It was on the bookshelf of every hippie, woman-loving communal house in college

April 19, 2016

by Marigo

When I was ten years old, my childhood best friend read me passages from “Our Bodies, Ourselves” in a bedroom in Park Slope, Brooklyn. It was her mom’s copy. Years later, I saw it on the bookshelf of every hippie, woman-loving communal house in college. It was a cultural icon for my generation, and it harked back to a to a prior era that was inspiring for us.

Woman wearing placard of OBOS bookEach year, when it’s time to decide what to be for Halloween, I think about ways to celebrate my culture. It’s important to me to not culturally appropriate, and this leads me to spend a good amount of time thinking about my own origin stories. Other criteria for my Halloween costume: I want it to be political — or at least consciousness raising — to be unexpected, and to make people laugh.

Woman wearing placard of page of "Our Bodies, Ourselves"

This year, I landed on the idea of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” as the perfect costume to meet those, and even more criteria (such as a major thumbs up from the queer community). The Halloween before, I was a Diva Cup.

What’s next?

In this series, readers tell their stories about their experiences with the book and its impact on their lives. You can view more stories and submit your own.

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