I started Whose Body Is It as the world was turning upside down.

Let me tell you how I got here because I didn’t start out as the woman who gets uninvited from things…

I used to be a good liberal feminist. I believed hormonal birth control was liberation, that sex work is work, that porn could be feminist and that questioning these things made you behind the times.

In 2016 I became a hospital birth doula in NYC and I watched women being straight up abused and lied to in labor while everyone around them acted like it was normal. I started coaching women off hormonal birth control using Fertility Awareness Methods and couldn’t believe nobody, not my mother, not my gynecologist, had ever told me there was an effective, side effect free way to prevent pregnancy. So I trained to teach it. Two months in to an online teacher training program, I got kicked out for refusing to call women “menstruating humans.”

Then it happened again, and again.

My friends started dropping like flies.

I lost friends I’d had for decades, people from the birth world / my old lib feminist circle who decided I was dangerous, or embarrassing, or both. It was weird. It hurt. It also cleared the room for Whose Body Is It. The women who stayed and the ones who found me after, are the bravest women I’ve come to know.

As the world turned upside down and people stopped using cash and touching doorknobs, Whose Body Is It was born.

I’ve spend the past 6 years interviewing radical women from around the world about gender ideology, porn, prostitution and the many tentacles of the medical industrial complex and guiding women 1:1, untangling lib fem lies.

Along the way I became a hypnotist and used hypnosis to heal my self-sabotaging behaviors. I even had an colonoscopy without anesthesia back in 2018.

Substack is where I tell the parts of my story that don’t fit into an episode.

If you’ve lost people for telling the truth, if you’ve left a relationship that looked fine from the outside, dealt with the complexity of pregnancy loss, or if you just feel quietly gaslit by the feminism you grew up on, WELCOME. You’re not crazy!