This post was originally published on the Accion Medium account. You can see that here.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I step into the back of the van, its dark windows a blissful respite from the hot Haitian sun. Back in Boston, there’s still about six feet of snow on the ground, and my sweater and corduroys seem almost as out of place as the group of Canadian doctors riding in front of me on the way to their respective hotels. Our driver masterfully winds through the mountainous streets, gripping the wheel as he avoids at least three head-on collisions at the last minute. Rock outcroppings shoot out of the ground with wild abandon, a natural majesty usually absent from cities as big as Port-au-Prince. The city seems to wrap itself around the hillsides and cliffs, roads nestled into the rock just enough to avoid a steep fall, if one can manage to avoid the barrage of oncoming traffic, wandering farm animals, and wayward soda salesmen who seem to dance around every corner. The dance of their movements belies a deep understanding of, and comfort with, their surroundings.
Hop off the elevated JMZ train at Myrtle Ave. in Brooklyn, and it all looks like a wasteland of industry—the tracks flanked by a Popeyes, KFC, Dunkin Donuts, and what seems like hundreds of bodegas and delis, their neon color palettes lighting the street, each indistinguishable from the next. You walk further down Bushwick Avenue until you hear the din, a cluster of voices and chords and feedback emanating from what is not, in fact, an abandoned gas station, but Brooklyn cultural hub and renowned music venue, The Silent Barn. You know that any band you see there could be everywhere by next year. You know that you will fit in here, maybe by virtue of the fact that you usually don’t. You know that The Silent Barn will be a safe space for you and yours. You know that, whatever happens, it’ll be a good night.
This post originally appeared on Allston Pudding, and the accompanying photos were taken by Leah Corbett. You can see all that here.
If you know or care at all about punk music, feminism, activism, or social justice, you probably know that seminal Riot Grrrl Kathleen Hanna is nothing short of a force of nature. And if you know and care about all of this, you were probably sitting near me at the Wilbur last week, eagerly awaiting the Bikini Kill frontwoman’s talk, “My Art: Punk Rock Feminism and Beyond.” But if you weren’t, or you don’t, or you’re wondering why the hell Marty Walsh declared April 9th Riot Grrrl Day in Boston in Hanna’s honor, then this one’s for you.
We all know what it’s like to be too intimidated to start listening to a big name artist with an even bigger discography. Never fear, Allston Pudding is here with a list of jumping off points that might help you or a friend get well acquainted with what could be your next favorite artist. Click here for our other Beginner’s Guides!
Rolling Stone critic Rob Sheffield once hailed OG riot-grrrl giants Sleater-Kinney as “America’s best punk band ever. EVER,” and four out of five doctors, as well as this humble AP writer, would have to agree. The trio, made up of drummer Janet Weiss and singer-guitarists Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker, were hugely influential in the roots of riot-grrrl feminism in the Pacific Northwest, and managed to crank out seven near-perfect LPs before going on indefinite hiatus in 2006. Luckily for us both, that hiatus is officially over after the announcement of a brand-new record and a tour to support it earlier this week. If you’re looking to brush up on your S-K listening before their February show at the House of Blues, we’ve got a crash course for you right here.
TL;DR: You can now read the Mozilla Daily Digest emails I send on this blog.
This post first appeared on Mozilla’s Webmaker blog. Here’s the original.
Amongst the cheerful clamor of hundreds of educators connecting at the Digital Media & Learning this year, I’ve heard some pretty amazing thoughts from some pretty amazing people on how to reform education. And although I’ve talked to participants and exhibitors from vastly diverse backgrounds, many of their approaches and plans seem to lay anchor in one idea.