What first struck me about the poster was not its carbon-copy of the poster for the first Sex and the City film, but the tagline:
Pastels beat a power tie.
Uh, OK. Gender stereotype much? I’m a woman and I’m not wearing any pastel colours today. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of pastel-coloured items I own. On top of that, I don’t want to be judged for what I wear. If I were to attend this event in a sharp black business suit, would I be welcome?
I’m surprised the poster doesn’t list the fact that cosmopolitans will be served, or than attendees will be treated to manis and pedis at the end of the day.
What is most distressing about this poster is it’s talking down to women in business instead of to them. Women business leaders — whether they are CEOs, entrepreneurs or executives — deserve to be treated equally as men. Not only that, but something tells me women who want to network with their peers at an event such as this, don’t need a poster appealing to the lowers common denominator to get their attendance. They should be deciding to attend based on the event’s merits. A poster for a men-in-business would not be done in this way.
What this poster accomplishes is making women business executives feel like they’re different. After all, women wouldn’t want to talk business, they only identify with a television show and movie franchise that went down the tubes four years ago.
The saddest thing about this poster is that it’s for an event that’s happening on International Women’s Day — a day when we celebrate women’s accomplishments and achievements. If only, the businesswomen of Hamilton are being treated to the same.
What do you think of the poster? Leave a comment below.
Perhaps taking a page from our neighbours to the south, the London Free Press and QMI Agency have decided to cover the Michael Rafferty trial with a branded Twitter account (@RaffertyLFP) instead of using reporters’ personal Twitter accounts to live tweet the proceedings.
To the right, you will see the worst picture of me ever taken — it is me in Grade 9 and lives in all its horrid glory in the 1997 Westmount Secondary School yearbook.
I dug it out, and am publishing it for all the world to see because I’ve been thinking a lot about high school over the last few weeks, ever since planning for my high school’s 50th reunion, which happens this May, has kicked itself into high gear.
I still remember the first day I walked into Westmount in Grade 9. I remember how unfamiliar it all was. How cool I thought I suddenly had become, as if I could shed my skin from the torture of elementary school and reinvent myself. As if suddenly I might be understood by my peers. As if I suddenly would be liked by them.
I remember what I had for lunch that day. The best damn cold tacos my Nana had ever made. They were in my brand new lunchbag. I ate at a table in the cafeteria with my childhood best friend and her middle school friends.
I had such high hopes for high school.
I don’t know if I’m going to go to the reunion, which is part of the reason I went rummaging through my hope chest, going through old photos, old cards, old memories.
Partly I don’t know if I want to go because I still kind of stay in touch with people on Facebook. And even the people I’m not friends with on Facebook anymore, I was once and we caught up. I don’t know what else there is to do.
The other reason I don’t want to go is more simple: High school was hell for me.
I know everyone says that. But it really was for me. I never did reinvent myself. Despite my best attempts, I was not popular, or well-liked. I didn’t get that dreamy high school boyfriend until the year I was walking out the door. In fact, I was so boy crazy (and I should emphasize the crazy part), I messed up what could have been some pretty great friendships with some pretty great guys. (Something I was well reminded when I tried to get in touch with one of those high school guys when Facebook was new and cool.)
I don’t blame everyone else for my high school mess entirely. I know I played a big part in my own hell. My attitude and my unwillingness to bend, or try, or act my age (I often acted way too much older), hampered what could have been.
Sure, I had some great times. Performed in some fun musicals, met a great group of friends that became my lifelines in Grade 10 and 11, but high school was not what Sweet Valley High or Saved by the Bell had told me it would be.
Eleven years after graduating, I’m wondering if I even want to walk down those halls again. I’ve only been back to the school half a dozen times since I graduated. Just once since breaking up with my high school boyfriend almost 10 years ago.
I still have lots of feelings of inadequacy, fear and shame of how I acted toward others. I know you can’t fully hold your 15-year-old self accountable for the way you behaved towards others, but I do. And while some have excused my youthful transgressions, happy to write them off as me being “just a kid,” I know others haven’t been so kind. And I just don’t want to face them.
(For the record: I did not kill anyone as a teen, nor was I a Queen Bee of any kind. I’m mainly talking about stupid shit one does as a teenager.)
What’s the past worth anyway? Is it worth going back and reliving the hell that was my teenage years? Or will the (potential) good outweigh the (potential) bad? And can you ever really make up for the things you did in your past by showing that you’re not that person anymore?
I’ve shown mine. Now you show yours. Leave your tales of Grade 9 woe in the comments below. And if you’re brave enough — add a photo!
In the wake of Sky News announcing it was clamping down on its social media policy, a lot of the Twitterati have publicly criticized the news broadcaster’s decision.
One of the main points to come out is that Twitter and other social media platforms are about working together with sources and…
I didn’t live in Arizona and wasn’t particularly plugged into that part of American politics. Sure, I’m sure I saw her name in news stories and reports, especially after Arizona’s controversial immigration law was passed. But as with most other American congressmen and women — and even governors — her name just didn’t stick.
Then January 8 happened. I remembered following the events of that day on Twitter, especially her “death” — which was later proven to be untrue. That day was the first time in a long time I turned on CNN to follow the events in Arizona.
I don’t know why, but Giffords’ story struck a chord with me. Even before we knew anything about how she was doing.
After the first post-shooting images of her were released, I was even more struck by Giffords and her story. She looked so happy, so at peace, so OK.
Giffords’ first television interview was with Dianne Sawyer. I spent most of the hour in tears watching in amazement at the videos of this woman fighting so hard to be who she was all over again.
“She sounds like a child,” my boyfriend commented after one section where Giffords spoke.
He was right, she did. She spoke in short, usually one-word sentences. She looked confused when she was asked some questions, but I still saw so much hope and possibility from her.
Late last year, Gabby: A Story of Courage and Hope was released — a book by Giffords and her husband Mark Kelly. The book told the story of Giffords’ life before the shooting, but more of it took place in the days, weeks and months that came afterward. How she fought to build her life back — to walk, to talk — to learn everything all over again.
Of course, the real question was whether Giffords was going to run for re-election this year. Whenever it was asked, Kelly always gave the same response: The decision was Giffords’ alone to make, and she had until May to make it.
Then this weekend we got more news from Giffords. Only this time, it wasn’t about her future aspirations. This time it was about her present situation. She had decided she would be resigning her congressional seat.
In a video released on her website, wearing a red jacket almost just like the one she was shot in just over a year ago, Giffords said farewell:
“I will return,” Giffords promised, smiling in a way that you could almost see the “old” Gabby shining through.
She promised that while she was getting better, she needed to take some time to focus on her recovery. And while she didn’t expressly say she wasn’t planning to run again, the video made it pretty clear that her political career was probably done.
The New York Timesreported Sunday night that Giffords would end her term in congress finishing the Congress on Your Corner event in the supermarket parking lot where she was shot one year ago.
Perhaps because of that decision, and so many others, I still see hope from Gabrielle Gifford. Sunday’s events reminded me of some of what she had written in Gabby‘s final chapter entitled “Gabby’s Voice:”
Hope and faith. You have to have hope and faith.
Everything I do reminds me of that horrible day. Just rolling onto my side is hard. Hard to sleep at night. Reminds me of how badly I was hurt. It was hard but I’m alive …
Long ways to go. Grateful to survive. It’s frustrating. Mentally hard. Hard work. I’m trying. Trying so hard to get better. Regain what I’ve lost. Want to speak better .
Trying to get back to work … I’m so sorry I’m unable to work right now.
I hope I never have to fight a battle like the one that Gabrielle Giffords is fighting, but I know I will fight smaller battles throughout my lifetime.
I hope like Giffords, no matter how tough my fight may seem or how futile it appears to be, I hope I am able to hold my head up high and carry on. I hope no matter how dark things may seem, I am able to say exactly what Giffords said:
I will get stronger. I will return.
Of that, I have no doubt.
Good luck, Gabby.
Photo for blog post a screengrab from Giffords’ video announcing her resignation.
City of Hamilton rips off Sex and the City poster for women-in-business event
The image above is for a women in business event hosted by the City of Hamilton’s economic development committee.
It was brought to my attention after Emma Reilly, a city hall reporter for the Hamilton Spectator tweeted about it:
It’s a very good question, indeed.
What first struck me about the poster was not its carbon-copy of the poster for the first Sex and the City film, but the tagline:
Uh, OK. Gender stereotype much? I’m a woman and I’m not wearing any pastel colours today. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of pastel-coloured items I own. On top of that, I don’t want to be judged for what I wear. If I were to attend this event in a sharp black business suit, would I be welcome?
I’m surprised the poster doesn’t list the fact that cosmopolitans will be served, or than attendees will be treated to manis and pedis at the end of the day.
What is most distressing about this poster is it’s talking down to women in business instead of to them. Women business leaders — whether they are CEOs, entrepreneurs or executives — deserve to be treated equally as men. Not only that, but something tells me women who want to network with their peers at an event such as this, don’t need a poster appealing to the lowers common denominator to get their attendance. They should be deciding to attend based on the event’s merits. A poster for a men-in-business would not be done in this way.
What this poster accomplishes is making women business executives feel like they’re different. After all, women wouldn’t want to talk business, they only identify with a television show and movie franchise that went down the tubes four years ago.
The saddest thing about this poster is that it’s for an event that’s happening on International Women’s Day — a day when we celebrate women’s accomplishments and achievements. If only, the businesswomen of Hamilton are being treated to the same.
What do you think of the poster? Leave a comment below.