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10 Reasons to love One Day At A Time

Author:
oneday

By Sophia Simon-Bashall

I am not someone who watches a lot of TV programmes.

I’ve watched and enjoyed a couple of shows in the past year or so, but I am still more of a movie fan. Nothing, except Orange Is The New Black, has really excited me. Until very, very recently.

At the beginning of 2017, Netflix premiered a new show called One Day At a Time. It’s a remake of a 1975 American sitcom. It could’ve fallen into the trap of nostalgia. It could’ve tried to replicate the original. But it didn’t. It is entirely its own show – merely paying homage to the former incarnation – and it is absolutely brilliant.

You should watch it. Here are ten reasons why:

1. One Day At a Time is centered around one Cuban-American family, all of whom are proud of their heritage. Too often, Latinx representation on screen is marginal, caricatured, and negative. That is not the case here. Where stereotypes are used, they are acknowledged – and either celebrated or gently mocked. In this show the Latinx characters are allowed complexities and contradictions – they are multi-dimensional. They are flawed human beings who are ultimately good and moral. This kind of representation is so important, but especially in the current state of the world.

2. At its core, the show is light-hearted and fun. It is a wonderful relief, and it is impossible not to laugh from your belly whilst watching it.

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3. But it is also unafraid to tackle important issues, and is not neutral in its viewpoint. Across the first series, One Day At a Time talks about refugees and has a key storyline focused on deportation. It touches on these topics with sensitivity and compassion, refusing to perpetuate the dehumanisation and demonisation of migrants and asylum seekers.

4. The teenage girl in the family, Elena, takes ‘social justice warrior’ as a compliment, and is unapologetic about her beliefs.

5. And *SPOILER ALERT*
her coming out is so well done. Coming out is usually depicted as a single moment in time, and it typically has one of two outcomes: either everybody is fine with it (YAY!) or the reaction is extremely negative. This is rarely a reflection of reality. For most of us, coming out is a more continuous process, and that is exactly what One Day At a Time Elena comes out to different people in her life at different points, and each of them have different reactions. She faces several difficulties – most significantly when she tries to come out to her father – but it is ultimately a positive experience. This is encouraging for closeted LGBTQ+ people – far more so than the overwhelmingly positive depictions of coming out, which only cisgender heterosexual folk believe in. What Elena’s journey shows is the truth:
coming out isn’t all rainbows and unicorns, but it isn’t always tragic and traumatic either.

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6. Penelope – the mom – is a veteran who served in Afghanistan, and defies the notion that women cannot be strong and brave and badass. This comes out in so many instances throughout the series, and it is a delight to watch.

7. But she is also allowed to be vulnerable, too. She struggles with PTSD as a result of her time in action, and we witness some of her difficulties with this. What’s heartening is that we also get to see her find a place to help her heal, in a therapy group for female veterans.

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8.Lydia – the abuelita (grandma) – is fabulous. Played by the legendary Latina Rita Moreno, she is hilarious and fun and impossible not to love. Lydia is the heart of One Day At a Time, for sure.

9. Women and the relationships between them are at the forefront. There’s the young teenage boy, Alex, and the neighbour/extended family-member Schneider, but men are otherwise at the periphery. The relationship between Elena and her best friend Carmen is given attention and is shown to be important. The relationships between the three generations of women in the family are shown to be important. The friendship Penelope finds in her fellow female veterans are key to her moving forward in her life. Relationships between women are made to matter, and this matters.

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10. Having a man in the house isn’t portrayed as necessary. When Elena and Sam’s dad walks back into family life, his presence isn’t revealed as the missing piece to the puzzle. Penelope – despite left-over feelings – does not run straight into his arms. In fact, she realises that she is better off without him. The family is strong enough as they are – it may not always be easy but they make it work, one day at a time.

Our protest, not your product

Author:
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By Kaylen Forsyth

These are exhausting times for activists. In the past six months alone, with Trump’s repressive policies causing global outrage, there has been plenty of injustice to challenge. Vast numbers taking to the streets, and to other platforms like social media, reflect the broader courage of a society unwilling to just accept things as they are.

Such strength in the face of adversity is nothing new. For years an array of people from all different nations have been raising their voices when others have wished for their silence. And there has often been a price to pay for this bravery. During the Black Lives Matter protests, the news was inundated with reports of police brutality and unnecessary arrests. This all culminates into a simple fact I’m sure everyone can agree on – the resilience and endurance of activists should not be undermined in any way.

But this is exactly what Pepsi have done. Their new advertisement uses the setting of an American protest as a marketing ploy. And it’s not the first time a billion dollar corporation has exploited literal blood, sweat and tears for their own capitalistic gains. Coca Cola used the anger surrounding the Vietnam War to sell their produce back in 1971. It seems the top 10% take no issue in exploiting the struggles of those without silver-spoon privilege. This, of course, comes as no surprise.

Pepsi’s advertisement features Kendall Jenner striding out into the midst of a mainstream-friendly protest. After high-fiving and fist-bumping a diverse range of people (who don’t seem all too concerned with their cause), she hands a police officer a can of Pepsi. He smiles, satisfied, and everybody on the scene bursts into cheers. There is no ill will in sight. Everyone is ecstatic and social inequality is forgotten. Who cares what they were protesting about in the first place? Who cares that Trump will harm the U.S. even further in the next four years and other countries along with it? Who cares that the death toll is only rising in a chemical weapons attack in Syria? Who cares that we seem to be going backwards in terms of social progression? Who cares that politics is falling apart on a global scale? So long as the Pepsi is all right… the white man is happy … and the wealthy can keep rolling in the cash.

Of course this was not the message the advertisement attempted to portray. The intention, according to the company, was given in a defensive quote released by Pepsi: “This is a global ad that reflects people from different walks of life coming together in a spirit of harmony, and we think that’s an important message to convey.”

Whether the intent was decent or not, the fact still remains, Pepsi hijacked the resistance movement with no other motivation than commodifying it. Worse – they did it through the Trojan horse of an inconceivably privileged model, and the entire two and a half minutes is as apolitical as possible. There is no sign calling for equal rights or an end to discrimination. Phrases like “join the conversation” serve the purpose of being as vague as possible. Pepsi is desperate not to alienate.

Overall the advertisement just screams privilege and out-of-touch. A white person encouraging “bold” interactions with police officers, in a country where people of colour are murdered by them on a regular basis. That’s uncomfortable. Not only this, appropriating activism for the purpose of marketing is in itself despicable.

The most recent statement released highlights the pressures to pull the ad: “Clearly, we missed the mark, and we apologize. We did not intend to make light of any serious issue. We are pulling the content and halting any further rollout. We also apologize for putting Kendall Jenner in this position.”

The only hope is that corporations think twice in future when they consider exploiting such serious matters.

A new lens

Author:
Kabul. Afghanistan. 2012
A meeting of Mirman Baheer, the Ladies’ Literary Society, in Kabul.  The group has roughly one hundred members in Kabul, where they meet openly on most Saturdays. The city of Kabul is, in many ways, a bubble. Its security allows women to gather openly, a near impossibility across most of the country. Outside Kabul, there are as many as three hundred members in the outlying provinces of Khost, Paktia, Wardak, Mazar, Kunduz, Jalalabad, Kandahar, Herat, and Farah. Exact numbers of members are impossible to come by, since the society operates in secret by necessity.

By Kaylen Forsyth

For a poet language is land on the water, is water on the land. The poem becomes necessary to existence, a way of transforming the physical world into something that can’t die. Like with many other art forms, its greatest assets are its humanness and intimacy. “I composed my first poems in the dark“, says Philip Levine in My Lost Poets. This is a small window into the understanding that happens between a writer and the words they either chose or don’t.

“I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can”, laments Jack Gilbert, as though deprived of self-expression his entire life.

This brings him to a shared affinity with so many women across the globe, today and always, who may be able to fathom even more thoroughly than him exactly what it’s like to be stifled. To have so much pent-up rage and passion that there is no way to coordinate any coherence. This is why poetry plays such a vital role in the lives of many women in Afghanistan.

Recently, it has become clearer than ever just how essential it is for women to have a platform that cannot be deterred by men. Such deterrence is now symptomatic of a growing rather than declining patriarchy. This struggle for a stage is a problem that the women of Afghanistan have faced so much they’ve now formed their own kind of barracks, built out of language. Amidst a country that has seen vast amounts of violence and duplicity, a number of incredibly courageous women are voicing their political and emotional concern through the power of poetry. It takes the form of a “landay”.

The simple structure of the “landay poem” features couplets with nine syllables in the first line and thirteen in the second. This frame is used by many Afghan women who constantly search for new ways to articulate in a society wishing for their silence. Women write and share their poetry any way possible. Sometimes they share via phone calls with other women who are unable to leave their homes. Or other times, they meet up secretly to discuss their creations and merge them. Distribution always takes precedence over attribution.

Western representation of Afghan women would like to ignore this. Instead, it attempts a powerless portrayal. There is such an ethnocentric trend in Western media. It wants us to view other cultures as inherently alien in their differences. This leads to mass polarisation. Some begin to view those who live differently as outlandish. Evidently, this eliminates empathy and the ability to see with human perspective. It is the cause of an inaccurate depiction of Afghan women.

Journalists, specifically the tabloid sensationalists, would love us to view these women as voiceless victims, completely unable to have an opinion that hasn’t been indoctrinated by a patriarch. It’s inaccurate, and reading their “landays” emphasise this massively. Most suggest raw and often bursting passions of lust and love. There are hints of fury over the Taliban and the U.S., and foreign occupation.

My lover is fair as an American soldier can be. / To him I looked dark as a Talib, so he martyred me.
Landay lines like these cut deep and reveal strength, the strength that we all must see. Too prevalently, there is a manipulated view of Muslim women as direct results of oppression. Obviously, the consequence of this is their immediate dehumanisation. They are then seen through a lens that fails to attribute any agency or depth. Even their initiative is brushed aside.

Since the recent inauguration of Trump, women across the globe have risen up in a unified voice against his despicable policies. It’s fantastic! It’s inspiring to see that his government’s blatant misogyny and bigotry is not going unchallenged. People can address the politics of the women marching in the US and Europe, their agency, their intelligence. Yet, there still remains a struggle to identify these qualities in women from Islamic countries. Their acts of revolution and activism are either ignored, dismissed or played down. It’s easy to look at a middle-class American woman and call her a political revolutionary but people don’t want to call an Afghan woman anything of the sort.

In the West there is an erroneous thought that women from Islamic backgrounds are in need of salvation. This has been helpful to politicians in the past, allowing them to justify certain invasions. But to look at these “landays” is to understand that perhaps, these Afghanistan poets are the revolutionaries we should be taking examples from, rather than forcing our examples onto them.

Hey, hot things

Author:
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

A poem by Ananda Gervais

Content Note: sexual assault, street harassment

I am 13 and I’m walking to my friends house and you honk your horn and role down the window as you pass me, pursing your lips to send me kisses, I don’t understand so I look down and avoid eye contact. I ask myself what I did, what did I do to get such attention, what did I do to deserve this disrespect, I am 13.

I am 14 and I’m walking through the school hallways, and you think it is appropriate to smack your hand against my ass, I do not know you, this is not welcome. So when I turn round I intend to yell at this intruder of my personal space of my body but before I can say anything you get on the defensive. ‘it was just a joke’ you say. No it was not just a joke it was assault. 

I am 15 and walking home with my friend, it is 9 oclock and the sky is black when you start to follow us. There are two of you and we are scared and reminding each other that we just aim for the nuts. You call after us, ‘hey hot things, wanna play.’ No I most certainly do not want to play so we carry on walking. You call again ‘hey, white girls, stop for a minute, I want to look at you’ I turn around and tell you to stop and my friend tells you to ‘fuck off.’ You step forward and I am genuinely scared for my life, but you retreat calling us whores and bitches as you get into your car.  When I later tell one of my friends, she asks me what I was wearing.

I am 16 and you push me up against the wall and tell me to kiss you, I refuse and you push me harder, trying to grope me. I struggle out of your grasp, you call me a prude I tell you to bite me. I tell you if I ever saw you try that again I would break your arm.  An hour later I see you do the same thing to my very drunk friend, she tells you to stop, you don’t. So I push you off her and you stumble to the floor, your friend tells me to relax. I should of broken your arm.

I am 17 and am walking in the darkness with my best friend as we had decided to be fun and spontaneous and surprise another friend of ours when you drive up to us, there are 4, maybe 5 of you in that car and as you yell at us I assure my friend that everything will be okay. I’m not sure what words of abuse you hurled at us but when we stayed silent and walked on you yelled at us to at least be polite and have a conversation with you. Are you actually telling us to be polite, because to me that’s the greatest irony of all.

I am 18 and my bus stops, I get off, noticing you, who had been staring at me for the last 8 stops are also getting off the bus. I clench my fists and speed walk through the dark streets, my house seeming further away than usual. You follow me at my first turn and then the second, I immediately accept my fate. Dialling my mother’s number and leaving her a message to tell her I love her. As I hang up you turn a corner away from me and I let out a breath of relief.

I like being a girl, its fun and slightly complicated and I would never wish to not be me, not for an instant. But in instances like these and many like it, I do not want to be a girl. For a flighting second I wish to be you, I wish to not have to walk alone in fear and to not have to worry about how my choices in clothing might be interpreted, but sadly, wishes rarely come true.

Get involved with The Coding Girls

Author:
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Guest post by Aishwarya Singh

Growing up, I loved to play in the dirt and in sand boxes, but was told that was super dirty. People still ask me; “Why are you so obsessed with The Flash? That’s so boyish. You’re never gonna get a boyfriend that way.” First of all, screw you for saying that DC is for boys. Second of all, Grant Gustin is super hot. 

I proved all the haters wrong when they made assumptions about me based on my gender. Due to some malfunction with my schedule, I got put into a computer science class in 10th grade (Comp Sci for us cool kids). That screw up was the best screw up of my life. 

And at first, it was totally awesome (not!). There were only two other girls out of my class of 25 (lucky me, right?) and I had no friends. The boys – oh god the boys – it was as if they had never seen girls before, like I was some sort of extraterrestrial species. It was like I was a skipping, prancing Little Red Riding Hood dropped into one of the fights in Arrow (tbh it was probably because they weren’t used to seeing girls in their STEM classes).

But you know what was even worse, it was like the teacher had this little part of him that expected me to be pretty bad. He didn’t do this knowingly or really outwardly, but it was the little things that got to me. It was that quick 1-second knowing smile he would give me every time I asked a question, his sympathy every time I got one of the questions wrong. It was absolutely terrible. I knew it was not his fault, that it had been geared into his brain. Society has told him that only young white boys or that stereotypical Asian dude with a funny accent that shows up on every tv show can code, but it still didn’t make it right. 

Being the super stand up, sarcastic girl I am, I wanted to tell him “HELLO! GIRLS DON’T HAVE TO BE TERRIBLE AT COMP SCI”. Obviously I didn’t do that, but once I actually tried in his class and ended up being kinda good at it (surprises me too tbh), it had the same effect.

Now I’m in AP (aka College level) Computer Science, and yeah there are still only 2 other girls in my class, but I’m still doing it. Yeah, I am the only girl on the executive board of Geek League (I know, it’s a nerdy name), but I’m still there. And that comp sci teacher, those boys who thought I would be terrible, here I am. 

Anyway, I want to tell you, girls (or anyone), it’s okay to be different. It’s okay to stand out. But it’s not okay when people treat you differently because you are different. Defy expectations and prove that random person who thought you would suck wrong. You are amazing and trust me, if a normal girl (who’s only true accomplishment in life is binge-watching Netflix for 23 hours straight) can do something, so can you.  

By the way, there are really few girls who are coding. According to college board (that huge, ginormous company that created the death test AKA the SATs), only 21% of those who take AP computer science are girls. That is like nothing. And only 15% of all engineers, including computer engineers, are girls. We need more girls in math and science, especially engineering. I know calculus and physics are hard (trust me, I’ve been there… AP Calc is killing me rn), but we need more girls out there. If you are a girl in science, please don’t give up because it is hard or because you are lonely. Try to get the help and support you need (if ya need it cuz you are a girl boss). Most of all, I am proud of you. Surpassing all the expectations society has on you is not easy and you really are making a difference. 

So girls, go out there and code (or engineer, or do math or science)! And most of all, try to get other girls to do that same.

*Note to all: I am not saying that boys shouldn’t do STEM, boys can and should do STEM as well. It is just that there are very few girls who do it and are really good. We need more so I am trying to get more girls into it and that is why I wrote this article. 

Aishwarya Singh is a 16 year old feminist from New Jersey. She is an active coder who is the founder of her non-profit The Coding Girls who run coding events and classes in the central NJ area. She is also the only female executive board member of Geek League, a tech group at her local library. Also a Her Campus High School Ambassador and Clover Letter Intern, she loves to write articles relating to feminism and the effects of autism of families. She also loves to watch Netflix especially Friends and Vampire Diaries. You can get involved with The Coding Girls by emailing Aishwarya at aishwarya0823@gmail.com

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