Gemma Hartley

Gemma Hartley

Bio

Gemma Hartley is a freelance writer with a BA in writing from The University of Nevada, Reno. She is author of FED UP: Emotional Labor, Women and The Way Forward. She lives in Reno with her husband, three young kids, an awesome dog, and a terrible cat.

Gemma Hartley Articles

Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

My Life Looks Really Successful, So Why Do I Feel Like A Failure?

I have all the markers of success, yet there is a nagging fear that follows me no matter where I go: I feel like a failure waiting to be exposed. Read...
I felt a strong need to rise to challenges, because I knew that my dad would expect nothing less from me. Image: Thinkstock.

My Dad Wouldn't Call Himself A Feminist, But I Would.

“Feminism” wasn’t a word I heard much growing up. When I did hear it, I equated it with a historical event, not a work in progress. I thought first-wave feminism was a one-and-done deal, and that all the work necessary for women’s equality had already been accomplished.

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Our kids define so much of our existence — shouldn't we at least take a break when we get a chance and talk about something other than them? Image: Thinkstock.

Can We Please Stop Talking About Our Kids?

I don't want motherhood to be where my life begins and ends. Sure, we can still talk about our kids, commiserate, and share in one another's parenting accomplishments — but at some point, we need to be more than mere storytellers of our children's lives.

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I didn’t realize how crucial my late teens and early twenties were for forming deep and lasting female friendships to get me through the gritty parts of life. Image: Thinkstock.

The Things I Missed Out On Because I Got Married As A Teenager

I was constantly on the defense, prepared to fight for my young love against those who thought I wasn’t ready for marriage. It pains me to say it, but in a way, they were right after all. There were things I was missing out on by marrying young, things I didn’t even realize I was missing until it was too late.

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What’s in a name? I don’t really know. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes everything. Image: NBC.

David Sedaris Named The Baby I Miscarried

It wasn’t the name I would have picked — not originally, at least — but as days turned into weeks, it grew on me.

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The lies would keep me up at night, gnawing at the place inside me where I felt my baby should be.

I Hid My Miscarriage From My Son & Pretended I Was Still Pregnant

How was I supposed to tell my son, who was already preoccupied and frightened by the idea of death, that his new little brother or sister was gone, that I'd had a miscarriage? I didn't know. So I lied.

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Photo by Boxed Water Is Better on Unsplash

This Mother's Day Let's Stop Treating Emotional Labor Like Extra-Credit Work For Men 

...[M]en get a lot of praise for the “extra-credit work” they do in regards to domestic labor (the actual house cleaning and keeping work) and emotional labor (the invisible work that ensures the rest gets done) no matter what day of the year.

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The point is, if you feel like you're sucking at the back-to-school transition, take heart. I am out here doing way way worse.

It's Only The 2nd Week Of School & I'm Already Falling Apart

Clearly, it does not take long for my over-ambition to turn me from a vision of perfection into a train wreck you can't look away from. Behold, my first week of school splendor, versus my second week of school ineptitude.

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Work can feel like a break from parenting, and that can actually help make me a better parent.

Sometimes I'd Rather Work Than Spend Time With My Kids

As a freelancer who works from home, I get the best of both worlds as a parent.

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image credit: Thinkstock

Me, My Parents, Fox News, And A Screaming Match — Being An Adult Is Complicated

Becoming an adult didn’t magically open me up to their world and their psyche as I thought it would. Even having children of my own did little to unravel the mystery of my parents, because I wasn’t really interested in exploring honestly. I have always been concerned with who my parents were in relation to me, not who they were on their own.

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