So I won’t officially join the sex strike, and I doubt I’ll cross that picket line. Instead, I’m hoping my scruffy shins send shivers along the spines of every self-righteous asshole who feels he/she/it has the right to dictate what a woman chooses to do with her body.
By Karene Horst, contributing editor – As a child I would daydream and fidget every Sunday morning while sitting, kneeling or standing in the pew at St. Monica’s with Mother and my five brothers. Mother would cradle the youngest in the crook of one arm while swatting and grabbing at […]
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