Women, men, and children alike are confined and defined by the artifice of the “tradwife”

X has become a dystopian shadow of itself—and a very bad place for literature

I masked in workshop and on the page, even as it invalidated my lived experience

John wasn’t special. He was just the only one of those guys who put his hands on me. That’s why he gets a story.

Like Augusta Britt, we exist outside of men’s imaginations