Jetta Rae DoubleCakes

The apron was a birthday gift—to both of us, really. She was the first woman to ever call me 'Mommy.'

Other gaming communities could learn a thing or two from the surprisingly (mostly) welcoming world of pinball.

When you openly deride poor/sick/incarcerated people who have access to nutritious and delicious food, you set us all up for failure.

DoubleCakes dishes out advice to a reader who did something unseemly in her one-night-stand's bed.

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.

This classic film takes the cautionary tale into the "supersonic age," foregoing a cerebral edge in favor of murder and a giantess fetish.

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

There's a dresser in my drawer, and all it contains is a flannel shirt and a picture of me and Henrietta, from Christmas 2013.

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

Visibility and respect, held with tired arms in a dire double headlock—this is the struggle of women in sports.