Last week, a law was introduced in France’s National Assembly that, if passed, would force advertisers and magazine editors to print disclaimers on images of women that had been digitally altered, according to the article “A Move to Curb Digitally Altered Photos in Ads,” published in Monday’s New York Times. (The bill’s champion, Valerie Boyer, succeeded in shuttering “pro-ana” websites last year.)

The article also explains that earlier this month in Britain, Jo Swinson, a member of the Liberal Democratic Party, introduced a proposal that would permit Parliament to force Britain’s Advertising Standards Authority, which combats misleading claims, to create a numbering system to be used on printed advertisements: one, the lowest number, would indicate “altered lighting,” whereas the highest number, four, would signify "digital cosmetic surgery." Swinson claims that this system would discourage art directors from digitally enhancing images of women and would alert women to digital enhancements on those images that had in fact been altered.

Although I am wary of any law that limits the implements in the artists’ toolbox, I rather like what the inevitable “rawer photography” would mean for the aesthetics of ads and magazine editorials. The post-production miracles of Pascal Dangin—the Michelangelo of Photoshop­—have no doubt come at the expense of new ideas in image making. I mean, how boring and bland have glossy magazines and advertisements become since the explosions of both cosmetic surgery and digital cosmetic surgery, and since celebrity managers can demand digital modifications, often by the hand of Dangin, in their "press" contracts? For a long time I’ve been hoping for a shift from the mainstream airbrushed-half-naked chick-(minus four ribs)-lying-next-to-a-$2,500-mass-produced-“luxury”-purse spread.

The digital toolbox, while enjoining hundreds of millions of people to dabble in art, has made the average art director lazy. It's easier to do "digital cosmetic surgery" on a so-so image than it is to conceive of something altogether stunning or new. The disclaimer law, if applied vigorously—and I’d rather that it needn’t be applied at all—would encourage new aesthetics and approaches to depicting femininity, reality-based and fantastical. And then perhaps women would once again see the art in advertising, instead of just a catalogue of tricked-out body parts.

Tags: airbrushing, celebrity stylists, jo swinson, pascal dangin, photoshop, valerie boyer

Marina Zenovich’s documentary on the 1977 Roman Polanski rape case (Roman Polanski: Wanted & Desired) is about to become an oft-cited source in the contentious debate about Polanski’s 32-years-removed arrest that went down in Switzerland over the weekend. In it, Zenovich makes the fair argument that the judge overseeing the Polanski case was biased from the get-go—he’s depicted as a celebrity-obsessed, press-provoking joke of a judge whose No.1 concern was his own image. This portrait probably has some truth to it; there was eventually a successful motion to remove him from the case and even the victim has said that the ensuing media shitstorm ruined her adolescense. But the rest of the documentary is a gross overwrought defense of Polanski. I watched it last night (Netflix Instant!) and I felt like I was watching a clique of popular kids defend the star football player. Not because he's innocent (Polanski pleaded guilty to unlawful sex with a minor) but because it would be such a gosh darn tragedy for the team to lose such a great player.

Excepting the lawyers who worked on the case, the majority of the voices in the film are Polanski’s Hollywood friends, and they make great strides to point out the “reputation” of the victim. More than two people note that the girl was not a virgin. In a clip that made me want to stab out my eyeballs, one female friend of Polanski’s goes so far as to mention that the girl’s mother introduced herself to Polanski as “an actress” and then asks, “Why would her mother let her daughter go to a photo shoot alone with him in the first place?” Oh yes, I see, clearly her mother deliberately set her up to be raped in order to advance her career! Now there's some stellar logic fit for inclusion in a documentary. (Note: the film won a Sundance award for editing.) When the interviewees are not busy bashing the girl and her mother, they spend time expounding on Polanski's enormous talent, and what a terrible tragedy it is that something like this would happen to such an important, valuable figure (notice the passive verbs). The documentary oozes with sympathy when covering the myriad of hardships Polanski's endured, including the murder of his pregnant wife at the hands of crazed Manson followers. Yes, his life was truly, truly heartbreaking. But is it possible for a man to be a brilliant director, survive the Holocaust, tragically lose the love of his life to a brutal murder, and still not rape a 13-year-old? Of course.

Tags: HBO, marina zenovich, roman polanski, victim-blaming

I agree that some of the outrage towards People's Trunk's tweeted miscarriage is because she wasn't more upset about losing a baby. But I think some of the upset is the medium, not the message: I am among those who finds Twitter to be an unfortunate place for the dissemination of this sort of information. I applaud Trunk's openness about her miscarriage, and think women should be encouraged to talk about their experiences. However, 140 characters does not leave a person much room to discuss the nuances of their situations.

After her notorious Tweet, Penelope Trunk wrote an eloquent blog post about her miscarriage and how miscarriages affect working women. However, in her post, she also writes, "To all of you who said a miscarriage is gross: Are you unaware that the same blood you expel from a miscarriage is what you expel during menstruation? Are you aware that many people are having sex during menstruation and getting it on the sheets? Are you aware that many women actually like period sex?" I don't find miscarriage gross or talking about it to be wrong, but I don't want to read Tweets about period sex either. Or a male equivalent: I have no desire to see a Tweet about your vasectomy or your swamp butt. I find Trunk making her Tweet into a moment about reproductive freedom is somewhat disengenuous. Am I trying to silence Trunk? No way. Am I saying her experience is wrong or invalid? Not remotely. Am I turned off by her tweet and some of the more extreme aspects of our too-much-information culture? Absolutely.

Tags: miscarriage, Penelope Trunk, reproductive freedom

Blogger Penelope Trunk should feel free to tweet her miscarriage. Because women have miscarriages and abortions. And then don't talk about it. But we should.

When I first read Penelope Trunk's tweet, I winced. Overshare seemed like an understatement. But Trunk shares most details of her life, so why shouldn't she put this one out there? If you've had a miscarriage or abortion, for any reason, then you know that they have one thing in common besides the obvious: Before it happens, you don't think you know anyone else who's lost or aborted a fetus. Afterward, you find out you're far from alone. Women aren't very open about their experiences with miscarriage, and we're even less open about our abortions: Since 28 percent of women have had an abortion (40 percent of women between 40 and 55) and 20 percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage, then every one of us knows someone who's been there. It's just that your friend—your mom, your grandmother—never talks about it.

Pregnancy, miscarriage, and menstruation are all just bodily functions, and like all bodily functions, our control over them is more imprecise and tenuous than we would like. But we seem to reserve a special layer of shame and condemnation for the bodily functions that happen only to women. So here's my second thought for Penelope Trunk: Thanks. Because not talking about a miscarriage or an abortion—or all the complicated feelings that can get rolled up in both—because it's just too personal is fine. But not talking about it because no one else ever talks about it—so maybe we're just not supposed too—is not. Which makes living in a world where Penelope Trunk can toss off a miscarriage, a desired abortion, and her generally cranky feelings about both in 140 characters or less ... priceless.

Tags: abortion, miscarriage, Penelope Trunk

It strikes me that today’s military moms bear some resemblance to the medical moms of yesterday. Both doctors and soldiers choose intense schedules that pit saving lives against time away from the lives of their children. Both make huge sacrifices but can benefit from a significant financial payoff. Both continue to struggle for flexibility and recognition in a traditionally paternalistic system. The battles fought by mothers who were doctors 10 or 20 years ago sound remarkably similar to the professional struggles of those who serve in the armed forces now.

Yet the difference is obvious and stark. If ever there was an example that choice means giving rather than taking, it can be seen in the mothers in the military who are prepared to die for their country. The minutiae of their domestic tribulations pale in comparison to this greatest what if: What if they don’t come home and their kids are left motherless?

Of course we’re talking about those who join up in a time of war than peace. But it’s now eight years since the invasion of Afghanistan (seven since we went into Iraq) and it doesn’t look like peace will be coming any time soon. We’re living in a world where mothers have died, mothers still face death, and mothers continue to try and find care for children they might not see for the next several months—or ever again.

Yesterday The New York Times ran an article describing some of the difficulties mothers in the military face. DoubleX already has our own military wife columnnist—Alison Buckholtz, who writes our monthly Deployment Diary (new entry coming later this week!). But I’d like to hear more firsthand stories on this subject, from women who are serving on the frontlines. If you are a military mom, or are taking care of a child for a mother who is serving, please write to me at emma@thecomebackbook.com

I’d also like to hear from the office of the First Lady about Mrs Obama’s efforts in helping these women as part of her work on behalf of military families.

Tags: afghanistan, deployment diary, Emma Gilbey Keller, Iraq, military moms

Apparently, I'm one of the few people who read Penelope Trunk's now infamous tweet ("I'm in a board meeting. Having a miscarriage. Thank goodness, because there's a fucked-up 3-week hoop-jump to have an abortion in Wisconsin.") who wasn't even remotely bothered by it. I found it to be an elegant instance of the power of Twitter and the way people have learned to pack so much information into 140 characters. We as a culture applaud men who come up with choice quotes to describe death, courage, and war, but if a woman employs brevity to express relief at a miscarriage, suddenly there's an outcry against the dangers of getting to the point.

Trunk has rounded up some of the responses she received on Twitter, in blog comments, and on other blogs. Mainly, the scolding seemed to be focused on her tone. She was instructed to be sadder, or at least perform emotions she wasn't experiencing in order to placate those who want women to always be mindful that our reproductive functions are both disgusting and sacrosanct. She also got some anti-abortion sentimental nonsense, but Trunk understands that's just the most severe expression of the idea that women's bodies are both disgusting and sacrosanct. We as a nation are confused, and we expect women having "female troubles" to do a tap-dance around our confusion. Whether it's pregnancy, periods, miscarriage, or abortion, we're both supposed to adhere to the idea that the uterus is the most serious of organs (beating out the brain by a long shot), and to feel guilty and ashamed for being gross.

And it's not just women who don't want to be mothers right now who face this sort of nastiness. When I put the link of Trunk's retort onto Twitter, I got a response from a woman who told me her recent hellish story of flying while pregnant. She got her boarding pass, only to discover that they had put her in the dreaded center seat, which would have been OK if she weren't suffering from severe morning sickness exacerbated by the motion of the plane. When she politely asked her male seatmates if they would mind shuffling around so she could have the aisle, they acted disgusted that she even dare draw attention to her condition and refused. She did not say whether she punished them by using every slight bump of the plane as an excuse to get up and run to the bathroom, but I kind of hope she did.

When will we as a nation grow up and accept that the uterus is just another organ, even though it's an important one? Female owners of uteruses should be allowed to regard them as we do any other body part, as part of our subjective experience in life. If I break my leg, I'm permitted the right to define that experience, and if I felt a lot or a little pain and fear, no one will insist that I do some sort of kabuki of the emotions they want me to have. Why can't a miscarriage receive the same level of respect? Truth be told, I wish more women were open about their experiences with miscarriage. If the public at large had to face up to the fact that not every miscarriage is met with a vale of tears, that could have a dramatic impact on how we regard pregnancy, abortion, and women's diverse experiences with our reproductive functions.

Tags: miscarriage, Penelope Trunk, reproductive freedom