I’m Shannon Drury, a feminist mom who started a blog on MySpace in 2006 with the jokey nickname “the radical housewife.”
At the March for Women’s Lives, 2004. Devil horns were appropriate during the Dubya years
Why? Well, why not?
I already felt out of place in my real life worlds: at feminist action meetings as the only one inquiring about child care, and at Mommy & Me groups as the only one insisting that Strongly Worded Letters Should Be Written About This.
I’ve always considered myself a writer, from the years I composed love poems to Duran Duran in blank books to the when I was runner-up in Sassy magazine’s short story contest. My plan was to write emotionally devastating literary fiction while my placid children napped. Then I actually had a kid, one with “special needs” no less, and I realized that writing snappy blog posts under a goofball moniker was probably going to be more my style.
Most importantly, “The Radical Housewife” happened because I really hoped that the 22-year-olds from Minnesota NOW who talked me into getting a MySpace account would think it was funny (they did).
They are in this picture, though not in the stroller (that’s my nephew)
I found that my blog was a great outlet for some of the ragier things that would blow through my mind during trips to Target and preschool. In 2006, a post I submitted to the Minnesota Women’s Press was printed in their paper, and my part-time freelancing career began.
Since 2007 I’ve had my own column in the magazine, where I write about abortion rights, Madonna vs. Rihanna, activist burnout, grieving lost friends, feminist men, parenting, and other fun stuff.
Since I’m sharing pictures with you, I must whip out this one:
From left: The Radical Housewife, HILLARY FUCKIN’ CLINTON, my dear pal Erin Matson, Sen. Al Franken
This blog was named a Top 25 Political Mom Blog by Circle of Moms and one of the 30 Political Mom Bloggers Who Will Change Your Vote by The Stir at CafeMom.com, which was pretty nice.
I wrote about Courtney Love in the summer 2011 issue of Bitch, a thrill from which I have not yet recovered.
I’m married to a swell feminist guy and we share a house in Minneapolis with two cats, two kids, three computers, hundreds of vinyl records, thousands of books, millions of Lego pieces and billions of dustbunnies.