Jetta Rae DoubleCakes

As a trans woman, I dress for solidarity. I dress to be identified. And now, I have received my "dress blues."

I have an intense, irrational fear of amputation. I threw up trying to read Geek Love. I get light-headed, piss-pantsy in Halloween stores.

This implies there are rules. And when it comes to GamerGate, there are no rules.

Nail polish and straws put rape prevention squarely on the shoulders of women, a responsbility we've always borne.

A tale as old as rhyme: boy meets girl, gets his feelings hurt, and spreads her personal information on the internet. Here's my take on Zoe Quinn.

Being a polyamorist has yet to afford me that “communal pride.” It’s not an identity that I associate with good politics. Yet.

Every now and then a “Mommy” would escape her lips and I would wipe it from my face, like mud or mosquitos on an otherwise idyllic summer’s drive.

I put the lotion on my skin for a week after they left, hoping that it would bring me stop-gap solace until they forgave me and came back.

Speaking out for the rights of all women doesn’t make me a misandrist or an infighter.

We deserve to be safe. We deserve to live—even at the cost of your flawed, incomplete grasp of lesbian identity.