Unlike John Denver's musical ode to West Virginia, I am most decidedly not in almost heaven. More like almost hell. I know I'm not in hell because if I were in hell I would be experiencing the Inferno-esque thermo-nuclear changes my body is throwing at me while a man followed me around explaining to me I'm... Continue Reading →
In honor of the anniversary of millions of women worldwide taking to the streets, this is why we march.
This is why we roar.
I talk a lot (no, really, A LOT) about my passion for women’s issues. I talk a lot (A LOT) about how important it is to change the way we think about women, talk about women, and treat women. I talk a never-ending lot about systematic sexism, about reproductive rights.
But I’ve never explained why I’m passionate about these things.
I’ve never explained why I roar.
I roar because for most of my life I have been made to understand I am less than. Sometimes the message is subtle. Sometimes it is as clear as a cartoon anvil landing on your head.
The problem is, I do not feel less than. I don’t wake feeling less than. I don’t approach a situation or a problem and feel I’m unable to do, achieve, or be simply because I am a woman.
And so I roar. I roar because there is nothing
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If I read one more think piece about what constitutes a 'real' American, or what alphabetized or categorized or hypothesized list of attributes define a 'real' American, I'm going to scream. If I read one more newspaper article, or book blurb, or journal piece by men and women with glasses and thoughtful looks in their... Continue Reading →
Leia’s legacy will live on. Not just in The Last Jedi, but in the hearts and minds of girls (and boys) everywhere.
After all, a woman’s place is in the Resistance.
Back in October, when glass ceilings seemed shatter-able and not steeled, I was a judge for a Halloween costume contest. There was the expected assortment of ghouls and zombies, mummies and small, adorable witches in black, pointed hats. What was lacking were multitudes of frilly princesses in confectionary gowns all a-sparkle. I admit, I was surprised.
Way back in the 1970s, as a girl gearing up for the glory of a New England Halloween, there weren’t a lot of female icons to choose from. Come October 31, your choices fell somewhere between gypsy and witch. If you were lucky, Wonder Woman in a bullet-proof brassiere and sweaty, plastic mask.
Where were all the heroes a girl could see her reflection within?
It’s naive to assume that along the arc of history girls and women have been sitting silent and still on the sidelines. It is incorrect to assume that women have not…
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