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News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

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News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
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There Are Two Types of Airport People

It’s not hard to spot people about to miss a flight. They’re weaving between on-time travelers at a speed somewhere between a power walk and a sprint, or they’re elbow-dancing their way to the front of the TSA line to plead their case for immediate screening. They look panicked, maybe red-faced. Their suitcase’s wheels probably won’t cooperate for portions of their journey, sending it flailing behind them as they move as quickly as their new vacation sandals allow.

Because I’m a compulsively early person, I’ve always assumed the other people trucking through the airport were doing their best to be on time, even if their best was different from my own (superior) best. Why would anyone look at an experience as expensive and anxiety-inducing as flying and want to make it a little bit riskier?

Some chronically late people do, of course, intend to be on time. But a smaller group of frequent fliers heads into air travel with lateness as the goal, relishing the thrill of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. “I just really live for the feeling of literally running through the airport barefoot because you didn’t have time to put your shoes on after security, and your laptop is in your hand because you didn’t have time to put it back,” says my colleague Ellen Cushing, a senior editor at The Atlantic.

Read the rest of this article at: The Atlantic

News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

The Intersectionality Wars

News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

There may not be a word in American conservatism more hated right now than “intersectionality.” On the right, intersectionality is seen as “the new caste system” placing nonwhite, non-heterosexual people on top.

To many conservatives, intersectionality means “because you’re a minority, you get special standards, special treatment in the eyes of some.” It “promotes solipsism at the personal level and division at the social level.” It represents a form of feminism that “puts a label on you. It tells you how oppressed you are. It tells you what you’re allowed to say, what you’re allowed to think.” Intersectionality is thus “really dangerous” or a “conspiracy theory of victimization.”

This is a highly unusual level of disdain for a word that until several years ago was a legal term in relative obscurity outside academic circles. It was coined in 1989 by professor Kimberlé Crenshaw to describe how race, class, gender, and other individual characteristics “intersect” with one another and overlap. “Intersectionality” has, in a sense, gone viral over the past half-decade, resulting in a backlash from the right.

In my conversations with right-wing critics of intersectionality, I’ve found that what upsets them isn’t the theory itself. Indeed, they largely agree that it accurately describes the way people from different backgrounds encounter the world. The lived experiences — and experiences of discrimination — of a black woman will be different from those of a white woman, or a black man, for example. They object to its implications, uses, and, most importantly, its consequences, what some conservatives view as the upending of racial and cultural hierarchies to create a new one.

But Crenshaw isn’t seeking to build a racial hierarchy with black women at the top. Through her work, she’s attempting to demolish racial hierarchies altogether.

Read the rest of this article at: Vox

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All-American Despair

Toby Lingle was cremated in a 49ers cap, a Star Wars T-shirt and sunglasses shortly after his funeral at Highland Park Community Church in Casper, Wyoming. He was 43. The outfit was the daily wear for an aggressively coarse and casual man. Lingle was that guy, the one who told the crude joke to your kids and insisted on swearing in front of the elderly at restaurants. He would simply amp up the blue material and drop some more f-bombs if you called him on it.

His sister, Tawny Perales, showed me a picture of Lingle in his coffin. “He wore the cap all the time because he was losing his hair,” she told me at a Starbucks not far from the church. “People think it’s weird I took the picture, but I don’t care.”

Lingle had a wicked sense of humor, so he would have enjoyed the minor meme he caused last summer. There was a video posted on Reddit called “Sir, you dropped your sandwich,” where an armed SWAT officer is running toward a “shots fired” situation at Lingle’s trailer. The cop drops a sandwich, skitters forward a few steps, before reversing himself as someone says, “He dropped his goddamn sandwich.” You can hear bystanders laughing. Without context, the clip is pretty funny.

Read the rest of this article at: RollingStone

News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

Tell Me Everything

News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

TELL ME A SECRET. In the abstract, it’s an awful request. It suggests that the asked has a repository of secrets to reveal at any time if the feeling is right; that the asker deserves to be told one or any of these secrets; that the revelation of the asked’s secret wouldn’t constitute a betrayal of some third party; that the asked is the sort of person who keeps secrets at all, i.e., either somebody with something to hide, or someone with an inner life and private history so special that no one would ever suspect it; that it’s charming to be someone with secrets, perhaps a little dangerous too; that a secret is always more essential, and more desirable to know, than what’s on the surface. But what if the opposite is true? That your secrets, the things only you know about yourself, are in fact the most trivial, most banal things about you? In a society where many of us who don’t qualify as public figures spend a lot of time projecting our lives and our personalities in public, the biggest secret of all might be that, in whatever privacy we have left, we don’t have any secrets.

Secrets have come to seem quaint, something vaguely legacy or vintage, like glossy magazines or flip phones. They were still big in the 1990s, when people were something other than brands, when lots of people still loathed brands, when personalities were still constructed out of whispers and glances rather than public utterances and little clicks of affirmation. This new world was still being born out of the old when Sam Lipsyte wrote “My Life, for Promotional Use Only,” a story from his 2000 collection Venus Drive. It was the early days of the secret-devouring internet. The story’s narrator is employed by his ex-girlfriend at her “web site for serotonin-depleted teenage girls,” the sort of entity that would turn private life into public currency. He recalls a night they spent together: They met on the street following his band’s show, and “checked into a Super 8 motel with a bottle of Maker’s Mark bourbon and a running conversation about trust.” He demanded an exchange of secrets. Now, though he remembers hers (dysfunctional bowels), he can’t remember his own, and as she fires him, she’s too busy to tell him his secret. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he asks. “Where the hell is my inner soul?”

Read the rest of this article at: The New York Times

30 Years After Tiananmen, a Chinese Military Insider Warns: Never Forget

News 05.31.19 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

BEIJING — For three decades, Jiang Lin kept quiet about the carnage she had seen on the night when the Chinese Army rolled through Beijing to crush student protests in Tiananmen Square. But the memories tormented her — of soldiers firing into crowds in the dark, bodies slumped in pools of blood and the thud of clubs when troops bludgeoned her to the ground near the square.

Ms. Jiang was a lieutenant in the People’s Liberation Army back then, with a firsthand view of both the massacre and a failed attempt by senior commanders to dissuade China’s leaders from using military force to crush the pro-democracy protests. Afterward, as the authorities sent protesters to prison and wiped out memories of the killing, she said nothing, but her conscience ate at her.

Now, in the run-up to the 30th anniversary of the June 4, 1989, crackdown, Ms. Jiang, 66, has decided for the first time to tell her story. She said she felt compelled to call for a public reckoning because generations of Chinese Communist Party leaders, including President Xi Jinping, have expressed no remorse for the violence. Ms. Jiang left China this week.

“The pain has eaten at me for 30 years,” she said in an interview in Beijing. “Everyone who took part must speak up about what they know happened. That’s our duty to the dead, the survivors and the children of the future.”

Read the rest of this article at: The New York Times

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