Homeless: Tongue and Groove

I am the crazed lady, barefoot and blistered. The annoying pebbles and gritty gravel burrow deep inside the open crevices and souls of my naked feet. I own nothing. I wear tattered, ripped dirty dollar store hand-me-down jeans and some tossed aside beige stained football hoodie. I recall some arguing Read more

Why I am a Feminist (and other men should be too)

It was wintertime 1974 in Cincinnati, Ohio and I was 11 years old, holding my mom’s trembling hand as we were walking up and down the sidewalks of our neighborhood. Tears were in her eyes, born out of a fear of how she was going to feed her two youngest Read more