What’s in a name? Well, in the case of BC’s Square Lake, a bunch of racism, sexism and half-assed attempts to change.

Sign showing peeling stickers covering what was “Squaw Lake.” (The Tyee)

Over at The Tyee James Ward has been exploring the use of the word Squaw as a place name in BC Parks. He first wrote about it in March, and then again last week. Unfortunately, eight months later, nothing much has changed.

For those who don’t know, “squaw” is a bastardized pronunciation and spelling of the beautiful Algonquin word iskwew (pronounced es-kway-ew), which simply means woman. But somewhere along the way, as multilingual Turtle Island was forced to become mainly English-speaking, “squaw” became the ugly, common term used to refer to an Aboriginal woman, regardless of her indigenous heritage.
- James Ward, The Tyee, March/08

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It looks like someone’s cycles are in sync!

First (thanks for the alert Cate!) gURL.com posts an historical overview of menstrual products. Then Grist posts about our contemporary options from an environmental perspective.

The two-part series contains irreverent product reviews from staffers. They test both outerwear and innerwear.

I appreciate that they report on the bunching factor. Um, and Anna? You’ll be glad to see they assess each product’s odor as well.

It’s awesome how 300 years later, homemade cloth pads are back in style. Oh, who am I kidding? As if they ever left!

Debate is brewing about whether or not coffee cups, plastic bags and water bottles should be banned. The coffee cup purveyors don’t think you could handle it.

“…the possibility of a ban or restrictions raises questions about whether consumers can break their reliance on non-recyclable coffee cups and disposable takeout containers.”
- from the Globe and Mail

Dirty Little Spoons à la Toronto’s Guerrilla Gourmet

The optimistic viewpoint would say that yes, humans of all stripes, even the spoiled ones, can waste less and survive. In fact — and try to stay with me — if we continue to waste as much as we do, we might not survive.

What’s your take? Do you always BYOmug? Are you motivated by discounts, like getting a Grande for the price of a Tall? (Or a Liatorp for the price of a Flarke?)

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“Jane Currie and her partner, Anji Dimitriou, both small, soft-spoken women, were waiting with other parents at Gordon B. Attersley public school in Oshawa, when, fists flying, a man attacked them, his blows as harmful as his words.” (From The Star)

I’m glad to hear these ladies are getting a lot of support (if 3000 Facebook friends counts as support) after a violent, disgusting attack by a man named Mark Scott. In a Toronto Star article, Jane Currie (not one of the victims but one of the survivors), says “He went after us because of who we are.”

I disagree. He went after you because of what HE is: a small, ignorant bigot.

Read the rest in here, but if you are a survivor of violence and try to avoid triggers, please know it contains a description of the verbal and physical attack.

Let’s face it – water is so dull. But vitaminwater, with its kaleidoscopic pinks, peaches and violets, is like Vegas in a bottle!

- NYU’s science line on “Is vitaminwater good for you?”

I’m in over my head here. I saw someone drinking a bottle of smartwater, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. So I Googled the company’s website.

Now I’m just thirsty.

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Yesterday, Antonia Zerbisias’ column in the Toronto Star hit me like a punch in the gut. The right to choose is hardly a new topic, but new threats to this right seem to pop up every time we turn around.

Although it’s not getting much mainstream coverage, two states, Colorado and South Dakota, have measures on their ballots that would strip women not only of their reproductive rights but would also define life as beginning at conception.

In other words, zygotes would be defined as legal persons, with their rights protected by the state.

That would mean that pregnant women would be wholly owned by government, as walking incubators, with absolutely no right to make any decisions, and I mean any decisions, about their, as John McCain disdainfully put it in air quotes two weeks ago, “health.”

I love it when “girly issues” refuse to be glossed over and come exploding out in everyone’s face.

Dancing with the Stars contestant Julianne Hough left the show this week due a ruptured ovarian cyst. She has been diagnosed with endometriosis and is sharing her story on her blog. Endo (who has time for six syllables?) is a little-understood and often extremely painful condition that affects the female reproductive organs.

People Magazine and TV Crunch quote Hough, who personally blogged on Fancast:

“Last week my management and the other people around me were trying to think of something else I could say that was wrong with me, but I was like, don’t worry. I want to be a good role model. I want to be honest. Maybe some girl out there won’t wait too long like I did. I’m just glad I’m taking care of it now because I want to have babies some day. I don’t want to jeopardize my health.”

When Hough’s illness was first reported, we heard she had stomach pain and a burst appendix. I understand there are a few reasons why they wouldn’t want to come out with the truth.

For one, endometriosis is a gateway word. Say it out loud and before long you’re also saying things like “ovary” and “uterine tissue” and “internal bleeding” and “ruptured cyst” and “I black out from pain that feels like burning shrapnel is expanding endlessly throughout my entire pelvic region.”

It’s not pretty.

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In last week’s dedication to Breast Cancer Awareness Month (or how about just Breast Awareness Month?) I suggested we take the time to get to know our breasts. This week it’s about spreading the word.

But where to begin?

I have lots of private thoughts about breasts in general and breast cancer specifically, but it’s not like I usually walk around talking about it.

Which is too bad.

My lovely, late Granny survived cancer thanks to a double mastectomy long before I was born. The story of her journey – including the price of her special bras and the look of her body – was an intricate part of the folklore with which I grew up. But it was a bit like hearing about a time before telephones or colour TV: Fascinating, but mundane. Accepted, but not understood.

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Cool posters and banners at www.thingsarefine.org

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