All posts tagged: TueNight

I Wanted to Say Thanks; I Ended Up Saying Sorry

When I decided to mark my 50th birthday year by writing thank-you letters to people who had helped, inspired, and shaped me in my life, the last thing on my mind was forgiveness. But writing those thank-you letters turned out to be harder, deeper, and more meaningful than I’d ever hoped, in large part because it drove home the ways in which gratitude and forgiveness are twinned in human nature. By challenging myself to acknowledge all the ways in which I had been helped over the years, I necessarily faced facts: there were situations in which I hadn’t always conducted myself in a way that made me deserving of the help. And in situations where I’d clung to historical slights by a family member or close friend, writing a letter documenting all the ways those people had supported me over the years made me blush with embarrassment over my hard work and determination to maintain ancient disappointments. Making amends as I went, whether in the text of the letters I wrote or simply by promising …

Am I Bullied by the Past? Or Just by My Memories?

In the very early days of Facebook, back when people “poked” each other, I received two friend requests, both from women I’d originally met in Grade 8. Both sent me chatty messages, congratulating me on the arrival of my new baby, commiserating about the trials of integrating newborns into the emotional lives of their toddler siblings, and updating me on their whereabouts, relationships and careers over the previous 20 years. The irony of their sweet messages wasn’t lost on me. In the eighth grade, I’d been the new kid, parachuted across the country from my tiny, all-girls, private-school class in Vancouver, British Columbia, to a public junior high in suburban Toronto. I was awkward, friendless, and scared, all of which was likely noted by the group of girls I half-fell in with. I spent that year in a state of watchfulness, arriving at school each morning wary about how my status in the group might have shifted overnight.  Toward the end of the year, an anonymous, handwritten note appeared in my art folder. The letter, …

The Welcome Issue

Margit Note’s: We are so thrilled to have Sloane Davidson guest-curate TueNight’s Welcome issue. As the founder of Hello Neighbor, Sloane works tirelessly for the needs of refugee families, helping them acclimate to their everyday lives here in the U.S., by connecting them with neighbors and mentors in their new neighborhoods. So she is particularly apt to edit this edition all about the many paths and journeys to becoming an American citizen. Here’s Sloane: I have the immense privilege to spend a lot of time with refugee families. As the founder of a nonprofit that supports recently resettled refugees through mentorship, I can often find myself sitting on the floor playing with children, profusely thanking moms for their tea and hospitality, or shaking hands and showing my respect to elders.  But my life wasn’t always like this.  When I became pregnant with my first child, I felt a draw for my unborn child to be around extended family. And so after 16 years of living away, I moved back to Pittsburgh, my beloved hometown, and was …

TueNight 10: Sylvia Wehrle

Age: 48 Quick bio: Sylvia is the founder and creative director of user experience design of June, a wellness and skincare brand that incorporates full spectrum hemp oil into their products. Her interest in user experience design, chemistry, math and wellness have collided in a perfect storm that is June. Sylvia lives in Brooklyn with her husband, daughters and dogs. Beyond the bio: “I love being over 40. What has really crystallized for me is my ability to take risks creatively, think expansively and then execute on those ideas in a fearless way.” 1. On the nightstand: Wunderland by Jennifer Cody Epstein, and June edible drops 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Learning new things 3. Jam of the minute: Spotify playlist: Women of R&B 4. Thing I miss:  A world before Snapchat…I have two teenage daughters. 5. 80s crush: Pierce Brosnan, a.k.a. Remington Steel 6. Current crush: My husband Neil Wehrle 7. Will whine about: My kids getting off their screens 8. Will wine about: Hanging with friends outside when the weather is good — talking about politics, retiring to a commune somewhere in northern Spain and eating good …

The Secret Issue: Shhh…

We all have secrets. I like to think I’m an upfront, transparent kind of gal, yet there are a lot of things I’ve never told anyone. Hey, what if I told you a secret right now? Oh hell no, this is not that kind of post.  A secret isn’t to be toyed with. It’s not some flitty, flighty gossip, it’s a long-held, deep and dark. We keep a secret because it has perceived power. If unleashed, it might impact others — or it might affect how they see us.  Secrets can be good or bad. A friend tells you they are pregnant and to keep it hush-hush until she’s ready. A colleague comes out of the closet to only you, “Can you keep a secret?” And then there are secrets that cause insurmountable pain — a secret love affair, a state secret that if unleashed would cause destruction. A secret recipe that if divulged would mean millions of people would know how to make my grandmother’s perfect chocolate pudding. Locked away. In midlife we take stock …

61% of Women Would Rather Talk About Their Own Deaths Than This Topic

My trigger to stop being so secretive about money occurred in a Palm Springs hot tub, while my sister and I were parboiling ourselves under a clump of shaggily glamorous palm trees. She is 61, I’m 59 and we were talking about money for the first time since the days when our “salaries” came in the form of weekly allowance from someone we called Mommy. Which is to say, we were having a meaningful money discussion for the first time in a half century.  “How much do you make?” she asked. I told her. I asked her the same question.   She answered it.  “Oh, O.K.,” we said simultaneously.  And then, as if we had walked through a heretofore unseen wall, we started talk openly about all sorts of money matters: how much money the family lost after the IRS caught up with some early-80s tax-filing shenanigans; “Mommy’s” financial situation; how much we had saved for retirement.  It was an inexpressible relief to discuss our family’s complicated relationship with money. The short story: my mother’s father made …

Lipstick Secrets: My Quest to Wear Parallel Red, Forever

In 1986, during my first month of college at SUNY Purchase, I spotted a woman on campus wearing the most beautiful, fire-engine-red lipstick — and no other makeup. Just the lipstick. She had curly brown hair, parted on the side just like mine, and her red lips made a singular statement. I walked right up to her and got the name of the lipstick: Estée Lauder’s Parallel Red.  Until this point, I’d only seen girls wear glossy light pink, frosted pink or iridescent pink gloss. No one that I knew wore bold, red colors even though I grew up in NYC. The only strong red lipstick I had seen was my Mom’s stage makeup.  As soon as I could get to a department store, I bought it. From that day on I never wore another lip color or any other makeup. I didn’t need eye makeup or blush; this red was enough to light up my whole face. I wore it everywhere: to see bands, to grocery shop. Because there were two Alisons in my …

A Onetime “Closeted” Republican Decides to Come Out — and Slam the Door.

The term “closeted” has been used to describe many marginalized groups. It rarely has been used to describe a brown woman who is a Republican.  Let me explain.  Growing up I was the girl version of Alex P. Keaton. When Family Ties would air during prime time, I would beg my mother to let me watch. Not because I loved the snappy one-liners of Justine Bateman’s character. I loved how Alex would use Socratic method to lay out conservative arguments with his parents. I took copious mental notes.  My divorced Indian parents were split down the middle when it came to politics. My mother was Elyse Keaton while my father was a skinnier, browner, better dressed Archie Bunker. My mom would host ACLU meetings at her house. My dad would play golf with rich, white, old guys secretly hoping he would become one of them.  In 1996 I was excited to cast my first vote. Because of my age, I had missed the 1991/1992 elections by two years.  During his campaign, Bill Clinton came out like a lightening …

Learning the Truth About My Real Father

Growing up, I never knew my name. I mean, I had a name but I never knew it because I was called “Piggy” since I was born. Story goes, when my mom gave me a bottle, I curled my hands and feet like pig’s hooves around it. How fucking adorable. Just call me bacon why don’t you?! We lived in Crown Heights, Bedford Stuyvesant, & Prospect Heights, Brooklyn in the late 60s and early 70s. You could say my mom was a rolling stone and wherever she lay her hat was her home. By the age of 25 she had seven kids by six different daddies. Yeah, I know. My mom was rolling more than her hat back in the day. No judgment! My Dad must have loved my mom because by the time they met, she’d already had three kids by three different men. He still wanted to be with her. I love my Dad for his persistence in getting with my mom but looking back, they broke up mainly because my mother continued …

TueNight 10: Joanna Briley

Age: 50 Quick bio: Joanna is a New York City-based actor, stand-up comedian and writer. She has appeared on Lifetime TV’s “Fempire” ad campaign, “Watch What Happens Live” with Andy Cohen, and several appearances on Wendy Williams “Street Talk” segment. Beyond the bio: “In 2018, I created the “Black Women in Comedy Festival,” which was an amazing call to action for black women comedians who are hilariously talented yet routinely overlooked by the industry. With over 20 years in the comedy business, I felt compelled to create this festival to highlight the wide range of comedy, storytelling, improv, and sketch from the perspectives of black women in a supportive and safe environment. I am proud to say that the festival empowered so many funny black women who just needed someone cheering for them and rooting for their success. We look forward to opening more doors in the coming years.” 1. On the nightstand: Lust for Life by Sylvester McNutt III, Keto Clarity by Jimmy Moore with Eric C. Westman, MD, She’s So Funny by Judy Brown and Essence Magazine. 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: …

TueNight 10: Anne Mourier

Age: 55 years old. Quick Bio: A conceptual artist, a mother, and a feminist who loves men, Anne Mourier hails from France and New York (and a little bit from Venice, too). Her latest performance “Cycle,” in collaboration with artist 2Fik, will be presented during the open studio weekend at The Invisible Dog Art Center in Brooklyn in May.  Beyond the bio: “I love more and more human interactions. Material things have less importance for me as time goes by. This is why I am interested by performances…they allow me to have deeper interactions with strangers. They nourish me and help me progress in my journey. I feel more and more the synchronicities of life also and smile when people are “sent to me.”” 1. On the nightstand: One book from Carl Jung, one book about the spiritual life of water, two books about witches and one artwork from Claudia Paneca. 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Not dying my grays and making love. 3. Jam of the minute: A new artwork I bought at the Armory show and have to hang in my apartment …

TueNight 10: Beth Arky

Age: 59 Quick bio: After two decades as an entertainment magazine editor (Entertainment Weekly, TV Guide), Beth now writes personal essays and covers children and teens with developmental, mental health and learning challenges for the nonprofit Child Mind Institute. She is also a warrior mom, advocating for her 15-year-old son, who is on the autism spectrum. Beyond the bio: “At 59, I’ve discovered that I have a strong voice and that confidence can’t be tied to a number on the scale. I’ve also learned the hard way that I need to take care of myself—in other words, put the oxygen mask on first—before I can help anyone else. And since my marriage ended four years ago, I’ve found that dating younger men can be fun!” 1. On the nightstand: The Blue, a historical novel by my friend Nancy Bilyeau; a stack of New Yorkers I’m going to get to one of these days, damn it; my iPhone (I know, terrible for an insomniac like me but it’s a hard habit to break); Lubriderm; a Voluspa candle in French Cade & …

TueNight 10: Alexandra Rosas

Age: 58 years old Quick Bio: Alexandra is a storyteller with The Moth and is a regular contributor to Grown and Flown. Beyond the bio: “Now that I’m older, I’ve learned the value of seeing what it is that you bring to anything. You don’t have “all the time in the world” anymore, so now is the time to earnestly love, respect, and take pride in your talent, your gift, your essence, presence and contribution on this Earth.” 1. On the nightstand: A book. Every day since I was five years old. Right now, it’s The Lonely Bodybuilder by Yukiko Motoya (what a treat). 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Lying to myself about the amount of chocolate I eat. 3. Jam of the minute: MILCK’s “Quiet” 4. Thing I miss: My little babies and the days when I could carry all three at once. 5. 80s crush:  Though he’s not a nice person at all in real life (I waited on him once), Adam Ant. 6. Current crush:  Everybody’s. In other words, Jeff Goldblum. 7. Will whine about:  No one else sees the garbage can overflowing in this …

In Defense of Over-Holidaying

My husband grew up Jewish, and when we started dating, it fell to me to introduce him to Christmas as full-fledged participant, rather than exasperated outside witness. He couldn’t have chosen a better person to adopt Christmas with. With my cookie-making, casserole-baking, community-volunteering tendencies, I’ve been in bootcamp for Christmas mentorship my whole life. But even I was unprepared for how much more fun—how defiantly extra—Christmas could be with someone who’d never had it. On a frosty morning in December, my brand-new Christmas Jew and I were the first customers at the neighborhood tree stand. We struggled back to our studio apartment with a tree no less than five feet in diameter, coated it in lights and tinsel, and spent the day sitting on the couch, staring at it. We were just getting started. Reader, we roasted a Christmas goose. Have you ever tried roasting a goose? Don’t. We ate roasted chestnuts, also disgusting. We went to the Messiah, and my Jewish boyfriend stood up and bellowed “Haaaale-lujah!” with the best of them. We adopted Operation Santa kids, ice skated …

tuenight retire 39 freelance writing penny wrenn

Why I’m Throwing My Own Damn Retirement Party

At 38, and soon to be 39, I am nowhere close to receiving social security checks or living off a cushy pension or a seven-figure Roth IRA. But financial security hasn’t stopped me from declaring my retirement at the end of 2016. That’s right. I said retirement. This is retirement in the tradition of the thirty-something-year-old NBA basketball player who retires from the hustle of the game. (Except I’m neither as rich nor as famous as Kobe Bryant or Michael Jordan.) I have been writing professionally for 15 years, and most of that time I’ve been a freelancer. That means that I’ve been floating from assignment to assignment without an employer to call my own. But this year, I am retiring from that writer-for-hire life. I have not made a lot of money, I have not made an indelible mark (whatever that means) and I have not achieved all that I’d hoped to accomplish in my professional writing life. Having written my way to mediocre success, I am choosing now to say to myself, “Good …

Touch My Body — I’ll Pay For It

I’m single. Sometimes it seems like I’ve always been single. I’ve had boyfriends, sure, but the default is single. This time around I’ve been single for about five continuous years. I live alone with a small, affection-withholding dog. I’m very busy, and I’m very social, and yet stretches of time go by during which I do not feel the touch of another human. But that’s not entirely true. Because there are those who touch me. Folks beyond my doctor and my (incredibly handsome, erudite, gentle and highly recommended) dentist. For instance: the woman who performs my ritual mani-pedi. Like so many other ladies in this town, I make a monthly — sometimes weekly! — pilgrimage to the nail salon where an attendant awaits with a steaming, bubbling basin. Like the Greco Roman baths of yore, I attempt to relax with my fellow plebeians, other exhausted citizens stealing minutes from our days to try and absorb the healing properties of water and “ballet slippers.” We soak our extremities, they sand, buff and arm us with a …

Masking It: The Night I Started Hiding Alcohol

After a six-month, self-imposed period of abstinence from alcohol, drinking crept back into my life — while I was in costume. It was Halloween night, 2009. I was dressed up as a hippie, with a long, blond, knotty-dread-ish wig (topped with a colorful tam) and a floor-length, swirly patterned dress. My husband (then fiancé), Andy, matched me as my mate in his own wig and Grateful Dead tee, and we brought along my old Cabbage Patch Kid to complete our peace-and-love family. I had also just completed a six-month, self-imposed period of abstinence from alcohol, which I was oh-so-proud of. The fact that I had been able to stay sober all on my own, without AA meetings, rehab, or ultimatums from loved ones, was a major accomplishment; one that I believe proved, once a for all, the thing I so desperately needed to believe about myself – that I was not an alcoholic. So after dousing ourselves in Patchouli oil (the scent of which stayed with us for days — don’t ever do this as …

Silly Things People Have Said to Me When I Tell Them I’m Not Having Kids

There will be no children in my future. Ever. Yes, I am married. Yes, my husband knows that I do not want children. Yes, we both realize we’re extremely fortunate to be able to elect to live childfree. He doesn’t want kids either. It’s part of the reason I married him. (That, and he has excellent hair.) He married me knowing that and also because I always clean the litter box. I probably brought up the topic of kids on the second date — it would have been a deal breaker. My husband would make the world’s greatest father. But that alone isn’t reason enough for me to become the mother I’ve never wanted to be, to take on a crushing financial burden or to add more to my already too-full plate. I love my friends’ children. Because I don’t have to take care of them. Their cuteness is there to fulfill my need to see cute things. I don’t expect them to behave for me, and they don’t expect 18 years of dinner from …

The Mazel Tov Slap: The Jewish Tradition You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

When I told my mother I got my period for the very first time, she slapped me across the face and shouted, “Mazel Tov!” It wasn’t a punishment slap — more like the way you’d slap a person who fainted, or something out of the Marx Brothers — and it didn’t feel violent. I don’t remember the moment in great detail, and I don’t remember it as something terrible that happened to me. I mostly remember knowing that it was part of long-standing tradition from shtetl times, passed down from Jewish mother to Jewish daughter, the purpose (supposedly) being to bring the color back to your face (because it’s all draining out through your vagina now!). It’s possible I even knew it was coming, that it was something we discussed in advance — probably with all of my female relatives! — as I eagerly awaited the big day. And yes, I so desperately wanted my period, because at 14, it felt like ALL OF MY FRIENDS had theirs, and I was on the outside of this magical …

My Struggle With God Ended on a Plane

It was my best friend, Brenda, who introduced God and me. I was four. She was eight and lived in my grandparent’s trailer park with her mom, dad, several rabbits and a dog that scared me. To say that I worshipped her is to put it mildly. She knew everything, and, if I were lucky, she would teach it all to me. When Brenda fell in love with Shaun Cassidy, I was determined to fall harder, even though I still thought boys were sweaty and full of cooties. When she picked out cowl neck sweaters and velour V-necks from the Sears catalogue, I begged my mom for the identical style and color. And in the summer of 1977, when Brenda signed up for Bible Camp, I tagged along without hesitation. Before school started up again that fall, we were both saved. Jesus was our new crush, and we competed to be his biggest fan. We never swore, never took the Lord’s name in vain, always respected the Sabbath by going to Sunday school and always, …

TueNight 10: Jeanne Pinder

Jeanne Pinder is the founder of ClearHealthCosts, a journalism startup in New York City bringing transparency to health care by telling people what things cost. “After almost 25 years at The New York Times, I volunteered for a buyout in 2009. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but was lucky enough to land in a class in “entrepreneurial journalism,” at CUNY Graduate School of Journalism, with Jeff Jarvis and Jeremy Caplan, where I grew the idea for this startup.” Almost exactly a year later, she won a shark-tank-type pitch contest in front of a jury of New York City venture capitalists and internet bigwigs to found the company. Jeanne hails from Iowa, where she started her career as a journalist at her family’s paper, The Grinnbell Herald-Register, as a cub reporter at the tender age of 13. This means she has been a journalist for more than 50 years! Here is her TueNight 10: 1. On the nightstand:  The Art of Asking, by Amanda Palmer. No One Tells You This, Glynnis MacNicol. Women and Power, Mary Beard. Rereading: Eloquent …

Pregnancy, Menopause and Learning the Ukelele — Not Necessarily in That Order

At 36, I decided I was ready to get pregnant. I had quit drinking two and a half years earlier, and had just met someone new — an AA-approved boyfriend who was financially stable, mostly trustworthy, and as tired as I was of being a destructive, melodramatic alcoholic. He also had a wonderful Irish accent. Most of my life I had been late to the game. I took the SATs without preparation, applied to college weeks before the semester was set to begin, schemed my way into a study abroad in Amsterdam at the last minute*, took a job with AOL after the merger with Time-Warner (thus not benefitting from any of that stock-splitting that made nearly everyone in the DC suburbs filthy rich). Having a child in my late 30s would fit my pattern. Besides, it’s what I wanted. I was 36, but I always looked young. I often joked that all the alcohol I drank in my life pickled me. At that point, my situation was as good as it was going to …

A Sexpert’s 5 Tips to Mind-Blowing Sex After Menopause

We think about menopause as a time when our sexuality slows down or becomes more of a struggle — while this is true for some people it also doesn’t have to be if you want to flip the script. It’s true: lowering levels of estrogen during menopause means less blood flow to the vagina causing a decrease in vaginal lubrication. This makes sex at best, less than appealing and at worst, downright painful. Bladder control, medication side effects, stress, anxiety and even sleep disturbances during menopause can seriously affect one’s sex life. On the other side, post-menopausal sex is likely to be more relaxed. Knowing pregnancy isn’t a concern anymore can greatly improve the expression of sexuality and intimacy. Just make sure you keep using condoms until your doctor confirms you are no longer ovulating! Menopause aside, our culture needs the constant reminder that sex is not just penetration. Furthermore, sex really shouldn’t be so goal oriented towards orgasm. It’s counterproductive to consider sex in such a heteronormative, big O-oriented way. It’s important to honor …

What is an Orgy Dome? This Midlife Couple Finds Out

Burning Man is a festival — really a temporary city — that appears for one week every summer in the Black Rock Desert of Northern Nevada, and then disappears. Started in 1986, it’s a lot of things — at the very least a hugely wild art and community gathering, a place where exchanging money and commercialism of any sort are prohibited. Participants (70,000 last year!) live in tents and trailers amid fierce dust storms, ride around on bikes, and admire ginormous sculptures on the playa. Clothing is optional, electronic music blares all night long, and drugs and alcohol are plentiful (if kept hidden from the police, who are there to keep everyone safe). Imagine Mad Max meets Alice in Wonderland, and you’ve pretty much got it covered. Of course, these ingredients lead to some wild adventures… On the third or fourth day, biking around in the hot desert, we passed the famous “Orgy Dome,” a place we’d both heard about, but never discussed. We stood, we stared, we felt uncomfortable, and then we rode on. But …

Flashing Back to the Playboy Mansion, Paris & Prague in Search of a Better Body Image

Cannabis lube and three orgasms in one night. Yep. That’s what my middle-aged, present day, post-divorce sex life looks like… sometimes. While some friends are complaining about atrophied vaginas, my legs are open for business and I’m letting hot suitors visit my grand canal. My curves are being adored and admired and I feel sexually, like the song “Free Bird.” It certainly has not always been this way. Long before my hot romps of late with the Joes, Peters, Pedros, Fabios and Juan Miguels, I would look in the mirror and dissect myself. I didn’t trust or love my body as much as Louise Hay wanted me to. My screenwriting professors always told us to use FLASHBACKS sparingly, but I decided it was time. I wanted to see a time-line of my body image psyche. Flashback, 1980s. I’m a 17-year-old virgin spending the summer in L.A on a film internship. My roommate is a Malibu bombshell who is very “in” with the “LA fast track.” She’s about to attend Hugh Hefner’s Midsummer Night’s Bash and …

The 5 Kübler-Ross Stages of a Hotflash

July 2016. The month New York City officially became hot as Hades and even Texas was sympathetic. Given the temperature, I wasn’t surprised when my sweat glands exploded on a downtown subway platform. I mopped my brow, my neck and the crook of my elbow, grateful when a finely air-conditioned train arrived. But I was still hot, and still sweating. “The temperature is over 95 degrees and it’s humid,” I thought. “Overheating is a side effect of my new antidepressant. I’ll be fine.” Meanwhile, I’d been on the “new” medications for over a year with no other adverse events. I tried to ignore my history of night sweats. I’d just turned 44. Denial. I was hot, and uncomfortable. Everyone around me looked as you’d imagine: cool, comfortable, relieved to be relaxing in a temperature-controlled conveyance. Meanwhile, I was boiling inside, literally and figuratively. I was hotter than I’d been during a summer in Las Vegas, or when I had a 102 fever. What the fuck, man? Was it a hot flash? I was too young …

How I Officially Became a Middle-Aged Badass in the Finnish Arctic

A few summers ago, I was offered the opportunity of a lifetime: a roundtrip holiday junket to the Finnish Arctic region in hopes that I’d write about the region’s beauty, sustainability and why it should be a top travel destination for millennials who are increasingly seeking meaning and purpose when they travel.  But as a woman in midlife, a decidedly non-millennial, I found meaning, purpose and a little bit of a super-hero skill in the deep-freeze. I was offered two, week-long options. The first was to take the trip during the summer solstice in August, featuring hiking, biking and outdoor trekking. The second was a visit during the darkest and coldest time of the Finnish winter, January. Given that I’d be traveling solo and am middle-aged, I initially leaned towards the safe and more “typical” sounding summer holiday. But, after reflection, I thought, “Hell, Susan, why not go the challenging route? Get out of your comfort zone and be a badass for once.” So winter darkness was the selection I made, and my trip would …

How The Flash Inspired My Perimenopausal Alter Ego

8:15PM on a Tuesday Family bonding time. We’re all huddled in my bed watching The Flash on Netflix, a bowl of popcorn propped precariously between my younger son and husband’s thighs. I’m wrapped in a fuzzy sweater under the duvet even though it’s May. In three hours, I will look like Heat Miser doing a striptease when my hot flash hits, but right now I’m shivering and pissing off my older son by using him as a human heating pad for my ice-cold feet. And I want to punch Barry Allen. Barry, AKA metahuman speedster extraordinaire The Flash, is such a whiny bitch. He needs to face the evil Reverse Flash in some bad acid trip called the Flashpoint or all his friends and what’s left of his family will die. But. He’s. Too. Hot. Barry’s friends are science-ing in a panic to literally chill Barry the fuck out and create a new superhero suit that can withstand the burden of saving the world. Meanwhile, I get eyerolls when I ask my kids for a …

TueNight 10: Jamia Wilson

Jamia Wilson is quite fond of the Florynce Kennedy quote, “Don’t agonize! Organize!” — a sentiment which prompted her to co-create the kick-ass guide, Road Map for Revolutionaries: Advocacy for All, just out today (Happy Pub Day!). “In the post-Trump frenzy, I turned to books written by strong women disruptors as a roadmap for what to do, says Jamia who co-authored the book with Elisa Camahort Page and Carolyn Gerin. “I was compelled to collaborate on a direct, snappy guidebook that showcases tools you need to ignite the change you want to see in the world.” Jamia is also the director of Feminist Press, the author of Young, Gifted, and Black, and she wrote the oral history in Together We Rise: Behind the Scenes at the Protest Heard Around the World.  Carolina-born and Saudi Arabia raised, she currently lives in New York City, where she’s an adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. “I love teaching undergraduate classes about gender studies and revolutions,” she says. “We can learn so much from the past to help inform a better future.” 1. On the nightstand: Training School …

TueNight 10: Theo Kogan

Theo Kogan is a makeup artist, musician, native Brooklynite, activist and mom. She is well known for being the singer of the Lunachicks, a band of best friends who happened to be girls. Theo and her pals started the band in high school just for fun; they ended up touring the world through the ’90s, becoming one of the Riot Grrrl bands of the era, and opening up for many of the legendary pop-punk bands of the day. She was a NY nightlife muse, and one of the first heavily tattooed fashion models/actors. We were thrilled when Theo made her live reading debut at TueNight Live: 90s Bitchin July. She has two essays in the forthcoming book Women Who Rock, which is being released next month. You can pre-order a copy now, so do it! She is currently painting faces in New York Fashion Week. Literally. Right now. 1. On the nightstand: There’s a stack of books (seriously) but what I am reading is The Power by Naomi Alderman… for the past 6 months. Clearly I don’t get much time to read. Also tissues, my Hurraw! …