Afghanistan
I'm a freelance entertainment writer. I tend to speak on how race, gender, and identity impact our experiences with television, film, comics, and all the things that we hold dear. When I'm not writing, I'm broadcasting my more colorful nerd-related musings on Nerds of Prey, a podcast that I founded and co-host with three amazing women.
Some other identities that I harbor fondly: mother, Floridian, nerd, chronic shipper, foodie, Musical Theater enthusiast, and raisin hater. I'm prepared to talk about any combination of these at great length.
Dubbing the sudden absence of predatory men as the categorical dimming of some bright, new era rings of a false equivalency for many marginalized viewers. If you have remained plugged into our daily Hollywood news cycle, it might seem as if each day brings a newly exposed sexual predator.
Dubbing the sudden absence of predatory men as the categorical dimming of some bright, new era rings of a false equivalency for many marginalized viewers. If you have remained plugged into our daily Hollywood news cycle, it might seem as if each day brings a newly exposed sexual predator.
The conversation should not be focused on what we Black women have always done; it should be on what white women failed to do.
In Blac Chyna's case, many seem to feel that her time as a stripper somehow negates her right to control her image. By Shannon Miller Another day, another Kardashian scandal. This one, however, exposes us as an audience more than it does the intended target.
From the stunningly brilliant mind of Michaela Coel, Chewing Gum follows the cringe-worthy hijinks of Tracey - a spirited, sheltered young woman determined to chase down her sexual awakening at full speed after the end of her first major relationship.
(iStock / DragonImages) The relationship between parenting and television is one that can really evolve with time. There may come a day when TV will seem like the Bermuda Triangle for productivity and social engagement, or the hypnotic screen that I glare at in frustration as I drag my child to her room and urge her to clean it.
The problem that we tend to encounter with the dialogue surrounding female dynamics in television is that it's often presented in a binary fashion, a clear good (think Abbi and Ilana's lovingly tight bond on Broad City) versus evil (like Revenge's Victoria Grayson and Amanda Clarke).
I wish I could properly articulate what it sometimes feels like to simply exist within the entertainment that I love. Trust me, it's tough. I've been trying for the better half of an hour to find the cleverest, most succinct analogy that neatly and effectively packages my experience.
This guest post written by Shannon Miller appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors. Growing up, I used to stare at my mother's seemingly impressive VHS collection, which she maintains to this day. What fascinated me most was its eclectic range. , for instance, was often nestled between Steel Magnolias and .
The thing that draws me to independent comics/graphic novels is their sense of fearlessness. In a time when it feels like we have to literally beg major studios to consider putting superheroes of color in the forefront or maybe, just maybe diversifying their catalogue of tropes, we can count on independent publishers to not only do these things, but to genuinely want to do them.