Sarah Khan

Welcome to the 21st century, in which women have more power than ever before, yet have less power than ever before as well.

When I tell people that I keep a box of tampons on my desk at work, they are either surprised or they want to know why. As if keeping a box of tampons on my desk is any different than the box of Scooby-Doo Band-Aids or the bulk candy I keep on there as well.

For the last six years, I have been living with depression. Despite the fact that I have extremely low moments when there is an inexplicable and unreachable pain inside me that demotes me into a sobbing, self-harming, low self-esteemed shell of the person that I actually am, there are a number of ways that living with (not suffering from) depression has improved my life and made me a better human being.

I’m proud to say my mother is a supporter of SlutWalk, is staunchly against victim-blaming, and all for empowering women. But when it comes to me, her ideals seem to change.

I invite you to become feminist allies instead of continuing to selfishly throw all minorities under the bus in order to protect your fragile little male egos and incorrect sense of self-entitlement. If our interactions are any indication, I suspect that you see me as an overly emotional “feminazi bitch” who takes things too seriously. Let me tell you why you’re utterly wrong (and maybe assholes, too).

Recently, my poop schedule got a little wonky and instead of going first thing in the morning (like I prefer), my bowel movements have unfortunately been at work. Usually, this wouldn’t be any issue, except the time I got unintentionally poop shamed.

Thanks to a number of different stressful factors, I was sent to the Centre For Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) emergency department recently at the "professional advice" (read: insistence) of my general physician. This all happened because I admitted to planning the care of my beloved cats in case I killed myself.