Compared to the general population, an abnormally high rate of Americans living with HIV are smokers: by one 2009 study’s count, 50 to 70 percent of HIV-positive people smoke; another from 2016 estimated it’s at least over 40 percent. “That’s more than double the rate of smoking in the general population,” said Dr. Krishna P. Reddy, a Boston-based doctor and researcher specializing in HIV comorbidities.

Today, medical breakthroughs mean HIV-positive people can have near-normal life expectancy rates—but not if you smoke. Dr. Reddy was the lead researcher on a study published this November in JAMA Internal Medicine, examining lung cancer mortality rates for smokers living with HIV. His results were shocking: HIV-positive smokers are six to 13 times more likely to die from lung cancer than from traditional AIDS-related causes.

I have HIV, and every time I visit my doctor for a routine checkup, he says the same thing: “HIV isn't going to kill you, but smoking will." And it’s true: No matter how diligently HIV patients adhere to their drug regimen, if they smoke, they can't claim to be taking care of themselves. “For those on HIV medicines, smoking is a much bigger threat to health than HIV itself,” said Dr. Reddy, who emphasized that lung cancer, rather than complications due to the virus, is now one of the leading causes of death for people with HIV.

According to the JAMA study, HIV-positive men and women who smoked daily faced high lung cancer mortality rates—23 percent for men and 20.9 percent for women. But if they quit smoking, those risks decreased dramatically—dropping to 6.1 percent and 5.2 percent. That means quitting smoking now could potentially add years, if not decades, to your lifespan.

"This is a great reminder of the effectiveness of current HIV treatments to prevent disease progression,” said Richard Wolitski, director of the Office for HIV/AIDS at the Department of Health and Human Services. “For the first half of the epidemic, it was a harsh reality that we did not see the effects of smoking on people living with HIV, because they became sick and died so quickly of AIDS." People living with HIV today can live longer lives, Wolitski admits, “but smoking is a significant and critical threat to the health of those individuals, even those who take HIV medications every day as prescribed. If we want to save the lives of people with HIV, we also have to tackle smoking and other health threats.”

Meet the blogger chronicling his life with HIV:

After smoking for a decade, roughly three months ago I decided to quit. Warning signs of smoking’s health effects began manifesting as alarming cramps near my heart or a racing heartbeat, and they were happening with increasing frequency. As I set my mind on quitting for good, I felt the onset of depression settle in. Not being able to smoke cigarettes during work breaks and in social settings felt quite literally depressing, but it didn’t last long. Obviously you don’t actually need cigarettes to cope with stress or to socialize, despite the glut of added stress that people living with HIV go through.

After the first two predictably rough days of quitting, I started to forget how badly I thought that I needed cigarettes. Cravings that once happened every four hours began to happen every four days. That said, the sheer force of nicotine addiction shouldn’t be underestimated—quitting is incredibly hard. But it’s something I’m committed to. Despite a brief post-quitting weight gain and various adjustments I’ve had to make in my lifestyle, overall, quitting has been highly worth it.

By the time I was past the first week, I was rarely thinking about a cigarette. And knowing how much money I’m saving, the health benefits I’m accruing and the length I’m adding to my lifespan helps keep me motivated. The sweet feeling of accomplishment I’ve seen just from staying smoke-free the last three months has made me feel like I can conquer any hurdle. There's no need to feel ashamed or guilty about smoking—just quit and do it for yourself. Your lifespan depends on it.

Follow Benjamin Adams on Twitter.

On Monday, Netflix confirmed that that the sixth and final season of House of Cards will go back into production next year—with Robin Wright as its star.

The fate of Netflix's critically acclaimed political drama has been up in the air following a string of sexual misconduct allegations against Kevin Spacey in recent months. Production on the new season was halted indefinitely as Netflix considered the path forward—one that definitely would not involve Spacey.

Now, it looks like the streaming giant has finalized a plan.

House of Cards will resume production in 2018, Deadline reports, with the goal of completing a slightly abridged, eight-episode season to cap off the series starring Robin Wright's character, Claire Underwood. It's a decision that many fans were eager to see following the Spacey allegations, and made sense considering Claire wrapped up season five with her fourth-wall-breaking "my turn."

"We were really excited we could get to an agreement… for the conclusion of the show," Netflix chief content officer Ted Sarandos said Monday at UBS's Global Media and Communications Conference in New York City. He promised that the final eight episodes will be a "good, creative conclusion" and "will bring closure to the fans."

Sarandos did not detail how exactly the show will write Frank Underwood out of the series, but it doesn't look like Netflix has any plans to cast another actor to take over Spacey's leading role. Apologies to all those Kevin James fans out there.

Twenty women have accused Donald Trump of sexual assault and harassment, and the president has spent months denying their claims. So it's almost surprising that it took him so long to endorse Republican Roy Moore, who allegedly molested a 14-year-old girl in 1979 and was reportedly banned from his local mall for "soliciting sex from young girls," for Alabama's empty Senate seat. Both Moore and Trump are, sexual misconduct allegations aside, right-wing extremists who make the GOP uncomfortable; both insist that all the women credibly accusing them of disgusting behavior are liars. It's a natural alliance.

Still, it took until Monday morning for Trump to officially embrace Moore. He did so by tweeting, "Democrats refusal to give even one vote for massive Tax Cuts is why we need Republican Roy Moore to win in Alabama." A couple hours later, Moore confirmed this endorsement, tweeting that Trump "offered [him] his full support" over the phone and told him, "Go get 'em, Roy!"

We can only hope "'em" is not referring to teen girls.

Other Republican leaders like Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell have been less eager to endorse an accused predator, though McConnell has backed down from his stance that Moore would be investigated and potentially expelled from the Senate if he won the December 12 election. National figures in the GOP weren't high on Moore—a Christian theocrat who once co-wrote a study course that said women shouldn't hold elected office—to begin with. Then came the November bombshell from the Washington Post that contained four women's stories of Moore preying on them as teenagers; shortly after the initial report was published, an Alabama woman named Beverly Young Nelson came forward with a horrifying account of the abuse she allegedly faced at the hands of Roy Moore when she was a teenager.

"He began squeezing my neck, attempting to force my head onto his crotch. I continued to struggle," Nelson said at a press conference. "I thought that he was going to rape me." After she cried and begged him to stop, Moore supposedly told her, "You're just a child, I am the district attorney of Etowah County and if you tell anyone about this, no one will ever believe you."

Moore called Nelson's accusation "absolutely false," but hasn't fully denied the reports that he pursued teen girls. When FOX News's Sean Hannity asked the Republican Senate candidate if he ever dated girls between 16 and 18 years old, Moore replied, "Not generally, no."

None of this bothers Trump, unsurprisingly. "He denies it. Look, he denies it," the president said of Moore last month. "If you look at all the things that have happened over the last 48 hours. He totally denies it. He says it didn't happen. And look, you have to look at him also."

Trump, who bragged on tape about forcibly kissing women because "when you're a star, they let you do it," has been accused of forcibly kissing and groping over a dozen women. His ex-wife Ivana accused him of raping her in a divorce deposition, only to walk that back renege on her initial accusations after she reached a settlement with Trump. "I referred to this as a ‘rape’, but I do not want my words to be interpreted in a literal or criminal sense," Ivana clarified in a note printed in the book that first reported the deposition.

It does seem that men like Trump and Moore are able to allegedly abuse women without suffering much in the way of consequences. Top Republicans are no longer calling for Moore to step down, and of course none of them broke with Trump over the accusations that he is a predator. About a week away from the Alabama election, Moore leads in the polls.

Follow Eve Peyser on Twitter.

It may be a casting gag that he's gone from playing Batman to Birdman to the Vulture, but Michael Keaton is actually pretty good in Spider-Man: Homecoming—good enough that you can already find him on many “best superhero movie villain” lists that pop up on the Internet week after week. Just like that, Keaton's been canonized alongside Michelle Pfeiffer, Ian McKellen, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hardy, and anyone who’s played a Joker without wearing face tattoos. But it’s Willem Dafoe’s Green Goblin in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man who towers above them all, and after 15 years, it’s time we stop passing on his application into the hall of fame.

Dafoe’s Goblin represents everything that’s fun about superhero villains, as well as everything that’s great about Raimi’s campy films. But to most people, he represents just how easily a bad costume can tank a performance. So many superhero-movie characters find excuses to ditch their masks—not only to get the actors’ faces out there during the big moments, but because it’s tough to emote under a mask. Dafoe leaves his on, though: It’s a big, bulky metal helmet that obscures his whole face, confining most of his emotion to stiff head movements and what you can see of his mouth in the shadow of the helmet’s static maw. He looks like he should be taking on the Power Rangers.

Robbed of any facial expressions whatsoever, Dafoe’s voice becomes his most powerful, wonderful tool. As the Goblin, it climbs to nasally snarls and hellish cackles, as if he’s trying to make his every line quotable through sheer force of will—and the incredible thing is that he succeeds.

Dafoe's conviction to sneering and screeching like an actual demon creates a unique cadence that burns into the memory like few villains have since Mark Hamill’s Joker. He overflows with a menace that dominates every word in the script, delivering all-caps VILLAIN lines like, “We’ll meet again, Spider-Man,” or “You’ve spun your last web.” He bellows something like, “Jameson, you slime,” and he sells it. The words all sound ridiculous written down here, but from the fiend Dafoe creates, they just feel true.

And when Dafoe gets to be the Goblin without the helmet on, it’s as if all the facial expressions his costume bottled up come pouring out. During a mirror scene where he flips between the Goblin and Norman Osborn, there’s never a question of who’s who. Where Norman quivers in horror, the Goblin glides forward as if stalking his prey. His wide, wild eyes and stretched, evil sneer barely contain an animalistic fury. Dafoe thrusts his jaw forward and shows his teeth, pulling back the skin on his face into an unnatural, monstrous contortion to end the scene with a look you could stamp on a Halloween mask, like he’s lobbying to play the part in green face paint. He probably could.

Instead, he’s stuck with the green helmet, the armor, and the bombs that aren’t technically pumpkins but are nonetheless totally pumpkins. We praise a performance like Keaton’s Vulture because he’s understated and lets his menace bubble beneath the surface as it mingles with just a touch of his natural dad-ish goofiness. Understatement is what we expect these days; we’ve gotten wise to the triviality of superhero movies as they’ve gone from big business to biggest business. We expect them to ground themselves and to wink and nod at what silly stuff remains so that we may feel comfortable when we lower ourselves. That’s what the Goblin costume does— Spider-Man tries to ground the character in military hardware by tying the costume and the glider and the pumpkin bombs to a research program instead of an inexplicable Halloween aesthetic.

But the costume doesn’t wreck Dafoe’s performance—instead it makes it transcendent. The costume is the notion that audiences won’t accept the outlandish and the fantastic without some degree of self-awareness, and Dafoe beats it to death with a huge plate of ham because he won’t let it contain him. There’s an earnestness to his performance, and it’s the same earnestness that makes the Raimi films so good: They dive head-first into the potential camp that comes with the territory of capes and spandex, and they embrace it; they are unafraid to be silly, and so is Dafoe. He sings “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” on his way to drop a tram car full of children into the East River; he frightens elderly Aunt May into the hospital when he blasts through her bedroom wall in the middle of her nightly Lord’s Prayer, screaming, “Finish it!”

Dafoe's Goblin is rarely scary, but he commits so heavily to unabashed villainy that his performance reveals unmistakable glee. He’s perfect for Raimi’s Spider-Man, a film that’s unafraid of romantic schmaltz and delivers its “great power/great responsibility” message without a hint of irony. His performance is a statement of superiority because he fights a lousy attempt to ground his character, and he wins. His performance is the ideal. It’s a monument to that crazy, earnest glee comic book films can have when we refuse to water them down or regard their heroics with a knowing smirk.

Traditionally, the holidays are a joyous time, filled with sugary treats, festive decor, and endless hits from your mom's animatronic dancing Santas. But 2018 seems to have ushered in a darker Christmas spirit, one that evokes visions of dead trees and dragons, where hungry rodents are hell-bent on destroying good cheer. It's even compelled one skeptical six-year-old to challenge Santa's very existence.

On Sunday, NPR's Sarah McCammon shared a photo of her son's letter to Santa that he wrote very defiantly just to appease his teachers at school. In it, the kid doesn't ask for anything. Instead he gets real with Kris Kringle, confronting him with some pretty severe allegations.

Adorned with drawings of wreaths and skulls, the kid challenges Father Christmas's so-called authority, omnipresence, and penchant for lists. He shuns the holiday's commercial culture and reveals his own six-year-old existential angst in the process. Set to music, the whole thing could really be a decent emo song.

Before signing off, he offers a "love," before throwing one more jab Santa's way:

"Im not telling you my name," he writes, determined to stay off Santa's lists, and the grid.

According to McCammon, the "trouble" her son claims to have seen in his short life pretty much extends to one person—"his brother."

"Don’t call child services," McCammon said in a follow-up tweet. "Trust me, he’s totally having fun."

Troubled or not, his words perfectly encapsulate the existential dread many people are feeling this year. Good luck, young Santa skeptic, in your tenacious pursuit for the truth.

This weekend should have been a triumphant one for the Resistance. On Friday, Michael Flynn—the cartoonish ex-general who led a "lock her up" chant onstage at the Republican National Convention—pleaded guilty to lying to the FBI. Less than ten months after an historically short stint as Donald Trump's national security adviser ended with his resigning in disgrace, Flynn emerged as the biggest get so far in Robert Mueller's swirling probe of Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election. Legal analysts and political reporters alike were quick to poke and prod at who might be next: Jared Kushner, the president's son-in-law and (erstwhile) consigliere? What about Jeff Sessions, the attorney general who keeps changing his story on contacts he had with Russians during the transition?

The juiciest implication was that, in exchange for an extremely generous plea deal that left out a bunch of other plausible charges, Flynn was ready to sing about his old boss. Trump's impeachment, it seemed, was more plausible than ever—his downfall within reach.

But liberals are hardly rejoicing. Instead, they spent the weekend despairing at a comically rushed and incredibly malignant tax bill sailing through Congress. This was on display at my favorite neighborhood bar in Brooklyn around 2 AM Saturday morning: When word came in that a version of the toxic legislation had passed the Senate, the already-dire mood soured even more, with any jubilation at Flynn's conviction quickly forgotten. The commentary was downright apocalyptic on social media, with plenty claiming that the GOP was literally "destroying America."

As the New York Times reported, this isn't just a corporate tax cut, but legislation that has the potential to reshape America for decades to come. The likely winners? The militantly religious, the superrich, and the shadowy corporate interests who saw Trump as a useful lackey and are now milking him for as much as he's worth while they still can. Taken in tandem with Trump's quiet campaign to stock the federal judiciary with ideologues, it looks like no matter what Mueller does, digging out of this mess could be a decades-long affair.

In other words, even if Trump were to get tried, impeached, and convicted, he's already changed the country forever.

"He's deregulating many areas of American life," said Julian Zelizer, a professor of history and public affairs at Princeton, who compared Trump's ability to change America in the face of an existential legal threat to another notorious president's. "Nixon did a lot in terms of public policy even as the [Watergate] scandal unfold[ed]," he told me. "It's not as if the president was totally impotent because the scandal unraveled and you had these investigations—he still was accomplishing a lot, even after 1972. It's not an either-or proposition with presidential politics."

Last month, Trump mounted a quasi-legal coup of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, installing a loyalist with flagrant conflicts of interest in a key watchdog role responsible for keeping tabs on student loans, home mortgages, and other easily abused financial products. He's likely to continue to inch closer to passing a budget eviscerating agencies that are already enduring immense neglect—and, in some cases, outright destruction—from within. And before Mueller even began his investigation, Trump successfully got Neil Gorsuch—a hard-right conservative who even other Supreme Court justices think is a preening nerd—installed to a lifetime gig on the highest court in the land.

Trump isn't likely to put his agenda on hold just because his closest advisers face the prospect of federal indictment. In fact, Republicans in Congress seem to just be moving even more quickly on their biggest priorities in order to stay ahead of Mueller's investigation.

"As a practical matter, [Trump] has as much time as Republicans in Congress give him," Kathleen Clark, a law professor at Washington University in St. Louis, told me, adding Republicans could be moving extra aggressively on key legislative items like taxes because "they sense this administration may not have a particularly long half-life." (Some legal experts think Mueller could indict Trump without the cooperation of Congress, but that would be messy, to say the least.)

Even if things go as Democrats hope and Trump were to be removed by impeachment, it's not like the the Resistance would immediately gain some major new foothold in the government. Mike Pence, as plenty of smart people have pointed out in recent months, is not exactly a pragmatic alternative to Trump. Democrats are almost certain to pick up some seats in the midterm elections after an historically dysfunctional first year for the incumbent president and his party, but gerrymandering and shadow money will make it an uphill battle.

"The Republicans in Congress are not going to get any less conservative either way, and if they control the chambers, you're still looking at a very conservative landscape," Zelizer told me. "That's also what protects the president in a way that Nixon was more vulnerable—right now, you have a Republican Congress that is loyal, most of all, to their partisan interest. They are not willing to do anything unless forced to tamper with that. Roy Moore is a great example of how far they will go.... They will protect the president until they no longer can."

And unlike Nixon, Trump enjoys the fruit of decades of institution-building by the far-right and its biggest donors. Media outlets like Breitbart, corporate-funded think tanks that will produce reports saying whatever their donors want them to, and hyper-aggro activist corps with no qualms about going all the way on behalf of their guy—he's got a lot of support for the long haul.

Democrats "will have to crack all these barriers to get to the president," as Zelizer put it.

None of which is to say Mueller's work isn't important, or that Trump might not launch a constitutional crisis by firing him any day now. Democrats can (and probably should) use convictions of the president's henchmen in campaign ads and on the stump. Scandals like the private jet fetish that forced Tom Price to resign as Health and Human Services secretary may come in handy. And it's practically guaranteed that Trump's anemic approval ratings will drag down some Republicans with him.

But if the legal fantasies keeping liberal podcast listeners warm at night do pan out, will they recognize the America that's left when the dust has settled?

As Theda Skocpol, the Harvard political scientist who did pioneering research on the Tea Party movement Trump weaponized last year, wrote to me Sunday, "I don't think I want to weigh in on the Mueller probe. The Trump presidency is a disaster for America no matter what happens with that."

Follow Matt Taylor on Twitter.

My partner starts the water running several minutes before I get out of bed; the bathroom is already filled with steam when I slide the shower door open and step in. They are shaving their legs, as they do each morning. When they’re finished with the razor we share, I reach for it—but then I hesitate. Do my legs really need to be smooth today?

I am a queer cisgender woman, and my partner is AMAB (assigned male at birth), nonbinary, and trans femme. Although we both identify as “femme,” the word carries different meanings and implications for both of us. Since my partner came out as nonbinary, they’ve enjoyed wearing makeup, shaving, and purchasing women’s clothing and accessories—actions they find empowering, and which allow them to more fully embrace and express their gender. I, on the other hand, have a conflicted relationship with practices like shaving and wearing makeup. When I engage in them, am I acting out of my own desire? Or am I giving in to the immense pressure of beauty standards prescribed to women? It’s a question I grapple with deeply: Does it make me less queer, or less feminist, to be femme?

The term “femme” does not simply mean “feminine”; it is used in queer circles to designate queer femininity, in a way that’s often self-aware and subversive. It’s both a celebration and a refiguring of femininity. From the invisibility queer femmes can feel in some lesbian circles to the sharp vulnerability inherent in being a trans woman, no two femme-identified individuals share the same experience of what it means to be femme. I asked people across a range of gender identities to talk about how they relate to femme practices, and what being femme means to them.

Joss Barton
St. Louis

I’m a writer and artist and a trans woman. My parents are working-class white evangelicals who adopted me from Guatemala when I was a month old. My life is this patchwork quilt of identities: I’m brown, queer, and femme from a poor, white, dogmatic Christian world. I understood from a young age that I was a femme, a sissy, something that desired softness.

I love calling myself a “femmy” or a “tranny,” even the word “transsexual,” mostly because I adore the absurdity of language, but I also believe in the power of radical reclamation. In my own practice, it means burrowing in the binary: tits draped in silk, stilettos, my favorite neon yellow thong, or obsessing over my Fenty lip gloss.

My family is not supportive of my trans identity, and very quickly as a child, they tried erasing me as a femme by raising me as a boy. Most of my femme nurturing came from queer and trans femmes of color, elder trans women, and femme black gay men. They taught me how to thrive as a femme, to embrace and celebrate it. For many years, I felt immense anxiety and depression as a femme. The world is still very hostile to femmes and trans women. I still have my anxieties, but today, I am the happiest I have ever been in 31 years. Femmes are fierce, and we're slaying for vengeance.

Maurice Tracy
St. Louis

When I was a child, I remember people telling me “don’t walk like that” or “don’t talk like that.” They always meant “like a girl.” Not just any girl, but a girly girl. I never understood why “like that” was wrong. I still don’t.

Honestly, I’m not that concerned about pronouns. I answer to he/him, but when I’m with my close friends, they call me girl/she/her, and I love it.

Being femme is about so much more than beautification, which is expensive and time-consuming and opens you up to judgment. Have you done your makeup well? Do you look sexy and pretty? Can you fit into the right clothes? All this is part of femme culture, and I hate it. Yes, I love mascara, I love accenting the plump fullness of my lips with a blush chapstick, and for a period I used to wear foundation. But I don’t do this all the time, and when I don’t, I’m still femme.

I am femme because, as a femme queer boi, I have always had more in common with women than with men or masculine people. Growing up, my parents would have friends or other people over, and I would spend my time in the kitchen with the women, doing “womanly” activities. While my brothers learned about sports, I learned family secrets. For we—in a very Black way—pass down family history orally and through food, and often it is the women in a family who hold this knowledge.

Our culture hates femininity, calls it weak. Our culture is inept at nurture and care, terrified of vulnerability and softness—all things that are squarely in the femme’s handbag. To indulge in femme culture is actually to be brave, and to have strength. So when I say I am femme, I am saying that I try to live my life bravely.

Artemisia FemmeCock

I'm a queer femme with a dark lipstick exterior and a soft, glitter-like core. When I was younger, “femme” was a term ascribed to me by others based on my relationship to a butch partner. I didn't self-identify as femme until I met other queer folks who helped me see that femme is its own identity. Femme is intentional; it’s a way of simultaneously challenging and celebrating femininity. It recognizes that I identify with aspects of femininity but don't identify with the heteronormative system that trivializes and demonizes them.

More tangibly, I find my femmeness in all sorts of ways—in carefully filing and painting my long nails, friends who tell me when there's lipstick on my teeth, confidently stepping into a strap-on harness, the mutual compassion when “how are you” is a genuine question, and the feeling of hairy legs under a soft skirt. It's in everyday acts that hold a personal history of discovery and comfort.

Like most femmes who are cis women, I contend with femme invisibility. Even in queer communities, femmes are often invalidated or overlooked. My queerness has been diminished and joked about by other queer people, which instills a level of self-doubt. Am I queer enough? Can I speak about being queer if I'm not seen as queer? It takes continual work to correct and educate people while also trying to affirm your own experiences, even more so for trans and nonbinary femmes and femmes of color. I think this labor and common experience pushes us to seek out other femmes though, forming a stronger community based on validation and support.

Joanna Valente
New York City

About a year ago, I came out as a nonbinary femme; I was already out as a queer person in terms of my sexual identity, but this was a bold step for me. Because I was AFAB (assigned female at birth) and look like a very classically “feminine” woman, some have the misconception that I’m not actually gender fluid. Which is frustrating, because gender identity is not predicated on appearance, and can also change, especially for gender fluid people. While I prefer “they” as a pronoun, I still use “she” interchangeably depending on how safe or comfortable I feel in a particular space.

I’ve always loved femme beauty rituals that are also self-care rituals, like facials, painting my nails, using makeup, or wearing dresses and jewelry and flower crowns. As a writer and artist, I look at the act of dressing as an art—it’s like being a walking canvas. Fashion and makeup were a huge part of my mother’s and grandmother’s lives, and they became part of my identity regardless of my gender.

I try not to overthink my appearance and just allow myself to be fluid. Shaving is one thing I always change my mind about—sometimes I love having body hair, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes it’s hard to know what I want, versus what I’m “supposed to want.” For me, this bleeds into many challenges I’ve had to face as a femme—largely, not being believed about my gender identity. But I exist in a third gender, in both spaces, in a neutral territory.

Atom Atkinson
Chautauqua, New York

I use words that communicate what I need them to, since whenever I’m living how I want to live, people will have questions and expect answers. So I let them know I’m a trans nonbinary femme person, and to please use “they” and “them.” But there’s a way in which I could say I’m post-pronoun—that maybe I’m not a femme, that I’m such a faggot that my effeminacy got too big for the petri dish. I’m crawling on the lab tables! The sirens are blaring! The scientists fear for their lives! Gender went too far!

But I mean, I also have a lot to do besides talk about this to every person. So I try to spend less time answering to the patriarchy and more time on me, on my loved ones, on teaching, on coming up with cool outfits. That's one of the most femme things I do. It’s femme labor, a femme strategy for living. But it isn’t femme joy.

Speaking of joy, I’ve found relief in seeing how other living femme writers reply to those questions from strangers—and their insights on possibilities outside the “workplace reply,” the ways we condense our answers. When jayy dodd wrote in a Los Angeles Review of Books interview that their reply to the “gender question” is “I am your question,” it helped me feel beautiful and strangely affirmed in those moments of other people’s confusion, error, and discomfort. “Yes,” I thought to myself, “that’s exactly right.”

Interviews have been condensed and edited.

Follow Cassie Donish on Twitter.

I have a condition called solar urticaria, which means I'm allergic to sunlight. That’s not a joke: like some people are allergic to peanuts, I’m allergic to sunlight.

When I come into contact with sunlight I get a rash on all of my exposed skin. It comes up within a matter of minutes, becomes hot and itchy, and if it gets worse it turns into hives. I’ve had an anaphylactic reaction before, when I’ve passed out (light-headedness and low blood pressure are typical symptoms of an anaphylactic reaction). Luckily, I’ve never had my throat close up.

After more prolonged exposure to sunlight, bits of me swell up. One time, I ended up in A&E after a bad reaction at the beach. Medical staff told me to take my leggings off because my ankles and feet were swelling up so much that they thought it might cause a problem. I also started throwing up because my body was in shock. You get some funny looks when you’re a 30-something woman sitting in A&E alone with no trousers on, your cankles on display, vomming into a paper bucket.

Generally, the symptoms disappear within a few hours. If it’s a particularly bad incident there might be burst capillaries or bruising where the swelling was the next day. Sometimes it will also give me fatigue – an unpleasant symptom where you feel like you're completing the Labours of Hercules, but actually you're just trying to make a cup of tea or go to the corner shop.

When it first started happening I had no idea what it was. But when I took my clothes off after a reaction it would look like I was still wearing them in a kind of comedy inverse. A pasty, white skin version of a swimming costume or running top would be left on my body.

"You get some funny looks when you’re a thirty-something woman sitting in A&E alone with no trousers on, your cankles on display, vomming into a paper bucket."

It took about 18 months to be diagnosed with solar urticaria, and even longer to get referred to the specialist dermatology department where I’m now treated. That’s two summers! Two summers where I wondered what the hell was going to happen to me every time I went outside. Two summers where I honestly didn’t know if I might go into anaphylaxis and die every single day. I’m already an anxious person, so for a while I became so anxious that I didn’t like going outside at all, especially when it was particularly sunny. With my usual coping mechanism – exercise – off the cards, I became clinically depressed.

As part of my diagnosis I had to have a test where they shone different wavelengths of the UV spectrum on me to see which ones I reacted to, and how quickly. It was all of them, fast. I asked the woman conducting the test if she was about to make me itchy. "Oh, it’s not that bad," she replied. With every spot of light shone at my back, I came out in a big red welt. "Wow," she said, "I’ve never seen a reaction like it."

The next day I returned to the hospital to see the consultant dermatologist. He told me it was the worst solar urticaria reaction he’d ever seen. "It must have been very difficult for you, coping with this," he said. I burst into tears and continued crying for approximately the next hour. Up until then, nobody – especially not any medical professional – had acknowledged what a difficult thing being allergic to sunlight is. Sunlight is ubiquitous. Sunlight is present every day, not just on sunny days. Sunlight is picnics, and ice creams, and long evenings, and romance. Sunlight is weddings. Sunlight is holidays. Sunlight is happiness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to hear someone acknowledge some of that.

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There is no cure for SU, but there is treatment. I am on a combination of drugs – mostly very strong antihistamines. While this doesn’t mean I never have a reaction, it does mean that I can go outside without fear of death. Which is something!

I belong to a Facebook group of people with solar urticaria, where we share stories and talk about the medications we’re on. Some of the other SU suffers don’t go outside in daylight, or if they do they’re completely covered. They don’t live normal lives – they can’t go to social functions or play with their kids.

I dread that happening to me. I think it's partly psychology, though; the more you stay in and cover up, the more sensitive your skin becomes. It might seem frightening to go outside, after your body has reacted in this strange and unpredictable way, but the best thing to do is stand in the light. I know I sound like a cult leader now – stand in the light! – but that's the only way to live a vaguely normal life.

I have also undertaken my own treatment. There’s a process called "skin hardening", which isn't a literal hardening of the skin, but instead means you build up tolerance to sunlight, bit by bit. You might start with your lower arms, so that you can go out in a T-shirt, for example. My hands and face very rarely react because they are the most regularly exposed parts of my body. Instead of doing it in a lab in a hospital, I do it in the garden. I’m careful to do a small surface area at a time, and not to expose it for too long at first.

While I probably wouldn’t book a beach holiday now, I still go on holiday to warmer climbs. The first time I went open-air swimming after my diagnosis was in Montenegro, in clear water surrounded by mountains. I was wearing leggings and factor 50, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, I realised that I’d been steeling myself for the worst; that I thought I’d never swim in the sea again, that I was worried my life as I knew it was over. Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks as I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the lilting ocean all around me.

I’m glad I don’t feel that way any more. I live a pretty normal life now. I stand in the light; I just get a bit itchy when I do it.

@wernerspenguin

This article originally appeared on VICE Arabia

When I enter his studio, Ammar Al Attar is arranging small boxes and envelopes stacked on his desk, along with cassettes with the work of his favourite musicians. The rest of the space in the Sharjah Art Foundation is covered with dozens of photographs – old and new. For the past two years, the documentary photographer has worked on a project titled Aks al Zaman (Reversed Moments). His aim is to chart the history of early Emirati photography by examining the development of the country’s oldest photography studios – showcasing their founders and surviving archives.

The process involves Ammar interviewing the photographers or their families in search for first-hand accounts of their experiences within the scene. He also collects archival images – that includes printing undeveloped negatives – and scans them in an attempt to build a digital collection that will survive time. The 35-year-old hopes that Aks al Zaman will be the first comprehensive study of the evolution of art photography in the Emirates.

An Emirati wedding in the 1970s. This photo came from a large cache of photos Ammar found on the internet so the name of the photographer is unknown.

So far, Ammar has profiled about 20 studios, established by photographers from India, Pakistan, Iran and the Emirates. Some date back to before the UAE's formation in 1971. His greatest challenge has been finding information about the work of influential photographers, who have either died or who moved away after closing their studios.

But with those he can easily trace, Ammar enjoys long interviews, where he learns about their professional ticks and tricks, and the cultural hurdles they faced at the time. He tells me that he wants his work to always be a "reflection of the topic, more than someone's technique."

A Catholic church in Dubai in the 1970s. Unknown photographer.

So far, two photographers have been most central to the project: Pret Ratnam and Abdullah Murad. Ratnam, an Indian photographer from Kerala, came to the UAE in the 1970s. He had initially planned to work in the oil industry, but ended up working with his uncle in a photography studio in Abu Dhabi. In 1982, in partnership with United Colour Film – the first photo printing service in the country – he opened his own studio in Sharjah. Ratman has contributed a significant portion of his archive to the project – a series of both personal portraits and shots of ancient landmarks.

"As for Murad, his work represents a major turning point in the photography and film industry in the UAE," claims Ammar. Murad studied in Europe and returned to the UAE in the early 1970s. When he came home, he found that photographers were sending their negatives to London or Lebanon for acidification, forcing them to wait months for their pictures to be printed, if at all. So he decided to open the first local colour lab in Ajman. "He changed the concept of photography and encouraged many people to start taking it seriously."

Prem Ratman (standing; far right), poses for one of the first pictures taken at his studio in Sharjah in 1982.

The majority of Ammar's photos, though, come from a collection he bought on the internet. He doesn't know who the photographer is but, going by the pictures, he thinks it belongs to a British woman who came to the UAE some time between 1972 and 1976. The stack includes photographs from Jordan and Saudi Arabia from the 1960s and even photographs from Palestine dating back to the 1950s. The unidentified photographer also shot the construction of the Al Shindagha tunnel in Dubai – the city's oldest and busiest tunnel.

"The project is about more than just photography," Ammar tells me. "It is a chance to preserve the region's rich cultural history." His ultimate goal is to establish an institution dedicated to protecting the photo history of the Emirates and the Gulf, "because history retold in pictures is the most honest reflection of the past." Ammar also wants to share his entire collection in an online database that is accessible to everyone. "I don't want to monopolise these stories," he says. "I want to share them with people, because these are memories worth spreading."

Scroll down to see more photos from Aks al Zaman.

An Emirati wedding party in the 1970s. Unknown photographer.

Three men relax by a beach in the 1970s. Unknown photographer.

A man looks at the construction of the Al Shindagha Tunnel in Dubai, which was opened in 1975. Unknown photographer.

A portrait of a manMohammed al-Dukhan by Prem Ratman. Mohammed was a regular visitor to Prem's studio.

The cleaning area at a Dubai fish market. Unknown photographer.

Another photo by the unidentified photographer who Ammar thinks was a British tourist.

On occasion, my short career in journalism has taken me to some truly fucked up places. But the worst thing I’ve seen is not the rotting corpses who have lost limbs to hungry dogs in Iraq. The worst thing I’ve ever seen is a crowd of people in an auditorium laugh like jackals at the kind of shit they couldn’t whisper in public. The kind of things they’ll tell you—no photos, of course—is an affirmation of free speech. They cackle and they hoot and they make a big scene in the safety of the quiet, dark room where the hint of “fuck off Nazi, fuck off” can only just be heard outside. When Milo comes out to the Terminator 2 theme music, leather jacketed, wearing ray-bans, with pyrotechnics and applause, you feel like laughing too. How the hell did we get here? Where the hell is “here?” I guess I wanted to find out, so I asked some attendees what brought them.

Matthew and Naomi

VICE: What about Milo interests you?
Matthew: He stands for free speech and the role of the trickster he’s playing in society today.

Is trickster the right way to put it?
Yeah of course.

Do you believe everything he says? Or do you reckon he’s just here to stir things up a little bit?
Oh, he 100 percent says stuff to stir things up a little bit. I mean, he obviously has that side of him where he’s obviously going to play the entertainer to cause people to come, but essentially that’s to cause people to speak and get the message out.
Naomi: I think he fulfils the role of trickster and court jester, very well. I think it’s an important role in society with what’s happening at the moment, which is basically the beginnings of communism in Australia, and the surpassing of free speech. So it doesn’t mean everyone here agrees with everything he says, but free speech is important to get to the truth.

What don’t you agree with that he says?
Matthew: Obviously I don’t think all Muslims should be kicked out of Australia, but I understand as a gay person he doesn’t have a very favourable position on Muslims.
Naomi: Yeah, it would be a whole book of things I don’t agree with. What he says about fat people is one of them because it’s a very inflammatory remark, it’s a very blanket-y statement. But I’m also open minded enough to appreciate the comments he makes and still have a laugh.

You think any of that might apply to other groups that he talks about?
Naomi: Yeah, of course.

And so, do you think that there is an inherent problem saying things just to be inflammatory? What do you think the point is?
I think that question is insinuating that people can’t think for themselves though. People are smart, they have a brain to reason, and I think he’s part of that, helping people to reason and think for themselves. If you’re just going to be listening to someone, people, who have the same opinion as you, start thinking for yourself, that’s the whole point of free speech.

Terry, 43

What’s brought you here tonight to see Milo?
I want to hear the other side. We’ve always heard the narrative of the left.

We’ve got Rupert Murdoch running half or more of the papers in the country, columnists like Andrew Bolt, and Mark Latham. Do you think we’re getting enough right wing opimions?
I would say to that, the people who you just mentioned, although they are in Australia, they don’t have a big following.

What do you think about Milo’s recent comments about Muslims being expelled from Australia?
Look, I agree with it, on the level that when you come to Australia, you need to be prepared to take in Australian values and things like that. Assimilate, more or less. If they’re going to come in and want to change things, especially with like Sharia and stuff, that’s something that I have to take notice of more-so as a gay man. I know there are definitely radicals within Islam that would want to see me dead. You could say the same things about hardcore Christians, I know that. But the thing is, I’ve grown up here my whole life, I’ve never had a problem with Christians.

Do you think most people in this room would accept you as a gay man?
I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. And that’s just the thing, at my age and as a gay man, you have to get to a certain stage where you just don’t care.

What about the young gay men and women in the country?
Well I would say to them you have to get a backbone. You can’t be constantly worrying about what other people think. Say 90 percent here didn’t like me—it didn’t stop me coming did it? It doesn’t bother me. I’m exercising my right and freedom to come here as well, as they are. I know for a fact that I probably wouldn’t agree with a lot of people here, particularly on the gay side of issues, but that’s fine.

Deb, 55

Deb wouldn't pose for a photo, so here's a snap from out the front

So, Deb, you were telling me you want to be want to be Milo’s mum? Why?
Because I’d be very proud to have a son who believed in that and spoke his mind on what he believed in. Absolutely. I brought my own son up exactly like that.

What about his reputation for divisiveness?
I think it’s a fucking tragedy these police have to be here, just for speaking out about what you believe in and causing riots and stuff and getting violent just because you don’t like opinions and that’s an absolute disgrace.

Do you think the things that Milo says are intentionally divisive, and that might be the problem?
To some people. Some things he does, yeah. Years ago all we had was to worry about was what church you attended… [and] who you voted for. Now you got to worry about everything you damn well say. Everything.

Do you think he’s intentionally insulting to other groups? Do you think that can really be the basis of a free speech movement?
It’s a bit of shock value, bit of people skins so thin these days, it’s just, yeah, nah, he says some things that I think that are…

What are some of the things he says that you don’t agree with?
Oh look. I dunno. I’m not going say that, on or off the record. He doesn’t offend me very much.

But he offends you a little bit, or shocks you a little bit?
Nah, he makes me laugh.

Zack, 19, Vivian 18

So you’re both big fans of Milo?
Vivian: I don’t agree with him on everything. But I think he puts views in an entertaining manner.

This is a question I keep asking. Everyone tonight has said “I don’t agree with him on everything.” What is it that you don’t agree with him on exactly?
Vivian: What I mean is I don’t present my views exactly the same way he does. But fundamentally my views align with him for the most part. And when I say I don’t agree with him on everything, I mean I’m not going to be as flamboyant about it as he is.
Zack: I definitely think it’s important about how he presents it, how outrageous, how flamboyant it is, because it catches attention. What it does is catches the youth’s attention who otherwise wouldn’t be into politics and just get force fed the leftist propaganda that is what is out in the world today.

Do you think we’re being force-fed leftist propaganda? I look at who owns the newspapers, who owns the TV stations. Really?
Zack: To an extent. At work we have a lot of newspapers. We have Herald Sun, The Age and I forget the other one. But out of those three, the majority are leftist newspapers. Leftist newspapers being Trump-hating newspapers, Labor supporting newspapers, etcetera. Y’know, they support a lot of leftist ideals and that’s just what I see in the majority of the news. Vivian: What people mean by that is, there are leftist views being presented from an unbiased perspective, they claim to be centrist and people follow it expecting it to be the “right opinion."
Zack: Everyone thinks it’s morally acceptable to believe in leftist principles, and I just disagree.

A 42-year-old Ontario woman has died of sepsis after years of recurring infections linked to a controversial vaginal surgery.

Christina Lynn Brajcic suffered severe complications after a transvaginal mesh surgery in 2013, a procedure she said ruined her life and left her unable to walk or have sex.

Doctors recommended a mesh implant to address Brajcic’s urinary incontinence after childbirth. (It’s fairly common for new moms to pee a little when they cough or sneeze.) The procedure permanently inserts plastic netting doctors say acts as a “hammock” keeping pelvic organs in place when surrounding tissue has been stretched or damaged.

Brajcic claimed her surgery quickly turned into a nightmare. Last year she told CTV her mesh implant was immediately painful, like “barbed wire” in her abdomen. According to a GoFundMe page for the family, her body rejected the mesh, causing “infection after infection.”

The Windsor mom devoted years of her life to advocating for women injured by transvaginal mesh. Brajcic petitioned regulators to take mesh off the market until more long-term studies proved them safe. She wrote that a near-death experience last month convinced her to “never stop fighting” for what she called “a life or death issue.”

Brajcic’s husband confirmed her death on her Facebook page Sunday night.

According to a recent CTV investigation, tens of thousands of Canadians have similar procedures every year. The surgery has spiked in popularity over the last decade, and is considered less invasive than alternatives. The surgery is widely recommended in cases of vaginal prolapse, also associated with childbirth.

Brajcic’s death has brought new attention to the truly horrific side effects some women endure, sometimes for years after surgery. It’s also added fuel to thousands of ongoing lawsuits against the makers of mesh products in Canada, the US, the UK and Australia.

According to lawsuits filed by thousands of patients, mesh implants can cause blinding pain, bleeding, organ erosion and perforation. Once pelvic tissue has grown around the mesh, it’s very hard to remove.

One woman in Philadelphia was awarded $57 million earlier this year after a mesh implant produced by Johnson & Johnson “mangled” her urethra. Three corrective surgeries reportedly couldn’t get all the plastic out.

After Brajcic had her mesh implant surgically removed in 2015, she remained in a lot of pain, and grew resistant to the antibiotics used to treat her infections. She documented her trips to the emergency room to warn others of the risks. “I don’t want this to happen to anybody,” she said in a recent Facebook video. “This is insane.”

Brajcic claimed her pain wasn’t always taken seriously by doctors, and finding one who would help her get rid of the mesh was a struggle. “Funny how after going septic and almost dying now I'm getting respect and being treated well by doctors,” she recently wrote on Facebook. “All it took was dying to get better care and better pain management. I will take it...it’s better then (sic) fighting for my care.”

The global medical community stands behind mesh implants as a treatment for incontinence, but depending who you ask, doctors say anywhere from one to 30 percent of patients suffer serious complications. Critics say the surgery is overused, doctors aren’t properly trained, and there hasn’t been enough long-term study.

Most importantly, according to Brajcic, patients aren’t properly informed about the serious risks. Back in 2011 the US Food and Drug Administration reclassified pelvic mesh as “high risk” and confirmed complications are “not rare.” Yet hundreds of thousands of mesh implants have been inserted since.

“It’s not being reported and it’s not being taken seriously,” Brajcic told CTV in September.

Brajcic’s death comes days after Australian regulators banned pelvic mesh products in many cases, and as UK politicians are pushing for a similar ban. The Australian regulator released a statement on November 29 saying “the benefits of using transvaginal mesh products in the treatment of pelvic organ prolapse do not outweigh the risks these products pose to patients.”

It’s a sign public opinion might be shifting, and Brajcic’s supporters are sharing the news alongside tributes to her activism.

“She was a gentle soul who stayed positive to the end,” British anti-mesh campaigner Kath Sansom wrote on Facebook. “Her legacy is raising awareness to stop other women suffering as she did.”

A memorial for Brajcic will be held in Windsor this Friday.

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It's no secret that Donald Trump isn't the healthiest guy out there. But now, thanks to some new insider information, we learned just how far his unhealthy habits reach: Trump's presidential diet resembles that of a 17-year-old stoner.

An upcoming book by ousted campaign manager Corey Lewandowski details Trump's favorite foods, including KFC, pizza, Diet Coke, and of course, McDonald's. His trademark feast at Mickey D's happens to be two Big Macs, a chocolate malt, and two of the perpetually controversial Filet-O-Fish—a sandwich that happens to be Desus Nice's favourite, as well.

"If even someone as bad as Donald Trump can enjoy a Filet-O-Fish, that is the unity we need to bring this nation together," Desus said.

Mero—Filet-O-Fish's biggest foe—disagreed, and continued to voice his disdain for the burger alternative on Monday night's episode.

You can watch Monday night’s Desus & Mero for free online now, and be sure to catch new episodes weeknights at 11 PM on VICELAND.

Everything you need to know about the world this morning, curated by VICE.

US News

Supreme Court OKs Trump's Travel Ban
The US Supreme Court allowed the Trump administration’s ban on people from six Muslim-majority countries entering the US to be enforced in full. It applies to residents of Iran, Syria, Yemen, Sudan, Libya, and Somalia. Although challenges will be heard in two appeals courts this week, the high court ruling lifted previous injunctions blocking it.—VICE News

The RNC Is Funding Roy Moore Again
The Republican National Committee has decided to throw money at the Alabama US Senate candidate’s campaign after President Trump’s strong endorsement of Moore. This despite accusations from several women alleging the disgraced ex-judge harassed or sexually assaulted them when they were teenagers. The special election takes place December 12; the RNC had previously bailed on a deal to raise cash in tandem with the embattled candidate.—CNN

Poll Finds One Third of Republicans Don't Want Trump in 2020
A new Public Religion Research Institute poll found 31 percent of Republican voters wanted a different candidate to run on the GOP ticket in 2020. Only 63 percent of Republicans said they wanted Trump on the ballot again in 2020. Among voters who are on board with the president's tenure so far, 37 percent said nothing could shake their strong support for Trump.—NBC News

New Californian Wildfire Forces Residents to Evacuate
Authorities in Ventura and Santa Paula issued evacuation orders for almost 8,000 homes Monday night after flames spread rapidly across 40 square miles in the area north of Los Angeles. At least one person was killed in a car accident believed to be related to the blaze. "The fire growth is just absolutely exponential,” said Ventura County Fire Chief Mark Lorenzen.—AP

International News

Former Yemeni President Killed for ‘Treason,’ Says Houthi Leader
Abdul Malik al-Houthi, leader of the Iranian-backed Houthi movement in Yemen, has said former President Ali Abdullah Saleh’s “conspiracy of betrayal and treason” meant he had to be killed. Saleh, who died just outside the capital Sana Monday, had previously been allied with the Houthis in their fight against a Saudi-led coalition.—Al Jazeera

Spain Withdraws Arrest Warrants for Catalan Leaders
The Spanish Supreme Court has retracted European arrest warrants for Catalonia's former President Carles Puigdemont and four ex-ministers. Domestic warrants remain in place for the nationalist politicians, who are currently in exile in Belgium. High court Judge Pablo Llarena said they had expressed readiness to return to Spain to face charges.—The Guardian

Macron to Trump: Don't Call Jerusalem Israel's Capital
French President Emmanuel Macron urged President Trump not to unilaterally recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, saying the issue should be a matter for “negotiations between Israelis and Palestinians.” Saudi Arabia joined the chorus of international concern, saying such a move would “have a detrimental impact on the peace process.”—BBC News

Honduran Police Officers Refuse to Enforce Curfew in Presidential Saga
Opposition protestors flooded the streets of' capital Tegucigalpa Monday night, with cops declining to “repress their rights" despite a curfew. With almost all votes counted, President Juan Orlando Hernandez has a narrow lead over Salvador Nasralla, but the country's electoral body still hasn't announced a winner.—Reuters

Everything Else

Bryan Singer Fired from Freddy Mercury Movie
Twentieth Century Fox announced Singer was “no longer the director of Bohemian Rhapsody.” The company reportedly removed him from the film for being unreliable. The director also reportedly clashed with lead actor Rami Malek.—Rolling Stone

Katy Perry and Catholic Church Win Nearly $10 Million
A jury awarded the sum, for punitive damages, to the singer and the Archdiocese of Los Angeles after Dana Hollister was found to have tried to thwart Perry’s deal to buy a convent. Two-thirds of the amount will reportedly go to the church, with Perry to receive the rest. The decision follows a $5 million award in compensatory damages over the dispute. —Los Angeles Times

Errol Morris Examines CIA Experiments with LSD
The celebrated filmmaker’s new documentary investigates the 1953 death of CIA scientist Frank Olsen, and how the agency used acid in its MKUltra mind control experiments. Wormwood will appear on Netflix December 15.—Motherboard

Cop Fired for Mocking Death of Charlottesville Protestor
Massachusetts police officer Conrad Lariviere was fired for ridiculing the car attack in Charlottesville that killed 32-year-old Heather Heyer and wounded 19 other people. “Hahahaha love this,” Lariviere wrote in a Facebook comment, referring to the incident.—VICE News

Make sure to check out the latest episode of VICE's daily podcast. Today, we’re looking at anti-trans discrimination in the military, both before and after Trump’s proposed ban.

From the outside, self-sabotaging behaviour seems like a problem with a simple fix: If you realize you keep flubbing opportunities to better your life, simply channel your inner Terry Crews and tell yourself to knock it off already. But the problem is more nuanced than that. It takes serious self-reflection to understand why you keep shooting yourself in the foot in the first place.

Self-sabotage occurs when your conscious mind (the logical one that makes shopping lists and reminds you to brush your teeth) is at odds with your subconscious mind (the emotional one that stress-eats Snickers bars and drunk dials your ex). That disconnect—that clash of needs and wants—manifests itself in self-sabotaging behavior. Gambling away your rent money, accidentally-on-purpose missing the deadline to enroll in grad school, getting drunk the day before a giant work presentation: It’s your subconscious way of preventing pain and handling fear.

We asked therapists, financial experts, and life coaches about how people can reconcile these internal rifts and move forward with their positive goals once and for all. Answers have been edited for length and clarity.

Be Kind to Yourself and Seek Out Accountability

Shame about self-sabotaging can be an enormous obstacle to taking different action. Try to see your actions (or inaction) with love and compassion, as if you were witnessing it happen in a young child and want to help them get past whatever is blocking them. Can you get clear on what you actually want; what is the benefit to you, the reason for doing what you want to do in the first place? Once you’ve figured that out, what would be the smallest commitment you could make to yourself that would represent a step in the right direction? See if you can find a trusted friend (or your partner, if you’re in a relationship) to help hold you accountable to taking this small step, and then build upon your successes. – Neil Sattin, relationship coach and host of the Relationship Alive podcast

Zap Fears and Bad Thoughts

Sit down and imagine what it would be like to have what you want or to reach your goal. Imagine every step. When you're doing this, write down any negative feelings, weird fears, or random thoughts that come up. If you imagine yourself getting into great physical shape, what comes up for you? Do you picture yourself doing boring workouts for the rest of your life? Do you fear getting unwanted attention from men? Do you imagine your spouse or friends making fun of you for going to the gym and being vain? The key to your self-sabotage lies in those fears and thoughts. Facing whatever is holding you back and causing you to self-sabotage won't be easy. But it's better than the lousy regret you'll feel if you don't. Life's too short to not go after what you want most. – Dr. Christie Hartman, dating and relationship expert

Identify Root Causes

Some people are comfortable in chaos. It's a difficult thing to recognize about yourself, but an important lesson to learn. If chaos is comfort, then it's easy to understand how appealing it can be, consciously or not, to self-sabotage. Imposter syndrome is another reason we self-sabotage. We get nervous we aren't qualified, or shouldn't be doing something and therefore either drop out or put ourselves in positions where we're asked to step down. It's not always easy to recognize about yourself, so listen to other people if it gets pointed out to you. It never hurts to speak to a professional, whether that's a therapist or a business coach or someone else, in order to get some perspective from a neutral third party. Take the time to unearth the why. Understanding that you're self-sabotaging is important, but figuring out the root cause will prevent you from doing it again.
– Erin Lowry, author of Broke Millennial: Stop Scraping by and Get Your Financial Life Together

Face Your Fears

If you procrastinate all the time, cause unnecessary conflict in your relationship, or drink too much alcohol throughout the week, take a long, hard look in the mirror and decide if that’s really what you want to continue doing. Ask yourself: Do I really want to sabotage my chance at being truly happy in life? What do I really have to fear by not living up to my true capacity in life? When you do this exercise, you’ll realize it’s really not worth the energy of sabotaging your chances of success just because you fear not achieving it. It’s much easier to face your fears and “fail” than it is to continuously quit before trying. Don’t waste your talent and squander your chances of being happy.
– Justin Stenstrom, life coach and founder of Elite Man Magazine and the Elite Man Podcast

Here, Have a Pep Talk

Self-sabotage is a fear that our best isn't good enough. But remember, no matter what happens, you are good enough. Changing self-sabotaging behaviors often makes you feel anxious, because it means you're challenging familiar attitudes you've long held about yourself. – Raquel Jones, licensed clinical social worker

Follow Anna Goldfarb on Twitter.

It's become an almost daily routine: Some panel, discussion, summit, commission, hearing, project, or report claims to have the answer to America’s historically deadly opioid crisis. The latest pathetic “solution," of course, is the (weirdly disputed) emergence of longtime Republican pollster, Donald Trump "alternative facts" adviser, and noted public health expert Kellyanne Conway as some kind of alleged "opioid czar." I say alleged because even though Attorney General Jeff Sessions suggested last week that she had the gig, the White House later said she was merely continuing existing work on the issue.

Who’s telling the truth? No fucking clue—and it doesn’t really matter. The time for talk is over. In the past three years alone, more than 100,000 Americans have died of opioid overdose. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children—a tremendous loss. Conway is close to President Trump and this news has been taken by some as a signal that he’s finally serious about addressing opioids. But what does that even mean when no new money is being appropriated, healthcare cuts may be on the way, and no actual "drug czar" has been named to coordinate strategy, among other glaring gaps in the administration's response to this disaster?

To genuinely get serious about stopping the bleeding, America needs a new coalition. Advocates for people with addiction and people with pain need to put aside their fears and differences and form a united front to force whoever turns out to be in charge to pay attention. After all, we know what needs to be done, and when we start treating both addiction and pain humanely based on evidence, everyone wins.

First and foremost, we need to make it easier and cheaper to get treatment for addiction with buprenorphine or methadone than it is to buy heroin—or at least give treatment a fighting chance at competing with dealers. Being on these medications cuts the death rate by 50 percent or more, according to numerous studies, and it’s the only approach proven to do so. Get more of these medications to those who need them and we’ll have fewer deaths. It’s really that simple.

Whenever someone is caught “doctor shopping” or inappropriately trying to get opioids—and whenever anyone who has opioid addiction seeks help—they should have immediate access to these medications and alternatives like long-acting naltrexone (Vivitrol) as appropriate, with treatment tailored to the patient’s needs and goals.

FDA director Scott Gottlieb seems to understand the medication issue: He gets this isn’t simply replacing one addiction with another, but providing care that allows people to return to function or at least avoid dying. But he, the Department of Health and Human Services, and Congress need to be pressured to remove cumbersome regulations like special requirements for buprenorphine prescribing and limits on methadone use outside of clinics.

The rules of the public health emergency that has already been declared by the Trump administration might allow this if people like Gottlieb felt empowered to use them—and we have tons of data showing it would help. France, for example, responded to an overdose crisis by allowing all physicians to prescribe buprenorphine without restrictions or special training: Overdose deaths dropped by 75 percent within four years.

For expanded medication access to be most effective, doctors need to be able to prescribe simply as harm reduction—without requiring abstinence or counseling. These and other services that are often helpful shouldn’t be forced on all, but triaged to those who actually want them. This would not only cut costs, but improve both quality (group therapy is better when the people who are in it aren’t just sitting and waiting it out or rolling their eyes at those who try to participate) and outcomes. Law enforcement will need to be educated that prescribing to those who are not yet ready to recover is not criminal, but vital.

Under current law, we could—as cities like New York have in the past—rapidly expand access to maintenance medications. But we need hospitals and emergency rooms to step up and provide it. We need primary care docs, physician’s assistants, and telemedicine, all pulling together. The old rules aren't just not working—they've become deadly. And easy access to maintenance medications will help people in pain, too, by reducing the need for anyone to lie to doctors to get drugs and making the doctor/patient relationship less fraught.

For pain patients, the most critical need is to stop the current assault on those who are already on opioids, particularly attempts to lower dosages without regard to individual circumstances or choices. The forced tapering or outright abandonment of any kind of patient to the tender mercies of the illegal market is associated with more deaths, not fewer.

Consequently, when “pill mills” are busted or doctors stop prescribing for any other reason, every single patient—regardless of their medical condition—needs continuity of care and the ability to make informed choices about their medical future. The DEA, medical boards and attorneys general must be held accountable for what happens to patients—including people with addiction—when they crack down on doctors. Typically, they are left to fend for themselves, without even a referral. This must end.

Doctors seem to have already become far more cautious about prescribing for acute pain—and limited prescribing for chronic pain to those for whom other approaches have failed. Now we need to make sure these limits aren’t harming those who do benefit from opioids.

Marijuana legalization can also help: Nearly a dozen studies now show that medical marijuana is associated with a reduction in use of opioids for both pain and for addiction, as well as a reduction in overdose deaths. The government should also leave other, less harmful substitutes like Kratom alone.

Of course, cheap naloxone needs to be more available to reverse overdoses, safe injection facilities should be approved, drug checking to determine if fentanyl is present should be accessible—all of this needs to be done, too. But the strategy most likely to save the most lives most quickly is to rapidly expand maintenance and stop pushing people out of medical care, even if they misuse drugs.

And, in the long term, we have to decriminalize possession of all drugs and shift the money spent locking people in cages and increasing their risk of overdose death over to providing compassionate, evidence-based treatment.

America’s current system of coercive, demanding and often demeaning care itself creates resistance to treatment. When people see getting help as well, helpful, they seek it, because—believe it or not—active addiction isn’t fun. Heroin prescribing—which has been shown to not only reduce crime and disease but also increase employment—is another example of a harm-reduction approach that should be added to the menu.

Regular readers, of course, will not be surprised by this list: It sums up much of what I’ve covered in this column over the past few years. To genuine opioid experts, little here is even controversial—certainly not expanding maintenance. In the endless meetings Conway sat through during her work on the president's opioid commission, she's almost certainly become familiar with this data, too. What's missing is a united coalition to push her and others who have the power to finally make it happen.

Follow Maia Szalavitz on Twitter.

Thanks to another mid-week morning crawl through Los Angeles traffic, I’m late to my first writers-room for a massive new cartoon franchise.

Being late to write for the big leagues is stressful enough, and there’s an added edge knowing what the room will probably be like. As I fumble my way out of the Uber and to the back entrance, I see a woman in the cafeteria. “I’m here for the writers room today,” I say, and she blinks at me.
“Down the hall,” she replies and points. “The room with all the men.”

It’s not a new phenomenon for me to be a statistical outlier. Growing up in small town New Zealand, I was affectionately called “token” by my friend group. But in a place like Hollywood, things really ought to be different. Shouldn’t they?

I walk in the door, and I’m the only woman in a room full of men. Again. And I’m the only woman of colour in the building.

"My place in the industry is worth fighting for. To make impactful, truthful stories about our global human experience, the industry needs us.

My first days, weeks, and months in Hollywood were filled with men pointing out to me that screenwriting was a “male career” or a “boys’ club”, to say nothing of the genres that interested me: horror, gaming, animation. Like the stock-standard story of the “gamer girl”, I was either a revered unicorn, or ridiculed. How was I going to thrive? I was told to expect being an outsider, fetishised, and often in danger. It was taken for granted that the small pockets of women screenwriters in the industry would be at each other’s throats for the proverbial scraps. The whole thing was terrifying.

But in reality, our experiences as women of colour are important. My place in the industry is worth fighting for. To make impactful, truthful stories about our global human experience, the industry needs us.

The Women in Film website homepage features the harrowing truth about the statistics of women in Hollywood. Females make up just 11.8 percent of screenwriters working in the world’s leading entertainment industry. If you look at just women of colour, that percentage looks abysmal. I’m an anomaly.

It may not seem like a big deal that women of colour in the writing room are under-represented. But when you consider that media is how we tell our stories, our children’s stories, our society’s stories—this is a problem. People will argue endlessly about affirmative action being “liberal hogwash” or that I’m missing the point about entertainment being all about the bottom line. But can we really believe that the media—the world’s window into itself—doesn’t have a larger impact on the way our society thinks and acts?

"These troubling paradigms about what a woman, or woman of colour is capable of—or worth, seep back into our social consciousness and end up systemically teaching women they are capable of less than they are.

This is how we continue to see half of all minorities on television shows represented as terrorists and criminals. How we are shown tasteless Pepsi ads that suggest institutionalised violence against minorities can be treated with a cold beverage. And how we are left half-heartedly championing movies like Wonder Woman because at least they feature a female superhero, ignoring the fact that we’re still fed a narrative where our goddess needs a man to educate and keep her safe in London. These troubling paradigms about what a woman, or woman of colour is capable of—or worth, seep back into our social consciousness and end up systemically teaching women they are capable of less than they are.

It’s one thing to have women and women of colour portrayed this way on big screens, but imagine the impact of female portrayal on the small screen as well. I’ve sat in so many writers’ rooms for games aimed at 15-25 year old females, and been the only female screenwriter. Tradition means programmers—another male dominated career—usually write the narratives for the games themselves, so that popular new interactive story-app for girls you’ve heard of was probably written by an all-male crew.

As the “anomaly” in these rooms, I’m passionate about telling stories that reflect a more truthful female experience—stories that might even shed light on women’s lives and issues, or inspire. For the app Cliffhanger I’ve written on depression, beauty standards, bullying and spun the “romance” genre of storytelling apps on its heard when two teenage witches try out their spells on the high school’s most popular jock. Not to say that there’s anything wrong with the odd fluffy romance interactive story or dating simulator app, but when the only types of gaming apps for young women out there are centred around dating, I can’t help but feel who we are is being deeply diminished.

But maybe the tide is finally turning. For some companies there’s a growing focus on being sensitive to issues surrounding gender, sexuality, and identity. Stories are not just created for cis-gendered or majority audiences, but try to cater to every women. The complexities of female experience aren’t lost on them. Animation companies like Man of Action have approached me because of my unique voice as a woman of colour, in hopes to diversify their otherwise male-heavy writers’ rooms. While it’s daunting to be a ‘representative’, it’s also empowering.
I hope we’ll continue to see the tides change, and more inclusion encouraged in our writers’ rooms so that we can finally step out of the dark ages with the way in which women and minorities are represented in the media. For a society so far ahead in other ways, there’s really no excuse for the continued over-sexualization and de-humanisation of women in gaming, film, and television. I hope to be just one face among a growing force of women of colour who will tell stories about women; resilient, complex beings who deserve to have their voices heard.

On Tuesday, Netflix announced it had cut actor Danny Masterson from The Ranch and is writing his character out of the show in light of several rape allegations against him, Huffington Post reports.

Masterson, who rose to fame playing Hyde on That '70s Show, has been accused of raping four women in the early 2000s. The Los Angeles Police Department has been investigating the allegations for nearly a year, but hasn't filed charges against him. Masterson has long been a member of the Church of Scientology, and three of his accusers are also reportedly members of the Church.

Netflix came under fire for how it handled Masterson in the wake of similar allegations against Kevin Spacey and Louis C.K. The streaming service dropped the second of two stand-up specials C.K. had filmed right after the comedian's sexual misconduct allegations broke, and Netflix announced on Monday that it would be moving forward with the final season of House of Cards without Spacey as its star after temporarily halting production.

Even though an online petition aimed at getting Netflix to cancel The Ranch racked up nearly 40,000 signatures, HuffPo reports that Masterson will appear in the slate of new episodes premiering on Netflix December 15. He's also expected to show up onscreen in a few episodes airing next year.

For his part, Masterson has denied the allegations against him, and told HuffPo he was "very disappointed" by Netflix's decision to remove him from The Ranch.

"From day one, I have denied the outrageous allegations against me," Masterson said in a statement. "I have never been charged with a crime, let alone convicted of one."

Follow Drew Schwartz on Twitter.

Watching enough screwball comedies can lead you to believe losing one’s virginity will inevitably involve elaborate, wackadoo adventures. But IRL, it usually doesn’t involve a comical series of misunderstandings, pulse-pounding car chases, and romantic grand gestures. Having sex for the first time can be sweet, short, or even boring. There’s so much hype involved that when you’re actually in the moment, it can feel like a bit of a letdown once the deed is done. You can be forgiven for wondering what the fuss was all about. While the act itself may not be too memorable or pleasant, sometimes the fun is in the details: the squeaky dorm room twin bed, the thrill of doing something naughty somewhere you shouldn’t, or the unexpected nature of the encounter. We asked friends and co-workers how they lost their V-card. Here’s what they said...

“On a deflated blow-up bed.” - Sarah, 21

“Fold-out couch and tequila shots.” - Pete, 26

“Chapman University dorm, post-Rancid concert.” - Brian, 42

"In a pool house, soaking wet." - Tara, 23

"Went home during high school lunch." - Jack, 25

"No lie: with best friend's mom." - Brett, 28

“With a guy friend, for practice.” - Jessica, 41

“Summer theater party. Tired of waiting.” - Kim, 35

“Game of curious ‘Truth or Dare’” - Gabriel, 28

“Older hot boyfriend. In parents’ bed.” - Jenny, 36

“Boarding school tennis court in January.” - Diana, 29

“It only lasted 31 seconds. Sad.” - Tara, 36

“Happened in college to my first love.” - Wallace, 22

“College dorm room, skipped gym class.” - Tom, 40

“He snuck through my bedroom window.” - Laura, 28

“In his grandmother's apartment one night.” - Arielle, 26

“After prom: back of a car.” - Danielle, 26

“During Dumb and Dumber fart scene.” - Heather, 33

“The playground after dark. Twisty slide.” - Kate, 27

“On a couch. He was French.” - Ellie, 27

“Upon my request with a stranger.” - Allegra, 25

“Reluctantly in a Honda CR-V.” - Jennifer, 31

“First kiss, first love, first fuck.” - Cassie, 28

“Drunkenly fucked then ate a pizza.” - Lennon, 34

“Anti-climactic in so many ways.” - Allie, 25

“Hot tub on step-dad’s farm.” - Julie, 33

“Snuck into his bunk during camp.” - Natalie, 29

“House party. Found an empty bedroom.” - Stella, 23

“In sleeping bag under the stars.” - Cora, 32

“Twin bed, art school dorm room.” - Matthew, 36

“Watching 'Party Monster' during a snowstorm.” - Neal, 27

“Threesome with best friend. We high-fived.” - Beck, 25

“Upstairs, right above my dad's bedroom.” - Daya, 20

“Hotel room shower during Paris vacation.” - Paul, 38

Follow Anna Goldfarb on Twitter.

The first message the Twitter user named Johnson Larry sent to me was pretty innocuous—the second one, not so much.

“Hello,” he initially wrote me before taking a brief pause. “Do you want to join Illuminati where we will be paying you the sum of $100,000 usd if yes get back to us now for more information.”

I, like we all would, responded in the affirmative that, hell yes, I would love to join the Illuminati.

I mean, who wouldn’t want to join the Illuminati? On top of joining the illustrious club of heavy hitters who run the world—like Beyoncé, Henry Kissinger, and the Queen—I would apparently be getting $100,000—in American dollars nonetheless!!! (Look, just getting paid in American dollars is a big deal for a Canadian.)

This was my ticket out of this hellhole, baby!

As our chat went on, I learned that Mr. Larry was the “Grand Master,” that it was his job to recruit people into the Illuminati, and that he had been in the group for 19 years or so. However, he wanted to take this conversation to WhatsApp—the official app of the secretive underworld.

Mr. Larry gave me a number to add on WhatsApp, which I quickly searched—turns out the Illuminati has some pretty shitty infosec—and was able to find that the number was from Nigeria. This raised a few red flags that Mr. Larry might not be on the up and up.

However, he is the “grand master.” All photos via screenshot by author.

As we all know, internet scams originating from Nigeria are, like, a little thing. The most well known one—the Nigerian Prince scam (also known as the advance-fee scam)—has pretty been around since the start of the Internet and never seems to die. The scam works like this, the mark gets an email from someone purporting to represent a wealthy figure or group—like a prince or the Illuminati—and that they can offer the mark a substantial sum of money if they offer something up front.

The reason for giving the money up front and the riches being offered can and do vary wildly—from blood diamonds from a prince who has been held up by a coup d'etat, to gold bullion from a wealthy traveller who died in a plane crash overseas. Millions upon million of dollars are lost yearly due to these scams—typically from saps like me and Mid-West Grandpas.

Now, the proliferation of the internet has worked as a double-edged sword for scammers—it, at first, provided them with a proverbial goldmine of potential marks. However, people caught on quickly, and there are now many a website whose goal it is to out these scammers and make sure people don’t lose their money to the promise of getting rich after the “Nigerian Prince” is “freed.” It’s something that’s forced these scammers to get creative.

It seems they’ve become so creative that they might just DM a bored journalist an offer to join the Illuminati.

This seems like the recruiter for the Illuminati, right? Photo via screenshot.

Speaking of which: On top of that pesky area code, there were two other things that also didn’t bode well for Mr. Larry. First was that I was able to reverse Google search the image that Mr. Larry purported was him on Twitter and traced it back to a male Russian mail order bride service. In doing so, I found that Mr. Larry wasn’t actually Mr. Larry, no, Mr. Larry’s photo was of a Turkish man named Marko who likes Bruno Mars, Rihanna, Robbie Williams, and reading Dan Brown novels. Secondly, when I googled the Illuminati, I found a warning posted by the TOTALLY REAL version of the group alerting everyone to people like Mr. Larry.

“They appear in droves on social media websites like Facebook and Twitter, spreading misinformation about our beliefs and often demanding money in return for Illuminati membership,” reads the write up by the totally real and not at all a marketing ploy version of the Illuminati.

Who can turn down an offer like this though.

Despite the warning from the false shepherd, I persisted—I wasn’t about to lose my chance to join George Soros and the other bigwigs in, what my friend called, “ushering in the global occult dystopia.” In our newly created WhatsApp chat, Mr. Larry welcomed me to the brotherhood and asked if “I could keep secrets”—I told him I could.

“I want you to know that you are now a member. We will be paying you the sum of $100,000 usd per month and a car,” he wrote me. “And if you also want to be famous we will make you famous okay.”

He also offered me powers—I, being an idiot, asked them if they were Iron Fist powers and if he likes Iron First.

Still waiting to hear what a “known crisis” is.

Then, sadly, the other shoe dropped and Mr. Larry told me that in order to get the car, the money, and the (possibly Iron Fist) powers, I had to pay a mild fee of $150 US for my membership—which is, honestly, a pretty good deal when you think about it. At this point though, Mr. Larry was getting annoyed with how excited I was about the prospect of joining the Illuminati and said no more questions, and after a curt “Good day,” Mr. Larry went AWOL.

I had blown it. I had blown my chance to join the Illuminati. Now looking back at it, I could have handled my rejection from the Illuminati better. But, come on, you gotta be able to see where I’m coming from here. I traversed the stages of grief rather quickly with my sadness quickly morphing to anger and I sent Mr. Larry a meme I made with pictures lifted from Marko’s dating profile announcing my allegiance with, the lizard man, David Icke.

Call me Dave.

Shortly, in a moment of extreme weakness, I apologized for the meme and begged him to come back to me. I was heartbroken—I lost my chance at being a member of the Illuminati which means I lost my chance at a sick car, money and powers.

Fuck.

I just want to be part of something...

You people need to realize that I work in journalism and $100,000 is an amount of money that doesn’t even make sense to me—I couldn’t take this lying down. I sent Mr. Larry message after message asking him to “illumi-do-this.” However, after several hours of me messaging him on Twitter, WhatsApp and through actual texting he still didn’t respond.

I had blown it—Mr. Larry did not want to illumi-do-it—I guess, for the time being, George Soros cheques will have to do.

Follow Mack Lamoureux on Twitter

“I guess normalcy isn’t really our style,” Juno MacGuff declares in a voiceover at the conclusion of of Juno. After 90 minutes of quirk after quirk for quirk’s sake, the statement rings out like the sound of a power drill stripping a nail that’s already deeply, irrevocably embedded in the wall.

Indie-film-cum-box-office-juggernaut Juno debuted in theaters ten years ago today—right on the heels of Knocked Up and Waitress, two other films featuring frank, modern conversations about abortion, an evergreen hot-button issue that for some reason seemed evergreen-er than usual in 2007. If you were going to find an issue to hold against Juno at the time, it was most likely its treatment of unplanned teen pregnancy. This held true for both pro-life and pro-choice pundits: Depending on who you asked, the film was either “a far more costly blow against abortion rights than anything the anti-abortion crowd could possibly hope for or ever produce,” or “a movie sure to delight feminists” by making “fatherlessness acceptable in our society."

The debate about Juno’s moral compass and politics dominated the critical conversation at the time of its release, serving a worthwhile purpose but ultimately distracting from the film’s unwieldy DNA. Regardless of whether you relate more to Juno’s stepmother, who views the pregnancy as “a precious blessing from Jesus in [a] garbage dump of a situation,“ or the sardonic clerk who sells Juno a pregnancy test, who calls it “one doodle that can’t be undid, homeskillet,” you have to admit that that’s some terrible dialogue.

Juno’s most damning quality is trying too hard to appear charminlgly shambolic. It’s a slacker film that wears a drug rug to its cushy marketing job—the Steve Buscemi-in-a-“Music Band”-shirt-asking-“How do you do, fellow kids?” meme. It’s a film with a seemingly twee and homespun title sequence that actually took eight months and involved repeatedly running high-def photos “through a ‘bad Xerox machine’ ‘til they looked nearly hand-drawn,” according to director Jason Reitman. Juno is its protagonist’s iconic hamburger-shaped phone: cute and eye-catching, but as Juno herself says during an important call, “It’s like, really awkward to use.”

Reitman and writer Diablo Cody, the latter of whom won a Best Original Screenplay Oscar for Juno, went through painstaking steps to make Ellen Page’s title character and the world around her seem aggressively youthful and left of center. This comes through most glaringly in the dialogue, which throws together Myspace-era face-palms (“Honest to blog,” “Douche packer”), suburbanized hip-hop slang (“Forshizz up the spout,” “Tore up from the floor up,” “You’se a dick”), and corny Midwesternisms (“Go fly a kite,” “Damn skippy”) into the most irritating linguistic gumbo imaginable.

Then there are the lengths that Reitman and Cody went to prove just how hipstery and unique Juno is: She regularly brandishes a grandfatherly pipe without smoking it, constructs a lawn shrine to announce her pregnancy to Michael Cera’s Paulie Bleeker, and tells Jason Bateman’s considerably older character that he doesn’t understand punk because he wasn’t “there” in 1977. They could’ve picked any teenagerly activity for Juno to miss for her first ultrasound, but it had to be going to the movies to throw donut holes at the screen, because obviously Juno couldn’t possibly enjoy anything current and lamestream. In case you got halfway through the movie without noticing Juno’s unexplained penchant for quirkiness, here’s Bleeker’s mom, the “breakfast for supper”-foisting pinnacle of Midwestern normalcy, telling her son why she disapproves of Juno: “She’s just different.”

Reitman got the idea to prominently feature the music of twee, DIY indie singer-songwriter Kimya Dawson by asking Page what music she thought Juno would enjoy. As veteran critic Jim DeRogatis so elegantly put it in his review: “Here is a 29-year-old screenwriter (Cody) and a 30-year-old director (Reitman) brainstorming with a nearly 21-year-old actress (Page) and deciding that the intentionally primitive and infantile sounds recorded by a 35-year-old musician (Dawson) epitomize ‘the music that the kids today really listen to.’ This sort of contrivance hardly smacks of the honesty and humor the filmmakers brag about, and which many critics have hailed.”

The film’s marketing followed suit. Following the unprecedented success of the low-budget Little Miss Sunshine the year prior, Juno was part of a fresh class of Oscar hopefuls that critic Anthony Breznican wrote were "orchestrated to start off as word-of-mouth favourites among devoted moviegoers." Accordingly, Fox Searchlight sent select film critics hamburger phones as a promotional tactic. Everything paid off, as Juno became the company’s first film to gross more than $100 million, and snapped up the Oscar nominations its promo team had so savvily courted.

Clearly, there was something that actually resonated with audiences across the country. At its core, Juno is a sweet story about family and friends rallying around a precocious protagonist, and it probably started some valuable conversations about birth control. It also boasted some wonderful acting, especially from J.K. Simmons and Allison Janney as Juno’s supportive father and stepmother. They say you can’t polish a turd, but the wrong script and art direction can definitely convolute and muck up a perfectly good plot and cast.

Were it not for its precious score, zany one-liners, and cool-kid cachet, Juno might have slipped under the radar. Ten years down the line, the film seems better suited for a cult-favourite role than a manufactured-cult blockbuster one.