#census of the poor

[tenth-sentence]

The Norwich Census of the Poor of 1570 categorised women as single, married, widowed, deserted, and as 'grass wenches' – sexually active unmarried women, sometimes with bastard children.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

oh!

[shiegra]

LMAOOOOOOOO the 'same sex attracted is a better way to put it' person had no other response than to go 'IT IS BETTER, IF U DISAGREE UR LYING' after being confronted with the fact that they also have never previously personally used the term on their blog

this site, also, is free

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

Remembered this post again, so this is your periodic reminder that treating all southerners as a bigoted monolith is in itself white supremacist bullshit.

Who in the fuck.

“People from the south” is not something to put a trigger warning for, you dumb fucks. If you mean racism/homophobia, fucking say that.

The south is not a monolith of cishet christian white men with every type of bigotry in the book.

Minorities live in the south as well.

If you use tags like this, go fuck yourself.

(Edit to include image ID in Alt text)

[genderkoolaid]

In the last two decades, there has been a growing body of literature on trans health in India. However, most research is limited to HIV/AIDS and primarily focuses on trans women. Studies on trans men or transmasculine identities and their healthcare needs and experiences in India have received little scholarly attention. Even globally, the literature on trans men’s health is relatively scant, with existing studies conducted mainly in Western countries. There exists a dearth of government data and statistics on trans men in India. The only attempt to enumerate the transgender population was made by the national census, which categorised them as ‘other.’ The census estimated 4,87,803 transgender people in India. However, several transgender activists have argued that this number is a considerable miscalculation and an inaccurate representation of the entire transgender community in India. Moreover, the lack of official data on trans men also risks under-allocating funds for much-needed welfare programmes. Moreover, trans men experience direct and indirect discrimination in healthcare settings. Such experiences include being asked invasive or inappropriate questions about their bodies, invalidating their gender identity via misgendering, deadnaming, and being denied healthcare or receiving low-quality care. Sometimes, it also includes physical mishandling and verbal harassment by the hospital staff and co-patients or not being allowed to enter certain hospital wards or spaces. [...] For many trans men, the family becomes the first space for mental and physical violence and outright rejection of their identity, with instances of forced heterosexual marriages or corrective rape. Vinay (name changed), a 30-year-old trans man from Punjab, says, “Family says ‘you’re ruining our reputation, get married, have one-two kids and then everything will be fine.’ They even use rape as a measure saying ‘you don’t know who you are, and when it happens, then you’ll know [your true sexual orientation].’”  Many have to deal with uninformed healthcare providers unwilling to treat them because of their gender identity. Lack of knowledge amongst medical professionals and poor social understanding of trans men means that trans men often have to self-advocate and explain their health-related issues and gender identity to medical practitioners who constantly challenge or dismiss their identity. This self-advocacy and mental effort to explain or justify one’s gender identity and expression often leads to emotional exhaustion. Soham (name changed), a 24-year- old trans man from New Delhi, recounts his experience of going to a hospital,  “The doctor came and shouted my dead name. There were a lot of people in the emergency room and I remember feeling numb for a second…He shouted, ‘Is this you? Yehi naam hai aapka?’ (‘Is this you? Is this your name?’)…Then he literally pointed at my chest and said your chest is so flat, do you have your periods? I was numb and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t get my medicine, I didn’t tell him my problem, I just went home and I locked myself in my room for a week.” 

— I Didn’t Get My Medicine, And I Locked Myself In My Room For A Week (Trans Men Are Invisible in India's Healthcare) by Arushi Raj and Fatima Juned

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana Drabbles: Storm Traditions

~ written for the @vesuviaweekly prompt "snuggle weather" - enjoy some found family platonic fluff! ~

-- written so that reader does not have to be romantically involved with Asra to be considered part of the family --

"Watching the storm?"

The change in view is drastic enough to give you mild whiplash. Outside, torrents of rain are battering the cobblestones as the canal rushes by. Inside, Aisha is offering you a shawl to drape around your shoulders while Salim sets a fresh pot of tea next to the incense burner on the low table. She smiles as you accept the warmth.

"Asra was like that as a child, too. Always observing every new detail. We used to say that he would memorize the stars if he let him stay out late enough."

Salim laughs from the tea table. "Some things never change. Did you see him in the marketplace yesterday? I thought he was about to dismantle that poor new merchant's cart!"

You can't help but smile. Watching their family slowly knit back together has been a highlight of the last year. That said, this is perhaps the second or third time you've been with the older couple without Asra present, and you're a little unsure of where you fit in without that connection. There's a brief pause bordering on awkward where they share a look with each other before Salim breaks the silence.

"I'm so glad you decided to come over today and spend some time with us. Do you have a tradition of watching storms when they come in?"

You shrug. "I'm ... not sure. I might have picked that up from Asra when ... well, you know."

"Ah."

Another awkward pause. Salim scratches at his stubble sheepishly as Aisha gives him a look that says "seriously?". You pull the shawl tighter and scoot towards the tea table with a smile.

"It's okay, really. I don't mind talking about it."

"Oh, we shouldn't have brought it up -"

"In that case, where's your family?"

It's slightly hilarious to watch the breakdown in how synced they usually are. They both give each other wide-eyed "what was that??" looks, Salim absentmindedly passing you a cup of tea as Aisha sets a plate of treats down. You wrap your hands around the warm glass and shrug.

"I'm not sure. Asra knew about my aunt, but it's only been safe for him to tell me more about the past in the last year. Everyone else has been helping me search for clues - Nadia let me look at the city ledgers and census and Julian and Portia have been asking the ship crews that come in - but it's taking a while."

"If there's anything we can do -" Aisha begins,

"Yes! Anything at all -" Salim adds,

"Let us know."

You sip your tea and nod. "Thank you, I will."

"And ..." This time, it's Aisha who risks taking a relational step forward. "If you find yourself in need of a mother or father to talk to ..."

"Oh," Salim straightens, "Yes - not that we'd try to replace anybody -"

"- of course not." Aisha affirms. "But ... please, as much as you're comfortable with it. We'd love to be your family too."

You don't expect the sentiment to hit something so deep inside you, but it's hard not to tear up for a second. You nod.

"I'd like that. ... thank you."

They both light up. Aisha moves to a corner and picks out an old book from their shelf. "In that case, may we introduce you to one of our stormy weather traditions?"

Salim claps his hands, clearly caught up in the new idea. "I'll go get the powder!"

"What's the tradition?"

"May I join you?"

"Sure." You scoot to the middle of the couch. Aisha curls up next to you, tucking her feet in and showing you the cover of the elaborate story book in her lap.

"We used to do this whenever it rained. We'd all snuggle together under blankets and read stories, while we played with the pictures."

Salim reappears with a heavy quilt thrown over one shoulder and a pouch in his hand. He pulls out a pinch of sparkly powder and tosses it into the air before approaching the sofa. "May I?"

You nod and he sits down on your other side. The quilt gets spread across your laps and you find yourself cozily situated between two people absolutely delighted to dote on you.

"Now then," Aisha opens the book and passes it across your lap to Salim, "I think we should start with the one about the seesaw."

He adjusts his glasses and peers through them down at the page with a fond smile. "This one's a favorite. Ahem -"

Aisha raises her hand and the powder floating around the room seems to come alive with a subtle lavender glow. An image of a child and their parent appears, walking hand-in-hand across a grassy, hilly plain. Salim begins to read.

"Once upon a time, a giant built a playground for their little one. There was a slide, a swing set, a sand pit, and most importantly, a seesaw."

Above you, the images move and transform as the story unfolds. The storm lies forgotten behind you, Salim's voice drowning out the thunder, and Aisha's pictures lighting up the overcast room. The blanket and tea fill you with warmth. You fall into a drowsy, happy state, safe with the loving couple giving you a long-lost feeling of home.

[womenaremypriority]

This is so horrific.

———————

I have been following Siro’s story for 30 years, ever since I went to interview her and four other rural midwives in India’s Bihar state in 1996.

They had been identified by a non-governmental organisation as being behind the murder of baby girls in the district of Katihar where, under pressure from the newborns’ parents, they were killing them by feeding them chemicals or simply wringing their necks.

Hakiya Devi, the eldest of the midwives I interviewed, told me at the time she had killed 12 or 13 babies. Another midwife, Dharmi Devi, admitted to killing more - at least 15-20.

It is impossible to ascertain the exact number of babies they may have killed, given the way the data was gathered.

But they featured in a report published in 1995 by an NGO, based on interviews with them and 30 other midwives. If the report’s estimates are accurate, more than 1,000 baby girls were being murdered every year in one district, by just 35 midwives. According to the report, Bihar at the time had more than half a million midwives. And infanticide was not limited to Bihar.

Refusing orders, Hakiya said, was almost never an option for a midwife.

“The family would lock the room and stand behind us with sticks,” says Hakiya Devi. “They’d say: ‘We already have four-five daughters. This will wipe out our wealth. Once we give dowry for our girls, we will starve to death. Now, another girl has been born. Kill her.’

“Who could we complain to? We were scared. If we went to the police, we’d get into trouble. If we spoke up, people would threaten us."

The role of a midwife in rural India is rooted in tradition, and burdened by the harsh realities of poverty and caste. The midwives I interviewed belonged to the lower castes in India’s caste hierarchy. Midwifery was a profession passed on to them by mothers and grandmothers. They lived in a world where refusing orders of powerful, upper-caste families was unthinkable.

The midwife could be promised a sari, a sack of grain or a small amount of money for killing a baby. Sometimes even that was not paid. The birth of a boy earned them about 1,000 rupees. The birth of a girl earned them half.

The reason for this imbalance was steeped in India’s custom of giving a dowry, they explained. Though the custom was outlawed in 1961, it still held strong in the 90s - and indeed continues into the present day.

A dowry can be anything - cash, jewellery, utensils. But for many families, rich or poor, it is the condition of a wedding. And this is what, for many, still makes the birth of a son a celebration and the birth of a daughter a financial burden.

Siro Devi, the only midwife of those I interviewed who is still alive, used a vivid physical image to explain this disparity in status.

“A boy is above the ground - higher. A daughter is below - lower. Whether a son feeds or takes care of his parents or not, they all want a boy.”

The preference for sons can be seen in India’s national-level data. Its most recent census, in 2011, recorded a ratio of 943 women to every 1,000 men. This is nevertheless an improvement on the 1990s - in the 1991 census, the ratio was 927/1,000.

By the time I finished filming the midwives’ testimonies in 1996, a small, silent change had begun. The midwives who once carried out these orders had started to resist. 

This change was instigated by Anila Kumari, a social worker who supported women in the villages around Katihar, and was dedicated to addressing the root causes of these killings.

Anila’s approach was simple. She asked the midwives, “Would you do this to your own daughter?”

Her question apparently pierced years of rationalisation and denial. The midwives got some financial help via community groups and gradually the cycle of violence was interrupted.

Siro, speaking to me in 2007, explained the change.

“Now, whoever asks me to kill, I tell them: ‘Look, give me the child, and I’ll take her to Anila Madam.’”

The midwives rescued at least five newborn girls from families who wanted them killed or had already abandoned them.

One child died, but Anila arranged for the other four to be sent to Bihar’s capital, Patna, to an NGO which organised their adoption.

The story could have ended there. But I wanted to know what had become of those girls who were adopted, and where life had taken them.

Anila’s records were meticulous but they had few details about post-adoption.

Working with a BBC World Service team, I got in touch with a woman called Medha Shekar who, back in the 90s, was researching infanticide in Bihar when the babies rescued by Anila and the midwives began arriving at her NGO. Remarkably, Medha was still in touch with a young woman who, she believed, was one of these rescued babies.

Anila told me that she had given all the girls saved by the midwives the prefix “Kosi” before their name, a homage to the Kosi river in Bihar. Medha remembered that Monica had been named with this “Kosi” prefix before her adoption.

The adoption agency would not let us look at Monica’s records, so we can never be sure. But her origins in Patna, her approximate date of birth and the prefix “Kosi” all point to the same conclusion: Monica is, in all probability, one of the five babies rescued by Anila and the midwives.

When I went to meet her at her parents’ home some 2,000km (1,242 miles) away in Pune, she said she felt lucky to have been adopted by a loving family.

“This is my definition of a normal happy life and I am living it,” she said.

Monica knew that she had been adopted from Bihar. But we were able to give her more details about the circumstances of her adoption.

Earlier this year, Monica travelled to Bihar to meet Anila and Siro. 

Monica saw herself as the culmination of years of hard work by Anila and the midwives.

“Someone prepares a lot to do well in an exam. I feel like that. They did the hard work and now they’re so curious to meet the result… So definitely, I would like to meet them.”

Anila wept tears of joy when she met Monica. But Siro’s response felt different.

She sobbed hard, holding Monica close and combing through her hair.

“I took you [to the orphanage] to save your life… My soul is at peace now,” she told her.

But when, a couple of days later, I attempted to press Siro about her reaction, she resisted further scrutiny.

“What happened in the past is in the past,” she said.

But what is not in the past is the prejudice some still hold against baby girls.

Reports of infanticide are now relatively rare, but sex-selective abortion remains common, despite being illegal since 1994.

If one listens to the traditional folk songs sung during childbirth, known as Sohar, in parts of north India, joy is reserved for the birth of a male child. Even in 2024, it is an effort to get local singers to change the lyrics so that the song celebrates the birth of a girl.

While we were filming our documentary, two baby girls were discovered abandoned in Katihar - one in bushes, another at the roadside, just a few hours old. One later died. The other was put up for adoption.

Before Monica left Bihar, she visited this baby in the Special Adoption Centre in Katihar.

She says she was haunted by the realisation that though female infanticide may have been reduced, abandoning baby girls continues.

“This is a cycle… I can see myself there a few years ago, and now again there’s some girl similar to me.”

But there were to be happier similarities too.

The baby has now been adopted by a couple in the north-eastern state of Assam. They have named her Edha, which means happiness.

“We saw her photo, and we were clear - a baby once abandoned cannot be abandoned twice,” says her adoptive father Gaurav, an officer in the Indian air force.

Every few weeks Gaurav sends me a video of Edha's latest antics. I sometimes share them with Monica.

Looking back, the 30 years spent on this story were never just about the past. It was about confronting uncomfortable truths. The past cannot be undone, but it can be transformed.

And in that transformation, there is hope.

[boreal-sea]

Firstly: get dunk'd, transphobe.

Secondly, nice source, dipshit:

I have to do everything, don't I?

Let's talk about this source before we even read this article, because it shows how poor your rhetorical analysis skills are - or how unwilling you are to practice those skills, or perhaps just how willing you are to ally yourself with racist, nationalist, far-right reactionaries if they also happen to be transphobic.

Wings Over Scotland is a far-right, nationalist, reactionary blog run by Scottish "video game journalist" Stuart Campbell. It is not an unbiased news website - it's some dude's personal blog, and he created it because he hated that mainstream news in Scotland wasn't spreading the far-right rhetoric he wished it would.

And this is what you used as a "source". Fucking laughable.

Now let's get into the actual blog post. I refuse to call it a "news article", because it's not. This one was written by a nobody named "Mar Vickers". At the bottom of the article, Stuart claims Mar has "extensive experience in equality law". I can't seem to find any indication Mar is some sort of lawyer or scholar; all I can find is a link to his twitter - sorry, I mean his "X":

https://twitter.com/mar2vickers

You can tell this is the same Mar based on the content of his tweets. He's also transphobic garbage, surprise surprise. He has a backup account on "gettr", because it seems like his twitter gets suspended frequently - which says a lot. Gettr is a clone of twitter that caters to right wingers who get suspended and banned on Twitter for constantly violating its hate speech policies. So. You know. Though these days, X is the safe-haven for far-right reactionaries, so honestly that's a red flag period.

As a summary: Mar doesn't understand surveys or their limits, he doesn't define what a "sex crime" is, he doesn't know what the Rorschach test is, and he's bad at math. He plays with numbers like he's some sort of population statistician, which he's not. He draws conclusions that are completely nonsense, because he's not asking the relevant questions.

Basically, he states that over the past few years, the ratio of trans women in jail for sex crimes to compared to the general population of trans woman is now higher than the ratio of cis men in jail for sex crimes compared to the general population of cis men. Ok, but why did these numbers change? He doesn't ask why. He just assumes these trends are natural and reflect the behavior of cis men and trans women, rather than the increased transphobia in England and Wales that he and his buddy Stuart have been fueling.

I absolutely don't doubt that trans women are incarcerated for "sex crimes" (which he never defines of course) at a higher rate per population than cis men. It's the same reason people of color are incarcerated more per population: bigotry. "Wow, this population of people who society hates sure gets sent to jail a lot. That's probably a reflection of their true nature, and not a reflection on society at large!"

[probablyasocialecologist]

America isn’t suffering from a housing shortage. Housing production has lagged behind household growth since 2010, but this doesn’t account for the massive overhang of housing produced in the previous decade. Fueled by the housing bubble of 2000-07, 160 homes were added to the stock for every 100 households formed during the aughts, our analysis of Census Bureau data shows. This level of production created a huge surplus of housing, which has yet to be fully absorbed. Put differently, from 2000-21, the nation grew by 18.5 million households. To maintain an adequate inventory of vacant housing, which historically would be 9.3% of the total, the housing stock needed to expand by 20.2 million units. Instead, it grew by 23.7 million housing units, producing a surplus of 3.5 million units.

[...]

It’s conceivable that a huge increase in supply would eventually lead to lower prices. But that would require a major intervention in the market, and the case for it is weak. U.S. housing policy should focus less on adding to the already ample stock of housing and more on raising the incomes of low-income households and giving them access to good-quality housing in safe neighborhoods. We know how to do this. Raising minimum wages to the living-wage level will help the working poor afford housing. Zoning reform can encourage the production of multifamily housing, accessory apartments, and other less-expensive housing formats. Subsidized construction should be targeted for supportive housing and for affordable rental housing in places with actual housing shortages. The most effective housing assistance for low-income households is not found in building more units but in helping low-income households afford the units that already exist through housing vouchers for renter households and down-payment assistance for home buyers. The U.S. cannot build itself out of its housing crisis.

[whencyclopedia]

Social Change in the British Industrial Revolution

The British Industrial Revolution (1760-1840) witnessed a great number of technical innovations, such as steam-powered machines, which resulted in new working practices, which in turn brought many social changes. More women and children worked than ever before, for the first time more people lived in towns and cities than in the countryside, people married younger and had more children, and people's diet improved. The workforce become much less skilled than previously, and many workplaces became unhealthy and dangerous. Cities suffered from pollution, poor sanitation, and crime. The urban middle class expanded, but there was still a wide and unbridgeable gap between the poor, the majority of whom were now unskilled labourers, and the rich, who were no longer measured by the land they owned but by their capital and possessions.

Urbanisation

The population of Britain rose dramatically in the 18th century, so much so that a nationwide census was conducted for the first time in 1801. The census was repeated every decade thereafter and showed interesting results. Between 1750 and 1851, Britain's population rose from 6 million to 21 million. London's population grew from 959,000 in 1801 to 3,254,000 in 1871. The population of Manchester in 1801 was 75,000 but 351,000 in 1871. Other cities witnessed similar growth. The 1851 census revealed that, for the first time, more people were living in towns and cities than in the countryside.

More young people meeting each other in a more confined urban setting meant marriages happened earlier, and the birth rate went up compared to societies in rural areas (which did rise, too, but to a lesser degree). For example, "In urban Lancashire in 1800, 40 per cent of 17-30-year-olds were married, compared to 19 per cent in rural Lancashire. In rural Britain, the average age of marriage was 27, in most industrial areas 24, and in mining areas about 20" (Shelley, 98).

Urbanisation did not mean there was no community spirit in towns and cities. Very often people living in the same street pulled together in a time of crisis. Communities around mines and textile mills were particularly close-knit with everyone being involved in the same profession and with a community spirit and pride fostered by such activities as a colliery or mill band. Workers also got together to form clubs to save up for an annual outing, usually to the seaside.

Life became cramped in the cities that had grown up around factories and coalfields. Many families were obliged to share the same cheaply-built home. "In Liverpool in the 1840s, 40,000 people were living in cellars, with an average of six people per cellar" (Armstrong, 188). Pollution became a serious problem in many places. Poor sanitation – few streets had running water or drains, and non-flushing toilets were often shared between households – led to the spread of diseases. In 1837, 1839, and 1847, there were typhus epidemics. In 1831 and 1849, there were cholera epidemics. Life expectancy rose because of better diet and new vaccinations, but infant mortality could be high in some periods, sometimes over 50% for the under-fives. Not until the 1848 Public Health Act did governments even begin to assume responsibility for improving sanitation, and even then local health boards were slow to form in reality. Another effect of urbanisation was the rise in petty crime. Criminals were now more confident of escaping detection in the ever-increasing anonymity of life in the cities.

Cities became concentrations of the poor, surviving off the charity of those more fortunate. Children roamed the streets begging. Children without homes or a job, if they were boys, were often trained to become a Shoe Black, that is someone who shined shoes in the street. These paupers were given this opportunity by charitable organisations so that they would not have to go to the infamous workhouse. The workhouse was brought into existence in 1834 with the Poor Law Amendment Act. The workhouse was deliberately intended to be such an awful place that it did little more than keep its male, female, and child inhabitants alive, in the belief that any more charity than that would simply encourage the poor not to bother looking for paid work. The workhouse involved what its name suggests – work, but it was tedious work indeed, typically unpleasant and repetitive tasks like crushing bones to make glue or cleaning the workhouse itself. Despite all the problems, urbanisation continued so that by 1880 only 20% of Britain's population lived in rural areas.

Continue reading...

[marzipanandminutiae]

you know, the Horrible Histories "Victorian names were WEIRD!!!!" skit leaves out some important info on some of the names (assisted by Ancestry.com searches):

Lettice Berger: "Lettice" was an anglicization of the Roman name "Leticia." Berger is just a normal German surname. Yes, they had the word "lettuce," and I'm sure the similarities occurred to them. But nobody named their child "lettuce" like the vegetable.

O.K. Johnson: Probably just the kid's initials. "O.K." as a slang term was invented in 1830s Boston, but without any evidence of when little O.K. lived (they don't cite any sourced for these names, how convenient), it's impossible to tell whether it would have crossed the pond by the time he was born.

Never [they pronounce the surname Rookrook]: I found a LOT of Nevers in the UK with Indian surnames. So uh. There's that. And a lot of census records online seem to have notes written by the census-taker mislabeled as names- "never opens door" was one I noticed. Just saying. I also found multiple "NEVA Rook" census entries- which probably would have been pronounced "NEE-vah" but sounds like "Never" with a British accent if you tilt your head and squint.

Toilet: Surprisingly common modern misreading of "Violet" on 19th-century censuses with bad handwriting.

Baboon: Found one census where it's a misreading of "Barbara;" others were non-Anglo names like Baban, Babyon, Babboni, etc.

Susan Semolina-Thrower: That's just two unfortuate surnames, I'm guessing? I can't find their sources, again, but I do find a lot of records of "Semolina" as a surname in the UK during the 19th century. The poor parents had no control over that, did they?

Happy: ...yeah, it's a virtue name. And? How is that weirder than Faith, Hope, Grace, Patience, Prudence, etc?

Evil: Another census misreading- usually "Evie."

Minty Badger: "Minty" is short for Araminta/Aminta/Arminta. Still sounds like a Discworld character, but nothing would sound normal with "Badger" as a surname. Araminta Badger at least makes more sense to modern ears, though.

Freezer Breezer: Breezer was a real surname, and parents can be cruel. I don't doubt that- my dad went to school with an "Emily Memily." that being said...I did find a "Fred R. Breezer" born in 1873 in England; see above re: census misreadings. Just throwing that out there. I found it as a corruption/misspelling of "Fraser/Frasier" too.

Scary Looker: I actually found this one. It was a misreading of "Jeany" on a census- the girl's name was Jane Looker, born 1841 in Lancashire to John and Elizabeth Looker. Nice research there, team.

Farting Clack: Fasting Clack or Clark, born 1863 in London. Another lovely misreading from the census. True "Fasting Clark" is not NOT a weird name, but it's a lot less horrible than "Farting Clack" and it makes sense under the Hyper-Christian Parents category.

Princess Cheese was real, not a nickname, and not a misreading or misspelling. Princess May Cheese was born in 1896 in West Bromwich. She married one John T. Brookes in 1914- possibly eager to no longer be a Cheese?

Multiple people really have been christened Bovril, most notably one Bovril Simpson, married in West Ham in 1911.

Incredibly, Raspberry/Rasberry/Roseberry is a real given name, and Lemon a real surname. Most people named Raspberry seem to have been men.

So that's only three of their Wacky Victorian Names that are actually 100% real. Nice job, there, team. I love Ghosts, but get your collective act together!

(They did once have a skit insisting that Victorians called trousers "the southern necessity" when that's actually a phrase from the writings of famously terrible 19th-century author Amanda McKittrick Ros, whose work her contemporaries loved poking fun at. So I shouldn't be surprised)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Poor people pay higher time tax

Doubtless you’ve heard that “we all get the same 24 hours in the day.” Of course it’s not true: rich people and poor people experience very different demands on their time. The richer you are, the more your time is your own — not only are many systems arranged with your convenience in mind, but you also command the social power to do something about systems that abuse your time.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/10/my-time/#like-water-down-the-drain

For example: if you live in most American cities, public transit is slow, infrequent and overcrowded. Without a car, you lose hours every day to a commute spent standing on a lurching bus. And while a private car can substantially shorted that commute, people who can afford taxis or Ubers get even more time every day.

There’s a thick anthropological literature on the ways that cash-poverty translates into #TimePoverty. In David Graeber’s must-read essay “The Utopia of Rules,” he nails the way that capitalist societies generate Soviet-style bureaucracies, especially for poor people. Means-testing for benefits means that poor people spend endless hours filling in forms, waiting on hold, and lining up to see caseworkers to prove that they are among the “deserving poor” — not “mooches” who are defrauding the system:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

The social privilege gradient is also a time gradient: if you can afford a plane ticket, you can travel quickly across the country rather than losing days to the Greyhound or a road-trip. But if you’re even richer, you can pay for TSA Precheck and cut your airport security time from an hour to minutes. Go further up the privilege gradient and you’ll acquire airline status, shaving another hour off the check-in process.

This qualitative account of time poverty is well-developed, but it’s lacked a good, detailed quantitative counterpart, and our society often discounts qualitative work as mere anecdote and insists on having every story converted to numbers before it is taken seriously.

In “Examining inequality in the time cost of waiting,” published this month in Nature Human Behavior, public affairs researchers Steve Holt (SUNY) and Katie Vinopal (Ohio State) analyze data from the American Time Use Survey (AUTS) to produce a detailed, vibrant quantitative backstop to the qualitative narrative about time poverty:

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-023-01524-w

(The paper is paywalled, but the authors made a mostly final preprint available)

https://osf.io/preprints/socarxiv/jbk3x/download

The AUTS “collects retrospective time diary data from a nationally representative subsample drawn from respondents to the Census Bureau’s Community Population Survey (CPS) each year.” These time-diary entries are sliced up in 15-minute chunks.

Here’s what they found: first, there are categories of basic services where high-income people avoid waiting altogether, and where low-income people experience substantial waits. A person from a low-income household “an hour more waiting for the same set of services than people from high-income household.” That’s 73 hours/year.

Some of that gap (5%) is attributable to proximity. Richer people don’t have to go as far to access the same services as poorer people. Travel itself accounts for 2% more — poorer people wait longer for buses and have otherwise worse travel options.

A larger determinant of the gap (25%) is working flexibility. Poor people work jobs where they have less freedom to take time off to receive services, so they are forced to take appointments during peak hours.

Specific categories show more stark difference. If a poor person and a wealthy person go to the doctor’s on the same day, the poor person waits 46.28m to receive care, while the wealthy person waits 28.75m. The underlying dynamic here isn’t hard to understand. Medical practices that serve rich people have more staff.

The same dynamic plays out in grocery stores: poor people wait an average of 24m waiting every time they go shopping. For rich people, it’s 15m. Poor people don’t just wait in longer lines — they also have to wait for understaffed stores to unlock the cases that basic necessities are locked behind (poor people also travel longer to get to the grocery store — and they travel by slower means).

A member of a poor household with a chronic condition that requires two clinic visits per month loses an additional five hours/year to waiting rooms when compared to a wealthy person. As the authors point out, this also translates to delayed care, missed appointments, and exacerbated health conditions. Time poverty leads to health poverty.

All of this is worse for people of color: “Low-income White and Black Americans are both more likely to wait when seeking services than their wealthier same-race peer” but “wealthier White people face an average wait time of 28 minutes while wealthier Black people face a 54 minute average wait time…wealthier Black people do not receive the same time-saving attention from service providers that wealthier non-Black people receive” (there’s a smaller gap for Latino people, and no observed gap for Asian Americans.)

The gender gap is more complicated: “Low-income women are 3 percentage points more likely than low-income men and high-income women are 6 percentage points more likely than high-income men to use common services” — it gets even worse for low-income mothers, who take on the time-burdens associated with their kids’ need to access services.

Surprisingly, men actually end up waiting longer than women to access services: “low-income men spend about 6 more minutes than low-income women waiting for service…high-income men spend about 12 more minutes waiting for services than high-income women.”

Given the important role that scheduling flexibility plays in the time gap, the authors propose that interventions like subsidized day-care and afterschool programming could help parents access services at off-peak hours. They also echo Graeber’s call for reduced paperwork burdens for receiving benefits and accessing public services.

They recommend changes to labor law to protect the right of low-waged workers to receive services during off-peak hours, in the manner of their high-earning peers (they reference research that shows that this also improves worker productivity and is thus a benefit to employers as well as workers).

Finally, they come to the obvious point: making people less cash-poor will alleviate their time-poverty. Higher minimum wages, larger earned income tax credits, investments in low-income neighborhoods and better public transit will all give poor people more time and more money with which to command better services.

This week (Feb 13–17), I’ll be in Australia, touring my book Chokepoint Capitalism with my co-author, Rebecca Giblin. We’re doing a remote event for NZ on Feb 13. Next are Melbourne (Feb 14), Sydney (Feb 15) and Canberra (Feb 16/17). More tickets just released for Sydney!

[Image ID: A waiting room, draped with cobwebs. A skeleton sits in one of the chairs. A digital display board reads 'Now serving 53332.' An ogrish, top-hatted figure standing at a podium, yanking a dollar-sign shaped lever looms into the frame from the right. He holds a clock aloft disdainfully, pinched between the thumb and fingers of one white-gloved hand.]

[bluesfreakingart]

what would actually happen if one were to go into jervis' cell and hug him? would he like... snap your neck? im confused as to why we are being dissuaded from hugging the cuddle boy

WELL, Jerv wouldn't just snap someones neck for no reason! that's a waste of resources and people he could use or make connections with, if he did manage to make one with staff or something.

Killing is messy and causes a lot of conflict with other parties if it happens to be he somehow snuffed out a semi important person. For the most part he only does that when as stated he has no choice/it's a bigger hassle to let someone live....ooooor you pressed a big huge red button that said "I'm going to hurt someone he is fixated on/loves."

like say for example some poor sods trying to attack the trio of rogues and manage to hurt either Ed or Jon, even worse, both? that's when he'd be like a semi truck sprinting in your direction at full force to straight up take you off the census,regardless of his own status physical or otherwise.

Tipping the emotional teapot over will get an anger that could rival the red queen.

he's just a gamble, less so than the other two but still...

[certified-yapper-guy]

"if you torture the data long enough, it will confess to anything"

the poverty line is set so low that many people living in difficult conditions are actually not considered 'poor' by the government?

Rs 1,632 per month for rural areas

Rs 1,944 per month for urban areas

This means if someone earns Rs. 55 per day, they are not considered poor!

the finance ministry is blind to how much indians actually earn and how much is needed to actually survive- remember, we haven't had the census yet, so no data available.

this govt is lying blatantly at this point and people are cheering for it.

[eretzyisrael]

by Simon Sebag Montefiore

There is a myth that the last antisemitic pogrom in the British Isles was in medieval York. It was far more recent than that: The long-forgotten Limerick pogrom happened in 1904. It began with a sermon given by a priest and gathered momentum because it was backed by Arthur Griffith, the founder of the original Sinn Féin and friend of Michael Collins.

The story of the Limerick pogrom (or “boycott,” as it is also known) has a special resonance for me because my grandfather and his family, the Jaffes, lived in Limerick then—though they never mentioned it. Indeed, Irish Jewry, including its most famous son, Chaim Herzog, late president of Israel, had protested that Ireland was the most tolerant land in Europe. Now it appears that they protested too much. The strangest thing of all is that the Jews of today’s Ireland are still frightened of telling this story. When I made a television film about the pogrom, most Irish Jews were too scared of “making trouble, attracting attention” to take part in it.

I had always been proud of my Irish roots. My late grandfather, Henry Jaffe, who lost his Irish accent but kept his debonair Irish charm, used to say that he had seen mermaids at Ballybunion, and Aunt Rose used to reminisce in an Irish brogue about the Limerick Races. While talking to a distinguished Irish political writer, I mentioned that I was descended from Limerick Jews. He told me the story that became the basis of my film about the origins of Sinn Féin.

Virtually the whole Jewish community in Limerick, numbering about 170, were from the village of Akmenė in the Tsar’s Baltic territories, which are now Lithuania—part of the Pale of Settlement, the only area where Jews were allowed to live. When in the 1880s Nicholas II stepped up his anti-Jewish legislation, my great-great-grandfather Benjamin Jaffe and most of Akmenė decided to leave before the Cossacks returned. Benjamin bought a ticket for New York, but when he arrived at the picturesque imperial British port of Queenstown in southern Ireland (now called Cobh, whence the Titanic departed on its final voyage), he was told that he had arrived in the New World. “But that doesn’t look like New York,” the Jews protested as they disembarked. “New York’s the next parish,” they were told. When they discovered this was not the case, they settled in Limerick.

They lived together in considerable poverty on Colooney Street, which soon became known as Little Jerusalem. In the 1901 census, four years before the pogrom, my maternal family were registered as peddlers. The patriarch, Benjamin, a magnificent man with a long white beard, was a peddler, though really he was the chazan (singer) and mohel (circumciser) of the little community. He lived at 64 Colooney Street and his son Max, aged 26, lived at Number 31 with his own family, which included my grandfather Henry, aged 3, and my great-aunt Rose, aged 1.

The family has always been proud that Max was a dentist, but I soon discovered that he was not technically qualified; the census called him, alarmingly, “dental mechanic.” It comments dryly that the family could read and write. They must have been the most erudite peddlers who ever existed, for they were as scholarly as they were poor. My grandfather’s bar mitzvah speech is written in both English and in fluent ancient Hebrew, and filled with biblical references.

However hard it was to do business in Limerick, it seemed a safer sanctuary than Russia. But three years after the census, when my grandfather was 6, hatred of this tiny Jewish community reached fever pitch among the very poor Irish to whom they sold their wares. They often sold on credit, and this caused savage resentment. Sometimes when a Jew went to the surrounding countryside to collect a debt, peasant women would pull out their breasts, shout “Rape!,” and then the men would beat up the Jew. An ostentatious Jewish wedding apparently caused jealousy. The pogrom was the result of the increasingly vicious agitation of the spiritual director of Limerick’s Redemptorist Order, Father John Creagh, whose church overshadowed Little Jerusalem. The climax came when Creagh, “a speaker of fervid eloquence,” gave his sermon entitled “How the Israelites trade,” on Monday, January 11, 1904. It reads like a grotesque parody of antisemitism:

The Jews rejected Jesus, they crucified Him and called down the curse of His precious blood on their own heads. . . they did not hesitate to shed Christian blood. Nowadays they dare not kidnap and slay Christian children, but they will not hesitate to expose them to a longer and more cruel martyrdom by taking the clothes off their backs and the bit out of their mouths.

Then Creagh came to the Jews of Limerick:

Twenty years ago and less, Jews were known only by name and evil repute in Limerick. They were sucking the blood of other nations, but those nations turned them out. And they come to our land to fasten themselves like leeches. Their rags have been exchanged for silk. They have wormed themselves into every business. . . the furniture trade, the milk trade, the drapery trade—and they have even traded under Irish names. . . . The victims of the Jews are mostly women. . . .The Jew has a sweet tongue when he wishes. . . . If you want an example, look to France. What is at present going on in that land?

The reference to the Dreyfus scandal is significant.

The injustice of it was little consolation to the Jews of Colooney Street when the thousand or so worshippers of Creagh’s church poured out, as they were to do daily for a month. A huge drunken mob gathered, wielding burning torches. They worked their way down Colooney Street smashing windows and front doors, and forcing their way into the houses which they then looted. For more than a month the Jews of Limerick waited, terrified in their own homes, almost starving, for Creagh had urged the people not to pay their debts. No one would do business with them. If they walked in the streets, they were beaten. The only miracle was that no one lost his life, but for the Jews who had just escaped the Cossacks, it was terrifying.

[anonymous-dentist]

Absolutely obsessed with Spiderbit's record books because:

Cellbit's official residence isn't his castle. It's Quesadilla Island's Federation Headquarters, aka the offices you get to via the train station

They actually have his blood type on record!

Also, does this mean that his employee number could be 435? Which is interesting because his coworkers and all the other Federation employees refer to him as "Mr. Cellbit", which is kinda like the Census Bureau because Cellbit more or less works under Cucurucho directly. And, as we know now, Cucurucho isn't actually a Federation employee, so maybe Cellbit isn't officially an employee, either.

Roier's home, again, is not listed as Cellbit's castle, which is where he's been living basically since his marriage. Everybody knows that he doesn't live in Bobby's Castle or Bobby's City because that's all just an extension of Bobby's Tomb, and Roier hasn't been in his house more than ten times since Bobby's death six months ago.

And then there are the kills:

(Cellbit, left. Roier, right.)

I've been sitting here for a WHILE trying to think of who they've killed-killed, and I think I've figured it out?

Cellbit, I believe the day before his wedding, murdered Maximus because Maxo was talking about politics, and that was Not Allowed. Outside of that time, he has made a point of not killing any players because of his Trauma- the only players he's ever properly attacked outside of that kill have been Forever (day of the wedding, Roier asked him to) and then Maxo again during the Gordinho Gostosinho interview (Maxo triggered him by bringing up his past, and he got revived by Richarlyson iirc.)

Outside of players, Cellbit has killed Abueloier once. He tried to kill him for good, but it somehow didn't stick. Abueloier doesn't count as a player because he isn't part of the experiment (aka he's played by cc!Roier as an NPC.)

Roier, meanwhile, has made a point out of not attacking literally anybody first because he doesn't like resorting to violence. He just doesn't Do That, hence why Etoiles was so happy when Roier started going apeshit and murdering people during Purgatory. He never even attacked his mortal enemies, Quackity and Spreen, after their betrayal (but tbh what he was gonna do to Spreen is worse than death.)

So who did Roier kill?

Well, a while ago he was running around playing with explosives, and he foreshadowed the hell out of the Purgatory ending when he blew up Maximus on a tiny little island, killing him and erasing little baby Trump(et)'s last sign.

Poor Maxo?

Anyway idk what any of this means, I just think it's super interesting