I'm a pretty shitty feminist. I don't ground my writing in feminism because I'm deeply afraid of doing the whole thing wrong. Like I'm not academic enough. I don't see the stamp of patriarchy & oppression in places where it's so obvious to other feminists. But, look, I'm 45 years old. And I'm focused on... Continue Reading →
No one talked periods in my house growing up. Here's what I remember: being about 8 years old and climbing around in the backseat while we were making the never-ending drive from South Florida to North Florida to visit my grandparents (y'all, Florida is an exceptionally l-o-n-g state. Those drives went on until the second... Continue Reading →
Parenting is largely intuitive. Right? Or am I doing it wrong? Because this really feels, for the most part, like a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants endeavor. It's not so much the "where do babies come from?" conversations... those big ones are expected. You kind of get to plan for those. And, honestly, for us that one was easy...... Continue Reading →
Once, years ago, I found myself driving though a rural part of Florida. I was headed to work in the late afternoon, teaching writing to folks who thought writing had nothing to do with what they wanted to do with their lives. It's real bleak to share the thing that brings you joy with folks... Continue Reading →
