Kate Harding

Congrats, Jaclyn and Jessica!

In Media, Writing on November 2, 2009 at 7:18 pm

Hey, guess what made Publishers Weekly’s Best Books of 2009 list?

Yes Means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape
Edited by Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti (Seal)
Activist writers Friedman and Valenti present an extraordinary, eye-opening essay collection that focuses on the importance of sexual identity and ownership in the struggle against rape in the U.S., as well as a number of related issues, including sexual pleasure, self-esteem and the mixed societal messages that turn “nice guys” bad.

The anthology includes not only an essay by yours truly, but many by writers I love, including Kimberly Springer, with whom I did a Q&A here. Congrats to everyone involved, and thanks, PW!

On Polanski and Unexpected Attention

In Writing on September 30, 2009 at 2:53 am

Yesterday, I wrote the most surprisingly and immediately successful blog post of my life over at Broadsheet, “Reminder: Roman Polanski Raped a Child.”

I first realized I’d hit a nerve when I linked to it on Twitter, and the retweets started pouring in, continuously and (as of this writing) endlessly. (There have been hundreds involving “@kateharding” at this point; no clue how many links to it altogether, but I just realized bit.ly tracks clicks on your shortened links, and that one’s had 6,883 so far.) I figured something was really up when I was invited to be on a right-wing talk radio show, and I saw the article tweeted by a high-profile conservative blogger. (Who knew being disgusted with Roman Polanski would turn out to be the ever-elusive common ground between right-wing dudes and liberal feminists?) Then more media requests came in, including one from France. (I’ve been turning them all down, mostly because they all want me to do it live during work hours.) Also, an unprecedented amount of fan mail, coming via my published address, Facebook, and the general Broadsheet addy. Plus an appreciative tweet from Cheryl Strayed, a writer I’ve adored for years and certainly never expected to “meet” via her saying mywork was awesome. And then a couple of letters from journalists not looking to interview me, just telling me I’d nailed it.

The post went to number one on Salon, and is still there at this writing. This morning, I found out that in less than 24 hours, it got over 100,000 page views. (I hope I’m not revealing site secrets here, but let’s just say that’s awfully rare for Broadsheet.) Then a friend e-mailed to tell me Amy Sullivan at Time called it “the best, most comprehensive rebuttal” to Polanski supporters. Another friend pointed out the Salon post was cited on the Wikipedia entry for Polanski. Later, over at Newsweek, our new pal Kate Dailey wrote, “There have been a lot of smart and convincing rebuttals to these objections, most notably Kate Harding’s forceful, powerful essay on Salon.” Around which time, my editor wrote and said, “OMG HOW BIG IS YOUR HEAD NOW? I am putting an end to this well-deserved praise pile-on by telling you that there is something funny on your nose.” Because she is awesome like that.

Today, I wrote a follow-up rant for Jezebel, focusing on the ridiculous amount of celebrity support Polanski is getting. Neither my editor there nor I expected it to get anything like the traffic of the Salon piece — the news is a day older, I’ve already said plenty — and who knows if it ultimately will, but 45 minutes after it went up, she IMed me and said, “It’s already gotten 5,000 page views.” Just checked, and it’s about 6 hours later, it’s gotten 24,000.

Yes, my head is enormous right now, but that’s not the point of this post. Well, not completely.

Here’s the interesting thing about all this: All I’ve done is say that Roman Polanski raped a child, fled before he could be sentenced for it, and thus, by any reasonable standard, deserves to be punished — all of which is a matter of public record, except the opinion on punishment, which is common sense. I didn’t break any ground here. I didn’t uncover any news. I didn’t turn a phrase so exquisite it will be studied in lit classes in 100 years. I just called a fugitive child rapist a fugitive child rapist.

And it turns out a whole lot of people were waiting to hear someone say just that, straight-up, unencumbered by a bunch of bullshit about the importance of his work, his artistic genius, his age, whether his victim looked 13 or not, the judicial misconduct that marred his case or, most gallingly, the “punishment” he’s already “suffered” by spending more than 30 years in “exile.” (If being wealthy, successful and almost completely free to roam Europe counts as exile, sign me up.) A whole lot of people really just wanted to hear someone in the media say, “He raped a child. He fled the country. He damn well should have been arrested, he should be extradited, and it really shouldn’t have taken three fucking decades to make that happen. The end.” But very few people in the media did.

Why is that? Why have so few journalists stated the obvious? Why have I only heard about three people in the film industry (Kevin Smith, Luc Besson and Greg Grunberg) saying, in essence, “He fucking drugged and raped a kid, and he’s not above the law,” while hundreds of celebrities are signing petitions demanding his release, wearing “Free Polanski” buttons and trying to spin his arrest as an attack on artistic freedom? Why am I suddenly a freakin’ darling of the right, while a bunch of liberals argue it’s been such a long time, he’s suffered so much, he’s so old, he survived the Holocaust, his wife was murdered, and oh yeah, did you see Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired? JUDICIAL MISCONDUCT! JUDICIAL MISCONDUCT! (Let me be clear: Judicial misconduct sucks, and there does seem to have been some here. Polanski and his lawyers have every right to vigorously protest that. But whether he raped a child was never at issue — only his sentencing for it — and also, HE FLED THE FUCKING COUNTRY instead of pursuing his concerns through the legal system.) As Mother Jones editor Clara Jeffery tweeted earlier today, “Seriously, all it takes for smart lefties to believe Polanski [should] not be punished for child rape is agitprop documentary? Pathetic.”

Pathetic indeed. And yet.

The overwhelming response to my posts is as heartening as it is head-embiggening. Far more people than I could have imagined were thrilled that someone came along and stated the obvious. But still, “Roman Polanski raped a child, end of fucking story” is far from the dominant media narrative about the case right now. Still, people are endlessly debating whether it was appropriate to arrest a fugitive child rapist.

Why do you suppose that is?

Impossibly Beautiful

In Uncategorized on September 25, 2009 at 2:57 am

OK, let me begin with both the latest media news and a couple of copyright violations. I am one of the “Women We Love” in this month’s Chatelaine! (My dear friend KB, writing from Toronto: “Jesus H – you’re in the Women We Love issue with goddamn ALICE MUNRO! And your photo is bigger than hers!!!” Heh.) And because I don’t live in a country where I can buy Chatelaine and neither do most of you, I’m totally posting a scan of the spread, sent by KB:

kate_chatelaine_spread

The photo was taken by the amazingly sweet and talented Becky Hill, and the text, by plus-size modeling agent and entrepreneurial genius Ben Barry, reads in part:

[W]e are not going down, because Chicago’s Kate Harding is on our side. Kate, 34, shares Susie Orbach’s vision for her generation; she is a fat-acceptance crusader who uses the voice and vehicles of today to rip apart the fictitious links between weight, health and human nature, to expose why diets don’t work and set us on the path to peace with our bodies. Combining sharp wit and compelling arguments in blog posts and tweets — as well as in her book, Lessons from the Fat-o-sphere — she reminds us that fat is still a feminist issue. For now. The more we learn from Kate, the more we will free our time and money from trying to change our bodies and turn to rediscovering ourselves.

There’s more, but since the whole thing is only two paragraphs, that’s copyright violation #2. In return for Chatelaine’s unwitting generosity, I offer this: DEAR EVERYONE IN CANADA, PLEASE GO BUY A REAL COPY RIGHT NOW. BETTER YET, SUBSCRIBE! LOVE, KATE

OK, so about that photo. I look pretty, right? (If you disagree, drop dead.) In the spirit of the “Impossibly Beautiful” series at Shakesville, I want to talk about how I got that pretty. In this case, it wasn’t Photoshop (though there might very well have been some — since it’s not screamingly fucked-up, that’s not the point this time), but it was still artificial as hell.

I arrived at Becky’s studio with my hair and make-up already done for a big-deal magazine shoot — or so I thought. Already on my face and hair at that point: Moisturizer, primer, foundation, powder, blush, mascara, eyeliner, lipliner, lipstick, lipgloss, eyebrow powder, eyeshadow, leave-in conditioner, Kiehl’s Silk Groom Serum, hairspray — much more of all of it than I would normally use. Oh, and I’d hot-rolled my hair, because I’m retro like that.

Then Becky introduces me to Antonette. Who is there to put another layer of pretty much everything on my face (right over top of the first round), re-curl my hair, and put another bottle or so of hairspray on it. This is very similar to what happened before I was on CNN, with one exception: Antonette uses airbrush make-up. Which involves instructions like “OK, just don’t inhale for a minute while I do this.” Also, she put that shit all the way down my chest.

So. At this point, I have already had a far more serious hair and make-up job than I did for my friggin’ wedding photos, and that’s only the beginning. Because Antonette (who is such a doll, and if you are a Chicagoan in the market for the sort of make-up job that involves holding your breath, you should call her) comes with us to Earwax, where we took that photo (on their back patio, which has a fabulous circus-themed mural, hence fat lady behind me). And not only does she touch up the hair and make-up every 10 seconds, but she keeps rearranging my belt and skirt — and cami and slip and chub-rub-preventative bike shorts; Antonette and I got to know each other reeeeal well — to make sure everything’s smooth and perfectly positioned. Every time I take a fucking breath, she fixes the two hairs I blew out of place, the fabric that’s bunched up — imperceptibly to all naked eyes except hers — and the belt that’s now a millimeter lower than where she wants it.

And on top of all that, Becky and her assistant are running around maniacally, finding the best angles and best light, adding light where it’s insufficient, asking me to move an inch (literally) this way, then an inch back, helping me up onto the bench I’m standing on, then down so they can move the whole bench an inch that way, then back up, back down, move the bench, move the Kate, change the light, WAIT! NOW YOUR HAIR’S STUPID AGAIN!

And all that was before we moved on to the second location, just in case the 8 bazillion photos she took at Earwax weren’t to the photo editor’s taste.

It was actually a really fun afternoon — they were great, it was a novel adventure, Becky bought me a smoothie (which is, in fact, the price of my affection) — but holy crap, even if I had been born with genes that made me 6 feet tall and thin, I would not last one day as a model. Total time invested in getting this one photo: 4.5 hours.

Anyway. So far, I have gotten numerous responses to that photo, including but not limited to:

  • hubba hubba
  • Gorgeous!
  • DAMN!
  • Awesome picture Kate!!!!!!!
  • Rowr!

And even I am willing to say that yes, the FOUR OF US, not to mention the art department at Chatelaine, made a very nice picture of me. But now it’s time for the reality check. When I’m on my own? It comes out more like this:

2gayestlook

It takes a village to make a magazine-quality photo, y’all. Don’t ever forget it.

(Oh, and for the curious who haven’t already learned this from the 90 other times I wore the same outfit in media appearances and posted about it: Dress and belt are from Igigi.)