Jeanne Joe Perrone

Lent is serious. I mean, it starts with people putting ashes on their faces while someone chants, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return," and then it ends with Jesus being tortured to death and then coming back to life. Yikes. I mean, I know we don’t have the monopoly on intense religious traditions, but dang, we Christians sure know how to party/freak out 6-year olds.

I have been robbed of my dreams for more than 15 years by insomnia, an unpredictable bully playing tricks with my mind and body like a dog with its chew toys. I am given weeks or months of normal sleep, only to be blown back to sleeplessness like a sudden wind. An estimated 30-35% of adults will grapple with this particular sleep disorder at one point in their lives — and 10% will deal with insomnia chronically.

Rejection happens to everyone, in some way: Your kindergarten crush who called you gross, someone you love rejecting your identity, losing a job or a lover.

It has also happened to countless others from every culture and time in human history: Sleep paralysis, a fairly common sleep disorder that has almost always been associated with supernatural horror.

Part of the problem with defining yourself in negatives (i.e. not religious) is that it’s hard to pinpoint what you actually do stand for.

Valentine's Day is upon us and the topic of love is ubiquitous. Even if you wanted to, you can't escape the pink hearts, gender normative clichés, and doe-eyed couples.

The Japanese Supreme Court has just ruled to uphold a law requiring married people to have the same last name, much to the dismay of women's rights activists

Once I was a good Christian woman. I was president of the abstinence club; now I support Planned Parenthood. How did I go from an evangelical Christian upbringing to this total change of heart? Do I want to make Jesus cry? What happened to me!?!

If you’ve been watching from the sidelines and feeling helplessness or rage as the news surrounding Syrian refugees continues to complicate, consider taking action.

When I was in third grade, my parents got divorced. My mom went back to school full-time in the hopes of beginning a new career that would support us. Oddly, this was one of the richest years of my life; my world split and shifted on its axis, and yet somehow didn’t knock me over — thanks to a SHEro (or two).