offbalance (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
offbalance) wrote2008-03-25 01:10 pm
offbalance) wrote2008-03-25 01:10 pm
Sassy Memories.
As my facebook newsline says, I did something to my right shoulder this weekend that's been causing normal activities (like bending over to get my lip balm out of my bag) to become very, very painful ones. I have no clue what I did, but I took my mom's advice to skip the gym. When putting on your coat brings tears to your eyes and there's no painful goodbye involved, something is wrong. It's better today, though, so hopefully it'll pass.
Instead, I went home last night and finished reading How Sassy Changed My Life. Though the book reads more like someone's graduate thesis about Sassy than anything else, it was still an interesting read. Hearing about how it was all starting to go wrong at the end was the hardest thing to read. I still remember how bitterly I regarded the "Stepford Sassy" that happened after Jane was fired and they brought the new gang of idiots in. I remember the nasty letter from the editorial staff to the old fans. I remember my nasty letter to them, asking for a refund. I think I still have that somewhere. More than that, though, I remember the good times.
I was 11 or 12 when I first started reading Sassy. I'm kind of sad that I wasn't old enough to start from the beginning, but the first issue was in 1988, and I was very much not up to teen magazines at 8 years old. (I'm sure some of you were already having letters published in Scientific American and Psychology Today when you were 8, but I'm talking about me, here.) A friend's aunt had gotten her a subscription to Sassy when we were in 5th grade or so, but the magazine went so far above my head it was practically skywriting. It wasn't until I was much older that I encountered the magazine - I'm fairly certain that my first issue was the November 1992 issue with Mayim Bialyk on the cover. I was obsessed with Blossom at the time, and asked my mom to get it for me, which she gladly did. According to the book, the magazine was already on its way down at that point. But to me? It was glorious. Magnificent, even. Mom liked it, too. I asked for and received a subscription, and my love was cemented over time. I also read Seventeen and YM, but Sassy was the one that I devoured every month, cover to cover. I didn't always agree with the fashion advice, but the features were peerless. I wanted to be one of those girls. The magazine is how I found out about so many books and movies and bands that are now very important to me. If Sassy liked it, I had to seek it out.
Reading the book brought a lot of that back. I have a folder of some clippings, but my Sassy collection is long gone. They'd been cut up anyway - one of the "Working Our Nerves" columns featuring dopey fashion poses was on the back of my door for a long time - but as I read through them to decide what to keep and what to throw away, I realized that what I wanted to save was already gone. I liked Jane well enough, but like any sequel, it didn't really touch the original. But reading this book reminded me of listening to tapes of Belly and Sonic Youth and R.E.M's Out of Time over and over again, wondering if I really wanted to dye my hair that color, and felt myself starting to pay attention to and long for things you just couldn't get in Marine Park (basically anything artsy or sophisticated). Mostly, it was some small comfort knowing that I wasn't the only girl my age getting asked why I was reading. (A constant question all through my young years. By adults and kids. "Why are you reading? Are you doing homework? Did someone make you? Waddaya mean you enjoy it?")
It's sad that something like that can't exist. The book placed most of the blame on the sponsors constantly trying to dictate the content (quel suprise), as well as the religious reich once again getting their granny panties in a twist at the very notion that a young woman could have a working mind, a full and working sexual education, and most of all, the knowledge that they could seek independence from patriarchal, oppressive. misogynistic values inherent in the Judeo-Christian Religion System. They were deeply offended (to the point of trying to destroy the magazine ) at Sassy's suggestion that you could be gay, or single, or have an abortion, or have regular, old-fashioned happy and healthy (protected!!) sex outside of marriage and be a well-adjusted person. That part made me so angry I had to put the book down a couple of times. That's what mystifies me about the Christian Right - why can't they just ignore what they don't like and go about their lives? IF they're so secure that what they believe and how is the best there is, then why are they so paranoid about being threatened? I never got that.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Sassy's fall led to the rise of so many important things and shaped so many voices that its impact will be felt for a long time. Everytime I read Jezebel, I know that Sassy lives on in all of us.
Enough proselytizing. I need lunch.
Instead, I went home last night and finished reading How Sassy Changed My Life. Though the book reads more like someone's graduate thesis about Sassy than anything else, it was still an interesting read. Hearing about how it was all starting to go wrong at the end was the hardest thing to read. I still remember how bitterly I regarded the "Stepford Sassy" that happened after Jane was fired and they brought the new gang of idiots in. I remember the nasty letter from the editorial staff to the old fans. I remember my nasty letter to them, asking for a refund. I think I still have that somewhere. More than that, though, I remember the good times.
I was 11 or 12 when I first started reading Sassy. I'm kind of sad that I wasn't old enough to start from the beginning, but the first issue was in 1988, and I was very much not up to teen magazines at 8 years old. (I'm sure some of you were already having letters published in Scientific American and Psychology Today when you were 8, but I'm talking about me, here.) A friend's aunt had gotten her a subscription to Sassy when we were in 5th grade or so, but the magazine went so far above my head it was practically skywriting. It wasn't until I was much older that I encountered the magazine - I'm fairly certain that my first issue was the November 1992 issue with Mayim Bialyk on the cover. I was obsessed with Blossom at the time, and asked my mom to get it for me, which she gladly did. According to the book, the magazine was already on its way down at that point. But to me? It was glorious. Magnificent, even. Mom liked it, too. I asked for and received a subscription, and my love was cemented over time. I also read Seventeen and YM, but Sassy was the one that I devoured every month, cover to cover. I didn't always agree with the fashion advice, but the features were peerless. I wanted to be one of those girls. The magazine is how I found out about so many books and movies and bands that are now very important to me. If Sassy liked it, I had to seek it out.
Reading the book brought a lot of that back. I have a folder of some clippings, but my Sassy collection is long gone. They'd been cut up anyway - one of the "Working Our Nerves" columns featuring dopey fashion poses was on the back of my door for a long time - but as I read through them to decide what to keep and what to throw away, I realized that what I wanted to save was already gone. I liked Jane well enough, but like any sequel, it didn't really touch the original. But reading this book reminded me of listening to tapes of Belly and Sonic Youth and R.E.M's Out of Time over and over again, wondering if I really wanted to dye my hair that color, and felt myself starting to pay attention to and long for things you just couldn't get in Marine Park (basically anything artsy or sophisticated). Mostly, it was some small comfort knowing that I wasn't the only girl my age getting asked why I was reading. (A constant question all through my young years. By adults and kids. "Why are you reading? Are you doing homework? Did someone make you? Waddaya mean you enjoy it?")
It's sad that something like that can't exist. The book placed most of the blame on the sponsors constantly trying to dictate the content (quel suprise), as well as the religious reich once again getting their granny panties in a twist at the very notion that a young woman could have a working mind, a full and working sexual education, and most of all, the knowledge that they could seek independence from patriarchal, oppressive. misogynistic values inherent in the Judeo-Christian Religion System. They were deeply offended (to the point of trying to destroy the magazine ) at Sassy's suggestion that you could be gay, or single, or have an abortion, or have regular, old-fashioned happy and healthy (protected!!) sex outside of marriage and be a well-adjusted person. That part made me so angry I had to put the book down a couple of times. That's what mystifies me about the Christian Right - why can't they just ignore what they don't like and go about their lives? IF they're so secure that what they believe and how is the best there is, then why are they so paranoid about being threatened? I never got that.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Sassy's fall led to the rise of so many important things and shaped so many voices that its impact will be felt for a long time. Everytime I read Jezebel, I know that Sassy lives on in all of us.
Enough proselytizing. I need lunch.
no subject
The religious right can bite me. I tell my stepkids whatever they want to know about sex because you know what? I would rather they learn the right thing from me than some stupid thing on the playground.
no subject
So true, no? And now we have blogs and similar, but I still miss Sassy.
Good for you! I plan to be the same way - and not just where sex is concerned. Public school only gets you so far - I hope to educate my kids even better outside of the classroom. Hope to, anyway.
no subject
I really would like to teach at some kind of alternative art school. However, CT is kind of devoid of that kind of culture.