I've used plenty of phrases to describe living abroad: crazy, upside down, terrifying, exhilarating, tearful, broadening--but after a conversation with a good friend recently, I need to add another. Addictive. For some expats, whirling from one post and dervishing to the next, it's easy to lose yourself in the tornado of "the move". At times,... Continue Reading →
Need a last-minute gift for that special woman in your life? The one who is raising your kids? I know, I know. There are still loads of shopping days left. But as we're rapidly hurtling toward extra expensive expedited delivery or a dented box of discontinued scent territory, it's time to acknowledge things are getting... Continue Reading →
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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