When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess. I wasn’t particularly fussy about what kind of princess I might be; indeed, my definition of ‘princess’ was pretty loose, to the...
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Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, generic but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where...
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In honor of International Women's Day, this: a repurposing of an essay that I wrote for Canadian Family a couple of years ago, about my ambitions and frustrations in living up to my own...
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Here's something that I said yesterday: "Being a mom is the closest you’ll ever get to feeling like a superhero.” I said it in response to something that Christy Turlington Burns said about the...
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I almost never do this, pull narrative from the comment section of this site and present it alongside my own narrative, because that just seems so meta, although maybe I should, because it’s not like I don’t get meta – that whole last post was about as meta as it gets – and anyway so much of the commentary that you all contribute here is just so ridiculously smart, so I really should just get over myself and my conviction that I’m the lone storyteller here and that it’s not a good blog week if I don’t post a picture of my babies and just let you guys do more of the talking. Because, seriously:
15
Dec
It was sometime early on in one of the first sessions of TEDWomen last week that the question occurred to me: are we saying to each other here – in this go go women go celebration of everything that women can do – that women are the new men? And if that’s the case, is the corollary that men are the new women? Or that less-advantaged women are the new (and old) women? Whither women qua women, if women are trying to escape themselves?
Oh, hi! Can I tell you something about myself? I am not a mommy blogger.
Yeah, I know. There’s a baby in my header. There are lots of pictures of my children here, including that one, right there, on the left. (Aren’t they cute? I let them call me Mommy.) But still. I am not a mommy blogger.
I am mother, yes. I blog about my children, sometimes, and about motherhood, frequently, and about other things here and there (including but not limited to: religion and spirituality, grief, social causes, my nephew, cupcakes, social media, feminism, and zombies), and I do have the word ‘mother’ in the title of my blog. But I am not a mommy blogger. You can call me one, if you want, and I won’t, like, have to restrain myself from punching you. But I’d prefer that you didn’t.
If women be educated for dependence; that is, to act according to the will of another fallible being, and submit, right or wrong, to power, where are we to stop? -- Mary Wollstonecraft, A...
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I don’t claim to understand what it is, exactly, that makes girls girls and boys boys and women women and men men and whatever identities lay within and between these categories of gender, but I do think that I can say, with some authority, this: it’s not hair. Really, it’s not.
I say this because I know. I know because, I have had short hair. As a child, even:
29
Jan
Friday's as good a good as any for promoting a cause, right? How about two?
Cause #1: If you're a Canadian woman, and you've had surgery, you might have been been given - while you...
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