I went to the Women’s March in D.C. last weekend. Me, and 750,000 other people who felt compelled to stand up and say, “Everything you stand for is wrong, Donald Trump, and we will fight you every inch of the way.”
I could have marched in L.A., but I feel it’s too easy for Donald to write off Coastal/ Hollywood elites.
Or maybe I felt a primal desire to get in his front yard and scream. Continue reading You Don’t Get a Goddamned Cookie (#171)
I’m not a fan of pink. I scorned the traditionally feminine color as a child, insisting that all my clothes had to be blue. This was not easy for my parents, thanks to gendered marketing. Blue dresses were tough, and a girl’s blue bathrobe was downright impossible. They gave me a boy’s blue bathrobe. I loved it.
I wanted a blue winter coat. In the midst of a bitter divorce, struggling financially, my dad didn’t have time to hunt for a blue coat (this was before Amazon). So I wore my blue bathrobe to school. Continue reading Broken Hearts & Pink Hats (#169)