#Natalia Mehlman Petrzela

[suchananewsblog]

Podcaster claims Hulu’s Chippendales series ripped her off: ‘Troubling’

Dr. Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, an associate history professor at The New School, is accusing the team behind a popular Hulu limited series of using exclusive reporting from her Spotify podcast without citation or payment. In an interview with The New York Times published Friday, Petrzela explained that she believes that content from her podcast, “Welcome to your Fantasy,” was used for Kumail…

[foodpsychpod]

#310: Rethinking Wellness: Fitness Culture with Natalia Mehlman Petrzela

Fitness and wellness historian Natalia Mehlman Petrzela joins Christy to discuss her new book, Fit Nation; the historical shifts that made fitness go from being viewed as a narcissistic practice to being seen as a good thing across the political spectrum; why so many people are disillusioned with our medical system and looking for answers and validation in the alternative medicine space; how people can be critical consumers of online wellness content; and more. (Content warning: discussions of fitness and the food environment.)

Natalia Mehlman Petrzela is a historian of contemporary American politics and culture. She is the author of FIT NATION: The Rise—And Price—Of America’s Exercise Obsession (University of Chicago Press, 2023) and Classroom Wars: Language, Sex, and the Making of Modern Political Culture (Oxford University Press, 2015). She is co-producer and host of the podcast WELCOME TO YOUR FANTASY, from Pineapple Street Studios and Gimlet – and recognized as the “best of 2021” by Vogue, Esquire, the New York Times, and Vulture – and the co-host of Past Present Podcast. Her work has been supported by the Spencer, Whiting, Rockefeller, and Mellon Foundations.

Natalia is a frequent media guest expert, public speaker, and contributor to international and domestic news outlets, from the New York Times to the Washington Post to CNN to the Atlantic. She is Associate Professor of History at The New School, co-founded and directed the wellness education program Healthclass 2.0, and is a Premiere Leader of the mind-body practice intenSati. She holds a B.A. from Columbia and a master’s and Ph.D. from Stanford and lives with her husband and two children in New York City. Learn more about her and her work at NataliaPetrzela.com.

Pre-order Christy's second book, The Wellness Trap, for its April 25 release!

If you're ready to break free from diet culture and make peace with food, come check out Christy's Intuitive Eating Fundamentals online course.

Christy's first book, Anti-Diet, is available wherever you get your books. Order online at christyharrison.com/book, or at local bookstores across North America, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand.

Grab Christy's free guide, 7 simple strategies for finding peace and freedom with food, for help getting started on the anti-diet path.

Subscribe to our newsletter, Food Psych Weekly, for weekly Q&As and more.

For full show notes and a transcript of this episode, go to christyharrison.com/foodpsych.

Ask your own question about intuitive eating and the anti-diet approach at christyharrison.com/questions.

Check out this episode!

[abcnewspr]

‘20/20’ UNCOVERS THE DARK STORY OF GREED AND MURDER FOR HIRE BEHIND THE NEW HIT HULU SERIES ‘WELCOME TO CHIPPENDALES’ 

Two-Hour Program Features an Interview With Kumail Najiani, Who Stars in the Hit Series, and the Lead FBI Agent on the Chippendales Case 

‘20/20’ Airs Friday, Dec. 16 (9:01-11:00 p.m. EST), on ABC 

*ABC News 

“20/20” dives deep into the dark history of greed, paranoia and murder behind the rise of the male exotic dance troupe Chippendales, which became an international cultural phenomenon in the 80s and 90s. By creating Chippendales, Steve Banerjee found the success and fortune he always craved — but his ambition was insatiable. “20/20” documents the harrowing stories of how Banerjee conspired to eliminate those he believed got in his way, including the shocking murder-for-hire plots against close business associates and members of a competing male dance troupe, and an alleged blackmail operation against an aggrieved patron of the club. While revisiting this dramatic tale of lust, greed and murder, “20/20” also sits down with Kumail Nanjiani, who plays Banerjee in Hulu’s latest smash hit “Welcome to Chippendales” to discuss playing the infamous club owner on the show that is taking Hollywood by storm. 

The two-hour program features a look behind the scenes as well as features interviews with Scott Garriola, a retired FBI special agent who played a major role in catching and arresting Banerjee; Read Scot, a former Chippendales dancer who opens up about being the target in a thwarted murder-for-hire plot; and Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, historian and host of “Welcome To Your Fantasy,” a popular podcast on Chippendales. The episode also features interviews with former Chippendales dancers, producers and employees, Banerjee’s business associates, and family and friends of those impacted. “20/20” airs on Friday, Dec. 16 (9:01-11:00 p.m. EST), on ABC, next day on Hulu. 

COPYRIGHT ©2022 American Broadcasting Companies, Inc. All photography is copyrighted material and is for editorial use only. Images are not to be archived, altered, duplicated, resold, retransmitted or used for any other purposes without written permission of ABC. Images are distributed to the press in order to publicize current programming. Any other usage must be licensed. Photos posted for Web use must be at the low resolution of 72dpi, no larger than 2x3 in size.  

For more information, follow ABC News PR on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. 

-- ABC -- 

[onceuponatown]

American summer camps. Ca. 1910-1930.

As the United States industrialized and both native-born transplants and immigrants flocked to crowded Northeastern cities, moral reformers and educators panicked. A new generation of children, especially boys, they fretted, were missing out on the character-building, health-promoting experiences of hardy rural life: some even mentioned the peril of “dying of indoor-ness.” A stint at summer camp–surrounded by nature and engaged in hard work and healthy play, all under the guidance of counselors who modeled moral uprightness–was thought to be the perfect solution. Either genuinely bucolic or painstakingly constructed to suit romantic ideas of what a rural encampment should look like–imagine log cabins or a facility catering to white children featuring Native American décor–camps exemplified a “manufactured wilderness,” as historian Abigail Ayres Van Slyck described. This new social institution was soon embraced by many educators, philanthropists, and health professionals alike.

These early summer camps targeted middle-class, urban boys who it was feared were being “mollycoddled” by overbearing mothers and female teachers in the overly “feminized” realms of home and school. They needed a dose of savagery, common opinion held, lest they become “sissified.” Yet this middle-class project promoted an idea that reformers had first piloted with the working classes: in the 1850s, New York City’s Children’s Aid Society had shuttled “street rats” westward to be adopted by Christian farm families who were believed to be their last best hope for salvation from a life of poverty and vice. This “uplift” mission also energized the first generation of summer camp boosters, who like many Progressive reformers believed the thousands of Eastern and Southern European children crowded into tenements with their foreign parents and unfamiliar customs would otherwise spent the summer loafing on the hot city streets, hardly learning the virtues or practices of American citizenship.

Camp wasn’t just for boys. By World War I, girls went to camp too. Learning to cook, sew, and otherwise prepare for motherhood was a standard part of cultivating virtuous young women who would resist the temptations of the “New Woman” who wore short skirts, smoked, and embraced her sexuality. Yet even while upholding traditional feminine ideals, these camps also created a rare opportunity for girls to leave home for an extended period, and many left feeling newly confident and independent. Interestingly, by the 1920s and 30s, many marginalized groups envisioned summer camp as an antidote to, rather than an engine of, Americanization.

African Americans excluded from segregated camps established their own institutions, like Massachusetts’ Camp Atwater (1921), devoted to provide recreational, social networking, and cultural opportunities to a growing black middle class. Jews, Christians and even socialists, all established summer camps to promote spiritual, cultural and political solidarity. Camp was catching on. By the 1930s, it was considered such an important rite of passage that New Deal money expanded philanthropic coffers to finance children’s summer sojourns even during the Depression.

During World War II, camp began to take on its modern form. Rather than prepare kids for adulthood, camps aimed to prolong and protect childhood innocence. Camps became places where children could explore individual passions–the arts, sports or outdoor life–in contrast to the presumed rigidity of school curricula, watchful gaze of doting parents, and the acculturating ethos that gave rise to camps in the first place. 

- BY NATALIA MEHLMAN PETRZELA

[pius2017]

Why is bilingual ed remembered as a very liberal idea and is that an accurate way to remember it from a historical standpoint?

Why is bilingual ed remembered as a very liberal idea and is that an accurate way to remember it from a historical standpoint?

Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, “Classroom Wars” Essay #4—Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, “Classroom Wars”. (IT’S A BOOK) Whether we are talking about the violence of settler colonialism embedded in federal Indian schools, the rise of mass incarceration in our nation, the formation of Asian Americans as model minorities through racial liberalism and cultural diplomacy, one constant throughout our course is…

[multipleservicelisting]

Nancye Radmin, Pioneer of Plus-Size Fashion, Is Dead at 82

Nancye Radmin, a pioneer of plus-size fashion who for two decades ran an upscale chain of stores, the Forgotten Woman, that served a group of women who had otherwise been overlooked by high fashion, died on Dec. 8 at her home in Lakeland, Fla. She was 82.

The death was confirmed by her son Brett Radmin.

For most of her life, Ms. Radmin hovered around a size 8 and preferred wearing fine fabrics like cashmere and jacquard. But by her second pregnancy, in 1976, she had gained 80 pounds and was a size 16. When she went shopping at her favorite stores in Manhattan for some new clothes, she was shocked to find that there were only polyester pants and boxy sweaters in her size.

“Fat,” she told Newsweek in 1991, “was the F word of fashion.”

“Absolutely nothing stylish was available,” she added. “I just knew I wasn’t the only fat woman in New York.”

With $10,000 she had borrowed from her husband, Ms. Radmin looked to start her own business — a boutique stocked with the kind of upscale clothes she wanted to wear.

In 1977 she opened the Forgotten Woman at 888 Lexington Avenue, near 66th Street, on the fashionable Upper East Side. The store’s name was a reference to her clientele, women who wore sizes larger than most fashion designers manufactured, and perhaps, too, to the culture that overlooked them.

Prices were high: A Persian lamb fake-fur coat by Searle went for $595, and an iridescent rose silk Kip Kirkendall gown sold for $1,850.

By 1991, Ms. Radmin had 25 shops around the country, with annual sales of $40 million.

“People forget that the older and larger woman usually leads a dressy social life,” she told The New York Times in 1983. “She’s the mother of the bride, she goes to formal dinners with her successful husband, and she can carry off beads and bright colors that might swamp a small woman.”

Plus-size clothing generally starts at size 14, and today the average U.S. women’s dress size is between 14 and 16. The women’s plus-size apparel market was valued at $9.8 billion in 2019, according to the market research firm Statista.

But in the late 1970s, the concept of plus-size fashion was an anomaly. Still, Ms. Radmin’s store spoke directly to the nascent idea of body acceptance, a product of the women’s liberation movement of that decade.

“If you look at the history of fashion for larger women, it was either invisible or ghettoized or unbelievably frumpy,” Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, an associate professor of history at the New School in New York, said in a phone interview. “The Forgotten Women as a store for attractive high-end plus-size clothing was a radically inclusive concept at the time, from the perspective of fat women deserving to think of themselves as feminine, fashionable people who would be deserving of going on a splurgy shopping trip.”

Ms. Radmin approached Seventh Avenue manufacturers to have some of her favorite clothes made for plus sizes; many of them referred to her as “crazy Nancye.”

She also urged designers to create more plus-size clothing. Some, like Oscar de la Renta, took a bit of convincing, but even he created evening dresses for her stores, as did Geoffrey Beene, Bob Mackie and Pauline Trigère.

The Forgotten Women boutiques had a “Sugar Daddy Bar” for the female shoppers’ male companions to amuse themselves, stocked with Korbel champagne, tea sandwiches and miniature muffins. Celebrities like Oprah Winfrey, Roseanne Barr, Nell Carter and Tyne Daly shopped there. Stores were strategically opened on shopping streets like Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills to show customers that they were just as entitled to spend money as their thin counterparts.

“We wanted to make the customer feel important, not embarrassed,” said Dane O’Neal, who worked in merchandising for the chain.

Nancye Jo Bullard was born on Aug. 4, 1938, in Nashville to Joe and Jane (Johnson) Bullard. She grew up on her father’s farm in Cochran, Ga., where he harvested peanuts and cotton. Her mother was a registered nurse.

Even as a child, Nancye was entrepreneurial, selling peanuts on the street corner to earn extra money.

She attended Middle Georgia College (now Middle Georgia State University), but left before graduating to travel. She then worked as a secretary and moved to New York City in the late 1960s.

In 1967 she met Mack Radmin, a widower 23 years her senior who was in the kosher meat business. She converted to Judaism for him (she had been raised Southern Baptist), and they married in 1968.

Ms. Radmin often called the first years of her marriage her “Barbie doll days,” because she weighed 110 pounds, wore a size 4 and spent a lot of time shopping and dining out in Manhattan.

Mr. Radmin died in 1996. In addition to her son Brett, she is survived by another son, William; two sisters, Michelle Moody and Cheryle Janelli; and four grandchildren.

Ms. Radmin sold a portion of the Forgotten Woman chain to venture capitalists in 1989. In 1998, the Forgotten Woman filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. The remaining nine stores were closed by the end of that year.

By then, larger department stores had caught on to the plus-size market and begun selling clothing in more sizes.

Ms. Radmin didn’t think much of them. “I don’t have competition,” she told People magazine in 1988. “I only have imitators.”

  Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com 

from Multiple Service Listing https://ift.tt/2XM5TVH

[orbemnews]

Nancye Radmin, Pioneer of Plus-Dimension Style, Is Lifeless at 82 Nancye Radmin, a pioneer of plus-size vogue who for twenty years ran an upscale chain of shops, the Forgotten Lady, that served a bunch of ladies who had in any other case been missed by excessive vogue, died on Dec. 8 at her residence in Lakeland, Fla. She was 82. The demise was confirmed by her son Brett Radmin. For many of her life, Ms. Radmin hovered round a dimension 8 and most well-liked sporting tremendous materials like cashmere and jacquard. However by her second being pregnant, in 1976, she had gained 80 kilos and was a dimension 16. When she went buying at her favourite shops in Manhattan for some new garments, she was shocked to seek out that there have been solely polyester pants and boxy sweaters in her dimension. “Fats,” she advised Newsweek in 1991, “was the F phrase of vogue.” “Completely nothing fashionable was out there,” she added. “I simply knew I wasn’t the one fats girl in New York.” With $10,000 she borrowed from her husband, Ms. Radmin appeared to start out her personal enterprise — a boutique stocked with the form of upscale garments she needed to put on. In 1977 she opened the Forgotten Lady at 888 Lexington Avenue on the modern Higher East Facet. The shop’s identify was a reference to her clientele, ladies who wore bigger sizes than most vogue designers manufactured — and, maybe, to a tradition that missed them, too. Costs have been excessive: A Persian lamb fake-fur coat by Searle was $595, and an iridescent rose silk Kip Kirkendall robe was $1,850. By 1991 she had 25 retailers across the nation, with annual gross sales of $40 million. “Individuals overlook that the older and bigger girl normally leads a dressy social life,” she advised The New York Instances in 1983. “She’s the mom of the bride, she goes to formal dinners together with her profitable husband, and she will carry off beads and vivid colours that may swamp a small girl.” Plus-size clothes usually begins at dimension 14, and at the moment the typical U.S. ladies’s gown dimension is between 14 and 16. The ladies’s plus-size attire market was valued at $9.8 billion in 2019, based on the market analysis agency Statista. However within the late Seventies, the idea of plus-size vogue was an anomaly. Nonetheless, Ms. Radmin’s retailer spoke on to the nascent concept of physique acceptance, a product of the ladies’s liberation motion of that decade. “When you have a look at the historical past of vogue for bigger ladies, it was both invisible or ghettoized or unbelievably frumpy,” Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, an affiliate professor of historical past on the New College in New York, stated in a telephone interview. “The Forgotten Ladies as a retailer for enticing high-end plus-size clothes was a radically inclusive idea on the time from the attitude of fats ladies deserving to think about themselves as female, modern individuals who can be deserving of happening a splurgy buying journey.” Ms. Radmin approached Seventh Avenue producers, lots of whom referred to her as “loopy Nancye,” to have a few of her favourite garments made for plus sizes. She additionally urged designers to create extra plus-size clothes. Some, like Oscar de la Renta, took a little bit of convincing, however even he created night clothes for her shops, as did Geoffrey Beene, Bob Mackie and Pauline Trigère. The Forgotten Ladies boutiques had a “Sugar Daddy Bar” for the feminine customers’ male companions to amuse themselves, stocked with Korbel champagne, tea sandwiches and miniature muffins. Celebrities like Oprah Winfrey, Roseanne Barr, Nell Carter and Tyne Daly shopped there. Shops have been strategically opened on buying streets like Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills to indicate clients that they have been simply as entitled to spend cash as their skinny counterparts. “We needed to make the shopper really feel necessary, not embarrassed,” stated Dane O’Neal, who labored in merchandising for the chain. Nancye Jo Bullard was born on Aug. 4, 1938, in Nashville to Joe and Jane (Johnson) Bullard. She grew up on her father’s farm in Cochran, Ga., the place he harvested peanuts and cotton. Her mom was a registered nurse. Whilst a baby, Nancye was entrepreneurial, promoting peanuts on the road nook to earn more money. She attended Center Georgia School (now Center Georgia State College), however left earlier than graduating to journey. She then labored as a secretary and moved to New York Metropolis within the late Sixties. In 1967 she met Mack Radmin, a widower 23 years her senior who was within the kosher meat enterprise. She transformed to Judaism for him (she had been raised Southern Baptist), they usually married in 1968. Ms. Radmin typically referred to as the primary years of her marriage her “Barbie doll days,” as a result of she weighed 110 kilos, wore a dimension 4 and spent a number of time buying and eating out in Manhattan. Mr. Radmin died in 1996. Along with her son Brett, she is survived by one other son, William Kyle Radmin; two sisters, Michelle Moody and Cheryle Janelli; and 4 grandchildren. In 1989, Ms. Radmin offered a portion of the Forgotten Lady chain to enterprise capitalists. In 1998, the Forgotten Lady filed for Chapter 11 chapter safety. The remaining 9 shops have been closed by the tip of that 12 months. By then, bigger shops had caught on to the plus-size market and begun promoting clothes in additional sizes. Ms. Radmin didn’t suppose a lot of them. “I don’t have competitors,” she advised Individuals journal in 1988. “I solely have imitators.” Supply hyperlink #Dead #fashion #Nancye #Pioneer #PlusSize #Radmin

[sciencespies]

The History of the StairMaster

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-history-of-the-stairmaster/

The History of the StairMaster

Like clockwork, every January Americans return to gyms and fitness studios across the country in rejuvenated numbers. Some are driven by a New Year’s resolution to get in shape; for others, it’s just another routine month in a culture that prizes physical fitness.

Among viral Peloton memes and ClassPass fundraising clamor, the StairMaster remains a quiet presence in most gyms. The machine, which features an infinite loop of stairs and demands a notoriously tough cardio workout, is as common as a treadmill or a stationary bike. But the StairMaster’s ubiquity belies a colorful history that skyrocketed it to fame during the 1980s.

The StairMaster was born during an oil crisis in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Jim Walker and George Schupp, a pair of entrepreneurs who owned a manufacturing company that primarily worked with clients in the energy industry, knew it was time to pivot their focus when oil prices peaked at $103.95 in 1980. The trouble was, they didn’t know where to go next. They were in the midst of exploring their options when, by chance, Walker bought a used car from a hobbyist inventor named Lanny Potts.

The trio forged a close relationship. Potts brought curiosity and creativity to their brainstorming sessions, while Walker and Schupp had the manufacturing know-how to puzzle out what it would take to bring a new product to market. As they explored the possibility of designing exercise equipment, Potts’ thoughts drifted back to his time in the Air Force—specifically, his memory of living in a walk-up apartment while stationed in Italy. The machine he proposed would replicate the taxing four-story climb, minus the joint-straining need to walk downstairs again.

By 1983, Potts, Walker and Schupp had founded a company called Tri-Tech and were ready to launch their first product. Originally dubbed the Ergometer 6000, the stepper was renamed the StairMaster 5000 by then-marketing director Ralph Cissne. The machine debuted at the National Sporting Goods Association (NSGA) trade show in Chicago, to attendees who worked in the country’s growing sporting goods industry. These potential buyers would have primarily worked in retail or wholesale—the first links in a long chain that would end in neighborhood gyms.

The following years brought new iterations. In March 1984, Tri-Tech released the StairMaster 6000—essentially the same design, but with the addition of a digital screen. Early advertisements for the StairMaster 6000, still bearing a “patent pending” disclaimer, emphasized the new machine’s digital benefits, such as readouts that showed the calories burned and audio tones that would ring when users climbed a virtual flight of stairs.

Lanny Potts’ “Stair Climbing Exercise Apparatus,” patented November 24, 1987

(U.S. Patent 4,708,338)

The company’s next chapter began with a patent application Potts filed in August 1986, describing a new machine called the StairMaster 4000 PT (short for Personal Trainer). This version replaced the machine’s escalator-like stairs (which made it, technically, a stepmill) for a pair of pedals that “simulate stair-climbing for a user.” Instead of climbing the rotating flight of stairs, StairMaster 4000 PT users could set the resistance level, then “climb” the pedals as if standing while pedaling a bike.

The StairMaster’s innovation lay in the stairs themselves: it was possible to adjust the height of the stairs individually. Instead of a one-size-fits-all approach, users could climb stairs spaced according to their height. The design even allowed users to safely set two different increments—a helpful feature for anyone whose stride isn’t perfectly even. Two days before Thanksgiving in 1987, the StairMaster 4000 PT’s patent was granted.

Tri-Tech’s decision to manufacture exercise equipment was far from random. In fact, Walker and Schupp’s decision to pivot to fitness was perfectly timed. Fitness “absolutely explode[d]” during the 1980s, according to Natalia Mehlman-Petrzela, a professor of history at the New School in New York City who is currently writing a book about the history of fitness culture. “Gym culture evolved from being a very strange subculture as late as the 1950s and even 1960s to being the ubiquitous cultural phenomenon that we see today,” says Mehlman-Petrzela. Though some people purchased StairMasters for personal use—particularly the 4000 PT, which was sleeker—the StairMaster’s rise to fame was inextricably intertwined with the boom in gyms and fitness clubs.

National survey data backs up Mehlman-Petrzela’s assessment. The same year the StairMaster 4000 PT received its patent, 69 percent of Americans self-reported regular exercise—up from just 24 percent in 1960. The International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association (IHRSA) began collecting consumer data in 1987, marking a new era for the fitness industry. Although the U.S. Census did not recognize the fitness industry until 1992, IHRSA data and contemporary reports suggest that approximately 17.3 million Americans belonged to gyms in 1987, compared to only 1.7 million in 1972.

Why the sudden spike in exercise? Historians say that gym-going was a response to a complex melange of cultural pressures. Mehlman-Petrzela cites several shifting cultural notions that gained purchase during the 1970s, one of the most important being widespread acceptance of the existence of a mind-body connection. This concept suggested that sweating on the StairMaster was not only physically rewarding, but mentally or emotionally enriching, too. According to Marc Stern, a history professor at Bentley University, fitness quickly became linked to corporate prestige and the aesthetics of beauty.

“In the 1980s, the gym gained a reputation of being a place to meet [people],” Stern says. Singles donned form-fitting Lycra, hoping to catch a potential date’s eye from across the room. An episode of Seinfeld that aired in 1993 reflects this commonplace voyeurism: “I usually last about ten minutes on a StairMaster,” Jerry Seinfeld says. “Unless, of course, there’s someone stretching in front of me in a leotard. Then I can go an hour.”

Oprah Winfrey stands next to a StairMaster during her talk show in Chicago on November 15, 1989.

(Mark Elias/AP)

The StairMaster had cameos in movies and picked up endorsements from celebrities. By 1990, Tom Cruise, Robert De Niro, Oprah and the entire cast of Three Men and a Baby had all publicly declared their love for the StairMaster. Later, athletes including the Knicks’ Patrick Ewing were known to incorporate the StairMaster into their training. “When you see the rich and famous exercising in a particular way or with a particular machine, that operates to make a product aspirational,” Mehlman-Petrzela says, “not necessarily just a program you do to lose weight or to get stronger.”

When the StairMaster was first introduced, Americans were experiencing declining health. As sedentary office jobs became more common, heart and lung disease spiked. Rates of cardiovascular disease rose steadily and peaked during the 1960s and 1970s. Meanwhile, health care was becoming more expensive; between 1973 and 1983, costs more than tripled. According to Mehlman-Petrzela, Americans of all political persuasions began to view fitness as a path toward seizing a sense of individual responsibility and empowerment.

The StairMaster entered the market as these forces reached their apex, and as gyms and fitness centers swept the nation. Though private gym memberships were pricey, it was still less expensive than assembling a home gym from scratch. A 1985 article published in the Washington Post described monthly fees ranging from $22 to $100, plus initiation fees that could cost as much as $650. Gyms and fitness clubs also granted access to high-end equipment, such as the StairMaster or weight circuit machines by Nautilus. By comparison, a single exercise machine could come with a price tag well into the thousands.

Back in the fall of 1983, Stern carefully weighed his decision to join an independently owned gym in East Setauket, New York, against his meager graduate student budget. The gym he ultimately joined had separate areas for cardio and weightlifting, booming disco music and a hot tub for mingling with fellow members. Trainers roamed the floor, monitoring exercisers and interjecting to provide guidance. Stern even tried the StairMaster a few times, then a new addition.

The experience was novel enough to spark Stern’s academic interest. He found himself contemplating the performances of strength playing out in gyms’ Panopticon-like mirrored rooms, musings that eventually became an academic paper. The StairMaster commanded attention, ensuring that users could see—and be seen. “The StairMaster is at the center of the gym,” Mehlman-Petrzela says. “It’s a bit of an exhibitionist kind of machine.”

By the late 1980s, StairMasters had become a fixture in gyms across the country. In a 1989 New York Times “Metropolitan Diary,” a subscriber named Cynthia Arnold described her obsession with the new machine. “It allows you to climb tall buildings while trudging in place, a supposedly efficient form of exercise that doubles the torture in half the time,” she wrote. The statement, which could easily be mistaken for criticism, was meant as glowing praise. “Stairmaster, I love you!” Arnold concluded.

Arnold’s experience encapsulates what drew users to the StairMaster in droves. The machine was originally designed to reduce the physical strain of a cardio workout; users’ joints are dealt roughly half the impact of running. Yet the StairMaster gained a reputation for being particularly grueling. “The Stairmaster in some ways really embodies that kind of Sisyphean task,” Mehlman-Petrzela says, calling it a “stairway to nowhere.”

Still, the StairMaster’s rise to fame wasn’t without stumbles. By the end of the 1980s, the StairMaster was competing in an increasingly crowded market, and legal jostling ensued. In 1991, Tri-Tech sued—and was sued by—Tru-Trac Therapy Product, a rival stairclimber manufacturer, over alleged patent infringement. Just a few months later, two more stairclimber manufacturers, Laguna Tectrix and Pro-Form Fitness Products, tangled in a similar legal fight. At the time, stairclimbing machines claimed an approximately $320 million slice of the fitness market, and everyone wanted to secure their piece.

Sales of the StairMaster eventually declined. In 2001, the company filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy and laid off employees in its Tulsa and Washington state locations. But that’s not the end of the StairMaster story.

“[T]he StairMaster name is ingrained in fitness-dom,” fitness and travel writer Therese Iknoian wrote at the time. “If the price is right, what company wouldn’t want to own that piece of history and the steppers—still popular home equipment—that goes with it?”

That company turned out to be Nautilus, Inc.—and business rebounded. By 2007, the StairMaster “hit sales volumes they haven’t reached in more than a decade,” according to a report published in Tulsa World. The company predicted that it would sell 7,000 StairMaster machines that year. “I don’t think it’ll slow down any time soon,” plant manager Rob Myers told a reporter.

In 2009, StairMaster was acquired by Michael Bruno, who was then operating Land America. That same year, Bruno created Core Health and Fitness, which today owns a collection of fitness brands including Schwinn, Nautilus, Star Trac and Throwdown. In 2012, the company unveiled a refreshed version of the TreadClimber, a treadmill-stepclimber hybrid originally sold by Nautilus, followed by a new version of the StairMaster (called the Gauntlet) in 2014.

In 2017, the National Fitness Trade Journal ran a cover story that repositioned the StairMaster as an effective way to deliver a trendy high intensity interval training (HIIT) workout. “With StairMaster HIIT, club owners can create a new revenue stream while tapping into a massive growing market,” the article suggested, promising that the StairMaster would leave members “hurting for more.” To sweeten the deal, StairMaster provided HIIT resources for trainers, suggesting ways to include its machines in larger HIIT programs.

Now, nearly four decades into its history, the StairMaster is facing new competition from smart mirrors and spin classes, barre and bootcamp. Despite all the fitness trends that may challenge its legacy, its staying power lies in its simplicity.

Its truly basic name says it all.

“[It] implies total mastery of something that should be normal,” Stern says. “You’re gonna climb some stairs.”

#History

[checkyourbaggage-blog1]

Insomniaaaaa

So I’m blogging. At 5am I might give up and go for a sunrise walk. Unintentional adult all-nighter, yeah! (oh god this is going to suck tomorrow)

Real thoughts:

I saw this HuffPo article making the rounds on Facebook. I usually don’t click on cutesy-self-care-self-help things, but I took a look.

and BAM

“The conception of self-care as a radical act has roots in the civil rights movement, when women of color created spaces and ceremonies to put their health and bodies first. Self-care was, as Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, an assistant professor at the New School, explained to Slate, “a claiming [of] autonomy over the body as a political act against institutional, technocratic, very racist, and sexist medicine.”

I did not know this. Who knows this? Why are we not taught this? WOC saying to The White Man “naw, I’m going to do my hair before I tend to the legal role you imposed on me today” is (in my eyes) just as big as college kids being beaten up on the streets, similarly defying cultural accepted legal norms. I have learned about many advances being made during the civil rights movement because POC were taught to use their bodies as a tool to show “I am not afraid of what you think you can do to me”. I think women taking a stand on “what you think you can do to me” by reclaiming their time and physical actions from a patriarchal Jim Crow culture is beautiful and heroic and damn public school catch up here. (checking my bias, I’m white and in the majority in my community. I do have curly hair that needs some TLC though!)

I am SO SICK of cutesy self-help self-care tricks. That’s pretty much all that was taught to us in BSW school and in foster care/protective services training. No wonder there’s so much burnout in bachelor level positions. In graduate school you could tell many people were catching onto the idea of self-care needing to be an all-day balance-seeking self-reflection (did-I use-enough hyphens-yet?).

Your bodies were not MEANT to tolerate emotional abuse all day long, let along verbal or physical. Your bodies were not MEANT to run for 18 hours a day between activities in a society where if “you’re on time, you’re late”. We SHOULD say hell no, we have come to expect too much of ourselves, and why are Others making unreasonable demands on us? What happened to sitting on the porch after dinner and chatting with family instead of rushing off to yet another 8-year-old kiddos soccer league (again, checking my bias, I’m not a parent, but can’t they play soccer at home in the yard just as well?)

I can feel my train of thought trying to go in two directions, running with this to stick it to the patriarchy or fleshing out this evolving idea of self care in the mental health world. So I’ll stop my 4am thoughts there, and post this as a reminder to myself to do more research on this topic.

[abcnewspr]

SEASON 44 PREMIERE OF ‘20/20’ UNCOVERS THE DARK HISTORY OF GREED AND MURDER-FOR-HIRE BEHIND THE RISE OF MALE EXOTIC DANCE TROUPE CHIPPENDALES

Two-Hour Program Features Never-Before-Seen Footage and an Interview With Lead FBI Agent Who Cracked Case Linked to Chippendales Creator 

‘20/20’ Airs Friday, Oct. 8 (9:01–11:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC 

*ABC News 

The season 44 premiere of “20/20” dives deep into the dark history of greed, paranoia and murder behind the rise of male exotic dance troupe Chippendales, which became an international cultural phenomenon in the 80s and 90s. By creating Chippendales, Steve Banerjee found the success and fortune he always craved — but his ambition was insatiable. “20/20” documents the harrowing stories of how Banerjee conspired to eliminate those who he believed got in his way, including the shocking murder-for-hire plots against close business associates and a competing male dance troupe, and an alleged blackmail operation against an aggrieved patron of the club who sued the organization for racial discrimination. “20/20” also reports on how, over the course of 15 years, Banerjee’s obsession with wealth and control ultimately led to his own demise. The two-hour program features never-before-seen footage as well as interviews with Scott Garriola, a retired FBI special agent, who played a major role in catching and arresting Banerjee; Read Scot, a former Chippendales dancer who opens up about being the target in a thwarted murder-for-hire plot; and Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, historian and host of “Welcome To Your Fantasy,” a popular podcast on Chippendales. The special also includes interviews with former Chippendales dancers, producers and employees; Banerjee’s business associates; and family and friends of those impacted. “20/20” airs on Friday, Oct. 8 (9:01-11:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC. 

ABC News’ “20/20” is an award-winning primetime program anchored by David Muir and Amy Robach. A proven leader as a long-form newsmagazine for over 40 years, “20/20” features unforgettable, character-driven true-crime mysteries, exclusive newsmaker interviews, hard-hitting investigative reports and in-depth coverage of high profile stories. The two-hour “20/20” events air Fridays from 9:01–11:00 p.m. EDT on ABC and are available to stream on ABC News digital platforms and Hulu. David Sloan is senior executive producer, and Janice Johnston is executive producer. 

*COPYRIGHT ©2021 American Broadcasting Companies, Inc. All photography is copyrighted material and is for editorial use only. Images are not to be archived, altered, duplicated, resold, retransmitted or used for any other purposes without written permission of ABC. Images are distributed to the press in order to publicize current programming. Any other usage must be licensed. Photos posted for Web use must be at the low resolution of 72dpi, no larger than 2x3 in size.

– ABC – 

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[gizedcom]

Running, Race And The Politics of Taking Up Space After Ahmaud Arbery : Code Switch : NPR

YouTube

Since two white men killed Ahmaud Arbery while he was out for a jog, there has been a lot more conversation about “running while black.” What’s strange is that — for a few years, in fact — there has actually been increasing discussion within the running community about runners’ safety. The catch? It’s focused primarily on (white) women. So why, until recently, has it been easier to talk about runners’ safety for white women than for runners of color? The answer involves World War II, the founder of Nike, yuppies and the Central Park Five case.

In this video episode of Code Switch, we interview runner and activist Alison Désir and historian and author Natalia Mehlman Petrzela.

You can listen to the Code Switch podcast on NPR One, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pocket Casts, Stitcher, Google Podcasts and RSS.

Credit: Source link

The post Running, Race And The Politics of Taking Up Space After Ahmaud Arbery : Code Switch : NPR appeared first on GIZED - Breaking News Worldwide.

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[javierpenadea]

"Running Has Always Excluded Black People" by BY NATALIA MEHLMAN PETRZELA via NYT Opinion https://ift.tt/2LlIjsG

[msangeliqueluna]

Self care is very important! #Repost @cyclesandsex with @get_repost ・・・ #Selfcare may seem like all the rage these days- whether as part of the #wellness industry or thanks to a certain situation in the White House *cough cough* (The week after the election, #Americans Googled the term almost twice as often as they ever had in years past. ) The "self-care" trend is moving fast, but like most things, it's actually not new. Before the 1960s, "Self-care" was a medical term employed by doctors to help treat mentally ill and elderly patients who needed long-term care. Then, they started to use it to help those in high-risk and emotionally draining professions (EMTs, therapists etc.) But the womens' movement and civil rights movement made "self-care" a political act. Self-care, says Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, was “a claiming [of] autonomy over the body as a political act against institutional, technocratic, very racist, and sexist medicine,” "Women and people of color viewed controlling their health as a corrective to the failures of a white, patriarchal medical system to properly tend to their needs." Self-care became a push to redefine health care beyond just treatment of the individual body. Activists saw poverty was correlated with poor health. In order to dismantle hierarchies based upon race, gender, class, and sexual orientation, those groups must be able to live healthy lives. Read more about how self-care became a political act via link in bio. Did you know the history of self-care? (Information via Slate, “A History of Self-Care” by Aisha Harris, 2017.) Photography by @michelgauber ------ #Allbodieswelcome #cyclesandsex #youvebeencycledandsexed #currentevents #health #wellness #selfcare #education #history #resource #diversity #feelgood #balance #relax #chill #politics https://www.instagram.com/p/BrILGNIhkCz/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ebcsjhbwohp2