Britni de la Cretaz

Britni de la Cretaz

Bio

Britni de la Cretaz is a feminist mama, recovered alcoholic, and community organizer in Boston, MA. She's a founding member of Safe Hub Collective. You can find her on Twitter at @britnidlc.

Britni de la Cretaz Articles

Don't presume heterosexuality. Image: Thinkstock.

On Parenting And Compulsory Heterosexuality

I want my child to be able to self-determine. What that means to me is that they know they have options besides the “default” one that’s plastered all over their TV screens, and that they always know that.

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Pregnant! And sharing the news!

Why I'm Talking About My Pregnancy Publicly In The First Trimester

The first trimester is not normal. The first trimester is hell. The first trimester is vomiting in trash cans, falling asleep sitting up, sore breasts, perpetual nausea, hella strong food aversions, extreme mood swings, and crying because your partner ate your taco; all while not looking or feeling pregnant.

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I know you’re probably wondering how that happened, so I’m going to tell you. (You’re welcome.)

I Had A Tampon Stuck In My Vagina For 9 Days

I know you’re probably wondering how that happened, so I’m going to tell you. (You’re welcome.)

The first sign that something was wrong was the weirdly watery discharge. I'd never had vaginal discharge that looked like that before, and considering I'd just finished my period, the large-ish amount was confusing to me. But everything else felt fine. So I put a pantyliner on and went about my life, thinking it would stop soon.

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Please, make it stop.

The Only Thing That Cures Morning Sickness Is Having The Baby

After the positive test and the cautious excitement of we're having a baby! came what felt like a literal gut punch — intense, chronic, debilitating morning sickness. I'd wake up and be okay until it was time to get out of bed and try to make it to work. As soon as I was vertical, the nausea would kick in and I'd run to the bathroom.

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If you were a woman, at least in the United States, you just shaved your legs. So I did.

I Had A Lot Of Feelings When I Shaved My Legs For The First Time In Two Years

So after years of feeling incredibly conflicted about the topic of my leg hair because FUCK YOUR PATRIARCHAL BEAUTY STANDARDS, it came to be winter.

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Britni de la Cretaz.

An Open Letter To Men: Why I Don’t Care What You Think About My Amazing Technicolor Dream Hair

My hair makes me happy and I dye it for my own enjoyment— not for yours. I mean, that’s cool if you happen to like it, too, but you don’t have to tell me about it. You can keep it to yourself, write it in your dream journal, take it to your grave. I don’t care what you do with it, I just know that I don’t need to know about it.

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Being sober isn't as boring as it seems.

How To Be Sober And Still Have A Social Life

Making the decision to get sober is never easy. Actually getting sober is even harder. So much has to change about the way you live your life in order to maintain, and it can be overwhelming to think about.

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The last thing we need is one more thing to feel inadequate about, one more thing to feel like we’re doing “wrong” when it comes to having a baby. Image: Thinkstock.

The Best Laid (Birth) Plans Are None of Your Business

While people asking about our plan likely have good intentions, the conversation opens you up to so much judgment about how you’re planning to give birth.... Birth plans are personal, between parents and their care provider. We all make choices for our families that we feel are best, and at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

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Why The Women On 20s Campaign Is Crap

History books are full of white men Doing Things. White men are the default, it's through their lens that we view history. It's why when a white man is the first person to do something, they're just the "first person to do something," but we have to specify the "first woman" or "first African American" to do that same thing. Men are people, women are women.

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Seven Years After The Abuse, And Triggers Still Remain

It’s been seven years since I left him. Most days he doesn’t cross my mind. I forget that he existed. The things that he put me through are filed away somewhere that never gets opened. I’ve done the work of understanding what I went through, of forgiving him for the abuse, of moving on with my life.

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