Mutha Magazine Alison Mutha Magazine !free! -

You are not alone. Mutha sees you.

And the name Alison Mutha ? It stopped being just a name. It became a verb.

The name was stamped in bruised-plum ink on the recycled cardstock cover. Below it, in smaller type: A Magazine for the Rest of Us. mutha magazine alison mutha magazine

The cover story that issue was called "The Sacred Mess." It was about how the pressure to be a perfect mother is a form of patriarchal control. Martha read it while sipping her morning coffee. She snorted at the Lego comic. She cried at the essay about post-partum rage. She had felt that rage forty years ago, alone, with no name for it.

Inside were no airbrushed photos of serene mothers breastfeeding in linen dresses. There was an essay about finding a half-eaten gummy bear in your hair at a job interview. A comic strip about the feral rage of stepping on a Lego at 3 AM. A recipe for "Depression Pasta" – butter, noodles, and the tears of your toddler. You are not alone

She used the $200 to print 500 more copies. She wrote a new column called "Ask Your Mutha," where she answered questions with brutal honesty. ("Dear Mutha: My child only eats beige food. Is she dying?" Answer: "No. She is thriving on a diet of air, spite, and chicken nuggets. You are doing fine.")

A bulk shipment meant for a feminist bookstore in Seattle was accidentally delivered to "Martha's Bible & Hymn Society" in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Martha, a 74-year-old widow with blue-rinsed hair, opened the box expecting a new shipment of inspirational pamphlets. Instead, she found twenty copies of Alison’s magazine. It stopped being just a name

Alison received the letter on a Monday, just as her landlord was threatening eviction. She stared at the check. Then at the magazine. Then at her own two kids, who were currently using a tube of lipstick to draw a mural on the wall.