Join us on our journey and let's take a look into the Past, Present, and Future!
F-word: The Past and Present of Feminism
by Blanka Pillár (Hungary, 17) 11/9/23
Feminism is a broad, multifaceted system of ideas ubiquitous in an ever-changing world, yet not easily defined. It is at once a centuries-old struggle, a peaceful aspiration, an everyday event, a distant thought, a passion, an inspiration, a force, an emotion, a concept and an action.
However, this complexity did not emerge spontaneously; proto-feminists speaking out as individuals appeared as early as the 14th century, the group struggles date back to the 17th century, and the movement only began to take shape in the second half of the 19th century. The history of emancipation is moving, inspiring and unique: past, present and future, it holds so much uniqueness and magic for those open to its ideology.
At this point, we have all heard the myth of Persephone and Hades. Persephone, the Goddess of Spring and Hades, God of the Dead, are too classical Greek characters that show up in a lot of today’s fiction. As the original myth goes, Hades is enamored with Persephone and traps her while she is playing with her nymphs and dryads. He lures her in with a beautiful flower, and then takes her down to the depths of the Underworld. Her mother, Demeter, scours the Earth looking for her and all of the crops and greenery of the land die. While this happens, Hades manipulates Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds. Once it is demanded that Persephone be returned to her mother, it is revealed she has eaten the pomegranate seeds which if you eat anything in the Underworld, you cannot return to Earth. Zeus strikes a deal with both Hades and Demeter saying that Persephone must return to The Underworld for six months of the year and to her mother for the other six. This is the myth of how we have Spring.
Barbie’s Dreamworld Is More Than a Political Battlefield, It's a Celebration of the Imagination
by Jacqueline Knirnschild (Ohio, 26) 8/20/23
When I walked out of the Barbie movie, my hair was dolled up in fuchsia ribbons, but my understanding of what I had just experienced was low. The opening Space Odyssey satire had, admittedly, given me chills; the Dreamworld details were perfect—sparkly slipper heels, matchy- matchy bows and hats, a pink ambulance; and Margot Robbie was exactly how I had imagined Barbie to look when I was a little girl meticulously crafting my own Dreamworld. But, as soon as we left behind the crisp, dazzling fantasy for the vulgar grittiness of the real world, I was disappointed. The second half of the movie felt like a pink fever dream, and, initially, I didn’t know what to make of it.