Mr. and Mrs. My Husband, or, I Guess I Didn’t Need that Pesky Identity
Okay, readers. Let’s assume that like me, you are a heterosexual married woman. Now, let’s assume that someone sends you a holiday card. It is addressed to you as follows, with your husband’s name in...
View ArticleEmbracing My Inner Eponine
Dan and I spent New Year’s Eve watching Les Miserables. I saw it on Broadway 23 years ago, in the cheap seats during my sophomore year of college. As an insecure 19-year-old, what resonated most for...
View ArticleWhy this Feminist Loves The Bachelor, or, Pretty White People Behaving Badly
This Monday, The Bachelor is back! And I can’t wait. Since 2002, I’ve been a viewer of The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and even the miserably sleazy Bachelor Pad. And why do I watch this stuff?...
View ArticleShould a Feminist Mom Let Her Daughter Play with Monster High Dolls?
I am torn. My seven-year-old, Gwendolyn, is crazy about Monster High dolls and the Monster High website. On the first night of Hanukkah, you should have heard the screech of joy out of her when she...
View ArticleWhy I No Longer Love the Bachelor, or, I Give Sean and Catherine Six Months
Annnnnd we’re done. I don’t even want to count the hours I’ve spent this year indulging in my guilty pleasure, The Bachelor. I started this season with a long post explaining Why this Feminist Loves...
View ArticleFeminism and Processed Foods (and Breastfeeding): A Conundrum?
So these days, in my kitchen, I’m making an effort to use fewer processed foods. I’ve read my Michael Pollan and I’m sold on the concept that we should be eating things that would be recognizable to...
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