Catherine Gigante-Brown

Why, when I'm cool with being a salt-and-pepper chick, does it so clearly unnerve others?

I saw my present mother-in-law in a whole new light the first time she held my newborn son.

Once upon a time, it was easier to keep track of gender. Today, not so much — the lines are blurred. For many, gender’s not so much about questioning your own identity as it is about questioning the very nature of identity.

Having someone steal my cancer history and co-opt it for their first-person Facebook blog is unbelievably violating. Somehow, it feels almost as invasive as my mastectomy.

I sat obediently in her chair atop four ancient copies of the Yellow Pages. Crossing my fingers, I prayed Catholic schoolgirl prayers.

The Ultimate Counter Culture Diva

I realized my father was from a generation that never said those three little words. He was saying he loved me without them. But I didn't realize it then.

Even when I explained to my son that he came from a long line of short people, it didn’t help. David still felt bad about being small. How could a five-year-old possibly get this type of size-shaming message? From other people, mostly insensitive adults. They gave him the idea that bigger was somehow better.

When David was about 12, he told me that he wanted to take the train to school alone. My gut reaction was, “No way in hell!” I mean, we live in a safe neighborhood and all, but David has ADHD and was easily distracted. What if he missed his stop? What if someone messed with him?

A midtown Manhattan studio was recently the site of liberation-both on and offscreen-when Shenshean