The Post Office and Women
The Post Office: An Early Employer of Women Sarah Goddard and Mary Katherine Goddard were known female Postmasters in the 1700s. The post office archives goes on to mention Ann Clay, postmaster in New Castle, Delaware. Elizabeth Creswell postmaster in Charlestown, Maryland and in 1792 postmaster Sarah DeCrow in Hertford, North Carolina.
Paula C. HendersonPublished 3 days ago in Viva
Kim Kardashian’s Divorce Is a Perfect Example of How Women Take the Blame for Everything
In one of the latest episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Kim Kardashian publicly addressed her divorce from Kanye West for the first time after filing for it in February.
Katie JglnPublished 23 days ago in Viva“Stop Apologizing — Do This Instead” is Horrible Advice for Women
Scrolling through the Instagram explore page, I see a video with the text “Ladies! Stop apologizing and say these things instead!”
A Feminist Critique of Rocky Horror Picture Show
Rhetorical analyses are a crucial part of understanding how the rhetor has impacted an audience. That being said, feminist criticism may look into how marginalized groups have been impacted by a rhetor. When reviewing the following research question: How do rhetors construct ways of being that are independent of accepted and conventional norms; we are able to further analyze the rhetor’s approach to creating a safe and understanding space for marginalized groups in an otherwise intolerant society. Being able to criticize an artifact using this question will allow readers to better grasp the idea of what it is like to be in a marginalized group and how to not only tolerate individuals but accept and embrace their unique qualities and what they bring to our society as a whole. This analysis will explore how Rocky Horror Picture Show dismantles the hegemonic ideology through generating multiple perspectives, reframing, and juxtaposing incongruities as feminist strategies of disruption.
Kaitlyn CopePublished about a month ago in Viva
Culture Shock at Face Value during Flight Attendant Training-- How I Grew Past Judgment and So Can You
I got a job as a flight attendant once, and I know culture shock. But not from the destinations--from the coworkers! culture shock: the feeling of disorientation experienced by someone who is suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes.
Savanna Rain UlandPublished about a month ago in Viva
My Passion to Inspire Single Women to Build a Better Relationship with Themselves
According to Statista.com there are approximately 36.2 single people in the United States, and I have found myself to be included in that number for quite some time. Society has taught me to believe that my one true purpose in life is to settle down and to become a wife and mother as quickly as possible. This narrative has made me feel that happiness wasn't achievable until I found my life partner. And there were times when I experienced depression because I would constantly compare myself with others in monogamous relationships.
Meagan A. CulbersonPublished about a month ago in Viva
Body jewellery for the mind
I have been making pieces of jewellery since I was about 10. I would say it was my first ever creative venture and I absolutely loved running off to the shops and getting supplies after school.
Wearable Art Passion
Between 2016 and 2019 I took part in a local Wearable Art Mandurah (WAM) competition. Situated just 40 minutes south of Perth, Australia, Mandurah is a beautiful coastal city with a multitude of canals weaving through from city to coast.
Jacq ChorltonPublished 2 months ago in Viva
#metoo
You are not alone. Together we can de-stigmatize speaking out about our experiences with sexual harassment, assault, and more.
Swaay
SWAAY is a ground-breaking media and online publishing company that harnesses the style and glamour of today’s business-minded woman. SWAAY is dedicated to celebrating the stories of established and emerging entrepreneurs to advance more women into the forefronts of innovation and entrepreneurship through visually inspiring and intellectually engaging content.
Body Talk
Your body, your choice? A place to debate and discuss the complexities and controversies surrounding women's' health issues, reproductive rights, and bodily autonomy.
Piece of Me
It was still dark outside as the small boy stretched in his bed. He didn't want to open his eyes just yet as he curled into his blanket. It smelled of his abuela (grandmother); cigars, Maja soap, and a hint of a soft floral off- brand perfume. He smiled as a tiny tear rolled down his cheek. Today was Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and he wanted to get an early start to make his abuela proud. 'Time to get up. Move your body, muevete (move), let's go,' he thought as he slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As his feet touched the floor he smelled fresh bread baking. He gave a quick stretch and headed towards the bathroom. He held back tears as he saw the bar of Maja soap but decided to use it to wash his face. "Macho! Are you awake? Come eat breakfast mijo (son)." He walked in the direction of his mother and she greeted him with a smile identical to his abuela's. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the day. His abuela passed away only months ago and this would be the first Dia de los Muertos that had a family member he actually knew. Abuela Yolanda was his favorite abuela. He loved his abuela Gloria but she was strict and chanclas (house slippers) were her weapon of choice when he misbehaved. Abuela Yolanda never got upset with him and was always patient with him. She made sure to get involved with all of his interests and even dressed as a luchadora (wrestler) one time when he was sad because he wasn't old enough to go to a Lucha Libre match (wrestling match). He stiffened his chin and hugged his mama as she handed him a plate of eggs and rice. His morning routine seemed to drag on forever. He did his chores and helped set up the ofrenda (remembrance altar) with marigolds, sweet bread, candy, candles and the offerings his mom entrusted him to handle. Lastly he set up his favorite photo of abuela Yolanda right next to the photo of abuelo (grandfather) Miguel. Once he was done helping his mother set everything up she allowed him to wander off into town for the celebrations. He always used to love the celebrations but today he only half-heartedly enjoyed seeing all of the spectacular parades and costumes. He sat down at the children's table and asked the face painter to add his abuela's favorite flower as she skillfully turned his face into a skull. "Aye hijo (child) you look so guapo (handsome)! You'll make your familia (family) so proud! Who will be visiting you tonight?" The face painter looked at him so lovingly while she awaited his answer. He shuffled his feet and looked down as he said, "Mi abuela Yolanda (my grandmother Yolanda). She loved the flower that you painted on my face. Do you really think she will visit me tonight?" Her smile reached her eyes as she assured him that she would. He thanked her as he walked toward another children's activity. Her words made him feel a little better and he enjoyed the rest of the festivities. The day was turning into evening as he decided to make his way home to join his mother for the night procession to the cemetery. "Mijo (son) are you ready? I have candles and marigolds, bread and water. Am I forgetting anything?" He shook his head no as he helped his mother carry her items. He didn't know if he was going to be able to keep his tears from falling as they walked through the town. The reality of her not being with him was hitting his heart like a fist to his chest. He tried not to think of her as they walked on. He watched his feet as he stepped on the marigold petals wondering if the dead were walking alongside them. They finally reached the cemetery and headed to their family plot. He helped his mother decorate all of their family's headstones and lit candles next to each of them. They saved Abuela Yolanda's headstone for last. "Mama, I miss you so much. Thank you for everything. Te quiero (I love you)." He listened as his mother silently wept. She started to set up the bread and cups of water near the headstones while he stayed at his abuela's. He dropped to his knees as the tears fell from his eyes. "Abuela, I miss you so much! Life is not the same without you. I can't do this without you! How am I going to do anything without you? I need you!" He pleaded with her to come back to him and pounded the ground in frustration. A single marigold floated down in front of him. He sniffled and wiped the snot from his nose as he picked it up. A breeze hit his face, filling his nostrils with the sweet smell of his abuela's perfume and cigar smoke. "Macho, no llores (do not cry). Javier, mi Machito (macho) you must not be sad. I am here with you, always." He heard her words but could not see her anywhere. Suddenly he felt her warm embrace as if she was in front of him hugging him. He closed his eyes as he cherished this moment. When he slowly opened his eyes he gasped in shock as he saw abuela Yolanda right in front of him. "Macho you look so handsome! I will always be by your side whether you can see me or not. Thank you for my ofrendas (offerings). The marigolds are so beautiful! You got the biggest ones I see! Look at the colors! So vibrant! You always had an eye for the best flowers. I love you so much Macho!" He smiled as his heart filled with so much love, "I love you too abuela. I am sad I don't have you here anymore. I'm going to miss your hugs and your laughter. Will you visit me every Dia de los Muertos?" She laughed, "Of course Machito. You don't have to worry about that. I will always come to visit you. I must go now but please do not be sad. Anytime you need me, I will be there. I promise mi amor (my love)." He watched as she slowly faded away as the breeze blew through her. "I love you abuela." He closed his eyes once more, replaying her words in his head. As he opened them he saw his mother walking towards him and he smiled at her. He had a new sense of calm as he met up with her, "Mama, I love you." She smiled down at him and wiped the tear from her cheek. "Let's go home mi amor." He nodded his head and hugged her. He took her hand as they headed home, "Mama you don't have to miss abuela. She said she will always be with us." She squeezed his hand as they walked silently the rest of the way home. He was finally at peace with his abuela's passing.
H. L. RidgewayPublished about 15 hours ago in Viva
Review of A Portrait of a Lady on Fire
This is a rather beautiful love story between two women, set in the 18th Century. While I truly loved the main plot of the growing love between an artist and her subject, it was not the part of the movie that I found the most poignant.
Guenneth SpeldrongPublished about 18 hours ago in Viva
We Need to Talk About the Emotional Labor of Raising Adult Men
My family frequently forgot my mother's birthday. If she failed to remind her husband or her children about the upcoming big day, we would completely ignore them. Remembering everything - from important dates, our favorite foods, allergies, to what was in the basement pantry - was her 'motherly' duty. As well as keeping everything organized and making sure everyone was happy and healthy.
Katie JglnPublished about 20 hours ago in Viva
This Women’s Handball Team Was Fined for Rejecting Bikini Uniforms
It shouldn't be news to anyone that female athletes' wardrobes are often strikingly sexist. If you've ever watched the Olympics or any other sports event including women, you must have noticed that.
Katie JglnPublished a day ago in Viva
Imagine We Had Grown up Seeing ‘Real’ Bodies like These
This year's Sports Illustrated swimwear showcase in Miami was the brand's most inclusive yet. Stunning models of different ages, body types, and backgrounds walked the runway in bright and colorful swimsuits.
Katie JglnPublished a day ago in VivaThe Endurance of Women
I have been doing a lot of thinking lately and I have come to the conclusion that women are the most amazing "beings" on the planet...look at what we endure as women! Men are pretty great too, I mean lets be fair we would not be able to build the world family wise without them because without sperm there are no babies...fact! But I feel like they got it easy compared to us...just look at what we as women go through in our lifetime.
CRYSTAL MARIE SEARSPublished a day ago in Viva
Don't ask for my name
Call me mental, but I loath when people ask for my name right off the bat. I get this sour knot at the pit of my stomach and I recoil at the person inwardly. I instantly don’t trust them, and I perceive them as controlling and manipulative. It is a violently negative reaction that I don’t share with anyone. Afterall it is the social norm to start pleasantries with names. To me, though, there is nothing pleasant about such an exchange.
Elizabeth StrangePublished a day ago in VivaDid I Have a Lucky Escape?
I was at home one grey and rainy afternoon, minding my own business. I don’t really remember what I was doing, but I was probably pottering about the way I always did when I had a day off.
Jupiter GrantPublished 2 days ago in Viva
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