I did something this Friday that I haven’t done in years. I went bar-hopping.
To be clear: there were only two bars, and I took a break to hunt Pokemon in between them. But I can’t remember the last time I went to more than one bar, let alone more than one loud bar, within a twenty-four hour window. I’d like to say it’s because I’m blossoming into a social butterfly, but it’s actually because I’m medicated. Continue reading
Hi there. You don’t know me, but I’m a loyal fan of The Bachelor and its spinoff shows. I’ve been watching the franchise since the third season of Bachelor Pad, and despite being a Feminist, Gender and Sexuality Studies major when I was in college, I’ve defended the show through thick and thin. Remember when you made Britt and Kaitlyn compete to be The Bachelorette? I blogged angrily, but I watched. When Kaitlyn got slut-shamed all over the place for sleeping with Nick? I tuned in early, and then I blogged. I’m a proud member of Bachelor Nation, accepting roses from even the worst of seasons (let’s be real, JoJo was a bust). Continue reading
In April 2015, I wrote an essay for Women’s Health called “Why I Love Telling People I Have Herpes.” I’ll never know how many pages view that article received… and still continues to rack up over a year later. I do know that afterward, stories were written about me on websites from The Washington Post to The Independent to the right wing aggregation mill MRCTV, all linking back to that essay. There were hundreds of emails and Facebook messages from strangers who read the essay and felt moved and inspired by my words. There were even invitations to go on daytime television shows to discuss the essay. Continue reading
I haven’t written about The Bachelorette this year because, to be honest, it hasn’t been good. I’ve never gone into the final five so apathetic about a Bachelor or Bachelorette’s choices. Will JoJo accept the proposal of the Ken doll with facial hair, or without? Will they break up a month after the finale, or two months after? What will she title the tell-all memoir about the failure of their relationship? In a moment of resigned crankiness I sought out Reality Steve’s spoilers, hoping there would be some shocking plot twist to motivate me to care. Meh. Let’s be real: this season sucks. Continue reading
Banff is gorgeous. Canada’s oldest national park is overwhelmingly beautiful in a way that nowhere I have ever been can even begin to imitate. Oceans of evergreen trees spill across hills overshadowed by craggy, white mountains. The river running alongside the resort town is the purest and loudest blue. I spent eight days in the Canadian Rockies listening to brilliant speakers at TED Summit and what will stay with me longest is the view. This indoor city cat fell in love with hiking trails overlooking the rapids. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t notice that I had no cell phone reception. Continue reading
I’ve been trying to write this essay for a few weeks. Every time I sit down to start, only bile comes out. The hurt I want to document goes deeper than a neat thesis statement. I feel betrayed, and betrayal is more like an infection than a broken bone. There is no way to easily reset it and wrap it in plaster. Betrayal burrows into your nerves and sets up camp for the long haul. Its scattershot symptoms are hard to explain to a doctor when you’re not confident in exactly what is wrong, and it’s easy in those moments of sloppy articulation to feel like you’ve made it all up. I keep waiting for the fever to peak before I put words to this. No matter what friendships I sever or pointed Facebook statuses I write, this strain of anger doesn’t have an easy cure. The struggle to write is the only inoculation available to me. Continue reading
Nope nope nope.
TW: discussion of violence and sexual assault
I’ve had a lot of conversations this week about justice. Justice is a difficult word for women—in the age of #FreeKesha, Jian Ghomeshi, Woody Allen flitting around Cannes, and a known abuser running for the highest public office in the United States, pure justice is a dated concept. “Justice” is too often doled out by the people who deserve it the most. An exhausted realist might argue that for women, for people of color, for the LGBTQ community, there is no justice in the justice system. Continue reading
This transcript has been edited lightly for clarity.
I’m going to start today by asking you guys to do me a small favor: I would love it if you could raise your hand if you have allergies. [Lots of hands go up] Okay, I can relate. I have a tiny nose so I’m always congested. Okay, thank you.
Second question: I would love it if you could raise your hand if you have herpes. [No hands go up] I see no hands and a lot more confused faces, and that’s what I was expecting. In the time that I have with you today, I want to talk about why it is that it is so socially unacceptable to talk about herpes, despite the fact that almost everyone in this room either has herpes or will encounter it at some point in the next few years. I’ll let that sink in for a sec. Continue reading
This essay was inspired by the hashtag campaign #MaybeHeDoesntHitYou, started by Zahira Kelly (@bad_dominicana) to share experiences of emotional abuse. If you are worried you are in an abusive relationship, click here to get help.
Maybe he doesn’t hit you but he warns you that he has a dark side he will make every effort to prevent you from seeing. You’re cuddled up in your narrow, squeaky dorm bed and it’s a weeknight, still early in the relationship, and he has these boy band dimples when he smiles. It sounds like such a cliché that you do not take it seriously. Whatever this spoiled, exceptionally dressed teenager throws at you will be no problem. He is sweet and funny and has a talent for saying exactly the right thing but in the most inventive assortment of words possible. On some late Wednesday night, or maybe it’s even the same night, he promises, “I won’t let you down” under the glow-in-the-dark stars glued to your ceiling. You are not old enough to know that this is an impossible thing to promise. Continue reading
Man, you’ve had a rough day. Getting diagnosed with herpes is a bit like someone shoved a broom handle through the spokes of your bike when you were cruising along smoothly—suddenly the world is upside-down and everything hurts and it feels like strangers are laughing at you even though the street is empty and there is no one there to see you licking your wounds on the pavement. But there’s a silver lining to getting diagnosed with herpes: most of us have fallen off our bikes too. You’re not alone in having an STI. Here’s what you should know, from someone who has been through everything that you’re going through. Continue reading