Daily Feminist Cheat Sheet

The other September 11th: Tomorrow marks the 40 year anniversary of Augusto Pinochet’s U.S.-backed coup against Salvador Allende’s elected government in Chile. Watch and/ or listen to the song Amanda, sung by Victor Jara the folk singer brutally murdered under Pinochet. His wife is now suing his killer. [transcript and translation of the song after the jump.]

11-year-old Denise McNair and 14-year-olds Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley: those are the names and ages of the “four little girls” killed 50 years ago when members of the KKK firebombed the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Alabama. Today, they were awarded a Congressional Gold Medal.

Senegal hails new prime minister known for football and feminism.

Woot! Feministing and Racialicious get some much-deserved love from Andrea Peterson in this Washington Post op-ed: Here’s what you miss by only talking to white men about the digital revolution and journalism.

On a totally unrelated note, is there a link between testicle size and nurturing behavior?

My Life as a Warrior Princess.

Another Porn Actor Tests Positive for HIV: Should the Porn Industry Have Condom Laws?

Nearly one fourth of of men surveyed in Bangladesh, China, Cambodia, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and Sri Lanka said they have committed rape. But you would think the number was lower if you read the AP, which apparently doesn’t consider partner rape to be rape rape.

A court in India has convicted four men in the gang rape and murder that ignited the country last December.

School that sent home 7-year-old girl for ‘dreadlocks’ is reversing policy.

Te recuerdo Amanda
Te recuerdo Amanda, la calle
mojada, corriendo a
la fábrica donde trabajaba Manuel. La
sonrisa ancha, la lluvia en
el pelo, no importaba
nada, ibas a encontrarte con él, con
él, con él, con él, con
él.

Son cinco minutos. La vida es eterna en cinco
minutos. Suena la sirena de
vuelta al trabajo, y
tú caminando, lo iluminas todo. Los cinco minutos te hacen florecer.

La sonrisa ancha, la lluvia en el pelo, no
importaba nada, ibas a encontrarte con él,
con él, con él, con él, con
él.

Que partió a la sierra. Que nunca hizo
daño. Que partió a la sierra, y en
cinco minutos quedó destrozado. Suena la
sirena, de vuelta al trabajo.
Muchos no volvieron,
tampoco Manuel.

I remember you Amanda,
the wet street
leading to the factory
where Manuel worked.
The wide smile,
the rain on your hair
didn’t matter to you at all,
you were going to meet
him, him, him.
You have five minutes,
life is eternal
in five minutes,
the siren sounds
to go back to work
and you walking
light up everything,
the five minutes
make you flower.
I remember you Amanda,
the wet street
leading to the factory
where Manuel worked.
The wide smile,
the rain on your hair
didn’t matter to you at all,
you were going to meet
him, him, him,
who left for the mountains,
who never did any harm,
who left for the mountains
and was destroyed
in five minutes,
the siren sounds
to go back to work,
many didn’t go back,
neither did Manuel.
I remember you Amanda,
the wet street
leading to the factory
where Manuel worked.

 

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