Select Page

Tag: feminism

Tapping into ‘Heroic Compassion’

Let’s talk about behavior and politics and our new world order. Not only am I struggling to find my place in the latter, but I find myself judging people’s apathy or – and this is key – their perceived apathy. I don’t know how you CAN’T be angry right now. I don’t know how you are posting little ha-has about your book or your business or sharing memes with clever quotes while the world as we know it is burning to the ground. Maybe I envy you? Maybe when the Great Creator made me and lined up my cells...

Read More

One Woman’s Eternity vs. Another’s

Last Friday night I watched From Here to Eternity with my mother. I’d never seen it before. In it, Deborah Kerr plays a wife named Karen who has an affair with a military sergeant played by Burt Lancaster. At the end, when he won’t go for a promotion that would allow them to be together, she tells him that now she has to stay in her loveless marriage. What choice does she have? The movie won eight Oscars and is iconic for so many reasons. But I’m sure in 1953 few flinched at that moment when a woman declared...

Read More

Pussy, Power, and Postage

I typically buy postage stamps that say or advocate “love.” It’s my small way of sending love out into the world with each piece of mail, even if it’s a bill. Recently I was standing in line at the post office to buy a sheet of them when I saw a poster advertising Wonder Woman stamps. I knew I had to make an exception, just this once, and grace my mail instead with a message of female power. Clearly we’re in a moment. And you know who is helping me most of all in this moment? Regena Thomashauer, also known as Mama Gena. Maybe she’s the Wonder Woman of the Trump era. Had you come to me six months ago and said, “Nancy, you’re going to feel like your life is transformed by a book in 2017 and it’s going to be called Pussy: A Reclamation and it’s going to be written by the head of Mama Gena’s School of Womanly Arts,” I would have looked at you with furrowed brow. Huh? Nothing against Thomashauer and her highly successful business, but I’ve always hated the word pussy. I’ve long preferred the more clinical term vagina. Maybe it’s generational. I don’t know. But back in September I was interviewing a vibrant 20-something musician who extolled the virtues of Mama Gena and so openly talked about her pussy as the center...

Read More

A Feminist’s Glorious Moment

When I woke up the morning of Election Day 2016, I was so excited that I donned a t-shirt I hadn’t worn since buying it in West Hollywood in 2009. It’s hot pink and in white lettering it says, “This is what a feminist looks like.” I was self-conscious about wearing it because even though on most days I’m a proud 54-year-old feminist, I grew up with messages that if I declared it out loud men wouldn’t like me very much. They’d feel threatened. Even now, when I know lots of terrific progressive men, that’s hard to shake. But this day, when the most qualified candidate on the ballot for President happened to be a woman whose values aligned with my own, I felt emboldened. Hillary Clinton deserved this. I even took a rare selfie and posted it on Facebook and Instagram, declaring #imwithher. It felt great to own my joy. I had known all along that I would likely support Secretary Clinton in this race, but it wasn’t until the last two months or so that I became enthusiastic about it. My admiration for her increased with each passing day. Still, I was surprised when I walked out of the voting booth and was so choked up I could barely speak. I went to greet a friend standing in line and realized I had to hold back a...

Read More

I Want to Hit That

It’s a slow day at the office. I watch the 23-year-old Italian intern out of the corner of my eye, trying like mad to focus on my computer screen. He is a hottie. But he is almost 20 years my junior. Does that really matter? I could sex him up in a New York minute. Oh yeah. My mind starts whirring like a projector. Different positions. Quick. Slow. Having a kind of sex I’ve never had before. It has “playing with fire” written all over it. My God. Can he be discreet? We could have porn star sex … well, maybe the soft-core kind. Every which way. Lustful. Slow. Maddeningly slow. One drink with him and I’d be in there. Up against a wall. The first time is quick, urgent. Only later does it take a turn to tauntingly slow. Yikes. Earth to Nancy, earth to Nancy … This is an excerpt from my memoir, Alive in the Sunshine. It’s a detailed fantasy that I didn’t act on. They’re lust-filled thoughts that came rushing in during the course of a workday. It’s part of human nature, this sexual component, and it often seeps into the workplace and beyond despite our best efforts. Most of us are aware of the boundaries we must draw and the respect our co-workers deserve. The incident described here happened in 2005, right around the...

Read More

What an honor …

Check out my memoir:

A collection of blog posts:

Follow me on Twitter