I am writing this article anonymously, at a dangerous moment in academia where students and faculty are censored, doxxed, blacklisted, and threatened for taking a public stance on Israel’s illegal occupation of Palestine.
When I began my time at an early twentieth-century historic house museum, I was expecting to find a lot of things—furniture, yellowing diaries, shelves and shelves of vintage clothes—but I never imagined I would find my grandmother.
Why is the use of tasers and stun guns so normalized among urban women? These weapons have been studied in the context of policing, but very little research has been dedicated to the individual use of tasers for self-defense.
I soon joined the club of licit pink-pill slipping girls myself, along with the 82 percent of teen birth-control users who rely on the drug for purposes, at least in part, other than pregnancy prevention.
There’s stillness: the whispers of trees and soft winds that make them heard. They’re talking to us; we’ve come to listen. Plantations are vast, empty, filled with invisible souls and their all-too-audible cries; these acres are not that.
Unlike factory or shipyard work, for which there was a masculine precedent prior to the Rosie the Riveter-era of feminism, there was no set computing culture prior to the beginning of the Cold War because the industry did not exist. What changed?
The development of modern data-collection technology enabled scientists, politicians, and historians alike to employ quantitative methods in historical analyses—and allowed them to purposely shape the Cold War narrative.