ALL THE FEELZ IN THE GODDAMN WORLD!
Bonjour and hey hi hello!
In case you missed our glorious deluge of happy news on the Internetz yesterday, The Establishment was accepted into Matter.vc, an amazing accelerator (that’s tech-talk for a program that is poised between business school and summer camp), that is entirely dedicated to media for social good.
Last February, Matter came bursting onto our radar, boasting a mission that sang into the cockles of our heart:
“We believe the seeds of the next great media institutions will be planted this year by courageous entrepreneurs who make the leap to build ventures that speak truth to power, close the empathy gap, and take a radically inclusive approach to amplifying the voices of all people.”
(All those companies are fascinating and revelatory in their own right! Check. them. out.)
We’ll be prototyping, ideating, and cranking on try-all-the-things overdrive to develop new revenue streams, bolster our community, and of course, share more and more stories by diverse voices and creators.
We’ll also be flanked and supported by incredible media partners like the Associated Press, McClatchy, KQED, the New York Times, PRX, Tamedia, CNHI, A.H. Belo, Tronc, Google News Lab, Google for Entrepreneurs, and the Knight Foundation.
Oh! We’ll also have access to a wonderland of mentors, investors, lectures, workshops, and of course, our fellow entrepreneurs.
And come October we will pitch the new Establishment to hundreds of folks all keen to support diverse media.
We’re thrilled and honored and have all the feelz and are already collaborating on some amazing projects we can’t wait to share with you…
With love + rage,
Co-founder | Creative Director
By Ijeoma Oluo
People fuck up; it’s natural. And when we deal with topics as fraught as race, people fuck up a lot. But when you are a person of color in a white majority country, the fuck-ups that cut into you are relentless and unavoidable. People talk about building bridges, about finding common ground, and so you find that, and you walk together.
And then when it is most important you find yourself standing alone over the water where the bridge has been unfinished and you look over at your friend and they say to you, “Oh no, I won’t go there.” And then you look down, and like in the cartoons, you fall.
By Abaki Beck
“The term ‘tribal sovereignty’ is not a part of public feminist theory as far as I’ve seen. Numerous printed agendas rarely mention Native women and haven’t championed our issues — indeed, even mentioned them.
I’ve given about 50 years of my life attempting to bring an Indigenous vision to the largely Black/white feminist movement — I’ve experienced too much disrespect, overt and covert racism, as well as weird power structures to feel that there is any interaction.”
By Katherine Cross
As an academic I could pick countless holes in the film, and yet that schoolgirl who asked her teacher if she could come to school dressed as Wonder Woman because she “wanted to be ready if I need to save the world” will rightly outshine my words a thousandfold.
That impact matters as much if not more than the ideologically freighted expectations we bring to popular art.
But artistic criticism is important. How do we do it as feminists without asking too much and repeating the embarrassing spectacles of the 1970s? How do we thread the needle between point-scoring and apathy?
By Rachel Charlton-Dailey
Even though it’s right there in the LGBTQ+ umbrella, people of all sexualities and genders still don’t believe bisexuality is real.
I sort of get that bisexuality can be enigmatic — how do you know if someone is actually bisexual, and isn’t busy outgrowing a “silly phase,” experimenting like a 13-year-old, or just plain headstrong and won’t just choose?
That’s why I’m here as your friendly neighborhood bi to help you work out if someone you know is still bisexual…
By Emma Tessler
I am awake, in your hospital room. You were in a coma. I was 19 and scared. Our parents and other sister seemed to know what to do, at least from my perspective. They looked like their skin fit them. I was awkward, a child pretending to be an adult. The only thing I could think to do was to rub your eyebrows. When I was younger, you’d ask me to do that all the time, and since you were 18 years older than me, I jumped at the chance to please you.
I was so little compared to you, I never felt I was able to help or support you. Despite being my sister, you were the parent and I was the child; these were our roles. But I could always rub your eyebrows. You said it made you feel calm. So as you lay there dying, I rubbed your eyebrows again. “I’m helping,” I thought. “This is how I can be here for you.” You died anyway.