By Arturo R. García If Adam Sandler thought his brand of “humor” would keep getting…
By Guest Contributor Ruth Hopkins, cross-posted from Last Real Indians
… And Native appropriation continues to evolve in ever more bizarre ‘fashion.’
Apparently putting scantily clad white women in warbonnets is losing its shock value, because designers are moving into a new phase of cultural assassination, in hopes of making genocide doubly lucrative.
Imagine my horror this morning, upon discovering Ralph Lauren’s latest venture. Let’s call it Assimiliation Era Chic.
Read the Post Assimilation Aesthetic
In honor — or disbelief — of the fact that apparently people still watched “24” this year, let’s remember Arturo’s struggle to grasp how this show can still have any fans after the turgid intercalary chapter in 2008 that saw Jack Bauer go to Africa.
By Special Correspondent Arturo R. García
… No, really, people watch this show every week? No wonder the Bush presidency lasted two terms.
24: Redemption is both set-up and appetizer for the show’s
incomprehensible fanbase, setting the table three years after the surely cataclysmic sixth season, which left Super Agent Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) on the lam and out of a job, what with his beloved Counter Terrorism Unit being disbanded.
As we begin this two-hour slice of Jack’s traumatic life, the former Republican role model is moonlighting in the fictional African country of Singala, helping out an old special ops buddy (Robert Carlyle) building a school/living shelter somewhere near the country’s border. Where these kids’ parents are, why this school is not co-ed, or staffed by anybody who’s not white, is never explained. The only other person at the camp is a slimy, United Nations worker. Of course the UN guy is French, and verbally fahrts in Jack’s general direction.
But never mind the kids or their harsh socio-political realities, Jack is emotional, man!
Read the Post White Guy’s Burden: The Racialicious Review of 24: Redemption [The Throwback]
By Guest Contributor Bailey Reid, cross-posted from Medium
Trigger Warning: This piece discusses rape
Last week, we saw incredible mobilization worldwide for the #BringBackOurGirls movement. We had Michelle, Malala, and just about every other person on my Facebook feed sharing the information, demanding action, and questioning the lack of media coverage about this tragedy.
In the midst of this, the RCMP quietly released a second number about missing girls. But rather than the generally accepted 600 Aboriginal missing women, they casually mentioned Canada actually has closer to 1200 missing or murdered Aboriginal women. This is not to say at all that Aboriginal women are more important than Nigerian women, or that missing girls in any scenario is acceptable. It isn’t. It is never acceptable to have anyone hurt or missing, simply because of their gender. But Canadians were indignant, horrified, and saddened by the missing Nigerian girls — while our own First Nations, Métis, and Inuit women continue to suffer in silence and isolation.
There was an emergency debate in the House of Commons on Monday to discuss the Nigerian girls. We have yet to see an inquiry about our Stolen Sisters. Why aren’t Canadians demanding action on our own soil about our missing girls? They are being sold into sex slavery too, and the numbers are four times that of the missing Nigerian girls. Why don’t our Indigenous women have their own viral hashtag? Where is the outrage? Where are their memes?
Read the Post Our Canada. Our Women.
By Arturo R. García
They might be loathe to admit it, but good cheer likely wasn’t the only reason so many people connected to the NBA were so quick to declare Tuesday morning the final chapter in Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling’s relationship with the league. The problem is, the league’s own mechanics all but ensure that won’t be the case. And that’s just on paper.
By Guest Contributor Adrienne Keene, cross-posted from Native Appropriations
Dear Christina Fallin,
Last night, someone tagged me in the comments of your post on Instagram, a picture of you wearing dark red lipstick and a coordinating warbonnet. Initially, I just rolled my eyes and closed the window, because since I’ve somehow become an “expert” on white girls in headdresses, I get sent pictures like yours pretty much every. single. day. Don’t believe me? Just glance at the “#indianheaddress” tag. But then I got an email, then another, and another, and another, and then realized that this one was different–because you, Christina, are daughter of Oklahoma’s Governor.
Read the Post Dear Christina Fallin
By Arturo R. García
As Oscar winner Lupita Nyong’o’s career prospects seemingly expand by the day, so, too, do the discussions surrounding her, with some fans imagining the sight of her stepping into some iconic franchises, and others side-eyeing the increased attention she’s been getting.
Read the Post A Storm Brews Around Lupita Nyong’o
As Colorlines reported earlier this week, Akilah Hughes’ “Meet Your First Black Girlfriend” has amassed…