Scrolling, Doom and Otherwise
Like Sylvia Plath said, August...an odd, uneven time
Some links and things from Dame Margaret
As it is August, I find my brain is largely turned to mush. Here are the two things of value I can extract from it today:
I am obsessed with Anne Helen Petersen’s coverage of #BamaRush 2024– e.g. the elaborate process by which sororities at the University of Alabama select their new members. In addition to, once again, curating some really spectacular TikToks on this year’s rush to her Instagram (check out the Bama Rush ‘24 and RushTok #2 highlight collections), this year she’s also sharing Bama Confidential, a series of deeply researched articles on the significance of Bama Greek life in both Alabama and nationally. You can read the first part here: “Welcome to Bama Confidential.” I’ve relished taking this deep dive into a culture quite distinct — at least in terms of external trappings — from the one in which I grew up and hope you will, too.
All of this put me in mind of another arcane Southern ritual, although this one is more purely fun: homecoming mums in Texas. It’s one of those things that really makes me realize how much of this country I still have to discover. You just look at these images of people wearing “mums” the size of hubcaps around their necks, with trails of ribbons and stuffed animals glued to the center and think “It takes all kinds.” I wonder what traditions I have accepted as normal that would strike them as similarly wacky. Amy J. Schultz, a photographer who’s published a book on homecoming mum culture, has an Instagram featuring stunning pictures of homecoming mums, which is certainly worth a browse. In the meantime, please enjoy this photo of Zoe Backstrom and her spectacular Whataburger-themed mum:
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Some links and things from Dame Karen
Like many of us, I’m feeling considerable relief and a bit of hope at the recent turn of events in United States politics. However, I also felt considerable dismay when Kamala Harris dismissed August 7th protestors in Detroit with “If you want Donald Trump to win, then say that.” Protesting the complicity of the United States is not “wanting Donald Trump to win,” and I’m pretty sure Harris knows that. For more on this, see Mona Eltahawy’s August 11 essay Feminism vs Genocide and Kelly Hayes’s August 9 issue of her newsletter Organizing My Thoughts: “In an emergency, people yell. They will not stop yelling, just as you would not stop yelling if your house was on fire and your family was trapped inside. Anyone who wants the yelling to stop must concern themselves with the fire.”
Is Yes, Kamala IS Brat by Gita Jackson at Aftermath the essay of the summer, according to me? Maybe! I was not expecting the Dasha Nekrasova twist, but I liked it.
Speaking of brat, are we all enjoying the “Guess” remix with the underwear mountain video?
Finally, R.I.P. Gena Rowlands, one of my favorite actresses of all time. Critic Sheila O’Malley did a fantastic video essay on Rowlands and her work with her husband John Cassavetes ten years ago, available on YouTube, and wrote a tribute in memorium to her for RogerEbert.com.
I loved her in the near-forgotten 2002 Mira Nair movie Hysterical Blindness [currently available in its entirety on YouTube, go quick!], an HBO original starring Uma Thurman and Juliette Lewis as hard-living, hard-loving BFFs in 1987 Bayonne, New Jersey. Rowlands plays Thurman’s mom and has a b-plot in which she falls in love with a man played by fellow Cassavetes regular Ben Gazarra, and they are so sweet, tired, and good together. They had a long, storied history as co-workers, of course; this interview from 1978 with the two of them, Cassavetes, and Paul Stewart around the release of the movie Opening Night is a treasure. Of particular interest to me and maybe to you is this perfume-centric1969 clip from That Show With Joan Rivers featuring Joan, some fucking doofus perfume executive, and Gena, who wears “primarily floral perfumes,” hates lemon-scented things, and seems pretty irritated by the whole situation. Anyway, “Hey where’s Gena?” forever.
