One of the original members of the internationally known Russian punk collective Pussy Riot is making a timely appearance in Baltimore this week.
A new exhibition opening this Friday will explore the power and creativity of dozens of female-identifying artists and makers from around the region. It also gives guests a chance to learn how female artists and makers use their skills to create, particularly in male-dominated environments.
Two eighth-graders with a progressive idea and artistic eyes took home a national entrepreneurship award earlier this month for creating a coloring book that aims to inspire young girls.
2013 was the year that caused BFB’s very own Marion Winik to ponder the “new Katy Perry kind of feminism.” Below, a few of the biggest moments for Baltimore women that took place over the past 12 months.
+After the Walters named Julia Marciari-Alexander as its new director, the three major art museums in Baltimore were each helmed by a woman. How’s that for leaning in?
+We learned that Baltimore is one of the best cities in the nation for singles… but also the fourth-worst spot for single women. Wait, what?
University of Baltimore MFA grad student Sue Loweree knows a heck of a lot about hair removal — her hilarious self-help advice might convince you never to shave your gams ever again.
Some states, such as Vermont and Maine, and northwestern mountain towns and Germany do not require shaved-legs. Female wrestlers, cow wranglers, and river guides are also exempt, unless they are going home for the holidays, are asked to be a bridesmaid, or are invited to an upscale pool party.
As Baltimore writer Sheri Venema reacquainted herself with her mother’s quaint church cookbook, she pondered “a time when a woman became a suffix to her husband” — once her baking was done, she realized much more.
The recipe for Steamed Cranberry Pudding did not speak to me at first. The directions seemed too cryptic: Waxed paper? Tin cans? Also, the tattered cookbook in which I found the recipe originated in the long-ago kitchens of women in my childhood church, and it seemed laden with dishes predictable and dull.
Tuna Noodle Casserole.
Miracle Cheese Cake (lemon Jell-O with cream cheese and sugar).
Oven Barbecue (Spam, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce).
Typed on a manual typewriter and then Xeroxed and bound with cheap plastic coil, the cookbooks were sold to raise money for a church society. My copy long ago lost its red cover. I sometimes took it out of its protective Ziploc bag to find a cookie recipe, but mostly I felt superior to this little book with its stains and misspellings. Clearly it came from a time when cream of mushroom soup and oleo ruled every kitchen in my neighborhood, and I had walked away from the Midwestern housewifery prescribed in its pages. I owned a wok and a Silver Palate cookbook. I made my own hummus.
Baltimore Fishbowl columnist and University of Baltimore professor Marion Winik reviewed for Newsday the controversial new book by Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg. Read an excerpt, below:
Rarely has the publication of a book been met with such a volley of snark and countersnark as “Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead,” a business advice book by Facebook chief operating officer Sheryl Sandberg. Noticeably arm’s-length coverage by Jodi Kantorin The New York Times kicked off weeks of hoopla and vitriol in the blogosphere. Critics, many of whom had not read the book, which was published Tuesday, accused Sandberg of overreaching; of being elitist, anti-motherhood and anti-feminist; of not adequately representing poor, minority and non-heterosexual women; and, finally, of wearing Louboutin and Prada. Others rushed quickly to decry what seemed like knee-jerk feminist posturing or plain old hating the rich.
In which University of Baltimore Asst. Prof. and Bohemian Rhapsody Columnist Marion Winik blows our antiquated minds.
I was in seventh grade when the New Jersey public school system changed the dress code. The girls of Ocean Township wore pants to school for the first time that year, 1970. At which point I put on a pair of Lee jeans, a black leotard and a plaid flannel shirt from the Army-Navy store and pretty much didn’t change until I graduated from high school.