Jetta Rae DoubleCakes

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.

A tale as old as rhyme: boy meets girl, gets his feelings hurt, and spreads her personal information on the internet. Here's my take on Zoe Quinn.

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.

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

The apron was a birthday gift—to both of us, really. She was the first woman to ever call me 'Mommy.'

Being a polyamorist has yet to afford me that “communal pride.” It’s not an identity that I associate with good politics. Yet.

When you openly deride poor/sick/incarcerated people who have access to nutritious and delicious food, you set us all up for failure.

Jane Lynch, Aubrey Plaza, Rosario Dawson, Laverne Cox . . . we're looking at you.

We deserve to be safe. We deserve to live—even at the cost of your flawed, incomplete grasp of lesbian identity.

Beth's story of abuse and murderous desire is ultimately one of redemption and insight into the human condition.