Photo Credit: Kate Mereand-Sinha
Image via Flickr/Creative Commons

Earlier this week I changed the tagline of this blog. It once read: "I have some stories. I want to look good while I share them." I didn't change it because I feared you'd think me vain. Trust me, I am vain. No need for you to wonder about that.

I changed my tagline to "My Life as a Blogger, Writer, and Southern Fried Feminist," simply because I believe it better describes what The Writeous Babe Project is all about. I do worry, however, that the
f-word might scare away or alienate some readers. For so many, feminist is a dirty word associated with this idea of a woman who hates men, marriage, makeup, and stay-at-home moms and who is angry about everything except an announcement that Ani DiFranco is coming to town.

As a happily married woman who loves eye shadow and is in awe of any woman who can stay home with a kid all day, I am a feminist who defies all those stereotypes.Well, not all of them. I freaking love Ani DiFranco!

People have asked me how I can be so bold as to call myself a feminist when that label has such negative connotations.  I can do so because I have a clear understanding of what feminism actually means. And I believe that if people -- both women and men -- would focus on the true definition of feminism they'd quickly realize they're a feminist too.

A few days ago a pal of mine asked me via Twitter what it means to be a feminist. She then clarified that what she really wanted to know what was my definition of feminism.

Feminism is simply the belief in the economic, political, and social equality of the sexes. Period. And if you believe in that, guess what, you're a feminist.

Things get complicated, however, when we get into how an individual chooses to live out her (or his) feminist believes, because feminism is both personal and political. It's a lifestyle.

I'm not going to write a single post on how I live out my feminism. That post would be ridiculously long and you'd stop reading and go back to watching the Olympics before getting halfway through it.

But each Friday from now until I run out of things to say, I am going to address different feminist issues here at The Writeous Babe Project. I'll do my best to relate the posts to writing, but sometimes I may need to just rant or rave.

I promise the posts will be interesting, as many of them will tackle those gray areas such as "Can I still call myself a feminist if I take pole dancing lessons?"

And I promise the posts will be fun, because as feminist humor writer Caitlin Moran said in a recent interview, "Feminism is a revolution and revolutions are fun."

Photo by Kristin Nador
Image via Flickr/Creative Commons

Are you sleepy? Yeah, me too. Is it because you've been staying up all night watching the Olympics? Yeah, me too. 

Believe it not, however, between my cheers for the USA women's gymnastics and men's swim teams, I've realized that writers could learn a lot from Olympians. They can teach us a lot about dedication and the value of practice. 

Last week I showed up to my weekly meeting with my writing partner with no desire to write.  I'd spent the morning vacuuming the carpets and cleaning the bathrooms of my apartment. Before that I went to the gym to lift weights and to a spinning class in which I'm certain the instructor was trying to kill us all. (Love you, Cherie!)

My body was tired and now I was supposed to sit in a coffee shop, in a hard chair and write something brilliant. But that was the problem -- the idea that I needed to write something amazing, to complete an essay that would be my big break in publishing or finish a blog post that would win me some sort of award. No. That moment, that time to write, should have been about practice. As writers we sometimes lose sight of the importance of writing as a practice.

I'm a runner so I, of all people, should know how important practice is. I remember the day I decided to start running. I'd always been an active person. Back in college I taught group fitness classes at the university's recreation center. But I never ran. Then one day last year while walking my favorite neighborhood trail I just decided to give it a try.

I was out of breath in 30 seconds. But then I kept trying and one day I ran for 4 minutes without stopping, then 9 minutes, then 20 minutes, and the next thing I knew I'd signed up for a half marathon. And now I'm one of those people driving around with a 13.1 bumper sticker on the back of their car.

But to get the Mercedes Half-Marathon Finisher the medal hanging in my bedroom I had to practice. I had to go out and run in the heat, in the cold, and sometimes even in the rain. I had to run when I didn't feel like it.

And every run is not a race. You have to practice. You have to train. You have to run for the sake of running.

Likewise, sometimes I need to write for the sake of writing. I need to write when I don't feel like it. I need to write even when I don't feel inspired to do so. It's not necessary to always sit down to write with a specific goal in mind. No need to say, "Today I'm going to write an award-winning essay on my definition of feminism." Sometimes I need to just sit and write for the sake of filling the page.

Natalie Goldberg, whom I quote a lot on this blog because she's a genius, recommends filling one notebook each month with this practice-style writing. If you're looking for a project for #WRITELIKECRAZY month, I think that would be a great one.

Goldberg also sees the similarities between writers and athletes. In her book Writing Down the Bones she says:

"This is the practice school of writing. Like running, the more you do it, the better you get at it. Some days you don't want to run and you resist every step of the three miles, but you do it anyway. You practice whether you want to or not. You don't wait around for inspiration and deep desire to run. It'll never happen, especially if you're out of shape or have been avoiding it. But if you run regularly, you train your mind to cut through or ignore your resistance. You just do it. And in the middle of the run, you love it. When you come to the end, you never want to stop. And you stop, hungry for the next time." 

Image via Flickr/Creative Commons

Last night at about 7 p.m. I decided to join writer Tayari Jones in her plan to #WRITELIKECRAZY for the month of August. (Thanks to Tatiana of Tatiana In Flux for telling me about this.)

#WRITELIKECRAZY is nothing like NaNoWriMo. In fact, Jones hates National Novel Writing Month, which is when writers attempt to write a 10,000 word novel in the month of November.  For #WRITELIKECRAZY you simply set your own goal for the month. Decide what you want to accomplish and just go for it.

My goal is to publish a blog post here at WriteousBabe.com every day in August. In September I plan to guest blog like crazy in an effort to get new readers. So I need to make sure I have plenty of good content for these new folks to check out. Also, I'll be returning back to work soon and will, therefore, be tempted to write less and less. I hope this challenge will keep me on track.

So, who wants to #WRITELIKECRAZY with me this month? Jones would like those participating to like her Facebook page and share their progress there. I'd love for you to keep me posted on your progress at my Facebook page as well.

Let's do this!

Photo by Roy Costello
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The other day a writer pal of mine tweeted about her fear of writing on controversial topics. I quickly jumped in (Writeous Babe to the rescue!) and reminded her that the best of essays are those that take an unpopular stance on an issue. Then she replied that she was mostly reluctant for fear that her opinion would change. I told her that was OK. I don't believe writers should ever pretend to have it all figured out. We don't have all the answers and we should admit that. "Writing is about asking questions," I tweeted. And after she marked my tweet as a favorite I felt special, like I had said something important and sage. 

Then I realized I was a hypocrite. 

Lately the thing that's been on my mind most is a controversial, unpopular choice of mine that I've been leery to write about. 

I don't want children. 

In January of 2008 I was diagnosed with a condition that would most likely make pregnancy, delivery, and life after childbirth extremely difficult for me. When people close to me, people aware of this issue, ask me why my husband and I aren't trying to have kids I use this condition as an excuse. But it's just that -- an excuse. I don't want children, and it has nothing to do with my health. 

I had a wide variety of responses ready for the moment when someone asks why I'm not trying to get knocked up: We're not quite ready. We need to put away more money in savings. We want to buy a house first. Excuse. Excuse. Excuse. 

A few months ago -- ironically on Mother's Day -- I made the decision to drop the excuses. And when random lady at the supermarket asked why my husband and I don't have kids, I boldly replied, "I don't want children." That has been my response to anyone who has asked since then. And for some reason I'm asked this question about once a week, usually by someone who can't even correctly pronounce my name and, therefore, has no business asking me something so personal. But I digress. 

I've wanted to write about the hilarious array of reactions I get to my declaration that I don't want children, but in order to do that I would have to write about the fact that I, you know, don't want children. And that I didn't want to do. 

Sure, I've written about this matter in a lighthearted manner in the past like when I wrote a column for the weekly I used to work for about remaining childless for reasons such as I didn't want my perky boobs to sag after becoming lactation stations. And like this piece I wrote for The Hairpin.

But I've never dealt with this topic seriously in my writing. Why? For the same reason my friend wouldn't tackle her tough topics -- I'm afraid I'll change my mind. At this point in my life I'm pretty sure I will not. When I was in my 20s everyone said as soon as I turned 30 I'd go baby crazy. But when that monumental birthday rolled around last year I began to feel more certain than ever that I did not want to be a mom. Still, there is a chance I could change my mind. 

No, I'm not worried about proving right all the people who said I would, in fact, change my mind. Those are the same people who think I don't want kids because I wasn't hugged enough as a child. (Growing up my brother and I never went to bed without my parents first giving us a hug, a kiss, and an "I love you.") And those are the same people who say ridiculous things like, "Motherhood is a woman's purpose and duty."  Ergo, I don't care what they think.

What I’m worried about is changing my mind, having a kid, and then one day Writeous Baby reads this post and starts yelling, “Mommy! You didn’t want me?! You don’t love me!” That is my fear. But I guess it’s too late now. The declaration that I want to remain child-free has been made and posted in cyberspace. 

And in case it's 2030 and you're reading this, Writeous Baby, please know that if you're in this world it's because I not only wanted you, but decided I couldn't live without you. 

When I first learned that Michelle Obama was coming to Birmingham my heart started doing cartwheels in my chest. Yes, I have a serious girl crush on my First Lady as does nearly every woman I know. 

The general admission tickets to this special event were $200. A ticket to the preferred viewing section went for $500 and for $5,000 you could get a ticket for two that included a photo with the first lady. 

Um, yeah. After reading that I was sure I was not going to see the First Lady during her trip to the Magic City. But as luck would have it, an awesome pal of mine had access to some discounted general admission tickets and yesterday afternoon she and I had the honor of attending this special reception. 

First Lady Michelle Obama came to Birmingham, Ala., yesterday to campaign for her husband, obviously, but, to be honest with you, the November election had nothing to do with my decision to attend the event. I went to be inspired.

Snapshot of the crowd at the Michelle Obama Reception
Photo by Sherri Ross

The very sight of Michelle Obama inspires me. That might be hard for some people to understand, but let me explain. Actually, a recent Clutch magazine article by Mary Annaise Heglar explains it better than I ever could. Heglar writes of Michelle Obama:

Her very being challenges every myth about black women — we are fat, ugly, angry, stupid, and (now) single. Michelle is slender, a health nut, poised, smart, and happily married...

Michelle has undone centuries of terrible PR and outright lies. She single-handedly brought successful, well-rounded black women out of the shadows. No longer the invisible women, they now meet with the Queen of England and hula hoop on the White House lawn. She is the First Lady, the face of American womanhood to the rest of the world.

To me Michelle Obama is a rock star. This is why my friend and I were giddy like adolescent girls at a Justin Bieber concert before, during, and after the First Lady's talk. I actually screamed and jumped up and down when she took the stage clad in a sleeveless, navy dress, a black patent leather belt, and black patent leather kitten-heeled shoes.

Here I am grinning ear to ear moments before First Lady Michelle Obama took the stage.
Photo by Sherri Ross 

But yesterday was about more than Michelle Obama's celebrity. I wanted to be inspired by her words and she did not disappoint. Sure, her speech focused a lot on President Obama's accomplishments, but I'm not writing this to tell you how to vote. I'm writing this because I want you to feel as encouraged as I did as I drove home yesterday evening. 

Michelle Obama was funny, passionate, smart and down-to-earth and she was also remarkable. One of the most memorable statements she made yesterday was "Sitting on the sidelines is simply not an option." She was talking about the importance of getting apathetic friends, family members, and neighbors to vote, but this statement is one we should all apply to our lives in general. 

So many of us, too many of us, sit on the sidelines of our own lives. We sit there wishing, hoping and praying that things will happen for us, but they don't because we don't bother to get in the game. 

We're afraid. We're afraid because once we get in the game we know we'll have to run a play, we'll have to make decisions and some of those decisions could change our lives as we know it. But this is exactly why we need to get to work. 

Michelle Obama spoke about those moments when she's seen her husband wrestle with decisions he's had to make for our country. In those moments, she said, President Obama had to draw from his life experiences and his values. When making difficult decisions, she said, "it all comes down to who you are and what you stand for." 

Listening to my First Lady I realized that once you know who you are and what you're truly passionate about, you can step away from the sidelines and move onto the court. When you face the hard choices your character and your values will be your guide. Trust yourself. You can do this. I can do this. 

Writing often feels like a solitary act, a lonely occupation. Many of us create our best work in moments of quiet solitude, rubbing our tired eyes as we stare at a bright computer screen in a dimly lit room.

But any writer who thinks she can do it all on her own is kidding herself. As author Natalie Goldberg has taught me, writing is a communal act. Sometimes we need someone to help us banish writer's block or to make us submit that article, short story, poem, or proposal. Sometimes we need someone to tell us to stop talking about being a writer and actually write something for heaven's sake!

This is why I have a writing partner. For the past month or so I've been meeting with my writing partner every Tuesday afternoon at a local coffeehouse. For two hours we just sit together and write. And it is wonderful. It's hard to explain how much I enjoy our time together, but I know it simultaneously feels like recess and worship. Each pen stroke is an act of prayer and a moment of play.

I recently helped some members of See Jane Write Birmingham find writing partners and blogging mentors within our group. I call this little literary matchmaking program  The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pens, a name for which I cannot take credit (Thanks, Erin). Last night a few of the women in The Sisterhood got together for dinner at a local pizza parlor. Over slices of warm pie and glasses of cold beer, we chatted about our writing goals and the books we're reading. We dished about family drama and confessed our Twitter obsessions. And in just two hours we felt like family and were trying to figure out when we'd do this again.

Irene Grubbs, Glenny Brock, Javacia Harris Bowser (me!), Mimi Latoine, Mindy Santo, Jennifer Dome, and Amber Roberson

Writing partners Mimi and Mindy share a laugh. 

The reaction when Glenny revealed the topic of the book she's currently writing.

The hilarious Sherri and Irene

Amber and Sherri

OK, so Jesse Williams wasn't there, but I thought posting a picture of him on my blog two days in a row couldn't hurt.

Photo Credit: Marcelino Rapayla Jr.
Flickr/Creative Commons

"Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over and over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, and sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin." -- Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

When I first read the passage above in Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones, I became the girl at the wedding fighting desperately to catch the bride's bouquet, the one taking off her heels so she can sprint to the front of the crowd, the one willing to take out any taffeta-clad bridesmaid who gets in her her way.

I want to fall in love again. No, not in the romantic way. I have no plans of dumping the Mister and setting off to win the heart of this guy:

I want to fall in love with a writer, a writer that I will love so much I will want to step into her skin and become her, as Goldberg muses.

I read all the time. I read blogs, magazines, compelling books on feminism, and the great works of classic American literature. But even though I love these writers, I'm not in love with them. Let me explain.

I love Edgar Allan Poe, but I don't want to write the next The Fall of the House of Usher or The Raven. I love Kate Chopin. I mean, I really, really love Kate Chopin. But I can't say I want to mimic the writing style of The Awakening, Story of an Hour, or Desiree's Baby. This early American literature teacher needs more contemporary creative non-fiction in her life.

I'm in search of a writer I can fall for head over heels. 


Perhaps you've already found your Mr. or Ms. Right (or should I say Mr. or Ms. Write), the scribe you read obsessively, the author whose craft you study like you're trying to pass a bar exam. And perhaps you're worried that instead of improving your skill that this love affair with this literary artist is going to turn you into knock-off version of your favorite writer. But here's why I'm now convinced that is not the case. 


The moment I realized I was completely and totally in love with the man who is now my husband had nothing to do with anything special he had done. In fact, he wasn't even around. I was alone in my apartment getting ready to apply eye shadow or maybe mascara and when I looked in the mirror I was shocked by a sudden epiphany -- my reflection reminded me of him.

Our beings, our lives had become so intertwined that when I looked in the mirror I thought not only of myself, but of him as well.

But wait, isn't this somehow anti-feminist? Aren't I the girl who's always preaching to her friends the importance of not losing your identity in a romantic relationship? But in no way was I lost. I was still there in that mirror. But so was he.

For too long I've believed that being truly in love with a writer would cause me to lose my voice, that the work I would produce would not be original, but just a cheap imitation of a greater scribe. But who am I kidding? Is anyone truly original?

Every word we write is somehow influenced by everything from history, literature and news to bad pop music and 140-character quote you saw on Twitter. It's all in there.

In a chapter titled "Writing Is a Communal Act" from the book Writing Down the Bones Golderg argues that falling for another writer will only make you better; "it won't make you a copy cat. The parts of another's writing that are natural to you will become you, and you will use some of those moves when you write." 


So I'm heading to the library to find the one.

Tell me about the writers you love, study and strive to become.