The Political Power of Angry Moms

At the heart of Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad —a history of women’s anger and how it has shaped society and politics in the United States—is a deep, righteous indignation over the right to get deeply, righteously indignant. Women fed up with their lack of opportunity or unequal treatment have, throughout history, been known to ignite movements for progress and social change, but women’s anger has also, as Traister writes, “been received—and often vilified or marginalized—in ways that have reflected the very same biases that provoked it.”
Throughout the book, Traister tells grim stories of women who acted publicly in outrage and were punished or belittled for it. Just in the past year, there’s Caitlin Marriott , the congressional intern who yelled a pointed profanity at President Donald Trump and was promptly suspended; 18-year-old Emma González, who expressed fury at legislators’ inaction on gun safety after the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School and was, as Traister describes it, “scoffed” at by many in the press; and Senators Kamala Harris and Kirsten Gillibrand, who, when they’ve used aggressive tones with men during hearings, Traister notes, have been described by conservative commentators as “hysterical” and “positively unglued.”
Yet Good and Mad posits that there are a few particular types of female anger that are generally exempt from this type of backlash. Which is why, Traister explains, women learn pretty quickly to either hold in their anger or channel it into something more palatable—like caustic humor, indignation inspired by God, or mama-bear protective ferocity. She goes on to suggest that historically, women who have expressed fury on behalf of their children, their household, or some other sort of family-like flock tend to get better results than women who publicly express their fury in other sorts of ways. In other words, the anger of women has a better shot at being taken seriously if it’s recognizable as, or reminiscent of, a mother’s protective anger. In other words, women’s anger is often taken more seriously when it’s packaged as mothers’ anger.
Indeed, when Traister offers examples of women who have packaged their anger as a maternal instinct, often they’re the success stories, the women whose dissatisfaction has been taken seriously. For example, there’s Mary Harris Jones, otherwise known as “Mother Jones,” who fought for the rights of miners and other laborers—“her boys,” as she called them—in the late 1800s. More recently, there’s Senator Patty Murray, who as a young aspiring state representative drove to the Washington State Capitol with her two small children in tow to give speeches about state cuts to preschool funding. (She was derided as “just a mom in tennis shoes,” which later became her campaign slogan.) And then there were the conservative women who protested and ran for office during the Tea Party uprising in 2010, dubbed “ Mama Grizzlies ” by Sarah Palin. As Traister puts it, “these women voicing their anger and throwing around their political weight weren’t caricatured as ugly hysterics; instead they were permitted to cast themselves as patriotic moms on steroids.”
This isn’t just a political phenomenon—it wound up in the spotlight a month ago when Serena Williams, during the hotly contested U.S. Open final, invoked her motherhood in an outburst after the umpire penalized her for on-court coaching: “I have a daughter, and I stand for what’s right for her,” Williams said.
Serena Williams’ U.S. Open loss was humiliating, but not for her .
But the anger of mothers has proven powerful on the political stage lately, too. One of the most influential lobbying groups pushing for gun control is Moms Demand Action, whose self-described mission is to enact “common-sense solutions [that] can help decrease the escalating epidemic of gun violence that kills too many of our children and loved ones every day,” and whose membership numbers grew from 70,000 to more than 200,000 after the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High in February. And in recent weeks, conservative women have invoked their roles as mothers of sons to defend Brett Kavanaugh as he faces allegations of sexual assault; it is on behalf of their sons, the NRA spokeswoman Dana Loesch and others have said, that they believe men should be considered innocent of alleged sexual misconduct unless proven guilty.
And as further evidence of the political strength of mothers’ discontent, some of the most popular and bipartisan laws affecting women in recent decades are those that look to empower them as child-rearers and family-builders. Ending pregnancy discrimination, for instance, has for decades been a rare common cause that unites feminists and family-values conservatives. In recent months, several commentators have observed the same unlikely tandem effort emerging in the push for paid family leave . Meanwhile, other efforts that aren’t so explicitly focused on helping mothers, like expanding access to contraception or closing the gender wage gap, remain as divisive as ever.
The other kinds of female anger that Traister focuses on are often less well received and less politically effective. The culture may have accepted women’s right to be angry on behalf of their children, but it’s less accepting of women’s right to be angry on behalf of themselves.

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Zunum Aero’s Hybrid Plane Uses a Helicopter Engine Cut Fuel Use in Half | WIRED

07:00 am A Helicopter Engine Cuts This Hybrid Plane’s Fuel Use in Half Zumum’s first aircraft, the ZA10, will be a like a Chevy Volt for the skies, and a sleek white machine with slender wings, two ducted fans mounted at the back, and room for up to a dozen passengers. Zunum
If you’ve flown a drone , you know that battery life is a problem. Be extra careful when flying over water or your kid’s birthday party, because you’ve got something like 20 minutes of flight time before the thing comes down. And you needn’t have learned that lesson the hard way to get nervous about the idea of battery-powered aircraft with people inside.
Yet going electric could make commercial aviation—a significant source of humanity’s greenhouse gas emissions—greener, as well as cheaper and quieter. It could open up routes to and from regional airports, a clean alternative to high speed inter-city trains. Those are the flights Zunum Aero hopes to make happen. The Kirkland, Washington-based startup is developing small electric planes that carry 10 to 50 passengers and could fly 700 miles between charging stops. Their trick is powering the plane’s motors with electricity that comes from a jet fuel-burning generator as well as onboard batteries, like a Chevy Volt that’s taken to the skies . Today, Zunum is announcing that it has found the engine it needs to make that vision take off. The gas turbine is a modified version of the Ardiden 3Z engine made by Safran Helicopter Engines, here coupled to a generator that will deliver 500 kilowatts of electric power—enough for a couple of powerful motors. It’s a crucial step, since today’s batteries are far too big and heavy to make long-distance commercial flights even remotely possible.
Zunum will use a modified version of the Ardiden 3Z engine made by Safran Helicopter Engines, here coupled to a generator that will deliver 500 kilowatts of electric power—enough for a couple of powerful motors. Zunum Even fulfilling a basic FAA safety requirement—that you be able to fly for 45 minutes longer than it takes to reach your destination—would be a problem with burning some sort of fuel. “That would need a prohibitive amount of battery right now,” says Zunum founder and CTO Matt Knapp. “Not to mention actually going somewhere.” Zumum’s first aircraft, the ZA10, will be a sleek white machine with slender wings, two ducted fans mounted at the back, and room for up to a dozen passengers. But it’s starting with a more mundane looking flying test bed, a modified Rockwell Turbo Commander 840, a small plane with two, three-blade propellors and usually eight seats. Zunum will start by replacing the 840’s left engine with its own electric motor, sticking a bunch of batteries in the fuselage, and testing at altitude next summer. By the end of 2019, Knapp expects to install the generator and test the hybrid system. Last, it will replace the propellors with ducted fans (a shrouded propeller that can develop more thrust), to test the entire powertrain. If all that goes well, the team will put all the elements into that new plane, of its own design. Knapp says that with the hybrid system, its plane will need half the fuel that a comparable conventional plane burns. Unlike the plug-in hybrid Volt, where the engine cuts in when the batteries run out, Zunum will flit between the two depending on the flight profile. The generator spins up for power-hungry takeoff, or maybe if the pilot’s fighting headwinds. For cruising, though, the batteries can do much of the work, before bringing the aircraft back to earth for a quiet, electric landing. Zunum, which has financial backing from Boeing’s HorizonX venture arm, isn’t not alone in trying to fill the skies with e-planes. Airbus is working with jet engine maker Rolls-Royce and Siemens on a hybrid-electric flight demonstrator called the E Fan X. Siemens showed it can make the tech work way back in 2011 . Israel’s Eviation showed off its “Alice Commuter” at the Paris Air Show last year, a fully electric, Tesla-style plane running off a 980-kWh battery pack—enough for 10 Teslas. NASA’s X-57 is an all-electric affair , with 12 small motors and propellors lining the wings. NASA’s always wants the lessons it learns in the X-plane program to trickle down into commercial aviation. But with the taxiway already full of companies lining up to launch on electrons, that may not take too long at all. More Great WIRED Stories Everyone wants to go to the moon— logic be damned College Humor gives comedy subscription a serious effort Tips to get the most out of Screen Time controls on iOS 12

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The Political Power of Angry Moms

Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad touches on a key point about female rage: It’s more palatable when it’s framed as a maternal instinct.
Ashley Fetters Oct 4, 2018
Benajamin Nadler / AP At the heart of Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad —a history of women’s anger and how it has shaped society and politics in the United States—is a deep, righteous indignation over the right to get deeply, righteously indignant. Women fed up with their lack of opportunity or unequal treatment have, throughout history, been known to ignite movements for progress and social change, but women’s anger has also, as Traister writes, “been received—and often vilified or marginalized—in ways that have reflected the very same biases that provoked it.”
Throughout the book, Traister tells grim stories of women who acted publicly in outrage and were punished or belittled for it. Just in the past year, there’s Caitlin Marriott , the congressional intern who yelled a pointed profanity at President Donald Trump and was promptly suspended; 18-year-old Emma González, who expressed fury at legislators’ inaction on gun safety after the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School and was, as Traister describes it, “scoffed” at by many in the press; and Senators Kamala Harris and Kirsten Gillibrand, who, when they’ve used aggressive tones with men during hearings, Traister notes, have been described by conservative commentators as “hysterical” and “positively unglued.”
Yet Good and Mad posits that there are a few particular types of female anger that are generally exempt from this type of backlash. Which is why, Traister explains, women learn pretty quickly to either hold in their anger or channel it into something more palatable—like caustic humor, indignation inspired by God, or mama-bear protective ferocity. She goes on to suggest that historically, women who have expressed fury on behalf of their children, their household, or some other sort of family-like flock tend to get better results than women who publicly express their fury in other sorts of ways. In other words, the anger of women has a better shot at being taken seriously if it’s recognizable as, or reminiscent of, a mother’s protective anger. In other words, women’s anger is often taken more seriously when it’s packaged as mothers’ anger.
Indeed, when Traister offers examples of women who have packaged their anger as a maternal instinct, often they’re the success stories, the women whose dissatisfaction has been taken seriously. For example, there’s Mary Harris Jones, otherwise known as “Mother Jones,” who fought for the rights of miners and other laborers—“her boys,” as she called them—in the late 1800s. More recently, there’s Senator Patty Murray, who as a young aspiring state representative drove to the Washington State Capitol with her two small children in tow to give speeches about state cuts to preschool funding. (She was derided as “just a mom in tennis shoes,” which later became her campaign slogan.) And then there were the conservative women who protested and ran for office during the Tea Party uprising in 2010, dubbed “ Mama Grizzlies ” by Sarah Palin. As Traister puts it, “these women voicing their anger and throwing around their political weight weren’t caricatured as ugly hysterics; instead they were permitted to cast themselves as patriotic moms on steroids.”
This isn’t just a political phenomenon—it wound up in the spotlight a month ago when Serena Williams, during the hotly contested U.S. Open final, invoked her motherhood in an outburst after the umpire penalized her for on-court coaching: “I have a daughter, and I stand for what’s right for her,” Williams said.
Serena Williams’ U.S. Open loss was humiliating, but not for her .
But the anger of mothers has proven powerful on the political stage lately, too. One of the most influential lobbying groups pushing for gun control is Moms Demand Action, whose self-described mission is to enact “common-sense solutions [that] can help decrease the escalating epidemic of gun violence that kills too many of our children and loved ones every day,” and whose membership numbers grew from 70,000 to more than 200,000 after the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High in February. And in recent weeks, conservative women have invoked their roles as mothers of sons to defend Brett Kavanaugh as he faces allegations of sexual assault; it is on behalf of their sons, the NRA spokeswoman Dana Loesch and others have said, that they believe men should be considered innocent of alleged sexual misconduct unless proven guilty.
And as further evidence of the political strength of mothers’ discontent, some of the most popular and bipartisan laws affecting women in recent decades are those that look to empower them as child-rearers and family-builders. Ending pregnancy discrimination, for instance, has for decades been a rare common cause that unites feminists and family-values conservatives. In recent months, several commentators have observed the same unlikely tandem effort emerging in the push for paid family leave . Meanwhile, other efforts that aren’t so explicitly focused on helping mothers, like expanding access to contraception or closing the gender wage gap, remain as divisive as ever.
The other kinds of female anger that Traister focuses on are often less well received and less politically effective. The culture may have accepted women’s right to be angry on behalf of their children, but it’s less accepting of women’s right to be angry on behalf of themselves.
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