Catherine Gigante-Brown

Alas, I am the lone female in a house full of men. Only two men, but they take up a lot of space.

Once upon a time, it was easier to keep track of gender. Today, not so much — the lines are blurred. For many, gender’s not so much about questioning your own identity as it is about questioning the very nature of identity.

In the photograph, my great-grandmother, Margarita Cirigliano, is sitting at a small table on the front porch of the family home in Borough Park, Brooklyn.

Wrinkles or lifelines? Chunky or curvaceous? The choice is yours.

You learn a lot about people when you live in their home. The Taylors seemed to lead a joyless, Spartan existence.

I asked a handful of women: why are people so scared of ladyparts?

I immediately developed a hot-and-heavy girlcrush on the wild, wacky, brash, candid, feminist, rubber-faced comedian—and you should too.

Having someone steal my cancer history and co-opt it for their first-person Facebook blog is unbelievably violating. Somehow, it feels almost as invasive as my mastectomy.

Who says feminists don't love alpha males and cooking?

I realized my father was from a generation that never said those three little words. He was saying he loved me without them. But I didn't realize it then.