Category Archives: culture

Nice day for a green wedding: Those pricey traditions

Late spring into early summer is the perfect time for weddings. The weather is temperate and docile, the foliage is in full bloom, and potential guests have extra gift money on hand from low utility costs over the last few months.

Of course, wedding vendors the world over are well aware of these truths, and price accordingly. Between paying top dollar for the dress, the rings, the food (and cake), the venue, and the entertainment, somebody’s coming out of this process wishing it were December instead. It can’t all be lush, red roses and gorgeous, photogenic rainbows after all.

Let’s see if we can trim the fat a bit by looking at our cash-intensive traditions and where they come from. Maybe there are some things we can do without.

The Dress

What’s the deal with these wedding dresses, anyway? You buy one for way more than the price of any other dress you will ever own, and then you wear it one time ever. Whose bright idea was this?

As usual, we can blame Queen Victoria. When she married Prince Albert in 1840, she bucked the trends and picked white as her color, to signify purity. Shortly thereafter, it caught on, with rich women wanting to show off that they could afford a dress that would pretty much immediately be ruined if it suffered any wear or if they did any kind of work.

Most everyone does white these days, but it’s not required if you’re getting remarried (for whatever reason). In India, however, brides wear anything but white, as that’s the color of mourning, and typically go for red instead.

As to veils, these aren’t for hiding the bride’s beautiful face from the groom, but rather from evil spirits. Roman brides, along with their five witnesses (bridesmaids), wore veils and identical dress so as to confuse the dastardly spirits that might want to steal away her fertility at the moment she passes from the protection of her father to that of her husband.

When it comes to the bride adorning herself with something old, new, borrowed, and blue, this superstition seems to be related to protecting oneself from the evil eye. The evil eye, wielded at times even by an unknowing practitioner of the dark arts, is a widespread cultural myth, which in our contemporary society has been diminished to the less-malevolent “stink eye.”

Anyway, it was common practice for everyone to have something blue on them, to avoid the curses of the eye, which might cause things to dry up (like wells or, in the case of weddings, reproductive organs). The “something borrowed” really should, by tradition, be the undergarments of a woman who has already given birth, so they can confer her fertility to the new bride. We also typically leave off the final line of the poem, “and a silver sixpence in her shoe.” Silver, of course, doubles as a powerful aphrodisiac (not really) and werewolf deterrent.

The Rings

The first engagement rings were probably invented by the Egyptians, while the Romans made them popular. Roman men wore rings of iron to indicate that they were citizens. Giving such a ring to a bride-to-be would indicate that she was now “like people.” Romans believed the left ring finger (named after, y’know, where you wear your wedding ring) contained a vein (or sinew) that led straight to the heart. This idea is either delightful or creepy, depending on your perspective, I guess.

The Cake

More Roman origins. These Romans are popping up everywhere, I swear. In ancient Rome, the priest class, known as Flamen, got married by eating a cake made of spelt, a kind of wheat, in a ceremony called “confarreatio,” which basically means “eating spelt.” In medieval Europe, cakes were stacked up high, and if the bride and groom could kiss over their cake, they would have a long and happy marriage. Sucks to be short, I guess.

The Entertainment

In the United States, we hire a DJ or a band and get a second cousin who plays the viola to perform at the ceremony. Then people dance, or not, as the mood takes them. We have first dances, parental dances, money dances, ridiculous group dances like the Chicken Dance, Electric Slide, Macarena, the Hora if you’re Jewish, that terrible clapping, stepping, cha cha thing, and I’ve even seen the Hokey Pokey once or twice. Maybe some other cultural traditions can help us out here, to give us some more variety, at least.

In Ethiopia, the wedding day starts with the groom and his friends going to the bride’s house and forcing their way inside through the bride’s relatives while loudly singing. The “best man” then sprays perfume everywhere inside. Why yes, yes, it is an overt metaphor for sex.

How about Germany, where bride kidnapping is the norm, which you may recognize from The Office. The groomsmen take the bride bar-hopping, leaving clues behind, while the groom follows after them and pays their tabs. Hmm … that doesn’t really sound less expensive than the overpriced DJ.

In Romania, the lăutari (“lutists”) follow the couple around all day, playing specific songs to fit the moment, and act as entertainer/emcee/event organizer all in one.

The Ceremony

In the United States, the ceremony is most often going to be a Christian one, performed in a church. We have special music, ring exchanging, vows, probably a brief sermon, and then people throw rice at the married couple. Also, there are unity candles these days. What is the deal with those, anyway? Like, people aren’t content with the half-dozen existing symbols for unity inherent in the wedding service, like the rings, the joining of hands, the kiss … they also need something that’s blatantly called a “unity” candle? I’ll get over it.

Maybe you’ve also seen a Celtic-style rite called handfasting? The word “fast” comes from Proto-Germanic fastuz (“firm”). We have three definitions for the word, which carry very different meanings, but they all happen to share this root. You can be a fast runner (or a “firm” runner). You can fast to skip meals or other desired things (or hold “firm” against temptation), then break your fast by eating breakfast. You can also fasten two things together, which is the meaning implicit in handfasting. The rite involves wrapping a hand each of the bride and groom together with cloth to symbolize, you guessed it, unity.

You might also have been to a Jewish ceremony, which has a chuppah (Hebrew: “canopy”), a sheet, held up by four poles, that’s spread over the couple when they get married. It symbolizes the home they’ll build together. A Jewish couple would also then sign a ketubah (Hebrew: “written thing”) outlining the responsibilities of the groom toward the bride.

Hopefully, if nothing else, this article can show potential brides, grooms, and payers of the wedding expenses that there are abundant options available to them, whether or not some would be particularly advisable/accessible in your locale, or defray the costs versus the norm even if they were.

So, cheers, everyone. Keep on marrying and giving in marriage. I’ll see you next week.

‘Rights of man’ and other false excuses for misogyny

For readers who may not regularly follow Curiata.com or The Modern Urban Gentleman: The following post is an entry in a weekly men’s lifestyle column. As such, it is written from a male perspective with a male audience in mind. For a female point of view on issues of gender, sexuality, and culture at large, check out the work of my talented and loving wife in her weekly column, A Feminist Sensibility.

Last week’s killings in Isla Vista, California, have become a watershed moment for me. I have had my own preconceptions and past behaviors projected through a new, uncomfortable lens. I hope readers will accept the challenge of gentlemanly self-analysis to reflect honestly on their own attitudes and conduct, and then refine them where they must.

If you are still unfamiliar with the crime, a sexually frustrated 22-year-old man, enacting “vengeance” against all women for his virginity, stabbed three roommates and opened fire outside a sorority house at the University of California, Santa Barbara. In the course of the attacks, six were murdered, 13 more injured, and the killer dead by his own hand.

The impact of the killings has, for me, been as much a response to the multitude of reactions to the attacks as to the motives of the man behind them. I have come to have a new appreciation for how hard-wired men are for casual misogyny, and how critically precarious that wiring is — how easily a spark can grow to a fire that devours innocent lives.

When I first heard of this latest in a long string of mass murders here in the United States late Friday, I callously and regrettably filed the headline in that portion of the brain reserved for routine, disposable pieces of information. Unfortunately, this has become the only practical reaction given the frequency of these large-scale tragedies. The Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in 2012 proved the futility of getting worked up over enacting sensible weapons laws, so I swallowed the instinct for outrage and went about my weekend.

As I checked in on social media over the course of the holiday, another low-level signal registered in my consciousness: Something called the #YesAllWomen movement was trending on Twitter, and it was eliciting the predictable trolling, including a #NotAllMen backlash. I had no idea what the fuss was about, never connected #YesAllWomen to Isla Vista, and I didn’t sit down to fill in the details until the discussion had reached an unavoidable critical mass — and, embarrassingly, until it fit my schedule.

Wading into #YesAllWomen is littered with landmines for a white, cisgender, straight male. But Phil Plait, one of my favorite writers, who brings logic and order to astronomy, science, and critical thinking at large, has done that heavy-lifting for me. In his article, Plait expertly summarizes the importance of women voicing the worrisome, creepy, unfair, threatening experiences they routinely endure while he dismantles the #NotAllMen trope that only serves to embolden those like the Isla Vista murderer.

It didn’t take long to find that murderer’s video in which he lays out, as in some sort of poorly produced WWE heel promo, his plans for mass murder because of his own pitiful shortcomings. The most troubling part about the Isla Vista murderer is how recognizable he is. I have heard and read his perspectives before. I have known men like him. I have even, at times, been him.

Let me say that I know this man had been receiving therapy and he may have been dealing with autism spectrum disorder. I am sympathetic to those factors, emphatic that mental health must be more properly dealt with to mitigate the possibility of this type of behavior — yet utterly disdainful of the pathetic egomaniac that felt he had the right to play god because the world did not mold to his expectations.

This murderer found solace and support in a community of self-appointed martyrs, bearing the cross in the fight against the destruction of some false conception of manhood, calling themselves the “men’s rights movement.” In this twisted worldview of victim-hood, the feminist agenda has emasculated society and every woman is a soldier in the war to destroy male-kind.

The MRM spins into action anytime a woman publishes, tweets, or speaks any perspective that may be out of line with millennia-old gender roles. The vitriol spewed by these keyboard warriors is disgusting and, frankly, criminal, including their threats of rape and dismemberment of a woman who dares to speak her mind. This phenomenon has become so predictable, so par-for-the-course, that it has had the ironic effect of strengthening the case for the feminism it rails against. (Lewis’ law has been coined to describe “that the comments on any article about feminism justify feminism.”)

This dangerous mode of thinking propagates among self-absorbed, isolationist circles: online forums, Twitter, gaming platforms, tea parties, Ayn Rand book clubs, and the gutters of Reddit. (Look, I know extreme, fabricated victim-hood exists within enclaves of the left, as well. But the utter disconnect with reality exhibited by the MRM and the dangerous lengths to which these folks have gone puts them in an entirely different category of alarming.)

It is, of course, true that #NotAllMen are intentionally anti-female, abusive, or predatory. But there exists a deep-seated masculine entitlement that the MRM actively denies and the more well-adjusted man unintentionally ignores. We are so integrated into our patriarchal system that we can’t see the forest for the trees — and I count myself among this group even now, though this conversation has at least made me aware of my ignorance.

I found an iota of my own complacency, as well as the clarity I didn’t know I was seeking, in a somewhat unlikely place. Recent Jeopardy! champion Arthur Chu, who had been one of the voices on Twitter pinging my brain with the murderer’s motives and #YesAllWomen catharsis throughout the weekend, penned a deconstruction of the male mind for The Daily Beast that struck a nerve in me. The editorial, “Your Princess Is in Another Castle: Misogyny, Entitlement, and Nerds,” laid bare the myth I had lived for my entire life as a single man without ever realizing the fiction of it all.

As Chu illustrates, the male entitlement culture pervades even in what would seem to be the safest zone: the expressly anti-masculine strongholds of nerddom. This is the haven of “nice guys” who only want to win the affections of the women they admire through their kind words and reassuring shoulders. Raise your hand if that’s a strategy you’re familiar with.

I, for one, spent all of middle and high school employing these tactics, finally “earning” a long-term girlfriend after years of rejection. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t work out. But I and many other of my “nice guy” ilk have had no other frame of reference for male-female relationships than the guy-wins-girl narrative so ingrained in our culture.

The danger lies in that when only one outcome is imaginable, it becomes an entitlement. And when an entitlement is repeatedly denied, a resentment builds. And when a resentment grows to a point where it can no longer be borne, tragedy strikes.

Chu’s perspective struck a nerve in more people than just me. I posted his article to Facebook and it has been re-shared an incredible 102 times in 24 hours (far exceeding any of my countless efforts to push our Curiata.com posts to that level of virality).

Chu also linked to another crucial illustration of male misconception. An unattributed reader of Andrew Sullivan’s blog The Dish shared a story that Sullivan reprinted in 2012 in which a high school freshman, “disgusted” by homosexuality because a man once made an unwanted pass at him, was stopped in his tracks when his teacher pointed out that it was the first and only time in the student’s life he had endured something that women deal with nonstop from the onset of puberty.

All of these attitudes, whether willful or ignorant, serve to enable a casual misogyny that every man who has ever taken a breath has perpetuated.

Gentlemen, we all share in the responsibility to eliminate this poison. Respect for women is never a negotiable item. Nonetheless, the everyday implications of living to a new standard will undoubtedly prove difficult for gentlemen like us. The wandering eye will ever ogle, and the cat-and-mouse of flirtation will endure.

But always keep in mind the perspectives of Katherine Cooper, Veronika Weiss, and other sisters and daughters, mothers and cousins, who have been gunned down or harassed when a woman’s will didn’t bend to a man’s.

More than any other topic we’ve addressed in this space, that will make you a true gentleman.

Let’s stop treating feminism like another ‘F’ word

In an interview with Time earlier this month, Shailene Woodley, star of the upcoming movie The Fault in Our Stars, stated loud and clear that she is not a feminist. In the comments that followed, it became apparent that it is Woodley’s misunderstanding of feminism that led her to her conclusion, not any substantive disagreement with feminism itself.

Woodley explained her position by saying that she doesn’t think she is a feminist because she “loves men.” I’m not trying to be rude or snarky, but I think someone needs to have a conversation with this woman about the difference between feminism and lesbianism. As a feminist, I’m quite fond of men, especially my husband.

Woodley further tried to distance herself from feminism by offering that she doesn’t think we should be taking power away from men and giving it to women. Here again, Woodley is severely mistaken about the definition of feminism. I also don’t think we should be “taking power away from men,” because, as a feminist, I believe in equality for all.

Creating equality doesn’t mean taking rights and opportunities away from any individual, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, or gender identity or expression. A great, easy example is the pay gap argument: I don’t think men should be paid less to close the gap; I believe women should be paid the same as men with the same skills and job descriptions.

What really makes my head spin is that, later in the article, Woodley goes on to explain that she believes in “the sisterhood.” In doing so, she describes a concept that sounds a lot like feminism to this Sensible Feminist: “women coming together and supporting each other and creating a sisterhood of support for one another versus hating each other for something that somebody else created.”

I know Shakespeare was a fan of the idea that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” However, in 2014, there is something to be said for brand recognition. Using the word feminist to describe yourself gives a face to a movement, and that is crucial. Regular readers of this column are already familiar with my quest to reclaim the term feminist, but when I continue to see actresses in Hollywood getting queasy over the “F” word, I get a little bit annoyed.

One of the biggest female icons in history, Madonna, doesn’t consider herself a feminist either, waving instead her flag for “humanism.” I fail to see how these need to be mutually exclusive terms, or how Madonna’s strong, self-deterministic personality could be credibly distinguished from a feminist one.

I will concede that Madonna “came of age” between the second and third waves of feminism, so I can understand her initial hesitancy to declare herself out and proud as a feminist. However, the world has changed since the 1980s: Germany isn’t split into two parts by a giant wall, Like a Virgin isn’t really all that controversial anymore, and, thankfully, neon leg warmers and big hair have gone out of style (for now). Madonna should probably let go of her disdain for the second-wave feminist and get on today’s girl power train with the likes of Beyonce, Ellen Page (Kitty Pryde!), and Lena Dunham.

Woodley’s comments have lead to open letters and raised eyebrows in the feminist community, but is that enough? I know there are those out there who would excuse her naivete due to her youth, but she is 22. By the time I was 22, I was proudly sporting my “This is what a feminist looks like” T-shirt and was well on the path to fighting for gender equality. So my question is: at what point do we stop excusing these types of statements and start demanding that individuals are responsible for understanding the words they use?

I will say that I’m only focusing on Woodley’s comments because she is the the one in the news right now. As much as I like her, Taylor Swift has been guilty of making similar comments in the past, and if she had been the one speaking out, then I’d be ripping her arguments apart. Nevertheless, it is Woodley in the hot seat this time.

Perhaps because Woodley was born in the 1990s, she buys into the idea of a world where feminism is no longer necessary. It’s true that many post- and near-post-Millennials approach the world with more color-blindness, gender-blindness, and sexuality-blindness than their predecessors. In a vacuum, that is a great approach. But in the real world, assuming inequality has been eradicated when it certainly has not been only allows racism, misogyny, and homophobia to remain a part of the landscape.

It is time to have a real conversation about what the term feminist means. In light of last week’s Isla Vista killings, in which women were specifically targeted because of perceived slights by the entire gender against one disturbed young man, and the tone-deaf, ignorant, #NotAllMen response from some corners of the Internet, it is clear that there are very dangerous misconceptions to be corrected.

I hope this will be a learning experience for Woodley, as previous comments were for Katy Perry. Perhaps this fine young actress will join Perry and the rest of us, embrace the word “feminist,” and start using her fame to promote the equality she already believes in for all.

New drinks, old cars: Favorites from Hershey wine festival

Set amid antique autos from around the world, the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board earlier this month showcased some of the best its Wine and Spirits stores have to offer at the Vintage & Vineyards wine festival. About 160 kiosks, manned by knowledgeable representatives from various wineries and importers, were situated throughout the Antique Automobile Club of America Museum in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

The experience was two-fold. Sipping on oak-aged chardonnays while standing mere feet from a 1925 Ford Model T Speedster is difficult to describe. Tasting a super-premium Napa cabernet sauvignon in view of a fire-engine-red 1930 DuPont Model G is impossible to describe. The auto-enthusiast setting mixed with the elegant wine selection made the event, overall, irresistible and unique.

Ticket holders were greeted at the door and handed a generously large wine glass by a PLCB representative. Guests’ mouths were watering, eager to get to the tastings. Of course, before you could get to the tasting area, a wall of wine-for-sale items had to be navigated. As eager as I was to flood my mouth with wine, it was hard to play ignorant and forget that the event is all about making money. Economics aside, the event got off to a busy and crowded start around 6:30 p.m.

In the basement level of the museum, more than 60 foreign wineries were treating Pennsylvanians to imported wine treats from France, Italy, Germany, South America, and even Asia. The various winery and importation representatives were, generally, very helpful and answered all our questions. They were typically eager to demonstrate the uniqueness of their offerings. There seemed to be a lot of interest in Alsace and German rieslings, based on the crowds surrounding the F. E. Trimbach kiosk as the reps poured their Riesling Cuvée Frédéric Emile.

The first floor of the museum was dedicated to showcasing domestic wines from all over the country, with many hailing from the west coast. There were a surprising number of Washington and Oregon wines available for tasting, but California, as expected, dominated the scene. A strong emphasis seemed to be placed on the chardonnays, sauvignon blancs, and pinot noirs.

Some of the varietals I was looking forward to trying, like Chateau Montelena’s prized Estate Zinfandel or Stag’s Leap’s exclusive SLV Cabernet Sauvignon, were left off the table for the “ordinary” taster like myself. I later found out that some VIP guests were able to try these more exclusive wines at a private event held earlier in the evening. (Perhaps, Curiata.com will be invited to this soirée next time.)

From California, many Napa, Sonoma, and Central Valley wineries were featuring spring-favorite rosé wines, typically fashioned from pinot noir or a blend of grenache and syrah. Most notably, Francis Ford Coppola Winery was going for the latter in its Sofia line, named for the daughter of the famed Hollywood director, an accomplished movie director in her own right. It is a much more European style of rosé, popular in the south of France. Wine Enthusiast recently rated this affordable wine a 90 out of 100.

A number of great wines left an impression on me. Here are three domestic offerings that really stood-out as “must try” wines:

Ken Wright Cellars 2010 Guadalupe Vineyard Pinot Noir — Rusty ruby in color. Earthy w/ noticeable spice, tannins, and a late-coming minerality and leather, but yields to a smoother than expected finish.
An interesting fact about Ken Wright Cellars: the winery specializes almost entirely in pinot noir production, bottling many different pinots, all of which are grown, harvest, pressed, and fermented exactly the same way. The only differences among them are the soil and location of the vineyards in which the grapes are grown (all in the Northern Willamette Valley region of Oregon). It’s an interesting experiment that results in surprisingly different-tasting wines. Guadalupe Vineyard, specifically, has soil that results in highly concentrated, small-cluster pinot grapes that are slightly more tannic than those grown in a more sedimentary soil.

Check out the entire line of Ken Wright Cellars pinot noirs, but for a truly delicious one, I’ll refer you to the Guadalupe Vineyard. The winery representative stated that the 2010 vintage is in its prime window for drinking now thru 2018.

Retail value is about $44.99.

Score: 4.25 out of 5
Chateau Montelena 2011 Napa Valley Chardonnay — Made from grapes grown away from the estate, this Napa chard pours the typical pale golden hue, with noticeable butter, plus subtle toast and citrus notes. The acidity is tame and soft, with a nice carbonation level; a truly balanced wine that yields its tropical fruit to an almost European-style minerality. This is an amazingly balanced wine and my wife’s favorite of the night.
We shouldn’t expect anything less from Chateau Montelena. This is, after all, one of the wineries that was essential in bringing the world’s attention to the potential of California wines, especially chardonnay (check out the movie Bottle Shock). The winery representative told me that Montelena’s chardonnay is very cellar-worthy and can age well under the right conditions; he mentioned a recent uncorking of 1990 and 1991 vintages at the winery that he was fortunate to partake in. He recommended that purchasing magnum-sized bottles (1.5-liter) or larger for cellar aging.

Retail value is about $39.95.

Score: 4.5 out of 5
Saintsbury 2012 Carneros Vin Gris of Pinot Noir — A 100-percent pinot noir. On first sip, a dry, crisp edge and solid, almost abrasive initial acidity to balance it out when paired with food. We bought a few bottles of this and it has paired well with everything from soft cheeses to desserts and even Chinese take-out food.
According to the Saintsbury wine representative, the grapes are grown in mountainside, volcanic soil, getting a lot of late afternoon sun. The terroir is evident in the drink. As the wine opens up and becomes more and more drinkable, the stone minerality and earthiness of the wine emerges.

Saintsbury has been making this wine since 1989, and it’s one of their best-received. Vines in this vineyard are a mix of old and young; the older vines are low-yield, but produce highly concentrated, juicy grapes. Honestly, a very pleasing wine, and what I would call the “best buy” of the evening.

At the show, it sold for around $11 a bottle, but was on sale the next day as a “Chairman’s Selection” at the state-run Wine and Spirits store for only $8! Not just a best buy, but a great buy!

Score: 4 out of 5.

A wine festival is a perfect opportunity to try a variety of new wines at an affordable price. Don’t pass up the next chance you have, and be sure to tell us about your favorites in the comments below or on Twitter.

Did feminists fail Monica by standing idly by?

Sixteen years ago, the world watched in shock as a young woman announced her affair with the most powerful man in the free world. I’m talking, of course, about Monica Lewinsky and former U.S. President Bill Clinton.

For those who may not be aware, Lewinsky is in the news lately due to her recent interview in Vanity Fair. There, she talks about the affair, her embarrassment, and her thoughts of suicide, all while vehemently denying that the Clinton family had paid her to keep quiet all these years.

Now, not to reveal this feminist’s age too specifically, but I was definitely prepubescent when the Lewinsky/Clinton scandal broke in the mainstream media. I was so young that I didn’t quite understand the jokes about dry cleaning or cigars. So when a blog titled “Monica Lewinsky: Feminists Failed Me” ran on the Washington Post’s website last week, I had to stop, research, and remember the situation before I could evaluate whether Lewinsky had a point.

Lewinsky contends that she was left on her own throughout the media feeding frenzy of the scandal. Her image was destroyed, and she has been unable to find stable employment because of the stigma forever attached to her name. So is Lewinsky correct? Did the feminists of the time fail her?

Well, they certainly didn’t rush to her defense. But had they done so, Lewinsky may have found their support to be a double-edged sword.

In any affair, there are going to be winners and losers. In this particular liaison, two women were put at odds with one another; to support one was to alienate the other. Was it fair to ask feminists to choose a side and pick the paramour Monica or the wife Hillary? Despite the similarities, this wasn’t a soap opera storyline but rather real people with real-world ramifications.

Let’s say, hypothetically, that feminists had thrown unwavering support to Lewinsky. Would they, at the same time, have been demeaning Hillary and destroying any future political career for her? Furthermore, what about the Clintons’ daughter, Chelsea? The scandal had already put a large amount of stress on her family. How many people should have been destroyed in the name of feminism?

Obviously, the answer is none, but had raucous feminists rallied behind Lewinsky, this absolutely could have happened.

Another point I have made in the past is that not all feminists are man-haters. Jumping on a feminist bandwagon to trash the president would have made a bad situation even worse. Clinton wasn’t just any man, either. He had other big things on his mind, like running the country. The reality is that the most vocal feminists of the late 1990s who would have defended Lewinsky didn’t want to ostracize a president who was working to institute a legislative agenda that aligned with their political beliefs.

I’m definitely not trying to give the guy a pass. He should not have cheated on his wife. He should not have lied about it under oath. However, do I think a sex scandal (and really, we should be accurate in our use of language and call it what it was: an oral sex scandal) should have lead to an impeachment trial? Absolutely not.

But this article isn’t about my defense of Clinton. (Although, I will admit, in fourth grade, I desperately wanted to play the saxophone because I wanted to be like the president.) This article is asking if feminists failed Lewinsky.

I think there are two distinct instances where feminists could have spoken up a little bit more to support Lewinsky without collateral damage. The first: condemning the amount of slut-shaming that was directed at Lewinsky. This would not only have been the right thing to do for Lewinsky, but it is the right thing to do for women and young girls everywhere.

The second: attempting to mitigate the press coverage of her infamous makeover. By not calling foul when the media obsessed over Lewinsky’s sex life and new haircut, feminists allowed a college-educated young woman to be defined by superficial characteristics and private choices.

Both of these situations are areas where feminists could have stepped in, politely, without bashing either Clinton, and come to Lewinsky’s aid. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20, and this is definitely the case here.

Lewinsky wasn’t the first woman to be painted a Jezebel in the press, and she certainly will not be the last. But what we, as feminists, can take away from all of this is that our actions (or lack thereof) can have repercussions for years to come. So the next time you hear about an affair in your own circles (or in Hollywood), think twice before rushing to judgement of “the other woman.”

As beer flows, so my mind goes: Sint Amatus 12

Bottled & Corked expands its scope beginning this week to include another of man’s great creations: beer. We hope you enjoy the additional coverage in one of our most popular columns.

The first sip is always the most important. Don’t doubt this. The first sip determines everything.

It’s the temperature shock when your lips first encounter the cold brew. It’s the carbonation dancing on your tongue. It’s the unexpected (or expected) dose of yeast, hops, and malt that washes over your taste buds. It’s the delayed swallow as you contemplate what just hit you. It’s that brief nanosecond when your eyes close and your senses widen. It’s the smile, the ingratiating nod of approval you pass the bartender’s way, or the audible, “Ahhhhh…” that escapes your throat.

Are you thirsty yet?

Whatever the reaction, there is an undeniable moment, however brief, of sincere enlightenment that accompanies the first sip of a truly great beer. After all, you know what they say about first impressions. Tasting a great beer for the first time is like a rite of passage. It means a lot to take that first sip.

Beer and wine lovers all have a “wish list” — a queue that continues to grow along with one’s passion for the beverages. Every time we read a slew of reviews in Wine Enthusiast or skim through user musings on BeerAdvocate.com, our wish list lengthens due to that human instinct to blurt out (either audibly or to ourselves), “I must try that,” or, “I want that.”

With the tantalizing rise in worldwide craft, micro, and home beer brewing, beer tastings have become as commonplace as wine tastings. There’s something out there for everyone. Every taste, every flavor seems to exist, especially in the beer market.

Within the world of craft brewing, there’s an intentional emphasis placed on the importance of not just the initial taste, but the entire beer-drinking experience. Risk-taking brewers have transcended the commonplace pilsners and lagers that make up the mass market of everyday brews in favor of creating niche beers for the most discerning tastes.

Experimental brewers are going to great lengths to make their beer stand out from the crowd. Organic beers (like Bison Brewing’s Organic I.P.A.), chocolate and peanut butter stouts (like Duclaw’s Sweet Baby Jesus!), specialty holiday seasonal beers (like Troegs Mad Elf or Samuel Adams Old Fezziwig Ale), renewed interest in ancient beer brewing techniques (like Dogfish Head’s Midas Touch, supposedly based on beer recipes that date back to 700 B.C.), and beers that actually have animal ingredients (like Ramsgate’s Black Pearl Oyster Stout) have surfaced to delight curious beer drinkers.

Even importers are finally taking risks on bringing in traditional and specialty brews from all corners of the world. For example, it used to be that Hoegaarden’s witbier and Stella Artois’ pale lager were the only Belgian beers found in U.S. bars (maybe you’d find the occasional specialty Trappiste brew, like Chimay Grand Reserve). Now, American drinkers are being treated to previously unavailable international beer gems; many higher-end bars are constantly rotating their stock of “what’s on tap” to keep consumers’ options plentiful.

This is a good thing. Consumers are learning about all that’s available beyond Miller, Coors, and Bud. There’s something special about the direction craft and micro brewers are taking; they’re attempting to create flavors and experiences beer drinkers have been craving, while at the same time continuing to satisfy the expectations relative to what made drinkers fall in love with beer in the first place. I don’t mean to diminish the common, everyday beer. (I mean, as I write this, I have a Yuengling Lager close at hand.) There is a comfort in the “old fall-backs” that keep us returning for more. But the human spirit is, by nature, curious, and we crave what we’ve never had.

Enter the “wish list.” It’s time to make some of those wishes a reality. Recently, I’ve been indulging in some new beers (well, new to me). A beer that I was able to strike off my wish list was De Struise Brouwer’s Sint Amatus Ootsvleteren 12. It’s no secret to those who know me best that I am an avid Belgian beer fanatic, so this brew has been on my radar for awhile.

I was able to order a bottle from a delightful purveyor of all things Belgium, so thanks to Kurt at BelgiumInABox.com, I could finally try this beer. I purchased a single 33-centiliter bottle from the 2010 vintage. (Yes, a bottle-aged beer … sounding a little like a wine? Well, it should).

Before I get to that precious first sip, here are some details about the brewery. De Struise started in 2006 and was turning out fine microbrews in Oostvleteren, Belgium, by 2009. The company brews a whole line of both traditional and experimental brews. (I’ve also tried their 2011 vintage Christmas beer called Struise Tsjeeses … out of this world and unique.)

The Sint Amatus 12 is named after a real Benedictine monk of that name. With elaborate label artwork, the Sint Amatus bottle stands out. What’s really unique and intriguing about this beer is that, while on the surface it seems just like any other traditional Belgian dark, quad ale, this one is aged in used Kentucky bourbon barrels. Most notably, Struise uses barrels from Woodford Reserve, a prominent small-batch bourbon producer in the United States.

Now, for that first sip.

Beer name: Sint Amatus Oostvleteren 12 (2010 vintage), 33-cL bottle

Type of glass: Trappiste beer chalice-style glass; I used a St. Bernardus glass

Other info: 10.5 percent alcohol by volume; misleadingly strong, should be a “sipper;” at around 300 calories, it’s filling, too — not a “lite” beer

Tasting notes: The nose was unassuming and what was expected of a strong, dark Belgian ale, especially a quad ale. The yeast and malt are prominent, even on the nose.

At first sip, the palate is overwhelmed (in a good way!) by the sweetness of candy sugar and malt, but it’s smooth. Judging by the age of the bottle, the bottle conditioning has a lot to do with the smoothness factor. It was so easy to drink.

Now, about those bourbon barrels … the flavor is there, but it is kind of hidden; it’s an afterthought on the back of the tongue. The wood taste and potency of the bourbon mixes well. It is more in the aftertaste, if anything.

After drinking nearly the entire glass, well past that excitement of the first sip and on to the sheer contentment of the whole experience, I wondered if a younger bottle (a 2013, perhaps?) would have the bourbon barrel wood more potent and up-front. Needless to say, while the beer is no longer on my wish list, it has certainly moved to my list of favorites.

Score: 4.75 out of 5

Why teaching kids not to hit is a bad idea

A few months ago, an eighth grade science teacher in my kids’ school district was arrested on child pornography charges. My children, ages 9 and 6, are still in elementary school, but these events required a[nother] discussion with my kids about predators — including how to protect themselves.

For the most part, in our house we have a “don’t hit” rule. However, this rule applies only to people who actually live in our house. The kids don’t hit each other or their dad or me; we don’t hit the kids or each other. My husband and I discipline our kids, for sure, but never by spanking, slapping, or hitting.

Anyone else is fair game.

Before you start freaking out, please know that my kids are good kids. They display excellent behavior at school, and we find them to be generally pleasant, fun, and decent kids. We have not given the kids license to settle every playground disagreement by force. Since my children have emerged from their toddler years (where every kid operates in a feral zone), they have not hit another child outside our home. (They do sometimes still hit each other, but these occasions are quite rare.) But when it comes to bad guys, all options are on the table.

Unfortunately, it is hard to tell the good guys from the bad. The term “guys” here does, in fact, refer to males. While there are female sexual predators, the vast majority are men. And since 90 percent of all child victims know their offender, that offender could be a teacher, coach, neighbor, family friend, or relative. And all of them seem so nice. Terrifying, I know.

I had to tell my kids what the teacher in our district had been accused of. I had to tell them exactly why those actions were wrong. I had to tell them that I hoped none of the man’s students were his victims, but until the investigation is complete, we won’t really know. I had to tell them that even if some of the students had been victims, they may be too ashamed to tell. I had to tell them that it’s never the kid’s fault if something like this happens. Never. I had to tell them that if an adult tells a kid to keep a secret, or threatens them, or threatens a kid’s family or pets, that the first thing that kid should do is to tell a trusted adult (a parent, for example).

I had to tell them that their bodies are theirs and no one — not me or their dad, not a relative, a teacher, club leader, or cafeteria aide, not our neighbors, or any of our friends or the kids’ friends — should ever touch them in any way that feels creepy, strange, uncomfortable, painful, weird, or bad.

This can be a challenging rule in light of overly affectionate great aunts or other distant family members. Nonetheless, don’t make your kids hug or kiss relatives if they don’t want to. This is one of the first things you can do to show a child that their body really is theirs. Forcing a child to hug or kiss anyone when they don’t want to sends a message that their bodies are theirs … unless and until someone else wants to do something to them. This is a terrible message.

Giving kids control over their own bodies can be a challenge for caring and nurturing moms and dads. Parenting instincts notwithstanding, don’t make a kid dress for your comfort. If it is cold outside and you, yourself, feel cold, don’t force your kid to bundle up if he tells you he is fine. Doing so demonstrates that your child can’t even tell if her own body is comfortable. And if the child can’t tell when her body is comfortable, how will she be able to tell when it’s not? So, let your kid make these basic decisions about their own bodies, please.

I had to tell my kids that if anyone ever touches them in an inappropriate way or asks to be touched, they can and should say no — loudly and plainly. They can and should get away and get to a safe adult immediately and tell us as soon as possible. I had to tell them that if saying no doesn’t work, or if they couldn’t get away, they should yell, scream, kick, bite, claw, and hit. I had to tell them that not only could they do it, but that they should do it. No matter with whom or where — even if it’s at school, or in public, or in a friend’s house, or in our own home. And I told them that if this ever happened, whether they said no or not, or whether they caused a scene or not, or tried and failed to get away or not, that it would never, ever be their fault.

I reiterated this message and reassured them that they could tell me if anything like this ever happened to them — that it would be an adult conversation, just like the one we were having right then. I reaffirmed that I will not freak out, and I will always listen to them. I told them that they have my and their dad’s full support in using whatever force they deem necessary to protect themselves. I told them that they will never get in trouble by me or their dad for protecting themselves, no matter what method they choose. I also told them that, if they get in trouble by anyone else for protecting themselves, I would handle it.

The kids asked some questions, which I answered as best as I could. Then I took a deep breath and hoped that they heard at least some of our discussion in their bones. Since then, I have raised the subject again a time or two in a casual, informal way. I will continue to do so in the future.

Parents spend a lot of time telling kids what not to do. But these “nots” have some exceptions. We, as parents, need to make sure that we give voice to those exceptions and tell kids exactly when it is OK to ignore the “nots” — and how to go about it.

Bechdel test gives glimpse of inequities, not quality

This week on Curiata.com, many of our contributors are writing about Star Wars, given that Sunday was Star Wars Day. In honor of that spirit, I am going to examine, with A Feminist Sensibility, a topic at the nexus of cinema and feminism: the much-debated Bechdel test. For anyone who may be unfamiliar with the concept, the Bechdel test was created in 1985 by feminist cartoonist Alison Bechdel. She suggested a rating system for movies based on the following criteria:

Is there more than one named woman in the film?
Do the women talk to each other?
Is the conversation about something other than men (or one specific man)?

It’s easy to see how Star Wars — and many other classic films — can come under fire if the Bechdel test is the sole criteria for measuring the worth, feminist or otherwise, of a movie. At least, it seems Star Wars would come under fire based on the comments at bechdeltest.com. I don’t know for sure because, you see, I have a confession: I have never seen Star Wars. Well, I’ve never seen Episodes IV, V, and VI, but I have seen the prequel trilogy. I’ll give all of the Star Wars purists a chance to clutch their pearls and head over to Kevin’s article to tell him how wrong he is about the prequels.

Despite not having viewed the original films, most of the plot, characters, and controversies of the movies have pervaded mainstream culture and media. There are volumes written about the sexual portrayal of Princess Leia and the fact that she is the only female main character. And as I’m not personally knowledgable about the failings of Star Wars in terms of the Bechdel test, I’ll leave it to the folks over at Bitch Flicks, who already did a great breakdown of women in the Star Wars franchise.

Instead, I’ll talk about the Bechdel test in general and its effects on how we view and value films. Fans of Curiata.com will note that we take our movies seriously. All one has to do is check out our reviews from the Academy Awards, the 2014 Tribeca Film Festival, or even this week’s Star Wars coverage to see that is true. In my cinematic experience, I have discovered that there are amazing cinematic works out there that fail the Bechdel test miserably, and there are truly awful films that pass with flying colors.

A few weeks ago, our local cinema showed The Godfather on the big screen. This was my first time viewing the film in its entirety, and I was blown away. The Godfather is a true piece of cinematic art that is still amazing and beautiful to this day. The only thing The Godfather fails at is the Bechdel test.

Yes, there are several named female characters (Kay Adams, Connie and Carmela Corleone, Apollonia), but not once in three hours do they share conversation in a scene. Not only does it miss the mark on the critical Bechdel test questions, but the closing scene where Michael Corleone is conducting business and the door closes in Kay’s face made my feminist blood boil! I came out of the film both angry and awed; I declared it amazing, despite its chauvinistic tones.

(Note from the editor: The aforementioned scene sets up The Godfather: Part II, where the Michael/Kay tension is dealt with head-on. Incidentally, the featured image on this page is from the scene in The Godfather: Part II that allows that film, unlike the first installment, to pass the Bechdel test.)

Conversely, all five films in the Twilight saga pass the Bechdel test. I’m not trying to pick a fight with the Twihards, but I think we can all admit that no one came out of Twilight thinking, “Wow, that film really pushed the art of cinema forward.”

As an aside, I feel compelled to mention that I’m not arguing all modern-day blockbusters are terrible films. I’m planning to see a midnight premiere showing of X-Men: Days of Future Past. I realize that even though it is likely I will enjoy the movie immensely, I doubt I will come out of the theater with the same zen cinema-as-art feeling as I did after The Godfather. I’m also interested to see if Days of Future Past, with strong females including Mystique, Storm, Rogue, and Kitty Pryde, can match or exceed the Bechdel test success of previous X-Men films.

The point I’m making is that the Bechdel test is but one method of measurement. It does not inherently determine whether a feminist will find a film worthwhile. As a matter of fact, films that are, at their core, anti-feminist, like The Godfather, can give a feminist like me great enjoyment while reaffirming my dedication to the equality of women.

The Bechdel test gives us a place to start the conversation about the role of women in Hollywood. Are women under-represented in Tinseltown? Absolutely. According to a study by the San Diego-based Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film, women account for just 30 percent of all characters and a paltry 15 percent of the protagonists of the top 100 U.S. films in 2013. Not only that, but the same report found that women were less likely to be portrayed in leadership roles.

These are all issues that need to be discussed and corrected. The Bechdel test gives us an easily digestible, buzz-worthy platform to discuss these inequities. But the judgment of a film’s pro-feminism or its cinematic quality must be made by an audience tuned in to more in-depth criticism than the Bechdel test offers.

Feminism does not preclude common courtesy

The modern notion of chivalry (in contrast to its historical roots) prescribes certain ways a gentleman should behave toward a lady. The heavily implied traditional gender roles within this code of conduct can cause discomfort in feminist spheres. I don’t need a man to open a door for me or pull out my chair at the dinner table. Nonetheless, a rejection of an antiquated rulebook doesn’t mean there’s no place in society for a little kindness.

Regular subscribers to Curiata.com will know we recently spent some time in New York City covering the Tribeca Film Festival. Well, in reality, the hubs covered the film festival while I did other fun things, like check out the exhibits at the Museum of Moving Image in Queens, visit great coffee shops like Kaffe 1668 in the Financial District (their mascot is a sheep!), and hang out at La Casita Yarn Shop over in Brooklyn.

Over the course of the weekend, I had many opportunities to reflect on the interactions of the vastly diverse population of the largest metropolis in the country. There is no greater equalizer in New York than the subway. Nonetheless, there are rules of etiquette, some written, some not, that have become woven into the social contract of sharing such a small, enclosed space, hurtling at high speeds, with hundreds of your closest friends.

Despite having a rigorous festival schedule, Mike and I still made time for breakfast in the morning and a very late dinner. On Saturday morning, we boarded a relatively busy downtown subway to Chelsea. The train seats were full, so I had to stand. Normally, this doesn’t bother me; I don’t expect anyone to give up their seat for me. I am an able-bodied, healthy, non-pregnant female. As a good, equality-loving feminist, I do not think I am entitled to a seat just because I am a woman. In fact, not 24 hours before, I had relinquished my seat to a lady who was very pregnant and looked extremely uncomfortable in any position she was in.

Two seats opened up at the next stop, and two young men, I’d say between 18 and 25 years old, practically ran to fill the seats. I was slightly annoyed that they didn’t even look around to see if there was anyone else who might need those seats instead. The gentleman I was standing in front of saw the whole thing happen; he looked up at me, stood, tapped me on the shoulder, and told me to sit down.

This man appeared to be close to or in his 50s, and I would have never expected him to give up his seat for me. I thanked him, but said it wasn’t necessary — I could stand. He insisted, saying he “needed to stretch [his] legs anyway.” Not wanting to make a scene or be rude, I slid into the seat and pondered what had just happened.

Karma has a way of working itself out. At the very next stop, a family of five boarded the train. The three children were young but too big to be in a stroller. I’d say they were between the ages of 5 and 9. They stepped onto the train and stood in front of the two ruffians who almost mowed me over to get to those seats. As the train departed the station, the littlest one was having a hard time standing on a moving subway. (In her defense, it is a very hard skill to master, and I’m still amazed by the people that don’t need to hold on to the bar and are instead in some mystical “rail surfer” stance.) The mom stared down the two guys in the seats so hard that they finally succumbed to mom powers and gave up their seats for the kids.

All of this is a long way of saying: just because I’m a feminist doesn’t mean that I don’t expect a certain level of what some might call “chivalry.” I put that in quotes because I know there are people out there who think that these acts are just common decency, and perhaps they are right. That certainly puts me at odds with some feminists who feel the need to lecture anyone who would extend a courtesy to a woman. I’m afraid that sort of feminism only adds to the antagonism and unhappiness that brings us all down.

When someone holds a door for me, I say thank you. I’ve outgrown the need to make a statement about how “my arms aren’t broken and I can get it myself.” (On the flip side, however, if someone lets a door slam in my face, I do give them a snarky, “Thank YOU!” once I get through the door.) I think that this decency goes both ways. I will hold the door for you; I don’t care if you are male, female, or transgender.

I realize that there are rude people in this world, and let me tell you, they are everywhere. I’ve run into them in NYC, Philadelphia, Kansas, and even Curiata.com’s home base, south-central Pennsylvania. I do, however, have a suggestion. Why don’t we all just try to be kinder to one another, regardless of gender, age, race, sexual orientation, or gender identity?

Perhaps, by being polite, we may be able to move mountains on the path to equality. “Please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” may not solve all of our inequality problems, but they sure will make the world a lot more pleasant while we try to sort it all out.

Search for Life Partners deftly downplays sexuality

The 2014 Tribeca Film Festival turns a spotlight on LGBT themes, with no fewer than 10 films explicitly focusing on the subject. In the limited time I had at the Festival, I decided I had to see one of those films, both to evaluate how it treated sexual orientation and because of the compelling cast attached to it.

(Incidentally, two of the five “non-LGBT” movies I screened this weekend also had important sexuality-related storylines.)

Life Partners, from director and writer Susanna Fogel, co-written by Joni Lefkowitz, widens its scope beyond what many entries in the queer cinema genre typically tackle. The film explores both lesbian and heterosexual partnerships while, at its core, remaining a tale centered on friendship. I found the movie to be an amusing, if by-the-numbers, romp through modern-day relationships of several sorts.

Life Partners tells the story of two best friends — one gay, one straight — searching for love while on the verge of turning 30. When Paige, played by Gillian Jacobs, meets Tim (Adam Brody) and their relationship begins to turn serious, Leighton Meester’s Sasha finds herself competing for the attention of the woman who had been the anchor of her life.

As the push-and-tug of this dynamic unfolds, the girls’ two friends, Jen and Jenn, engage in endless catty behavior that sends waves through the community’s all-too-interconnected lesbian scene. Gabourey Sidibe is Jen, self-assured and with an affinity for neon-colored plastic-frame eyeglasses. Beth Dover plays “Two-N Jenn,” the annoyingly clueless, comic-relief, Karen-from-Mean-Girls character found in too many female-centric movies. The Jens provide a few laughs, a B-plot or two, and a conflict that nudges the story toward resolution, but they are not well-fleshed-out roles — nor are they particularly original or funny as secondary characters.

Two Saturday Night Live veterans, Abby Elliott and Kate McKinnon, give delightful turns as over-the-top lesbians who find themselves entangled with Sasha and the Jens. Both actresses play their parts well, with Elliott in the meatier role. McKinnon especially nails the comedy as an absurdly aggressive and confident tomboy.

The structure of the story throws very few surprises our way. All the requisite hurt feelings, misunderstandings, and readjustments to new situations are there. Paige and Sasha’s character flaws are not as run of the mill, however, and the development they experience to overcome those shortfalls is satisfyingly scripted.

Paige demonstrates just how large the gulf between the two friends has become when she attempts to set Sasha up with a coworker. The scheme goes predictably wrong, and Paige shows herself to be less interested in Sasha’s happiness than in fixing all the “problems” around her. Many relationships have a “fixer;” Paige has the tendency to direct the narrative of all those in her gravitational pull, introducing friction into her interactions with Sasha, Tim, and even her neighbor (Mark Feuerstein).

For her part, Sasha must overcome her codependency on Paige before she can pursue a serious romantic connection. That tendency to codependence is reinforced by Sasha’s knack for repeatedly finding herself with women who still live with their parents. In fact, though Sasha does not live with her own parents, she does enjoy their continued financial support as she clings to a long-held — and potentially outgrown — aspiration to be a musician. The safety nets provided by her parents and Paige have prevented Sasha from stepping through that last rite of initiation into adulthood.

The Paige/Sasha friendship is a nice window into the sort of female relationship we don’t often get to see on film. Unfortunately, the chemistry between Jacobs and Meester never quite clicked for me. It seemed as if the two women were acting at each other, delivering lines back and forth with a playful, self-conscious twinkle in their eyes. Clearly, those involved with the movie had fun making it, and that translates into a film that’s also fun to watch. But in this instance, camaraderie does not equate to cohesion.

The central success of Life Partners is that it is a film about lesbians without being a lesbian film. I am far outside my depth, being a heterosexual, cisgendered male, to pontificate on the state of the portrayal of lesbians in modern media. Perhaps some LGBT activists will be disappointed that this movie is not more blatantly pro-gay.

For my part, I appreciated the respectful characterization of Paige and Adam’s connection as well as the lesbian-positive perspectives. Countless Lifetime movies have demonstrated how easy it is to demonize the males in a girl-power flick, but Life Partners studiously avoids the trope.

While I may poke holes in some of the other unoriginalities and the stilted interplay of the actors, Fogel and Lefkowitz have created consistent, realistic characters with flaws that are nuanced and familiar to all. Those accomplishments, combined with the refreshing nonchalance toward lesbianism in all its varieties, make Life Partners a film that will tell an important story about growing into a mature adult, capable of both independence and commitment, to many young women regardless of their sexuality.

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