Wednesday, July 30, 2008 - Posts
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Emily, you and Michelle Obama aren't the only ones who love The Brady Bunch. As I read that nugget in Jodi Kantor's New York Times story this morning, I couldn't help thinking about another politician with a Brady connection.
Allow me to quote from that oracle of our modern age, Wikipedia. This is from the entry on Louisiana's current governor:
According to family lore, Jindal adopted the name "Bobby" from the character Bobby Brady after watching The Brady Bunch television series at age four. He has been known by that name ever since-as a civil servant, politician, student,and writer--though legally his name remains Piyush Jindal.
C'mon, John McCain, please name Gov. Bobby Jindal to be your running mate!
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The New Yorker has a fascinating piece this week about devadasis, sacred sex workers in India. It's not online, but it's worth checking out. Delhi-based journalist William Dalrymple (author of White Mughals) focuses on two contemporary devadasis dedicated to the goddess Yellamma, in the southern state of Karnataka. It's a hard tale. Both women take a certain pride in their work—they make relatively good money, for example, and they have more dignity than "common" prostitutes. Because they're considered auspicious, they're often invited to bless upper-caste weddings and receive various gifts during holy days. At the same time, their lives are exceedingly grim. AIDS is a major issue, and many women are sold into the profession against their will by destitute families.
Dalrymple quotes his subjects extensively—at one point, there are nearly 20 unbroken paragraphs of straight quotation—and he does a skillful job of revealing the tensions between what these women say their lives are like and the reality of those existences. I found myself wishing for more, for better context, though. I still had a lot of questions about the practice when I was finished—like, for example, how legitimately "sacred" is the sex work if the priests themselves denounce these women? Maybe Dalrymple's chapters about devadasis in the forthcoming anthology Aids Sutra (about AIDS in India) or in Dalyrmple's own book about pre-Hindu religious traditions will shed more light on the subject.
In the meantime, you can check out Mrs. Marcus B. Fuller's The Wrongs of Indian Womanhood—written in 1900—for her take on the subject.
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Was Carolyn Maloney not adorable on Colbert last night? She has a new book out, Rumors of our Progress Have Been Greatly Exaggerated, about how little the wage gap has narrowed over the years—and what is the glass ceiling made of, Plexiglas? But Maloney did break one barrier last night, becoming the first member of Congress I've seen on that show who actually seemed to get the joke, understand the deal, and have ever heard of the program prior to appearing on it. So the laugh was not on her when she kept right on pitching Obama while Stephen pretended to use a breast pump that sounded more like a buzz saw—supposedly to show how right employers are to fire lactating women for distracting their co-workers. And when he asked for guidance on the proper way to compliment a subordinate on her great breasts, Maloney didn't fume like all those unfortunates who'd come on before her, whose passive-aggressive aides seemed to have forgotten to brief them. Nor did she play along to her own detriment, like that ninny Robert Wexler, who Colbert got to say that of course he loves cocaine and prostitutes. She was funny, but without making an ass of herself. And I guess it's a sign of how far we still have to go that I actually found myself feeling relieved.
Emily, your post on relating to Michelle Obama because you both grew up grooving on the Brady Bunch seems like exactly the sort of response that Bill Bishop (also hawking a book, The Big Sort) was talking about on Jon Stewart last night when he said we don't actually vote on issues any more. Instead, having organized our whole lives around sticking to our own kind, politically speaking, we tend to go for the candidate who most reminds us of ... us. "We vote lifestyles,'' he said, in response to campaigns designed to hold a mirror in front of the voter and say pssst, "Vote for you!'' Not that you're going to base your vote on the Marcia Brady connection or anything. (And thank goodness, because Michelle was really more of a Jan.) Even after all that has been written on the role emotion plays in our electoral decisions, there's still more to this than we'd like to admit. But enough of this, or authors are going to be calling my house at all hours trying to get me to stay up late more often.
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We are both Brady Bunch addicts, I learn from Jodi Kantor's story in the New York Times today. What does this mean? Well, for me it means lots of childhood afternoons spent reveling in the scrapes of a family that was even bigger than mine. Since I'm the oldest, it's no surprise that I fixated on Marcia and Greg. Remember his groovy pad? Ridiculous, yes, but also familiar, in the sense of wanting to grow up and away from a household filled with younger kids. I think it was this preview of adolescence that stuck with me, rather than the show's retro-gender roles for the parents. Of course, for Michelle O. the show's significance could be entirely different—there's its utter whiteness, for example, and those loopy trips to Hawaii and the Grand Canyon. But never mind—this is exactly the sort of tidbit about a candidate's family that gives me a sense of closeness. False, no doubt. But I get to imagine sitting down and talking favorite episodes with her.
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