The image of Brady’s bathroom before she moved in flashed before her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. It had taken her half a day to get all the caked on soap scum off the tub, and the toilet…well, it probably should have been a Superfund site. She smiled a tight smile and went back to the bathroom, leaving Brady to struggle with Mia’s diaper. He knew how to change a diaper. Megan suspected he did it badly so she would always do it. Same thing with putting dishes away. He always put the big dishes on top of the small ones until she finally took it away from him and did it herself so they wouldn’t have any more broken dishes.
Read More“Well-behaved women seldom make history.”
“Huh?” Brady was looking at a small hole in the baseboard. “Bet we’re gonna get mice. You better call the landlord.”
Read MoreShe opened the window to hand out a drink, and recoiled. There was a man in the car, and he was naked from the waist down. He had a hard on, and grinned at her as he caressed it and ran his tongue along his lips.
Read MoreGirl’s toys and Boy’s toys are more separated in space in toy stores than ever before. Walking through the girl’s section of a clothing store can make you think some monster vomited pink vomit. You may feel like you are drowning in a pool of pink. Gender reveal parties are pink themed or blue themed. I have even heard people refer to women as a “species”. Damn it, I didn’t even know I was a separate species. I always assumed I was human. I have heard people talking about writing women needing to “get the dialect right”
Read MoreTime is not a woman’s friend
Because she is expected to be young.
Ready to work,
Ready to play,
Ready to love,
Always ready for the gaze of men
Two years ago, Lynette had participated in a research project at the college. A student was surveying older women to see if they were satisfied with their life, if they were happy with their choices. She had bubbled and chirped about how fulfilling it had been to give up her career and settle down to take care of her husband and her children, be a full time mother and devote her life to service.
Read MoreHi, everyone. Long day today, so I feel like I’m copping out. I am giving you a haiku. I am simply too exhausted to write any more syllables. But it has been a satisfying day, spent doing work I find interesting and rewarding, work I am able to do thanks to the battles fought by those brave, wonderful women who came before. I want to make sure their work wasn’t in vain.
Read More“Well, it’s like this. You know how men are always sitting next to you, running their hand along the seat until it touches your knee, or reaching across to open the window, managing to contact your breast?”
Read MoreAccommodate.
You tell me I should accommodate.
You mean
Dumb myself down.
FEMINAZI is on her knees, scrubbing the floor. The mode of her dress suggests she is not well off; in fact, she is not well off enough to own the kitchen she is scrubbing. WOMAN enters, carrying a basket full of jars.
Read MoreTonight I have nothing to say.
The shape of the world is strange.
The smell of the world is different.
The taste of the world is bitter.
Tonight I have nothing…nothing.
Once upon a time…that was the story she heard as a little girl. Once upon a time, there was a woman…a great woman, a tall woman, a woman who had everything. Once upon a time, a woman ran for president, and actually got votes. In fact, some rumors claimed she got more votes than the male candidate.
Read MoreA poem about him…that special man. You know, the one we all wish we never met.
Read MoreThe pundits have determined that the fight is between the middle-of-the-road and the radical. Biden and Klobuchar represent the first; Warren and Sanders represent the second. One woman, one man in each camp. The pundits reporting on the South Carolina primary advised Warren and Klobuchar to withdraw, to allow Biden and Sanders to fight it out for the nomination, throwing their voters into one or the other camps. This makes sense, if you think about it, but…wait, what?
Read MoreIt was midnight. The office was dark, except for the small light burning at her desk. The last page…the last paragraph…the last word. It was done. Lisa tried to remember how many days she’d been working on this, but her brain seemed frozen from exhaustion. She flipped off the light, slid her feet back into the shoes under her desk, and escaped at last, ready for bed.
Read MoreDiane resisted the urge to point out to him that they didn’t even have phones in the eighteenth century, let alone smart phones. She was trying to get used to his hyperbole…and his poor grasp of history…now that he was her boss. He had much less experience than she did, but they elevated him over her when the position came open. His smug, entitled air irritated more than the lack of recognition of her twenty years of service when they promoted a young man who had been there a year.
Read MoreKathleen locked the door of her office for the last time, resisting the urge for one last look around. There wasn’t anything left to see. All her things, her special touches accumulated over the years, were packed and in her car. It was just a bare office now, a desk and some assorted bookshelves and cabinets, ready for her predecessor. If she started down nostalgia lane, she would never make the party. It wasn’t good to be late when you were the guest of honor. Everyone would be waiting.
Read MoreThe sound of the guns grew closer. The cannons in the distance still roared, but more frightening were the close battles. Who was winning? The small hut shook with the force of the explosions that hit too close for comfort, and the women clapped their hands over their ears to protect them from the sound, so loud it hurt. Somewhere in the huddle, a child began to cry, her wails joining the general noise surrounding them. Annalee motioned to the girl’s mother; she needed to keep the child quiet.
Read MoreWhitney stood out in a crowd, and she knew it. At six foot three, people noticed her. No matter how she tried to hide, everyone saw her. Scrunching down only made her height more obvious. Today, though, no one looked her way. She moved into the lobby with a confident swing in her step, hands hanging at her sides, without a single whistle or wow, look at that woman escaping anyone’s lips.
Read MoreGetting the idea of making it part of the continually swelling Feminazi cycle gave me the ability to get it written. The impetus was seeing too many plays where the idea of surrogacy was presented as some sort of beautiful thing that some middle class woman did for her middle class friend, when the reality is much worse. Often the women are poor, and need the money. Feminazi comes out better than many of them do because she has a support system that can help her out, but it still isn’t a particularly healthy or desirable situation for a woman. So I wanted to tell the story more…realistically. I now present for you: Feminazi has a baby.
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