Gemma Hartley

Fortunately, when I look back at my childhood, it was mostly happy. I had parents who loved me. I had plenty of friends. I had access to food and shelter and education and more. Yet even with all my privilege, I don't want my daughter to have the same adolescence as me.

Last week, the internet went into an understandable uproar when a Christian woman decided to take to Facebook to talk about how she is

It probably isn’t the sort of parenting moment that is supposed to make a mother proud — the hitting, growling, and otherwise uncivilized decorum... But I couldn’t help feeling a deep satisfaction with my daughter.

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

When I was a teenager, I felt very certain that I was not a feminist. I didn’t exactly understand the textbook definition of feminism, but I had a pretty good sense from the negative connotation I had gleaned while growing up in a narrowly Christian setting.

Getting pregnant after postpartum depression may have stolen a lot from me, but it gave me a lot more.

There is a time to be prudent and fair to “many sides” of an issue, but dealing with Nazis is not that time.

Welcome to #RavsWriters, an opportunity for you to get to know some of th

Making friends as a grown woman is hard. I figured out a few tips on how to set up successful one-on-one friend dates, as well as how to handle the territory of a budding platonic relationship with another woman.

Raise a glass to Friendsgiving - feasting without any sides of controversy or conspiracy theorizing. Friendsgiving is the best of all feasts.