Bitch, please.

Lately, in a way that hasn't been the case since I was a much younger woman, I have been needing to read about people like me. I have the privilege of an awesome network of friends who nurture and support me, and so most of the time the fact that I don't see myself reflected in the wider culture isn't that troubling. The people who love me are a good mirror. They argue without deriding; they empathize rather than sympathizing. Most of the time, that's enough to keep me afloat. But every once in a while, I go to fill out a form and discover that none of the boxes reflect my answer. Sometimes it's something the people I know can't help with, because they haven't been through it, and it's important to know that I'm not crazy, not the only person who's ever experienced it, not the only person who hated 300.

I was thinking about this while reading Megan's article about cohousing in Xtra, not because we are buying a house any time soon, but because reading it gave me the pleasure of recognition--if we ever do own, it is unlikely to be in the traditional configuration of man + woman + optional kid and picket fence. (I was thinking about it, too, when I read her blog post about how she and her co-housers had purchased a car together, the three of them, and then discovered that it was legally impossible to list all of them as owners. That's what I'm talking about.)

It's ironic, then, that the next link I clicked told me that Bitch magazine is in serious danger of folding. For those of you who don't know Bitch ("Feminist Response to Pop Culture!"), you should check it out while you still have the chance. And if you feel compelled, donate. I already have, because I have been reminded of the worth of seeing my values make it to print.