Meanwhile, the new Kony 2012 video, “Move,” dropped yesterday, and it’s… well, not really even interesting enough for me to finish this sentence. See for yourself:
There’s a neat screenshot of Amanda and my first Atlantic piece at 15:23, but otherwise it’s mostly just crying. (See Katie J.M. Baker’s Jezebel post for the full run-down, plus coverage of Jason Russell’s Oprah interview.)
At minute 28:53, they finally get down to business and announce a march – or an invasion, it’s hard to tell – on the White House next month. Apparently, I’m not the only one who had difficulty establishing what, exactly, the plan is. The Guardian reported it as follows:
11:18am update: I’m still not clear on what the new campaign is, but apparently it involves a Global Dance Night. For reals.
Yesterday a momentous new work of filmmaking was released to the public. We’re speaking, of course, of Invisible Children’s Kony 2012.
The internetsarebusilydebating the merits of the video and accompanying advocacy campaign, but one important question remains unanswered: What should I drink while I watch it?
Tragically, we watched the thing stone-cold-sober, but to spare you a similar fate, we’ve assembled the following drinking game.
To play, you will need: eight (8) pickleback shots; one (1) Brandy Alexander; one (1) bowl Feuerzangenbowle; one (1) six-pack of Tusker Lager; one (1) jar green Play-Doh; one (1) bottle of Zima; one dozen (12) chocolate chip cookies; one (1) My Little PonyTM cocktail made of equal parts Malibu rum and Sunkist orange soda (generally used for statutorily raping 14 year olds); three (3) bottles of wine, one (1) brick wall.
Footage that makes you concerned that you are watching the wrong video because all you see is a bunch of white people doing hipster shit like undergoing vimeo’d Caesareans and making home movies of their children that involve actual special effects - slam a shot of pickleback, brace yourself for what comes next.
Nonspecific use of “Africa” or “African” instead of precise location or actual nationality – pound a Tusker.
Interviews with vulnerable Ugandan children about past trauma that make you think “Good lord, no IRB would ever allow any of this” – snootily sip a Brandy Alexander, try to have an opinion about homonationalism while you do so.
Recognition that Ugandans, other Africans have agency, do not need white college students to save them through the innovative use of bracelets – eat one gooey, delicious chocolate chip cookie (Psych! You never get to eat a cookie!)
Appearance of Adolf Hitler – down some Feuerzangenbowle, consider growing a moustache.
Statement that all that’s needed to solve the problem of the LRA is for enough Americans to “know” and “care” about Kony – slam head against brick wall, consider just giving up entirely.
Assumption that girls are only good for sex slave-ing, play no other role in the violence – drink a My Little PonyTM, feel kind of icky about it.
Exasperated Prendergast hair flip – drink one Zima, consider washing your own headsuit.
Assertion that “no one” cared about Joseph Kony for decades until white college students took up the cause – drink half a bottle of wine, wonder why all those Ugandans he was attacking and kidnapping during that period were unaware of him.
Statement that Africans are “invisible” if they aren’t a cause célèbre among middle-class white people – finish bottle of wine, cry.
Scene in which preschooler quickly understands entire Invisible Children policy platform, which is presented as a good thing – eat enough Play-Doh to make you feel kind of queasy.
Three-point action platform consisting of (1) signing a “pledge,” (2) sending money for an “action kit” that contains some bracelets, stickers and posters, and (3) sending more money so that IC will have that money – imagine what the results could have been if these genuinely brilliant marketers turned their attentions to a cause that is actually within the U.S. government’s direct control, like the Dream Act, cry so hard that you can do a shot of your own tears.
[Note: This photo of team not-so-invisible-children posing with the SPLA originally appeared on our blog in 2009, and was taken by photographer Glenna Gordon on the Sudan-Congo border in April 2008. If you're using it in your posts about Kony 2012, you should be crediting her.]
A sparkly headband for keeping the hair off his face while gazing pensively into the middle distance at Scheveningen beach. (It’s hard to think deep thoughts about international justice in all that wind without proper headgear. Trust me, I’ve tried.)
Remember a couple of weeks ago when Amanda and I suggested that the key to raising the profile of your pet human rights issue is to convince the public that it is caused by overconsumption of a consumer good? We offered up “leggings, noise-canceling headphones, handlebar mustaches, and ironic burlesque” as lifestyle items as-yet-unassociated with the violation of anyone’s right to life, liberty, or the pursuit of whatever.
Sadly for those of you who may still have been weighing the benefits of blaming maternal mortality in Burkina Faso on handlebar mustaches vs. capri-length leggings, you’ve just lost an option. (Perhaps consider a female reproductive health tie in with Apple’s unfortunately-menstrual-sounding iPad, instead?) Leggings have just commenced a daring bid to get themselves off of the “potentially rights-violative hipster luxury goods” list and onto the “buying this crap makes you a better person” list (along with t-shirts, thong underwear, jewelry, and pet-food bowls). With the help of Lindsay Lohan, the leggings pictured on the right are going to save the children of Haiti. If your response to this is “gah, but… why?” then I invite you to consider the final sentence of the product description:
“This stretch Silver Poly Spandex legging looks amazing under a mini dress or alone as a sexy pant!”
Our girl Lindsay has spent the last several years of her life fighting a losing battle to convince the world that leggings are pants. A zillion paparazzi shots of herself with woefully inadequate leg/ass coverings didn’t do the trick, but maybe, just maybe, strategically leveraging the tragic plight of Haiti’s child earthquake victims will. Clever move, Lohan.
Speaking before his departure for the U.N. General Assembly meeting last week, he bid a tender farewell to his nation, reminding them to empty the dishwasher and also not to foment civil unrest because: “I will kill anyone who wants to destabilize this country.”
And just in case that wasn’t clear, he added: “If you think that you can collaborate with so-called human rights defenders, and get away with it, you must be living in a dream world. I will kill you, and nothing will come out of it.”
Man, dude was a lot more humorous when he was yammering on about his magical healing powers. (Bet you didn’t know there’s a cure for AIDS after all; patients just need to go off their anti-retrovirals and drink a nice cup of dictator-soup.) Anyway, in memory of that kookier, less overtly murderous Jammeh, here’s an awesome old cartoon from afrol News (that’s Jammeh there on the left):
It was a happy life, one untroubled by questions like: “Really? This is how we signal our support for the victims of mass atrocities? By pasting their forlorn children’s faces on our crotches?” But that’s all over now. My only comfort is that now you’re all suffering along with me.
As you may have heard from someone who is more diligent about their blogging than I am, Charles Taylor’s defense opened in The Hague yesterday. (For a refresher on the trial check out Human Rights USA’s handy backgrounder, and for up-to-the-minute news on what’s happening in the courtroom OSJI’s got it covered.)
In his opening statement, lead lawyer Courtenay Griffiths compared Taylor’s extradition to the Netherlands to the slave trade’s forced movement of Africans to Europe. (Because sometimes the race card just isn’t enough and you’ve got to play the whole deck.)
Things only got awesomer when Taylor took off his sunglasses and took the stand himself today, calling the prosecution malicious and pointing to his 14 children as evidence of his “love for humanity.” Ahem.
Former Taylor defense intern / Wronging-Rights-intrepid-girl-special-correspondent Jessica Feinstein notes that although the defense’s move to portray the prosecution as “extending the legacy of colonialism” may seem bizarre to Westerners, it is likely to play well to its target audience. She explains:
“Will some of the things Courtenay said alienate Americans and other Westerners? Very probably. Is that the audience he is trying to reach? No. The things he said ring true to a lot of West Africans, and that is the constituency which this court purportedly seeks to influence.”
So it looks like we can expect a whole bunch more showboating in the days ahead. Yay! If you want to join in the fun, check out the live feed of the trial here.
*Photo of Taylor from the Special Court for Sierra Leone’s website
As do most things in life, the Kenyan women’s sex strike has now devolved into litigation. The Daily Nation reports that one James Kimondo (husband of confirmed Kenyan woman Teressia Wanjiku) has sued the activists behind the boycott for compensation, alleging that as a direct result of their actions he “lost sleep and could not concentrate at work” and suffered a backache and “a foul mood.” Well then. Meanwhile, an op-ed in the Standard criticizes the organizers for failing to give enough advance notice of the strike for women to “start rationing before serving the total blackout.”
And in other news, Mia Farrow has been instructed by her doctors to break her hunger strike. After 12 days of refusing food in solidarity with the people of Darfur, Farrow has delegated fast duties to famous British person Richard Branson. Response from Darfur: “Sh*t, we can do that? I’ma get a sandwich. Eritrea, you’re up!”