The Periwinkle Specter

  
She appeared a pale periwinkle specter sitting on the edge of my bed. She often visited when I felt alone or scared offering silence. Nothing ever happened or was said. Her mood was reflected in simple gestures and slight facial expressions. Sometimes she comforted; sometimes she condemned.

I saw her only briefly between seventh and ninth grade. After that, she was gone or lost to puberty. I never found her again even though I searched. She was there only for the transition from childhood dreams to mature nightmares. Rarely are those two things different. But a line does exist, and once crossed things change.

My sister told me she saw her too. She was four or five and perfectly described her dress layered with petticoats and the lace decorating her collar. I knew she saw her not only from the description; she too was alone an scared at times. I was hopeful that the specter's silence might space my sister some hurt.

I went home the Christmas of 2008 and tried to find my pale periwinkle friend. I wanted to thank her and let her know how things turned out: all okay.

I didn't find her. But I did sit at the end of my bed just listening to the silence and taking comfort in its perfectly absent embrace.

San Francisco Makes History for Women's Film

    
Women's Film Institute is hosting a Networking Mixer this Thursday, January 14th form 7pm to 9pm for film fans, filmmakers and artists at Ninth Street Independent Film Center in San Francisco. This exciting event brings together everyone from writers to producers to visual artists to musicians and more in a creative space to explore and connect. And this isn't for women only. It is meant for the entire community.

This is all leading up to the Sixth Annual San Francisco International Women's Film Festival, presented by Women's Film Institute. Scarlett Shepard, founder of the festival, is a filmmaker and community educator at heart. The Networking Mixer provides a fun forum to educate the public about the upcoming festival as well as allows participants to promote their own work. This is part of a larger strategy to get more women in film.

Shepard started the SFWFF in 2004 while she was a student at San Francisco State University because, not only was there lack of women filmmakers, the history and contributions of women in film were being overlooked. "I felt that the lack of women in film was really detrimental to our stories and our voices. It wasn't just that we were invisible. It is like there is violence there when we aren't heard and omitted."

Shepard responded to the lack of women's presence behind the camera by creating the SFWFF. "I have been an activist since I was little," said Shepard. "I come from a line of strong women." It was this upbringing that made her uniquely prepared to tackle this challenge. "It isn't easy," she said, "being flexible is key."

Over the years, Shepard has also learned the simple rule that "starting early is key". This event is part of that plan by getting people connected to each other and to the Women's Film Institute. Thus, when the 80 short films and 3-5 longer features are announced at the end of January or beginning of February 2010 there is a community willing to help promote the festival. "Volunteers,donations or funding support from film lovers and the arts community, and word of mouth are the lifeblood of our festival," said Shepard.

The goal of the SFWFF is not just producing a high quality film festival. Shepard acknowledges that the lack of women behind the camera is not the only issue. There is a lack of curriculum available for colleges and universities to teach about women in film. Shepard said, "I believe professors and staff  need to create a curriculum that is more inclusive to women by celebrating their achievements in cinema just as they do with our great grandfather's of cinema."

The production of a film festival and it subsequent awards in filmmaking elevate the women filmmakers and make it easier for them to garner funding for future projects. And it helps create a richer history of women in film; a history that demands to be taught within colleges and universities.

The San Francisco International Women's Film Festival runs April 5 -11, 2010 in venues across the Bay Area including The Roxie Theater. Over 800 films have been submitted from around the world.

Ninth Street Independent Film Center is located 145 9th Street in San Francisco, CA.

For more history on women in film, check out Reel Women: Pioneers of the Cinema 1896 to the Present by Ally Acker and Shooting Women, a documentary by Alexis Krasilovsky.

Prop 8 Trial Broadcast DELAYED by US Superior Court

This just in! According to The Washington Post, the Supreme Court issued a ruling temporarily overturning federal Judge Vaughn R. Walker's decision to allow delayed taping of the Prop. 8 trial on YouTube. Opponents claim fear of discrimination and harassment as the reason to not televise the trial and asked the Supreme Court to intervene.

The Courage Campaign gathered over 130,000 signatures last week urging Judge Walker to televise the proceeding, and he responded with a commitment to broadcast the trial via YouTube. In his ruling, he made it clear that the only cameras allowed in the courtroom would be the already installed courtroom cameras that already tape proceedings. These tapes would then be uploaded at regular intervals to YouTube providing the public a rare opportunity to see inside the trial.

This achievement was viewed as a large victory for supporters of marriage equality. It would allow the marriage equality community to see the arguments being made by opponents of marriage equality and help inform further action if the trial turns out in favor of upholding Prop. 8. Additionally, it would show the larger public what exactly the debate is on both sides. Not allowing cameras into the proceedings, keeps the arguments limited to second hand accounts thus dulling the impact of both sides' arguments.

The stay issued by the Supreme Court is only valid until Wednesday allowing justices further time to consider the impact of a televised, albeit delayed broadcast, trial.

The full The Washington Post article is here. 

The Razed Playground: A Parable of a Dream

     
Have you ever been told, "You can't do that"? This is a story that proves everyone else wrong. But it does come at a price.

She sat on the playground with her toy trucks, pile of broken twigs, and a few rocks she dug up from the dirt patch adjacent to the playground. It was her construction site, and she was waiting for her crew to being building her city. They were over an hour late.

Yesenia picked up her dump truck and inspected the wheels. Three out of the four worked. The fourth hung wobbly off its pin-sized axis. It wouldn't rotate. She picked up another truck and did the same thing. All in all there were five broken wheels on six trucks. She grabbed her olive shoulder bag, the one she carried the trucks over in, and pulled out a small notebook and pencil she stole from the library. She wrote down which trucks needed which wheel repaired and threw the notebook back into her back. Still no friends arrived.

The real construction crew arrived at the dirt patch and began their digging, hammering, and sawing. The noise called Yesenia, and she hopped off the playground and walked towards the dirt patch. The crew was all wearing canary hard hats and neon orange coveralls. Each on had a specific, discernible task. The man with the clipboard checked everyone's work. The one at the table saw was cutting wood of different lengths. The ones with the shovels were either digging trenches or filling them in. There was one gentleman standing in the corner, chest held high, hard hat slightly crooked, closely watching everything. The man with the clipboard checked in with him after every visit with a crew member.

Yesenia loved the order and control of it all. She wanted to be the one with the slightly crooked hard hat. She just needed her friend to show up so she could begin being boss. Thirty more minutes passed, and she was still by herself.

The dirt patch was transforming before her eyes. It was flatter and smoother than earlier in the morning. The trenches outlined different size boxes making the dirt patch look almost like a quilt. Now, some of the shovelers were digging deep holes for large wooden posts. The guy at the table saw was cutting cutting the posts that would soon be filling the holes. The man with the clipboard was smiling. The man watching it all was also smiling.

Yesenia was smiling. Her friends still weren't there, and she didn't care. She was happy watching everything from the top of the slide and taking notes. She considered it good fortune that she had this time to prepare. Her notebook was full of roles and instructions for each on of her friends. She was now ready and ecstatic to build.

A loud scream erupted from the far end of the dirt patch, and  men ran to find it. Yesenia slid down the slide and joined the crew at the construction site. There in one of the holes was a man crying, blood pouring from a gash above his eye. The foreman with the clipboard ran to a truck parked near by and returned with a white plastic box. The man with the crooked hard hat furrowed his brow and squinted his green eyes; he dabbed the wound with a red handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. Blood continued spilling to the ground.

The foreman man opened the first aid kit and started dressing the wound. After a number of bandages and gauze, it was apparent the injured man had to see a doctor. Nothing stopped the bleeding. The boss looked looked worried and rubbed his hands back and forth. He surveyed the dirt patch and pulled clipboard man aside. Yesenia followed.

"Harvey needs ta get ta hospital. Ya take him. I'll try and keep on schedule," said the man with the green eyes.

"You sure? We need to finish setting all the beams today or we'll fall behind. We need to be ready for concrete tomorrow," replied the man whose clipboard now sat on the dirt beside his feet.

"We need ta keep our men safe. That's the most important thing. Just go. I'll figure it out."

Yesenia looked back at the playground. Her friends weren't there. She turned back to the conversation between the two men and interjected, "I can help! I've been watching you all morning. What can I do?"

The two men turned to her and noticed her brown pigtails, ruddy cheeks, and dirty jeans. They both let out a small chuckle that reached Yesenia's ears and made her frown.

"I just want to help. Isn't there anything I can do?" She snapped.

The green eyed man replied, "Kiddo. Yer a little too young. Thanks for the offer, but ya could get hurt."

Hearing the reply, Yesenia sat down on the dirt. "I'm not moving until you find me something to do."

The foreman tapped his boss on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. The corners of the green eyed man's lips lifted. "Of course," he whispered loudly.

He turned to Yesenia. "We have something ya can do, but ya must follow our rules. They're there to keep ya safe. Do you understand?"

Yesenia jumped to her feet. "Of course I do! What can I do, and what are the rules?"

A few minutes later and Yesenia was holding the clipboard in her hands and a yellow hard hat pushed her ears out so she looked a little like Dumbo. The injured worker and the original clipboard man left for the hospital. Everyone else was back at work digging holes, cutting wood, and placing the posts in the holes. Yesenia tiptoed carefully between the stations and reported the progress to the boss.

"Everything looks okie dokie," she said. "I'm paying close attention to their work and the items on the clipboard just like you told me. So far nine of the sixteen items are done!"

As she was giving her report, her friends strolled up to the playground. They saw her in the construction site and waved. She ignored them and continued her report. When she was finished she asked the boss, "What's next?"

"It looks to me like yer friends have arrived. Why don't ya go play with 'em and leave the construction to us," he replied.

Yesenia began fidgeting. She was torn. She wanted so much to run to her friends, tell them about helping out at the dirt patch, and begin building her own city, but she also loved being a part of the construction crew. Here she had a finite task and knew exactly what her role was: to check off tasks on her list. There she knew what her role would be too - boss - but with it came more responsibility. She didn't know which she preferred.

"Could my friends help you out," she asked.

"No, Yesenia, they can't. It's too dangerous here for kiddos."

"But I'm a kid, and I'm helpin' you out."

He laughed. This time it wasn't a small chuckle, but a full bellied chortle. Its harsh braying tone hit Yesenia's ears and she started crying. She knew it wasn't a laugh to humor her. It was a laugh making fun of her. She turned her back to her boss.

"Listen, sweetie," he said, "yer a girl. Sure ya've been helping me out, but I only gave ya that task to make sure ya didn't get in our way. This ain't a place for ya. Go along and play with yer friends. We've already had one man injured. Don't need a kiddo injured too. Especially a girl as pretty as you."

Yesenia stopped her crying and whipped around to face the boss, her black hair a messy, untamed flurry. "Just because I am a girl and a kid doesn't mean I can't help. You just wait and see mister boss."

Green eyed man laughed a little more as he turned away from Yesenia and returned to the construction site. Yesenia grabbed the clipboard determined not to give it back, and joined her friends on the playground.

Many years later, Yesenia was the lead contractor on the new world's tallest building. She surveyed the construction site, which currently housed a housing complex, with her clipboard in hand, scribbling notes and secrets she wouldn't show anyone else. It needed to be razed for construction to begin.

Next to the complex was a playground that also needed demolition. She meandered over to the slide and inspected it. There in the shade underneath the slide was a toy truck half buried in the sand. She picked it up and fiddled with the wheels all four of them were broken.

She picked up her pen and made one last note on her clipboard: "To childhood dreams, may they be razed with care."