Gemma Hartley

Gemma Hartley

Bio

Gemma Hartley is a freelance writer with a BA in writing from The University of Nevada, Reno. She is author of FED UP: Emotional Labor, Women and The Way Forward. She lives in Reno with her husband, three young kids, an awesome dog, and a terrible cat.

Gemma Hartley Articles

(Image: publicdomainpictures.net)

The Reasons Why I Don't Want My Son To Learn To Read

I know it won't be long until he can read the headlines before I can bury the truth. He will learn to read, and then to suffer. Words will haunt him.

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The lies would keep me up at night, gnawing at the place inside me where I felt my baby should be.

I Hid My Miscarriage From My Son & Pretended I Was Still Pregnant

How was I supposed to tell my son, who was already preoccupied and frightened by the idea of death, that his new little brother or sister was gone, that I'd had a miscarriage? I didn't know. So I lied.

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What’s in a name? I don’t really know. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes everything. Image: NBC.

David Sedaris Named The Baby I Miscarried

It wasn’t the name I would have picked — not originally, at least — but as days turned into weeks, it grew on me.

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End Irresponsible Ejaculation: On Protecting The Sanctity Of Life

Anti-choice folks love to say that these laws aren’t about controlling and punishing a large portion of the population, they are about the sanctity of life. And life, according to those who are anti-choice, begins when sperm meets egg.

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image credit: Gemma Hartley

"Leave Room For Jesus:" Does Purity Culture Devalue Girls?

At Santa Rosa Christian School, dancing was a gateway drug. The gyrating, the slow romantic swaying...

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It was a thrilling feeling to wake up in the morning without a child inches from my face asking for a bowl of cereal at 6:00 a.m., to eat breakfast I hadn’t prepared, to have only my own needs to meet.

I'm Not A Mother When I Travel Alone

Travelling solo for the first time allowed me to regain my sense of self outside of motherhood. It showed me that I could still be a whole and interesting person without using my kids as my stand-in.

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I had no belief that my babies were in heaven, nor that they would ever be born into this world.

I Don't Believe My Babies Are In Heaven

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

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When does being a grown-up happen again?

10 Things I Thought I'd Know How To Do By Now

To be honest, I consider myself pretty damn good at adulting. I’m a great cook, as long as I have a recipe. I’m a self-taught professional baker.

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I felt a strong need to rise to challenges, because I knew that my dad would expect nothing less from me. Image: Thinkstock.

My Dad Wouldn't Call Himself A Feminist, But I Would.

“Feminism” wasn’t a word I heard much growing up. When I did hear it, I equated it with a historical event, not a work in progress. I thought first-wave feminism was a one-and-done deal, and that all the work necessary for women’s equality had already been accomplished.

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Sure, I could probably use a few new life-hacks, but if I can figure out how to love my life in 2017, that will be more than enough.

A Better New Year's Resolution

My resolutions regularly remind me that I don’t think I am enough, just as I am. So this year, instead of focusing on habit changes, I'm more concerned with changing my perspective.

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