Essays

I blamed myself for what happened and internalized the guilt and shame that many survivors feel after sexual violence.

I Was Sexually Assaulted On Valentine's Day

My sexual assault is the main reason my girlfriend and I didn’t celebrate the love-infested holiday for the first six years of our relationship. Last Valentine’s Day, a month after we celebrated seven years together, was our first time embracing the holiday as our own.

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It's not in the extraordinary tectonic life shifts that I learn the most about the world; it's in the mundane activities of everyday life.

Why Is This Woman Screaming At The Butcher?

There are some unique things about living on a mountain, one of them is undoubtedly the people. For example, the woman in Johnnie’s at the meat counter.

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I saw myself and I knew there was nothing that fatphobia or my inner asshole could do to take away the beauty and the magic that was right before my eyes.

Take The Cake: How Being Photographed In My Underwear Changed The Way I Saw My Body

After years and years of fatphobia-induced body dysmorphia, it’s hard to actually just see my body with anything approaching objectivity. But when I finally looked at the photos of myself in my underwear, I knew there was nothing that fatphobia or my inner asshole could do to take away the beauty and the magic that was right before my eyes.

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Image: Instagram/ roseganggg

Mothers And Daughters At The Chelsea Hotel

My mother and I may never see eye to eye on politics, and our value systems may seldom align. Sometimes it feels like we try to breach this divide; other times we dig a deeper rift.

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Yes, women do face more dangers than men when we travel. But we also gain more strength from each journey into the unknown.

What It's Really Like To Travel As A Rape Survivor

I rarely have dreams about being raped anymore, that is until I announced on Facebook that I was going to India. Immediately, my inbox and my phone filled with stories about rape in India.

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Life has been such an incredible journey, teaching me all about my own hypocrisy.

The Last Two Times I Marched 

A million things happened in the 12 years between the two marches — including learning about my own hypocrisy.

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