Yeah, I read Judy Blume. My mother didn't like that, but I read it anyhow.

Bechdel Test, was named for the comic strip it came from, penned by Alison Bechdel - but Bechdel credits a friend named Liz Wallace, so maybe it really should be called the Liz Wallace Test...? Anyway, the test is much simpler than the name. To pass it your movie must have the following: a) there are at least two named female characters, who b) talk to each other about c) something other than a man.

I never really read superhero stuff as a kid.

If it weren't for the unconventionality of my desires, my mind might never have been forced to reckon with my body.

My father once nearly came to blows with a female dinner guest about whether a particular patch of embroidery was fuchsia or magenta. But the infinite gradations of color in a fine sunset - from salmon to canary to midnight blue - left him wordless.

Who embalms the Undertaker when he dies?

I’m glad mainstream culture is starting to catch up to where lesbian-feminism was 30 years ago.