Gemma Hartley

I know it won't be long until he can read the headlines before I can bury the truth. He will learn to read, and then to suffer. Words will haunt him.

Mom friends were the ones to whom you were supposed to spill all those dark parenting thoughts. I wanted that mom-magic. I knew it was out there somewhere.

When I was a teenager, I felt very certain that I was not a feminist. I didn’t exactly understand the textbook definition of feminism, but I had a pretty good sense from the negative connotation I had gleaned while growing up in a narrowly Christian setting.

Sometimes, I think back to all the ridiculous things I did for boys when I was younger and cringe.

There is a time to be prudent and fair to “many sides” of an issue, but dealing with Nazis is not that time.

She is the type of woman I hope my daughter looks up to, a successful feminist role model if there ever was any. She is strong in the face of adversity. She does not cower when criticized. She knows that her words and actions are powerful, and is not afraid of those who would call her bossy, grating, shrill, yelling — when all she is really doing is being a leader. It is powerful for a growing girl to watch a woman like that thrive.

But I was yet to face the cold, hard fact that my lack of acceptance for my own body, was really a lack of acceptance for all the bodies I had falsely embraced for so long. Could I really love someone else’s ample stomach, when I could not love my own?

I could very easily slip through the next four years with blinders on and feel largely unaffected by the political climate. Which is why it’s so important for me to remind myself every day to stay in the fight. Even when it doesn't affect me personally, I owe it to my allies to remain vigilant all (four) year(s) long.

Welcome to #RavsWriters, an opportunity for you to get to know some of th

Again and again I refuse to prioritize, refuse to let anything slide, at the expense of my physical and mental health.