Monthly Archives: January 2018

Literally Hysterical Signs from the Women’s March

Here’s an important thing to know, if you are interested in language and gender: the word “hysterical” (along with “hysteria”) comes from a Greek root meaning “uterus,” as in the word “hysterectomy”.   I was in college when this was pointed out to me.  I learned then that for millennia, women were diagnosed as “hysterical” under the belief that one’s uterus could travel around the body and cause trouble with other organs, as evidenced by symptoms as varied as coughs, depression, nervousness, and general troublemaking.*  Recommended “treatments” varied from marriage and pregnancy to genital stimulation to complete bed rest.

A quick search produces many discussions of the Wandering Womb fallacy,** including this long and brilliant essay by author and teacher Terri Kapsalis, who pulls together Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper,”*** ancient diagnoses and current politics, and so much history, and even a women’s march (last year’s) at the end.

I have slowly been removing “hysterical,” with its historical image of women out of control (or deemed out of control by others), from my repertoire of words that mean “funny,” a task that became much simpler once I realised “hilarious” filled exactly the same connotative slot for me.****

However, I found these signs from last Saturday to be, indeed, and appropriately, hysterical:

Sign "Don't Tread on Me" with uterus and fallopian tubes as snake  Sign "Public Cervix Announcement: I'm Not Ovary-acting"

Sign "Grow a Pair" with ovaries

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*It’s possible that my remembered image of a uterus supposedly traveling far enough to throttle one’s brain was satire, or exaggeration on my part, or possibly even just a misplaced Douglas Adams quote.  …But maybe not.

**Or, if you prefer, “phallacy”.

***With the vital takeaway that anyone who reads or assigns “The Yellow Wallpaper” is contextually obligated to read or assign the 1913 essay entitled “Why I Wrote ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’”.

****Thanks to Adam Rex for this marketing comic, which kind of settled the word “hilarious” in my active repertoire, and for the eponymous book, The True Meaning of Smekday, an adventure both hilarious and thought-provoking, and one of my favorite middle-grade books.

Some Scissors Do Go Both Ways (But Not Any You’re Likely to Come Across)

left-handed scissors, in Wescott package, with LEFTY in big letters on the packagingI recently requested, and acquired, a pair of left-handed scissors for my office. I was pleased to discover, with a quick search, that it was possible to order explicitly left-handed titanium-bonded scissors that exactly matched the scissors in the copy room cabinets. In fact, as I discovered when they arrived, they say “LEFTY” only on the package and not on the scissors, which say merely “Westcott titanium” and are therefore indistinguishable from the right-handed scissors except for the orientation of the blades. I held them up together to check. And then, alas, I had to check the other right-handed scissors in the cabinet to make sure I took my own set back to my office.

So here’s a thing about myself that I find frustrating: in spite (or possibly because) of the fact that I can read upside down and backwards,* I have a really hard time holding onto pattern changes in three dimensions. I turn something over, and, poof, everything I know about it vanishes. I’m not good with Rubik’s cube (I can get one side, but then I lose track), not good with folding washcloths so they face the same way when they’re done (actually, I can do this now, if I concentrate), and not good at remembering how the blades of scissors should be oriented to each other. I say things like, “okay, so the bottom blade is on the left,” and then I pick up a different pair of scissors and suddenly I’m not sure whether I’m holding them the same way, or which blade is now on the bottom, or whether I really was talking about the handle. I think it’s because I don’t have words for the transformation. Which means I can’t trust myself to look at scissors and know whether they’re for left- or right-handers. I have to trust other people, or the marketing.

right-handed scissors for kids, poorly marketed by Westcott as "left or right handed"And why shouldn’t I trust the marketing? I’m so glad you asked. I don’t trust the marketing because Things Have Changed in scissor handedness world. For example, I’ve asked whether there are left-handed scissors available for my kid in a craft situation, and I’ve been told that all the scissors should work for both hands. And when I dismiss this as ridiculous, and go off to find scissors (for kids or grownups) in an office supply store, I find packages that actually, explicitly say “left or right handed”.** I look at the scissors. They look like scissors. They are oriented only one way. There is no possibility that they can work the same way for right-handed and left-handed people. This is what we call creative marketing – or, possibly, lying.

And no one would have made these claims when I was a kid. Either they’d have the little scissors with the green covered handles and “LEFTY” carved into the blade, or they’d apologise and say I’d have to use the right-handed ones. None of this “don’t worry; they’re the same” nonsense.

Just to be clear, the reason it’s important to have left-handed scissors for left hands is that the angle of force is reversed when you switch hands. It’s possible – and often necessary – for a lefty to use right-handed scissors (or vice-versa; if you haven’t tried it, you might find it educational, particularly with older scissors), but instead of the natural movement of your thumb forcing the blades against each other, the natural movement forces the blades away from each other. So if there is any give in the joint at all, you have to work to counter that force – resulting in awkward cutting and generally a slight gouge in your thumb where you have to pull back against the metal. At the time, I believed this to be generally known … and yet, over time, this knowledge seems to have dissipated.

I have a hypothesis as to why this is, and it is twofold:
1) Right-handed scissors (and scissors in general) are now better made. Better joints, smoother motion, less awkward angling, fewer gouges. No problem. At least…no obvious problem. And this is certainly preferable to the earlier models. It’s just not accurate to claim, in one’s marketing, that these scissors are made for both hands.
2) The gouges were, of course, much clearer when scissors were made just with metal. And then there were plastic-coated handles, and then thicker plastic handles. At some point, there came a craze for scissors with big, swooping, molded plastic handles that were ergonomically designed and only faced one way. So then OF COURSE they could only be used for one hand. And I have several pairs of lovely left-handed scissors at home that I have loved and cherished and would never offer to my right-handed spouse except in times of dire need.

left-handed scissors with ergonomic handles

But then, according to my hypothesis, people shifted their understanding to fit the new reality and came to believe that the problem with right-handed scissors was that left-handed people couldn’t get their hands into them properly. Take away the ergonomically exclusive handles and, voila! They can be used with both hands.

(Facepalm here, with either hand, or, indeed, both.)

However, there is no way to make regular scissors symmetrical (without a special patent; see below), which means there is no way they can be used equally with both hands. If the companies want to go ahead and make them all left-handed and then claim that they are “for left or right hand,” then I might be on board with it. While I have not been able to tell by looking so far (for reasons mentioned above), I think it is a pretty fair guess that no, this is not what they’re doing. And for this reason, I wrote the following in my request for the scissors, along with the link I had found:

“IMPORTANT: Whatever brand it is, it actually has to have the blades reversed to be for lefties. Anything that says it works “for both hands” is basically saying “we’ve made these right-handed scissors that left-handed people can use if they don’t mind using right-handed scissors.” So, not that. (-:”

However, about the title of this post: In my most recent search for the “either hand” marked scissors, I discovered that there is in fact a patent from the 1970s for ambimanual scissors.*** These are scissors that can actually be used in a symmetrical way by either hand. Here is the abstract (emphasis mine):

sketch from US Patent US 3978584 A, depicting a type of scissors that has one blade with a large handle, drawn upright in the center, and one blade with a smaller thumb-hole, shown in two positions (one fainter than the other) to demonstrate that this blade can be rotated to either side and fixed in place.

sketch from US Patent US 3978584 A

“Scissors which may be used with equal ease and efficiency by either a left-handed or right-handed person. The scissors include two generally flat rigid, blade portions which are each sharpened on both edges to provide two sets of cutting edges. The blade portions are pivotally connected to one another and each includes a handle portion on one end. One of the handle portions is adapted to fit the thumb of the user while the other handle portion is larger to permit engagement of two or more fingers of the same hand in the normal fashion of scissors use. The thumb handle is pivotally mounted to its respective blade portion to permit pivotal movement from one selected position at one side of the finger handle as used during right-handed operation to a second selected position at the opposite side of the finger handle for use during left-handed operation. A detent or lock is provided to secure and hold the thumb handle in either of the selected positions.”

Clearly one has to be careful, what with the double edges. But I think it’s pretty cool.

By the way, I have also found that Wikipedia has a nice, brief description of the symmetry issue (including reference to the aforementioned patent).  I actually had forgotten the bit about the visibility of the cutting edge!
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* The reading upside-down and backwards thing has caused other problems, as in my early trips to England, where people drive on the other side of the road, and where (since, despite believing that we all have learned to “look both ways” before crossing a street, we actually tend to look only one way at a time) crossing the street can be treacherous. Many London streets kindly warn foreigners where the traffic will be by having very clear “look left” or “look right” signs, with arrows, painted into the road as you step off the curb (sorry, kerb). And this is lovely, and entirely useful. The problem for me comes when there’s a median in the road. For then they have a new sign, just after the median, telling you to look the other way. Which is also fine, except if you happen to read upside-down automatically and therefore don’t particularly distinguish between the sign after the median, which is for you, and the one right before it, which is for people coming the other way. Oops… Fortunately, I never actually got hurt (or picked up as a spy) due to this problem.

** I was pretty disappointed to look back in my notes from such a trip back in August and to learn that the offending scissors were *also* made by Westcott.

*** They are in fact called Ambidextrous scissors, but I prefer to use the alternative I was offered in adolescence by my friend Anna Licameli, summer program roommate, whom I credit with leading my second foray into identity politics. (The first, much earlier, was my beleaguered dad saying, “Why do you keep saying the tooth fairy is female?”) Within our first hour of meeting, she demanded to know why I was wearing my watch on my left arm if I was left-handed, and soon afterward pointed out to me that “ambidextrous” glossed as “right-handed on both sides” and should therefore be avoided.

Word of the Week*: Apricity

A couple of months ago, a friend posted a list** of “Old English Words to Revive,” and I was charmed to see that the first word on the list was “apricity”.

I first came across the word apricity nearly ten years ago, in a book by dictionary collector Ammon Shea called Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages. Shea sat down every day for a year (okay, he changed position occasionally) and read the Oxford English Dictionary cover to cover (even the 451 pages of self-explanatory “un-” words), narrating as he went, with different chapters focusing on dictionaries, or libraries, or blinding headaches… At the end of each letter’s chapter he presented a list of words he found particularly noteworthy, and I began a practice of learning at least one from each chapter. Due partly to the primacy effect and partly to the fact that it instantly became and remained my favorite, my word from the first chapter is the one I have remembered longest. Here’s what he has to say about it:

Apricity (n.): the warmth of the sun in winter.
“A strange and lovely word. The OED does not give any citation for its use except for Henry Cockeram’s 1623 English Dictionarie. Not to be confused with apricate (to bask in the sun), although both come from the Latin apricus, meaning exposed to the sun.”

I have been most pleased to have this word at my disposal of late, since I’ve found that no matter how cold it has gotten in the past few months, and especially in the past few weeks, nor how well bundled up I am (which has been pretty well, in fact, for which I’m extremely grateful), there is something remarkable about stepping into the sunlight and feeling just the tiniest respite. And so I’ve been remarking upon it.

shadow of train bridge on snowy river

A view from the train last week.

There are some other interesting and illuminating references to the word “apricity” scattered about the Internet. Here’s one from young adult author Julie Glover (in a post from 2014 that starts off with a link to a BuzzFeed list of similarly obsolete words, illustrated entirely with owls):

“Apricity. Here’s a word you’ll especially appreciate this time of year. Apricity is the warmth of the sun on a cold day. Have you enjoyed a moment of apricity lately? The word hails from the Latin apricus, which means exposed to the sun. It’s the same stem from which we (eventually) got the word apricot. The word is first referenced in a dictionary from the 1620s, but it no longer makes the cut in current dictionaries.
Which is a shame, because I could really use a word for that sense of sunny warmth as soon as I walk out from the coffee shop I’m currently in and emerge into the frigid (well, frigid for Texas) weather. I plan to revel in the apricity anyway.”

Yum, apricot.***  And here’s another, from Merriam-Webster’s Words at Play feature:

About the Word
This word provides us with evidence that even if you come up with a really great word, and tell all of your friends that they should start using it, there is a very small chance that it will catch on. Apricity appears to have entered our language in 1623, when Henry Cockeram recorded (or possibly invented) it for his dictionary The English Dictionary; or, An Interpreter of Hard English Words. Despite the fact that it is a delightful word for a delightful thing it never quite caught on, and will not be found in any modern dictionary aside of the Oxford English Dictionary.
Example
“These humicubrations, the nocturnal irorations, and the dankishness of the atmosphere, generated by a want of apricity, were extremely febrifacient.” Lorenzo Altisonant (aka Samuel Klinefelter Hoshour), Letters to Squire Pedant, 1856****

Shea says, at one point in his book, referring to certain words that have gone out of favor:
“Even though I do not feel a need to remember these words, I do feel a need to know that someone has remembered them. It is comforting to me to know that they have not been wholly cast aside, and are still available to anyone who cares to visit the OED, whether it is some poet trying to find the right word to make verse properly obscure or a head-scratching child trying to make sense of some obscure poet she’s been assigned to read in school. The fact that the OED cares so much about words that almost everyone else happily ignores is one of its finest traits.”

So here’s one I feel the need to remember, and clearly, despite Merriam-Webster’s caution, it also wants to make a comeback. Let’s see whether we can bring this one to an higher level of consciousness and give it (at least) the moment in the sun that it truly deserves.

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* More alliterative than predictive, I think. Especially since my original idea for this post was back in November. The fall had been so unseasonably warm, and the transitions back and forth so abrupt, that even the chilly days near Thanksgiving seemed extra cold. Had no idea then that we’d soon be facing a nationwide cold snap quite like this one!

** Hat tip to Kathryn Perko.
Image apparently from Breathe Magazine via FB page of Watkins Books, an esoteric bookshop in London.
With a caveat that I’m posting it here because it’s pretty. “Old English” should be taken with a grain of salt,***** and I’m actually not on board with reviving all of these words.****** “Schoolman”? Not only is it fairly transparent (that is, someone could make it up independently), but also we’ve all been working rather hard to have *fewer* professional names that specify sex/gender. It does have an evocative feel to it, but I think it should stay happily archaic.

***My first taste of a fresh apricot, after many years of eating dried ones as childhood snacks, echoed my response to eating a real fig for the first time: “Oh! It’s…it’s like a Fig Newton, only more so!”

****Indeed.

*****Or possibly less salt; it has been pointed out to me (thanks, Dan D.) that the list creators may have been trying to say “Old [English words]” rather than “[Old English] words”.  Which I suppose I can see…

******There are some I like a lot, though, and could imagine using: “As it happens, the alternative to bedward braiding is to awaken in the morning with total elflock.”