This year, Madonna’s Truth Or Dare documentary celebrates its 30th anniversary. When it first came out, it was considered too controversial for the eyes of a little girl like me. I only managed to watch it a few years later, at the tender age of eleven. This is what I learned.

In 1991 Madonna released Truth Or Dare. Rather tellingly, there hasn’t been anything like that film since. There have been supossedly tell-all music documentaries, promising an unfiltered backstage access. Yet all of these productions, from Katy Perry’s Part Of Me (2012) to Beyonce’s beautifully produced HOMECOMING (2013), are carefully…

“I think it will be OK, as long as he doesn’t jump on the sofa” typed Nat. I guaranteed Jarvis would never touch any of her furniture. Jarvis and I had a new home. Nat had zero experience with dogs, I had a devilish furry companion with a penchant for soft furnishings. What could go wrong?

Nat has been my on/off flatmate during the last year.

I met her at the start of December 2019, becoming her lodger shortly after. I stayed with her for almost three months. We shared common interests— a love of vintage clothes and good books, and we both had Barack Obama following us on Twitter…

“Don’t come closer! Don’t come ANY closer!” I yelled at the strange man in the dark. Yet I barely recognised that voice as my own. It was almost like it wasn’t me doing the talk. Why did it feel so foreign, so weird? Jarvis’ snarling got lourder, more aggressive. Within nano-seconds, everything had changed.

Writing about Jarvis has become a fun exercise.

Observing my dog is highly entertaining. This may come from someone who is very bored of Netflix at this point, but believe me when I say he is the canine version of Mariah Carey. He performs as soon as I point my phone at him. He…

I’m writing this as a response to an article by Joanna Williams, published on Spiked, titled Please Stop Exploiting The Death Of Sarah Everard. This piece claims that too many women are using this “alleged murder … to talk about themselves”. This may the most depressing and misogynistic headline I have read in a while.

Spiked screenshot

As news broke last week of Sarah’s tragic disappearance, social media overflowed with women sharing their own experiences whilst walking home at dark. The dismissive responses came almost immediately. #NotAllMen trended, diminishing women’s fears of men who walked too close to them at night. …

To me, March 8th does not fill me with a need to celebrate my femininity. That’s something I do every day, seeing my reflection in the mirror whilst telling myself “hey, you’re not that bad”.

Additionally, this date has always belonged to my mother, and her birthday. Sadly, she’s not with us anymore, hence my lack of festive inclinations. But most definitely, what makes me dislike this day, is that I believe the tone around it is wrong.

Sorry to become your feminist party-pooper of the day, but for anyone who lives as a woman, things still involve navigating nightmarish…

I came to Madrid to… breathe. I envisioned a couple of months of soothing museum visits, walks through one the most gorgeous parks in the world — sorry Central Park, my excuses Hyde Park, but El Retiro kicks both your pretty butts. For two weeks I went to the theatre, made new friends and tightly held onto old ones. But I was a fool amongst millions.

Day zero

On a Sunday that feels like summer, with crowds filling up the streets, my friend Mike and I squeeze into a busy pintxos bar. …

Photo by Jessie M.

Harvey Weinstein, famed Hollywood mogul, producer of hugely succesful films such as Pulp Fiction and Shakespeare In Love, has been sentenced to 23 years of jail. Twenty years for a first-degree criminal sex act and an additional three years for third-degree rape. I had read She Said, Ronan Farrow’s account, and followed the trial daily. I felt sick to my stomach each time I saw Weinstein walk to face trial, aided by a walker. His lawyers recently proclaiming how his professional and personal achievements made him worthy of a light sentence was the least surreal affirmation during the entire saga.

Not alarming at all (Photo by Jessie M.)

There’s a magic to chance. Being at the right place, suddenly bumping into the perfectly imperfect person at the moment it was precisely OK. And it’s glorious, as timely as freshly baked tin croissants. It makes rom-com writers giddy, and enthusiasts of fate and destiny beam, vigorously elbowing jaded tarts like myself, saying: “See? It DOES happen!”

But find yourself at the wrong time, dealing with the most undesirable person, in the most unsuitable situation…and the happy ending turns into a lovely mix of pain and lessons learnt.

Somehow, that’s the field in which I normally roam. Not that I…

Photo by Jessie Madrigal

As a child, I used to closely watch Michael Jackson’s dance moves, wondering whether they were real, or a product of special effects. As he grabbed his crotch, confused, I looked to my parents: “Well, Jessie, that is something you don’t do”. Just like poking one’s nose, touching oneself publicly was highly unappreciated.

Then I saw my hero do it. Albeit, Madonna touched herself in a different way. While Jackson’s moves seemed like an after-thought, part of a non-comittal choreographed flow, Madonna was definitively making a point. She was grabbing her groin, pointing at it, even stroking it. She had…

Mama Ru, I love you but,

Periods are not in bad taste
A woman’s bleeding is nothing more than a natural expression of good health.
Is what enabled you to exist. No periods, no wonderful you.

Periods are pretty rad, and I say this as an endometriosis sufferer. You see, my periods try to kill me at least once a month.

Photo via @onegirlinten

But periods are natural, they make babies, give life.

It is also what proves that women are, undoubtedly, the stronger sex.
Anything you can do, I can do bleeding. …

Jessie M

I write stuff. More info at http://jessiewrites.com

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