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Practicing Self-Defense From A Radical Feminist Perspective

buttons on an arcade game labeled "defense," "punch" and "Kick"

My desire to share my skills does not come from a victim-blaming narrative that would fault someone for not successfully fighting back. Nor am I arguing that learning and practicing self-defense is some kind of imperative. If someone can run or otherwise leave a situation without having to fight, that’s great, and men still need to take responsibility for their actions. But I am interested in the radical liberation that comes from protecting ourselves, and from protecting each other. Read more

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‘Rural America’ Is Not What Politicians Make It Out To Be

an abandoned barn in the middle of a field, at sunset

The vast majority of my canvassers were queer people or people of color, working hard to change their hometowns by being an active presence in them. And they recognized, cogently, that their own liberation was bound up in the issues of their neighbors, which led to them to reach out their hand and knock on those doors. Read more

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​​For Whom the Bells Toll: The Life And Politics Of Bell Bottoms

When you wear bell bottoms you can’t help but take up space, and people can’t help but notice you. Fashion has always been used to send messages, or to exhibit social status or wealth. In many cultures, black at a funeral shows you’re mourning, just as a bride in white at her wedding represents purity. Victorian women wore Read more

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Every Day, Men Are Encouraged To Dominate ‘Vulnerable, Powerless People’

The irony is that these attempts at narrowing the conversation always end up doing the opposite: If the situation is to blame, why are there so many different situations producing similar results? Why is it a given that men will attack women when in isolation? Why do we simply accept the terror of masculinity as a fact of life? Read more

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A Soap Label To Save The World From Future Hitlers

a skinny white man in sunglasses holding four bottles of liquid soap

Woven between incoherent maxims are the raw wounds of a man incapable of communicating just how horrific his pain was. He discloses his grief in a desperate, almost childlike way—on a soap label. A soap label that has become the iconic face of a $120 million soap company. A soap label the Bronner family will never change. Read more

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Food, Adoption, And The Language of Love

arroz con pollo in a large pan

I am Honduran or Italian. I am me. A collection of my lived experiences. In New York, I imagine it’s Christmastime. My uncle hunched over the counter making homemade pasta noodles for lasagna, my aunt stealing a few slices of salami of her freshly made antipasto, and the smell of penne alla vodka permeating throughout Read more