Gemma Hartley

Gemma Hartley

Bio

Gemma Hartley is a freelance writer with a BA in writing from The University of Nevada, Reno. She is author of FED UP: Emotional Labor, Women and The Way Forward. She lives in Reno with her husband, three young kids, an awesome dog, and a terrible cat.

Gemma Hartley Articles

I want to live my best life and, honestly, it's exhausting.

The Endless Quest To 'Live My Best Life:' Honestly, It's Just Exhausting

I want to live my best life and, honestly, it's exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could just take a break and say I'm content with where I'm at.

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End Irresponsible Ejaculation: On Protecting The Sanctity Of Life

Anti-choice folks love to say that these laws aren’t about controlling and punishing a large portion of the population, they are about the sanctity of life. And life, according to those who are anti-choice, begins when sperm meets egg.

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Having a successful young marriage is the exception, not the rule.

What I Want My Kids To Know About Marrying Young

My husband and I have been together for 12 years, eight of them married, four of them teenaged.

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Let's all just admit that coffee is disgusting, and move on with our lives.

It's Time We Stop Lying To Ourselves About Coffee 

Your dirty brown garbage water is a scourge upon the human race, and I'm here to say it's time to call it quits. Let's all just admit that coffee is disgusting, and move on with our lives. It has no place beside delicious breakfast foods, and it is high time we banned this foul liquid from sullying the world of brunch.

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I want and need to save some room for myself, to know that I am worthy of a place in the world without the label of mother.

My Children Cannot Have All Of Me

I want and need to save some room for myself, to know that I am worthy of a place in the world without the label of mother.

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The perks of growing up include knowing what constitutes stupidity over boys.

10 Things That I've Done For Boys (That I'll NEVER Do Again)

Sometimes, I think back to all the ridiculous things I did for boys when I was younger and cringe.

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Echo chambers of agreement aren't the real world.

The Danger Of Unfriending Your Racist Aunt

I hate some of the things I see my friends and family post on Facebook.

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I felt a strong need to rise to challenges, because I knew that my dad would expect nothing less from me. Image: Thinkstock.

My Dad Wouldn't Call Himself A Feminist, But I Would.

“Feminism” wasn’t a word I heard much growing up. When I did hear it, I equated it with a historical event, not a work in progress. I thought first-wave feminism was a one-and-done deal, and that all the work necessary for women’s equality had already been accomplished.

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I had no belief that my babies were in heaven, nor that they would ever be born into this world.

I Don't Believe My Babies Are In Heaven

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

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The Emotional Cost Of Shelving Your Dreams

I am sometimes painfully envious of other (usually childless) writers who are doing the very thing I swore I would have done by now — publishing a novel.

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