This is an excerpt from the above-titled article in Live Science. I highly recommend clicking through to read the whole thing!
Females have one active X chromosome and one dormant X chromosome in each cell. But a study suggests that genes on the dormant X get "reawakened" later in life, potentially giving the brain a boost.
Dormant genes on the X chromosome may reawaken in old age, potentially giving the aging female brain a boost that the male brain doesn't receive. This phenomenon may help to explain why, on many measures, females show a higher level of cognitive resilience in old age than males do.
Males typically carry one X and one Y in each cell; they inherit the X from their mother and the Y from their father. Females, on the other hand, usually carry two X chromosomes — one from mom and one from dad. But each cell needs only one X to be active, so in females, the second X is "silenced," leaving only the maternal or paternal X switched on.
Among the 22 reawakened genes, one called PLP1 carries the instructions to make a key component of myelin, the fatty insulation that helps neurons send signals efficiently. It's known that mutations in PLP1 can decrease the amount of myelin in the brain, resulting in intellectual disability. It's also known that myelin can be compromised in aging and that loss of myelin function can contribute to cognitive decline.
To see if the reawakening of PLP1 might boost cognition, scientists confirmed that older female mice had more PLP1 activity in their hippocampi than the older male mice did. They artificially increased PLP1 using gene editing in both old males and old femalesfound that both sexes performed better on tests of learning and memory after that boost.
To see if any of the findings extended to humans, the team looked at data previously collected for a large study of human brain tissue. Data weren't available for the hippocampus, but the brain tissue immediately surrounding the hippocampus showed more PLP1 activation in older women than in older men. So that hints that the same phenomenon might be unfolding in people.
Eleanor
Oliphant Is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman (Penguin)
This marvelous debut
novel is mainstream, not genre, but with overtones of “domestic thriller” and
superb handling of an unreliable narrator. The growth of the central character
skillfully parallels the gradual revelation of her past.
At first, Eleanor
Oliphant seems to be a tediously bland, often annoying office worker. Her
social skills leave a great deal to be desired, she’s compulsively
routine-bound, and she rebuffs every effort at friendship. Although she insists
to herself and to everyone else that she is completely fine, her weekly phone
chats with her emotionally abusive Mummy result in weekly bouts of heavy drinking.
Her doomed infatuation with a third-rate singer provides more fodder for
Mummy’s manipulations.
At first, I thought
that her problem was that she was a functional alcoholic, but the situation turned
out to be much more complex and nuanced. From the beginning, there are hints of
a deeper, darker story. When Eleanor and Raymond, a big-hearted if physically
unattractive IT guy, rescue an elderly man who collapses on the street, Eleanor
gets drawn into new social circles and relationships. The walls she has built
around her profound emotional damage begin to crumble. Needless to say, in
Honeyman’s capable hands, there is more than one surprise along the way.
This article first appeared in The Conversation. I offer it here with permission because now, more than ever, we need hope. Hope and belief in our power to resist and ultimately defeat a tyrant.
Social movements constrained Trump in his first term – more than people realize
Things feel different this time around. Critics seem quieter. Some point to fear of retribution. But there’s also a sense that the protests of Trump’s first term were ultimately futile. This has contributed to a widespread mood of despair.
As The New York Times noted not long ago, Trump “had not appeared to be swayed by protests, petitions, hashtag campaigns or other tools of mass dissent.” That’s a commonperspective these days.
But what if it’s wrong?
As a historian, I study how our narratives about the past shape our actions in the present. In this case, it’s particularly important to get the history right.
In fact, popular resistance in Trump’s first term accomplished more than many observers realize; it’s just that most wins happened outside the spotlight. In my view, the most visible tactics – petitions, hashtags, occasional marches in Washington – had less impact than the quieter work of organizing in communities and workplaces.
Understanding when movements succeeded during Trump’s first term is important for identifying how activists can effectively oppose Trump policy in his second administration.
Progressive activists were a key reason. By combining decentralized organizing and nationwideresource-sharing, they successfully pushed scores of stateand local governments to adopt sanctuary laws that limited cooperation with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE.
When the sociologist Adam Safer examined thousands of cities and dozens of states, he found that a specific type of sanctuary law that activists supported – barring local jails and prisons from active cooperation with ICE – successfully reduced ICE arrests. A study by legal scholar David K. Hausman confirmed this finding. Notably, Hausman also found that sanctuary policies had “no detectable effect on crime rates,” contrary to what many politicians allege.
Another important influence on state and local officials was employers’ resistance to mass deportation. The E-Verify system requiring employers to verify workers’ legal status went virtually unenforced, since businesses quietly objected to it. As this example suggests, popular resistance to Trump’s agenda was most effective when it exploited tensions between the administration and capitalists.
The ‘rising tide’ against fossil fuels
In his effort to prop up the fossil fuel industry, Trump in his first term withdrew from the Paris climate agreement, weakened or eliminated over 100 environmental protections and pushed other measures to obstruct the transition to green energy.
Researchers projected that these policies would kill tens of thousands of people in just the United States by 2028, primarily from exposure to air pollutants. Other studies estimated that the increased carbon pollution would contribute to tens of millions of deaths, and untold other suffering, by century’s end.
That’s not the whole story, though. Trump’s first-term energy agenda was partly thwarted by a combination of environmental activism and market forces.
His failure to resuscitate the U.S. coal industry was especially stark. Coal-fired plant capacity declined faster during Trump’s first term than during any four-year period in any country, ever. Some of the same coal barons who celebrated Trump’s victory in 2016 soon went bankrupt.
CBS News covered the bankruptcy of coal firm Murray Energy, founded by Trump supporter Robert E. Murray.
The most obvious reasons for coal’s decline were the U.S. natural gas boom and the falling cost of renewable energy. But its decline was hastened by the hundreds of local organizations that protested coal projects, filed lawsuits against regulators and pushed financial institutions to disinvest from the sector. The presence of strong local movements may help explain the regional variation in coal’s fortunes.
Environmentalists also won some important battles against oil and gas pipelines, power plants and drilling projects. In a surprising number of cases, organizers defeated polluters through a combination of litigation, civil disobedience and other protests, and by pressuring banks, insurers and big investors.
In 2018, one pipeline CEO lamented the “rising tide of protests, litigation and vandalism” facing his industry, saying “the level of intensity has ramped up,” with “more opponents” who are “better organized.”
Green energy also expanded much faster than Trump and his allies would have liked, albeit not fast enough to avert ecological collapse. The U.S. wind energy sector grew more in Trump’s first term than under any other president, while solar capacity more than doubled. Research shows that this progress was due in part to the environmental movement’sorganizing, particularly at the state and local levels.
As with immigration, Trump’s energy agenda divided both political and business elites. Some investors became reluctant to keep their money in the sector, and some even subsidized environmental activism. Judges and regulators didn’t always share Trump’s commitment to propping up fossil fuels. These tensions between the White House and business leaders created openings that climate activists could exploit.
Nonetheless, workers’ direct action on the job won meaningful victories. For example, educators across the country organized dozens of major strikes for better pay, more school funding and even against ICE. Workers in hotels, supermarkets and other private-sector industries also walked out. Ultimately, more U.S. workers went on strike in 2018 than in any year since 1986.
In addition to winning gains for workers, the strike wave apparently also worked against Republicans at election time by increasing political awareness and voter mobilization. The indirect impact on elections is a common side effect of labor militancy and mass protest.
Quiet acts of worker defiance also constrained Trump. The early months of the COVID-19 pandemic featured widespread resistance to policies that raised the risk of infection, particularly the lack of mask mandates.
Progressive movements have no direct influence over Republicans in Washington. However, they have more potential influence over businesses, lower courts, regulators and state and local politicians.
Of these targets, business ultimately has the most power. Business will usually be able to constrain the administration if its profits are threatened. Trump and Elon Musk may be able to dismantle much of the federal government and ignore court orders, but it’s much harder for them to ignore major economic disruption.
While big marches can raise public consciousness and help activists connect, by themselves they will not block Trump and Musk. For that, the movement will need more disruptive forms of pressure. Building the capacity for that disruption will require sustained organizing in workplaces and communities.
Court of Fives trilogy (Court of Fives, The
Poisoned Blade, The Buried Heart) by Kate Elliott (audiobook)
I’ve been a fan of Kate Elliott for a long time, admiring
her thoughtfulness and nuanced presentation of relatable characters wrestling
with complex social issues. Plus great action sequences and world-building. I
found this trilogy in audiobook format through my public library (hooray for
libraries!). It had been around for awhile, the first volume (Court of Fives)
having been published in 2015.
After the patriarchal kingdom of Saro invades and conquers
the land of Efea, a colonial-style caste system perpetuates the resulting conquerer/conquered
elite/slave dichotomies. The fact that the aristocratic Saroese are light-skinned
and have straight hair and the Efeans are dark with “coiled” hair evokes echoes
of British imperialism in Africa or the post-Civil War America. Here, as in
Elliott’s ficticious realm, people from different castes will inevitably meet,
fall in love, and have children. Jessamy and her sisters have grown up in such
a family; their father is a common, untitled Saroese who has risen to military prominence
due to his extraordinary skill. His wife in all but name is a perceptive,
generous Efean who excels at caring for everyone in her orbit.
Jessamy has a secret: she has been training to compete in
the Court of Fives, a sort of Olympic trial combinng strength, agility,
quick-thinking, and speed—and she does so anonymously, against her father’s
wishes. He does his best to protect his mixed-race girl in the larger world of Saroese
dominance. Jessamy’s secret rebellion and a chance encounter with Kalliarkos, (a
Saroese prince in line for the throne) ignite vicious political infighting, simmering
Efean rebellion, betrayals within her own family, and a discovery that will
transform forever the relationship between the two peoples.
The result is a coming of age story fueled by Jessamy’s
burgeoning insight, courage, and maturity, and the her (and the reader’s) step-by-step
discovery of the history of this world, the power of rebellion, and the
emergence of the leadership this world needs so desperately to survive. The
resulting tale is neither a quick nor superficial, but rich, detailed, and
ultimately satisfying.
I love to listen to audiobooks while I work in the garden,
take a walk, or cook a meal. Recently, I borrowed two memoirs from my public
library and was struck by the contrast. Both were written by famous people and
narrated by themselves. I was curious enough about each of them to listen to
their stories.
The first was Spare, by Prince Harry (Random House),
mostly because it popped up on my screen. Okay, I thought, his perspective on
growing up in the shadow of Princess Diana’s death should be be interesting.
His life has been very different from (or, in Brit: to) mine.
Being in the public spotlight does not qualify a person to
write a compelling memoir, nor does belonging to a royal family confer the
ability to narrate with clarity and emotion. Spare fails on both counts.
The charm of Harry’s accent lasted about five minutes, long enough for the
emotional shallowness—a combination of the dry text and the manner in which it
was read aloud—and lack of awareness of his elite white privilege to wear thin.
Since I know from my own experience what it’s like to lose a parent unexpectedly,
I hoped I’d be able to connect with Harry’s loss. I found his denial of Diana’s
death understandable as a child. The problem was that Harry, the adult
looking back, seemed to not have gained any insight or grown beyond denial as a
childish survival strategy. I heard no understanding of how much he’d matured
through adversity, the pain he’d walked through. No connection between that
loss and the subsequent estrangements from other members of his family or the
mental health issues with which he struggled later in life. But there was lots
about the privileged life where everything was provided without him having to
work for it and which he accepted without question.
I finally gave up, so I never got to hear about his military
service or his courtship with Meghan Markle and how they made a life for
themselves apart from his royal relatives. I wish them well, but I found little
in this audiobook memoir to attract and hold my interest in who Harry is as a
person.
In contrast, Lovely One, A Memoir, by Ketanji Brown
Jackson (Random House) was a joy from start to finish. Jackson is the newest
member of the US Supreme Court and the first Black woman to be confirmed to
that post. As a student, she excelled in public speaking and debate, tackling
challenging topics with determination and extraordinary eloquence. Her facility
with communicating complex ideas shines through her narrative, as does her love
for her family, her capacity for enduring friendship, her passion for justice,
and her unwavering courage. Whether she is talking about the African origin of
her name, the environment of racism and misogyny prevalent in here field even
today, her and her husband’s struggles to maintain separate careers while
raising two daughters, one of whom is autistic, she speaks with unusual clarity
and persuasiveness. I loved every minute of her story. In another life, I want to be her best friend.
I've been keeping a list of articles on how to survive the second term of #Felon47 and have gathered the links here. Please send others as you find them and I'll add to the list.
The text below, dubbed the “Authoritarian Regime Survival Guide”, was published in social media in January 2017 in a series of improvised, spontaneous tweets, which reached 3 million views within one month. Their common element was their trademark signature, “- With love, your Eastern European friends”, and the accompanying hashtag #LearnFromEurope.
I refuse my consent to #fascism. I also refuse my consent to despair. I affirm that I will cling tenaciously – relentlessly – to #hope, and I invite you to do so, too.
I first posted this on January 2, 2017, right after the presidential election. I'm putting it up again as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our mental well-being in troubled times.
Recently, I’ve noticed more articles on staying grounded in
joy and hope, even when surrounded by fear. Perhaps such articles have always
been part of the general social media discourse and I am only now becoming
sufficiently calm to notice them. But I rather think (hope!) this is a trend. In me, it certainly is. After the initial
rounds of fear and trepidation, the constant adrenaline wore off. I’m not
naturally a person who enjoys being fearful; from my experience training dogs,
I suspect it’s not an appealing state for most of us. Some, I suppose, enjoy the
“high” of confrontation, even violence, but I’m not among them. Harming others
and myself is not where I want to live my life.
I see also posts affirming commitment to action, often in
terms of “We Will Fight On!” and I’ve been resisting the urge to jump on that
bandwagon. (Also the “Organize the Resistance” brigade.) It all sounds so
necessary, a matter of putting my money where my mouth is. And is just as unrealistic
for me as remaining in that state of terrified fury.
As unhealthy.
I am not objecting to others following the paths to which they
are led. Resisting fascism and protecting the most vulnerable are inarguably
vital to our survival as individuals, communities, and a society. I am thrilled
that people have the drive and knowledge to organize such resistance. I will be
right there, cheering them on. But I won’t be in the forefront.
It’s taken me a long time, coming from a family of dyed-in-the-wool
organizers (labor unions, radical politics, war resistance, etc.) to come to
terms with not being one of them. Undoubtedly, seeing the cost to my family
played a role in my reluctance. I’ve marched in my share of civil rights and
anti-war demonstrations, written a gazillion letters, painted an equal number
of signs. But it’s not where my heart is. I’ve seen the joy in the eyes of
those for whom this is their passion, their “thing.” I want to hug them all and
say, “I’m so glad you’re out there, doing this for both of us.”
The fallacy is that making the world a better place is an
either/or proposition. Either I’m out
there, making headlines by facilitating events of vast numbers for the people’s
revolution (as an example), or I’m
sitting at home, knitting while Yosemite burns.
The fact is, any social movement happens on many levels.
There’s the outward, banner-headline, political level, one that often requires
organization on a national or international level. There is a community level,
supporting your neighbors, particularly those in need. Soup kitchens are just
as necessary as demonstrations outside the White House, although they serve
fewer people. Taking care of ourselves and our families is yet another.
Quiet, mindful actions that focus on compassion, justice,
and unity need not be limited to small numbers. In fact, outward activism must
be balanced by inner activism. We can all find where we are called to act along
that spectrum, and we can move back and forth (or in and out, whichever image
works best) with circumstances, experience, and energy levels. What a relief to
realize I don’t have to pick one thing or level of involvement!
So what speaks to me right now is remembering joy. The year
to come is almost certainly going to be full of occasions for grimness if not
despair, so I don’t want to start off that way. I want to full up my “savings
account of hope” as much as I can, cultivating those people, places, and things
that lift my spirits. I want to never, ever let go of believing we can survive
this, kindness and persistence will triumph, and no matter how dark it may seem
at the moment, love will win.
I refuse my consent to fascism. I also refuse my consent to
despair.
I affirm that I will cling tenaciously – relentlessly – to hope,
and I invite you to do so, too.
