Jetta Rae DoubleCakes

The apron was a birthday gift—to both of us, really. She was the first woman to ever call me 'Mommy.'

Every now and then a “Mommy” would escape her lips and I would wipe it from my face, like mud or mosquitos on an otherwise idyllic summer’s drive.

Jane Lynch, Aubrey Plaza, Rosario Dawson, Laverne Cox . . . we're looking at you.

This classic film takes the cautionary tale into the "supersonic age," foregoing a cerebral edge in favor of murder and a giantess fetish.

As a trans woman, I dress for solidarity. I dress to be identified. And now, I have received my "dress blues."

There's a dresser in my drawer, and all it contains is a flannel shirt and a picture of me and Henrietta, from Christmas 2013.

I have an intense, irrational fear of amputation. I threw up trying to read Geek Love. I get light-headed, piss-pantsy in Halloween stores.

I put the lotion on my skin for a week after they left, hoping that it would bring me stop-gap solace until they forgave me and came back.

DoubleCakes dishes out advice to a reader who did something unseemly in her one-night-stand's bed.

News that televangelist Angley forced congregants to have abortions shocked the nation. But his actions don't exist in a vacuum.