There’s this naughty genre of journalism that teases and titillates by posing “blind items,” in which juicy tidbits of gossip about showbiz and public figures are dangled. They give sparse clues and don’t identify by name. That’s why they’re called blind items.
Nearly every weekend, my spunky neighbor Kabsat Kandu tosses to me tattle tales like these, then chides me about not printing them in the newspaper I edit. So far we had steered clear from this kind of journalistic action, but today—for a change—I hereby make three women the subject of my first blind-item column. Continue reading “Women as blind items”