Noah Berlatsky

Did the classic Adam West Batman show strike a blow (Kerwhap!) for feminism?

Writing can be hard and uncomfortable and precarious—but it's hard and uncomfortable and precarious in the way that any job can be.

Who is memorialized in death has everything to do with race, class . . . and who you were in life.

It's hard to deny the appeal of the masculine ideal, especially when embodied in Jude Law. And yet, it's also a depressing vision.

The loss of gospel history has meant forgetting how important black women have been to American performance styles.

"Childbearing [is] barbaric and pregnancy should be abolished," wrote radical feminist theorist Shulamith Firestone in The Dialectic of Sex.

Genre boundaries are conscious of race—and, in the case of rock, conscious of gender too.

There's a good argument to be made that the earliest, and the best, rockabilly performers were women. Slicked-back, hiccuping, hopped up cool.

Bulimia.com has reworked superhero images to show more realistic body types—and their efforts are valuable in more than the expected ways.

I am on my knees in 15-degree weather scrubbing poop from the sidewalk, and I have an epiphany of sorts—I do not want this dog.