photographic evidence to the council detailing illegal no-parking signs along the Malibu coastal roads.

“They said, ‘Oh no, those are on private property. We can’t do anything about them. We consider them requests.’ These are signs that say the vehicle will be towed! … What you’re seeing in Malibu is the wealthy and powerful who have the money to fight [for their interests].”

And the sense of entitlement to proceed.

Geffen’s mansion is notorious locally for having a set of fake garage doors painted on to a patch of wall adjoining the road. When Aaron Crow, a 42-year-old software engineer, parked his car in this spot last month, he was given a $53 ticket for obstructing access – despite there being no official parking restrictions in place and, ultimately, no garage in place for which access was required. He is now contesting the ticket.

But Price says the situation is slowly getting better. The 1976 Coastal Act codified common-law public access and is more frequently enforced now that the public are increasingly aware of what is happening. In July, following a decade-long legal fight, a public walkway opened up giving access to a 1.5-mile stretch of sand known as “Billionaire’s Beach”.

Geffen had spent years fighting against the path, which had been promised by the previous owners in 1983 in exchange for planning permission. Steve Lopez, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, has even suggested staging a Sand Aid concert to continue the fight for beach access. “It’s about taking back the beach,” Lopez wrote in a recent article, “no matter how expensive the legal fight may be.”

Malibu for the people!