Jetta Rae DoubleCakes

I put the lotion on my skin for a week after they left, hoping that it would bring me stop-gap solace until they forgave me and came back.

I have an intense, irrational fear of amputation. I threw up trying to read Geek Love. I get light-headed, piss-pantsy in Halloween stores.

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.

Speaking out for the rights of all women doesn’t make me a misandrist or an infighter.

The cycle of un-addressed intimate partner violence in MMA continues for War Machine, now recovering from a suicide attempt.

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.

News that televangelist Angley forced congregants to have abortions shocked the nation. But his actions don't exist in a vacuum.

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

As a trans woman, I dress for solidarity. I dress to be identified. And now, I have received my "dress blues."

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