Happy belated Equal Pay Day! Let’s see who’s been terrible this week, find out why people need to show the love to Sansa Stark and Black Widow, and, apparently, go to the restroom together. (As usual, trigger warnings for pretty much everything apply.) Read More This Week in Misogyny Isn’t Dirty Chocolate
I turned 13 in July, 1978. I was headed into eighth grade in a small middle school in a small town in Kentucky. The country’s economy was bad and our little town was hit hard: well-paying jobs in the coal mines and the few factories we had disappeared and there weren’t any new industries to take their places. I lived in a dry county, except for the VFW or American Legion and private clubs like the Elks, Lions and Moose Clubs where liquor was served illegally with a wink and a nudge and the occasional raid during election year.