Watching the Tonight Show; unexpectedly creeped out

I am off work and resting, and for me this means watching more TV.  I like things I can put on in the background while I’m playing a game or doing chores.  One of the shows I’m watching on Hulu is the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.  Fallon is consistently very funny, cheerful, and good with his guests.  The music from the Roots is wonderful.  His humor is goofy and not mean.  He plays fun games with the guests, such as Pictionary, Catch Phrase, or lip sync battles.

The guests are listed on the Hulu page and announced at the beginning of each show, so there are some guests that I simply skip.  For instance, some Duck Dynasty people were on recently and I just turned the show off before they came on.  I principally know them because of homophobic comments one of the Duck Dynasty guys made a while back, so I am not interested in what they are saying or promoting.  But other times I give people a chance if I don’t know much about them.

So anyway: Tonight I watched an episode where Russell Crowe was the main guest.  He and Fallon sang a goofy song about tar balls in water, and made it a double entendre: don’t go swimming or you’ll get balls in your mouth.  They walked through the audience and suddenly Russell Crowe was rubbing his crotch against some guy’s face.  The audience member was laughing and turning bright red.  But I was creeped out.  I said aloud: “Is Russell Crowe, like, assaulting that guy?”  (No one was here to hear me but the dog).  In contrast, Jimmy Fallon put a microphone up to an audience member and let them sing along to the chorus.  Fallon looked respectful, friendly, and did not touch the audience member.  Crowe looked like a criminal.

There can be a lot of cringe-worthy moments in comedy.  I’ve been watching stand-up lately too, and people make jokes that fall flat or cross the line, and just go you go “ugh, no”.  But this little segment was further over that line because it involved an audience member.  Russell Crowe, you’re a creep.

Health Work

I’m at the stage of having new glasses where they keep slipping down my nose, and I keep pushing them back up, in a futile attempt to make them stay were they ought to be.  I’ll have to go back to the store and get them adjusted.  This always happens, and it’s irritating.  I don’t understand why the store opticians can’t fit them to me right the first time; they are professionals after all.  I’m irritated at myself for not noticing and insisting on a better fit while I was still at the store.

I find myself irritated in this way a lot lately, and I know it’s because I’m always tired and always in pain.  I remind myself of this, and also that I’m doing important work that not always rewarding.  Other people with fatiguing, chronic health conditions like mine sometimes use a term called “health work”.  This is satisfying, empowering language creation; I’d like to know who came up with it so I can credit them.  For example, for an abled, healthy person, going back to the store to get their glasses adjusted might be a simple errand that costs them basically nothing other than time.  For me, it’s about a third of a day’s energy.  Besides the physical energy expenditure, this errand is yet another in a long line of tasks of things I have to do to take care of my health.  For the chronically ill, this list is never ending, often frustrating, and will never actually make us healthy.

This term is similar to Second Shift for the Sick but is more flexible.  Health work is not confined to a shift; it’s often constant and on-going.  There is no off times or vacations.

Health work can include remembering to take medications, remembering to schedule and go to appointments, refilling prescriptions, getting medical tests, the emotional work of dealing with illness, cleaning and maintaining assistive technology, doing exercises, cooking, and eating.  In short, in can be in all areas of our lives.

This term honors the work that disabled people do to take care of ourselves.

“Top Five”: Homophobia, Rape Culture

This post contains a content notice for discussion of homophobia, misogyny, rape, and rape culture.  It contains a detailed description.  Please read with caution.

While I was home for Christmas break, my dad and I went to see Chris Rock’s movie “Top Five.”  My dad and I have been going to see movies together for years; we are both movie buffs and love the theater experience.  We have somewhat similar tastes in film, enjoying science fiction and clever action movies the best, but willing to see just about anything.

I’ve resigned myself to the feelings of awkwardness that come with watching grown-up movies with my own dad; mostly we don’t talk about it.  But watching “Top Five” brought on new levels of awkward discomfort, so much so that we actually spoke about it.  My dad said it was “inappropriate”.  I’ll say, here, that it was a film that presented a sexual assault on film in a way that seemed to play it for laughs.  It was also deeply homophobic.

The character Chelsea Brown, played by Rosario Dawson, relates the story of her just-ended relationship with her boyfriend to Andre Allen (Chris Rock).   She has just found out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her with a man.  Chelsea says that the boyfriend was into anal play (as if straight men can’t be into that), and after an instance where he humiliated her with a cutting comment at dinner, she decides to insert a tampon covered with hot sauce into his ass.  She confesses this, but the way it’s filmed, it’s played for laughs.  And Allen even says, “It’s funny.”

The message here is that, men can’t be bisexual.  Men can’t like doing anal play with their girlfriends: it means they are gay.  Men should be punished for liking anal sex, by getting raped.  Women are enforcers to these cultural rules for men, even women who, like Chelsea, have dated other women.  Remember that Chelsea is a protagonist of the film: we, the audience, are supposed to be rooting for her and Allen.

An earlier scene in the movie shows Allen at his lowest point, the incident that helped him decide to quit drinking.  Jazzy Dee (Cedric the Entertainer) arranges for two prostitutes to come to Allen’s hotel room.  These women are “angels.”  But when Jazzy Dee shows up to join in, suddenly Allen feels scared and humiliated.  So, a threesome involving two women and a man is great fun, but a foursome involving two women and two men is a boner-killer.  Bisexuality is all right for women, apparently, if the focus is on men, but again, bisexuality is not ok for men.

When the women show up at Allen’s door later in the night, expecting payment, he refuses, and they literally cry rape.  This is ridiculous and perpetuates the false notion that women lie about rape in order to control and extort men.  Sex workers are one of the most vulnerable types of workers in society, at risk of rape and murder, and should be treated with respect.

“Top Five” has nearly an all-black cast (and yet the queer men in the film are white); it’s refreshing to see movies with so many people of color, but it’s ruined for me when I feel like it’s a shit sandwich*.  I’m white: I imagine it’s worse for black queer folks.  It’s so hard when activists don’t understand intersectionality. That’s the whole point: you can’t be anti-racist without also being for the rights and acceptance of queer people, because black queer people exist.

There are good parts of this film; the parts where Allen grapples with his career as a comic trying to make a come-back while sober; the part where he is really honest about things that other people don’t talk about.  The ideas about creativity and failure and fear. The scene where he is just hanging out with his family in an apartment, laughing, being affectionately rude with each other, was wonderful.  Gabrielle Union as Allen’s high-maintenance, reality-star fiancee was a joy to watch.

Perhaps a fan can make a cut of this film that is “the Good Parts version”; in the mean time, I advise skipping the shit sandwich.

* YouTube video on homophobia as a shit sandwhich No More Mr. Nice Gay: Ender’s Game 


Me + Disability Studies = Love at First Sight

So, why am I interested in disability studies and activism?

For most of my adult life, I have had chronic ill health.  At first, I didn’t really understand what was happening to me, and kept assuming I would get better.  Eventually I realized that I wouldn’t get better, and I even stopped expecting a diagnosis.

As you can imagine, being a young ill person, with no satisfactory diagnosis, was very frustrating and upsetting.  I wrote a few years ago about what it was like to live without a diagnosis.  I did not expect my life to go this way and I did not know how to cope.  My illness affected my ability to work; and I still don’t really know how to talk about it. I find writing about it to be much easier.

In 2007 I went to my first WisCon, a feminist science fiction convention.  In the packed of registration materials, there was a handout on the convention’s disability access policies. Reading this handout was a revelation.  I realized that I was a disabled person, and that this space welcomed me as such.  Simple accommodations such as water service in every room, a designated quiet space, signage and maps identifying the bathrooms, and ways to manage stress, were designed as if they had me in mind.  Rules for etiquette were clear and logical.  Me plus disability studies equaled love at first sight!

Like other social justice movements, disability studies tells you that it’s OK to come as you are.  That you are welcome and valuable as yourself.  You don’t have to try harder, or struggle to be someone else.

I decided I just had to learn more about the Access Team at WisCon and get involved.  I befriended Jesse the K, who eventually handed over the reins to me, and now I am the Access Chair.

WisCon is known for being a leader in accessibility; we hope to keep it that way.  I want other people to be able to fall in love with disability studies the way I have; I want other folks to feel welcome in our space whether they are disabled or not; and I want other conventions, conferences, and events to adopt similar policies.


Masked vs. Blind

(The following is a re-post, with edits; orginally posted at

I first started using “masked” instead of “blind” when I worked on a scientific study where some blind people were participants.  It was simply the policy of our research group, and I went along with it.   Blind is both a medical term and an identity category, and therefore it means a lot of things already; “masked” is more respectful and we used it in place of “double blind study” for example. This was before I got into disability politics, maybe around 2005.

Other scientists were doing this as well.  Searching for “masked study” on PubMed (a medical and scientfic journal database) reveals a few such articles as this one, from 1998, by Justice et al; “Does Masking Article Identity Improve Peer Review Quality?”. The Article is free at JAMA. 

So, this language has been in use for some time in journals, but has not widely taken over.

A few years later I met my friend Jesse the K, who convinced me to stop using “blind” as a metaphor entirely.

Here is some background reading:
Kestrell: What Good writers Still Get Wrong about Blind People
Kate Nepveu, panel writeup: I’m not your metaphor: Explaining Oppression with Analogies
Jesse the K: I’m not Colorblind, I’m Totally Blind!

Jesse says: “Blindness doesn’t endow one with greater spiritual insight nor better hearing than sighted people…”

This is key. The whole idea of a “blind” study is that it makes a scientist less biased. But it’s the built in ignorance of the drug or intervention being used that makes the scientist less biased. It’s a way to build safety into a study. It has nothing do with sight in particular: it has to do with knowledge, and sequestering knowledge. In the case of reviewing, it’s the ignorance of who the author is.  In the case of an audition or application, it is the ignorance of the identity of the performer or applicant.

The stereotype of blindness, of blind people, being perpetuated here is that they are purer, less biased, more forgiving of flaws, better judges of data and of character. They can’t be, you know, just people. Once again, disabled people aren’t given the benefit of being full human beings, of having full moral character.

“Masked” is preferable because it is a separate term that evokes temporarily putting on and taking off of a mask, for the purpose of doing a study or review, or of judging an application or audition. A mask could cover up one’s identity, make one seem like someone else, or no one at all: it gives the idea of being anonymous. For reviewing in particular, this metaphor works very well: what if the manuscript was submitted by Anonymous? A person in a mask. It’s not that the reviewer is “blind”–a stereotype of someone pure and unbiased, it’s that the submitter is wearing a mask.

Your thoughts here are welcome.

Scarcity versus Abundance

One cool thing I learned from disability activism (and my friend Jesse the K) is the idea of scarcity vs. abundance. This concept is yet another one that helps me make sense of my daily life.

For instance, when I go to get groceries I often bring my own bags. The store gives 5 cents credit for each bag and it’s better for the planet; the bags are easier to carry than store bags; they are neat ones that my mom makes; etc. The problem is, the cashiers seem to shift from an abundance mentality (limitless plastic bags) to a scarcity mentality (only 3 bags that I brought). And even though I say to them, use plastic for whatever doesn’t fit, they seem to take pride in saying, “Oh, I think I can make it all fit into your bags!” So then they load up my tote bags and make them super heavy and difficult to carry. I haven’t yet figured out a solution to this, except bringing a huge amount of bags with my every time (even though I’m not sure how much I will buy), or teaching/training the baggers little by little not to over load my bags. This store is not designed in a way that would let me bag the groceries myself. I’m sure I look able bodied to them, like someone who would have no trouble lifting really heavy bags.

In terms of disability, abundance does us much better than scarcity: let’s believe that there can be enough elevators, enough pain medication, enough time to get where we need to go (and to rest), enough access to medical care, enough support from our friends and loved ones. More than enough.

I believe in abundance.

Second Shift for the Sick

I love language. One of the benefits of reading blogs is that I’ve learned words and phrases that have opened up my world and helped me understand my own life. I’ve learned how language can be empowering or disempowering. One such empowering phrase: The second shift for the sick.

This phrase refers to all the work one does when one has a chronic illness. Self-care can be a full time job; this applies whether one works a traditional job or not.

Some examples of things that take up time and energy in this second shift:
Multiple trips to doctor’s appointments, including specialists and physical therapy, and any alternative therapies such as acupuncture.
Trips to the pharmacy.
Filling up pill keepers and setting pill alarms.
Phone calls to arrange appointments and transportation.
All the waiting in reception rooms, on hold, and in line.

Resting. This is its own category. You might be saying, what is so hard about resting? Isn’t that a good thing? Well, for me anyway, resting so much is inconvenient. Sometimes the need for sleep or the need to sit down hits me like a brick, I need to do it now, even if I’m in the middle of a work day or out running errands. The need for rest can lead to frequently cancelled social plans. Rest can also be boring, especially when one is laid low by pain, because concentration is difficult.

Each chronically ill person probably has their own example of other “second shift” work. If you are on a restricted diet, that diet most likely involves a massive amount of work to plan and prepare, for instance. Keeping a journal of symptoms, something which is recommended for people with migraines, IBS, and other chronic illnesses, is often daily work.  You might need to do specific physical therapy exercises, maintain a CPAP machine, or check your blood sugar.

All of this work takes time and energy, and for the chronically ill, energy is often in extremely limited supply.

Amandadaw at FWD described it this way:

Resistance — truly the best word for it — it is as though “normal,” “healthy” folk are able to move throughout the world uninhibited, like pushing your hand into thin air — but sick people, disabled people must move through a world which is set up to prohibit their full participation — like pushing your hand into a thick heavy bog.

All of this logistical work is uncompensated; indeed, it is expensive. While chronic illness may reduce one’s earning power due to pain, fatigue, and other impairments, the financial costs of being ill are sometimes hidden. In addition to co-pays for medical expenses, chronically ill people may have to pay for things such as:
-transportation to and from appointments
-over the counter medications
-assistive technology such as braces, canes, mouth guards, special shoes, etc
-ice packs
-Special foods such as gluten-free items

Some will say that it’s only fair that those who are using medical services more should be paying the increased cost in the form of co-pays, etc. But it seems to me that this is a disability tax, a fee for being ill.

Discovering the phrase “second shift for the sick” was empowering for me because it gave me a way to recognize all the little things I’m doing as work, work that other people don’t have to do, work that is costing me money and energy.  Learning about women’s work and emotional work were similar processes.  I have high expectations for myself, many of which are expectations I had for myself as an able-bodied person.  Adjusting my expectations as an ill person has been a difficult process, and something that has helped has been learning about the value of different kinds of work.