Women seem to be at orange level alert for sexism this year. Trailing behind most of the world, we Americans are poised on the brink of electing our first female leader, and if nothing else, the ascendency of Hilary Clinton has caused an uptick of articles examining not only the way we view girls and women, but the language we use to describe them.

For this old feminist, it’s a long overdue and entirely welcome sight.

Take, for instance, the coverage being given to the way women are being reported about at the Olympics.

Corey Cogdell-Unrein, a three-time Olympic medalist was identified in The Chicago Tribune not by her name, but as  ‘the wife of…’

Right after Katinka Hosszu broke a world record and won gold, a commentator suggested her husband and coach was the one responsible for her win.

Katie Ledecky, a record-breaking swimmer is referred to as a “female Michael…

I have talk frequently about NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, on this blog, and I have even posted about it in the past. Well, it is time for Camp NaNoWriMo again, and here is my annual (or perhaps bi-annual) post telling you about my novel, plan, and goals and inviting you to join me!

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is an online community that attempts to write a novel in a single month—or at least, write a significant part of a novel in a month. I am of the group that has never been able to write a whole novel in a month. The typical goal is to write 50,000 words in a month, but participants can have goals ranging from 10,000 to 200,000 words. To write 50,000 words in a month, participants try to write 1,667 words a day. National Novel Writing Month started with just the month of…

Soft pillow; I apologize in advance.Tonight my heavy heart will carry its weight on to you…in hopes of consolation.

Reaching for a hug from arms not made of metal that I am afraid to touch.

My city let loose and took off her bulletproof vest for the night, despite the warnings from sirens heard from blocks away.

Streets ripped from concrete as gunshots made their way on to the dancefloor, shoving through hundreds of prideful feet.

Cellphones and music competed with the loud boom bap of the bullets finding homes in bodies of innocent men and women.

They tell me I should be used to this; they say bullets and gunshots should be of no surprise to me because I’m not from “here,”

But that doesn’t make it easier to deal with.

I can’t help but think of all the cellphones hidden in back pockets and purses of lifeless bodies….