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Judy Brady’s essay, “I Want A Wife,” became an instant classic when it first appeared in 1971 in the premier issue of the feminist magazine, Ms. , told Nan that she taught it to her former high school students.

Nan was 10-years-old in 1971, a very hopeful baby feminist, who spent her allowance on that first issue. She wishes she still had it, but like her youth, it’s long gone. But her dreams of equality will never fade and she’ll never stop fighting for that.

I Want A Wife By Judy Brady 1971 Ms Ms Magazine

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Here’s a fun essay by writer Maggie Trinkle published in Ms., a follow-up to Brady’s, 49 years later.

It's June. So, It Must Be Time to Kill the Patriarchy.

Nan Tepper — Tue, 26 May 2026 10:31:38 GMT

I‘m in, are you?

I know a bunch of storytellers who are more than just in, they’re all over IT.

“IT” is the mess that the patriarchy has created.

We’re pissed and we’re over IT. We’re here to create something new.

Will there be angry stories telling of the inequality we’ve endured for millennia?
Will we talk about the horrifying threat of the withdrawal of our right to bodily autonomy? Our RIGHT to VOTE? Talk about patriarchal. These rights we’ve been granted by daddy. As if we need permission to exist and thrive and pursue our dreams.
Will there be hopeful stories about what’s possible? The old dog-eat-dog, every man for himself nonsense has got to stop.
Will we talk about how patriarchy has systematically destroyed the planet, creating one war after another and leaving absolutely nothing good in its wake? Nothing except death, homelessness, starvation, trauma, ruined towns and cities, and the acquisition of what isn’t ours to take?
Will there be a story or two about unusual parents, decades ago, who empowered their daughters to aim high and go after their dreams instead of doing what everyone else does, because it’s expected by virtue of our sex?
Will we talk about how we can raise girls and boys as equals, supporting creativity, encouraging strength and gentleness, heart and vulnerability?
Will there be laughter? I’m planning on it. Whether it’s laughter that turns to tears, or tears that yield laughter, we’ll be together sharing the stories of our lives.

We won’t know what will be revealed until June 20th, so get your ticket and attend our next slam.

If you haven’t been to one yet, this is an opportunity to see what we’re made of.

At Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!, we don’t disappoint.

Living in the 4th Quarter

Come hear these stories. The slams come packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again!
And, we’ll be here for every month that follows.
We’re already planning our 2027 theme calendar.

If you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage, to tell your story AND you have a Substack publication, you can sign up for a slam.

Storytellers

is a storyteller, writer, actor, musician, mosaic/mixed-media artist, and fledgling witch at Mel’s Messy Love Lab. She lives with her black cat, Shadow, mostly off-grid in Fiddletown, CA. If you want to collaborate with her, the project has to include play, community, and creativity and Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! passes the litmus test!

Mel's Messy Love Lab

Socially awkward, overthinking misfit who’s 6-word story was “found an island; burned a bridge” for most of her life. Turns out she’s a late bloomer and now she’s burning down a lifetime of shame and guilt by telling true stories live onstage. She co-founded In a Nutshell Storytelling, WILDCARD story swap, and the Nutshell True Story Hour podcast because, and I quote: “FUCK YOU, MOM!”

This Might Go Terribly

Carrie Kaufman is a journalist, radio host, performer, pain-in-the-ass mouthy woman. She has done a lot, achieved a fair amount, and has little money to show for it. But she does have two kick-ass daughters who know their worth.

You're Overthinking It

Dana is the author of The Uncluttered Mother. Since midlife, she has been discovering more and more things to let go of, including outdated beliefs and pesky self-sabotage.

Minimal Monday

Dina is an American abroad, currently hanging her hat in the shadow of the Berlin wall. She writes books, essays, and excellent birthday cards. Her sub, American Woman, is home to essays about all things feminine. Meet her there and she’ll tell you a story.

American Woman

Jane McGuinness is an author, registered psychotherapist, hiker, and former 1950s housewife who decided to set her world on fire beginning with her divorce. The blaze continues to burn this summer as this intrepid Aussie packs her life into a storage unit and sets out across the globe in search of adventure.

All Things Moderation

An essayist, sometime podcaster, and debut storyteller, Jane focuses on topics around aging, but in her head, she is younger than springtime.

Amy is normally a peace-loving proponent of non-violent conflict resolution, except in the case of patriarchy, which should be killed like the motherf*cker that it is. While Amy’s preferred method of murder is by pithy satire, she proactively pleads the fifth, requests a lawyer and has an alibi. When she isn’t causing mischief and mayhem, Amy can be found writing at her kitchen table or doing a livestream to promote her new memoir, Widow in the City, A Memoir of Heartbreaks and Hookups. Available in our Wham! Bam! Bookshop, on Amazon or wherever you prefer to purchase your books.

Absolute Pleasure

Professor Meredith is a historian, writer, and professional overthinker who spends an alarming amount of time yelling about gender, politics, and pop culture. When she’s not ruining nostalgic myths for the public good, she can usually be found talking about Star Trek, Taylor Swift, or why the past is never as dead as people keep insisting.

Bitchy History

Author, activist, and journalist. Author of Rage Becomes Her, The Resilience Myth and the newly released, All We Want is Everything. Would rather laugh and dance than cry. Petty is my middle name.

Unmanned

Susan Kacvinsky is a modern mythologist flying her broomstick through the compost heap of the collective unconscious, gathering our most outrageous stories, and showing how they become our personal experience of life, and of course, the news. You know: our worldview. She can frequently be heard muttering: “How on earth do we still believe this shit?”

Modern Mythology

TerriSunflower, a singer-songwriter and lover of words, waxes poetic on her Substack to muse and prattle on much longer than the average 3 minute song allows. Her songs, poetry, and stories capture her sense of place as a desert dweller, of coming out later in life, finding love and loss, the patriarchy and protest as well as such things as humoring the illusive need for rest and mastering menopause (as if!!).

TerriSunflower's Musings

Wyrd Sister has PhDs in feminist ranting, whimsical decorative cake theory, and procrastination with a minor in circumlocutionary storytelling (via the generous use of em dashes, Melvillian tangents––including parenthetical asides––and footnotes). She enjoys wearing pajamas in the afternoon and repeatedly reheating her forgotten half-finished decaf tea throughout the day while she writes. She lives alone (half the time) with her collection of malnourished houseplants (and the rest of the time with a feral 8-year-old boy).

Wyrd Sister

Nan Tepper is the creator of Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! She’s memoirist-in-chief at The Next Write Thing. She styles stacks for writers on the Substack platform. She’s living her creative dreams, writing, designing, and being a kosher ham on stage. She recently discovered that she’s lusted for the spotlight since childhood, so now she’s making up for lost time! What’s your story?

PAID SUBSCRIBERS GET IN FREE!

Be a paid subscriber, because…

or you can buy a ticket for this slam.

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There’s more than one way to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! You can buy a ticket to the show or become a paid subscriber (you get in to the live show for free). Or you can sign up to tell a story.

We obtained a fiscal sponsor, Fractured Atlas. Direct donations made in WBTYS’s name are tax deductible as permissible by law in the U.S.

Law? Do we still have that here?

The last few slam replays:

Mothers & Daughters: The Replay.

Nan Tepper — Mon, 18 May 2026 10:44:59 GMT

YOU CAN'T SINK THIS RAINBOW

The live event was fabulous.

Then, a mishap occurred. Here’s what I learned.

I can’t always control Mother Tech or anything else.

If you prefer to skip the essay, scroll past for videos.

The Mothers & Daughters slam was spectacular. Watch the stories and applaud the storytellers.

The Story Slam we create is more than simply a performance. More than an opportunity to strut one’s stuff. The slam is a place to grow. In intentional and not so intentional ways.

The intentional way? To do something new, even if it scares you, and find out that it’s not as scary as you thought. You grow as a writer and a performer. You become part of something greater than yourself.

The unintentional? When things go wrong, an opportunity is created for serious growth. We can grow as a community and as individuals. I grew last night and today, because things went wrong. I had no control of the first thing. The second thing that went wrong required an apology that may not be accepted. Remains to be seen.

There’s no full recording of the show. That’s the second time this has happened.

The first time was a couple of months ago. I forgot to hit “record.” An oversight. I was devastated, but it yielded positive change. The meeting is set to start recording the minute I enter the room. Now, we record the stories in advance of the live performance in case something goes wrong. We do that before each show.

A tech glitch on Saturday froze my computer. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t see the Zoom room, though I could hear everyone . I was mortified to lose control over the situation in front of a room full of storytellers and audience members who were witnessing my distress and my rising shame. The only one it seemed to be a big deal for was me.

I switched to my laptop and came back to the room.

Due to the glitch, I was reminded of a crucial lesson I learned in my 12-step work.

The lesson’s a big one. This is it: most things are beyond my control.

I grew up with a perfectionist gene; I come by it naturally. My parents were perfectionists, too. Thinking I have control over everything is a survival mechanism and a false core belief.

There’s value in my perfectionism when I apply it to my design work. That job requires attention to detail.

When things don’t go perfectly, I descend to the flip-side of my perfectionism. Failure Black or white. No grace given. Success or failure.

Instead of “Oops, we had a technical glitch, let’s move on,” everything felt ruined.

That was before I knew we didn’t have a recording because of the crash.

My Zoom co-host, Mel Moseley, burst through my mounting shame response to engage the audience to get me to pause and take a breath. To recognize that I was among friends. Everything was okay. It was beyond my control. The audience members unmuted their mics to encourage me to let it go.

I’m a recovering codependent and control freak. When I’m steeped in my codependence, I have a need to take care of others, to overdo the care and service I give, to do things for free because I want to be loved, to want everyone around me to be happy all the time. It’s an affliction.

I forget that I’m allowed to have flaws and make mistakes. I’m allowed to be human.

I’m not beating myself up today for that. I’m happy to come to this realization. I’m grateful for Mel’s intervention in the moment when I wanted to disappear.

I thought I had my control issues and codependent behaviors licked. I do 12-step work, after all. But they’re hard habits to break; it takes mindfulness, practice, prayer, and meetings. I want to do this healing work for the rest of my life. Because my life depends on it.

When I discovered that we had no recording, I flew into survival mode, fight or flight.

I came up with an action plan to mitigate the disaster. I’d record a new intro, introduce each storyteller. I’d do the intermission patter. I’d thank our sponsors. I’d add my comments on value and supporting the slam. All of that was lost, so it had to be my job to fix it. We were going to produce a patchwork reel.

Of course, I’d be transparent about what happened.

I can’t recreate what happened at the show. Even if we did the show again, it would be completely different.

I received love and support from the people in the room on Saturday. A bunch of us stayed after the event ended. We chatted about control, about the world, about life. That’s the community I envision. It’s connection.

When I woke up this morning, I abandoned my ~~great~~ idea. Jeanne and I got to work, branding and uploading the pre-recorded videos. I let it be.

I have to take better care of myself in order to show up for this project to serve it well. I need to relax. I may need to do less of some things and more of others.

I need to trust the evolution of this work. I need to remember we’re new. A start-up. I want to stay fresh and open to discovering what works and what doesn’t, and that requires a willingness to stretch. To be real. To be me, even with my flaws. I can’t be perfect. There’s no such thing.

The Mothers & Daughters slam was spectacular. Watch the stories and applaud the storytellers.

I’ll do this again a month from now, and the month after that. I can’t control what happens, I can only show up and do my best. All I can do is the next right thing.

Thank you for the kindness, the love, and the patience.

xoNan

Storytellers in order of appearance:

MEL'S MESSY LOVE LAB

THE HI STACK

ONLY CONNECT

THE ARMCHAIR JOURNALIST

PERSONAL STATEMENTS

YOU'RE RIGHT, I DO LOOK TIRED

SURRENDERING TO SAPPHO

THE JOY LUCK CLUB

WANDER, WONDER, WRITE

DISTRACTED BY PRETTY THINGS

WOMEN AT THE EDGE OF THE WOODS

WHAM! BAM! THANK YOU! SLAM!

STYLE YOUR STACK

THE NEXT WRITE THING

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PAID SUBSCRIBERS SEE THE SHOW FOR FREE

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There’s more than one way to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! You can buy a ticket to the show or become a paid subscriber (you’ll see the live show for free). You can sign up to tell a story.

Now, we have a fiscal sponsor so we can offer a tax-deductible donation option, as permissible by law in the U.S.

Law? Do we still have that here?

MAKE A TAX-DEDUCTIBLE DONATION

Slamone Talks Mothers & Daughters

Slamone de Beauvoir — Wed, 29 Apr 2026 10:31:09 GMT

“There is no such thing as maternal “instinct.” The word does not in any case apply to the human species. The mother’s attitude is defined by her total situation and by the way she accepts it.”

A quote from The Second Sex, my groundbreaking text about feminism. In 1949, these were revolutionary thoughts. Some may find them a bit harsh even today. But the point I was trying to make was that being a mother is a fine choice, but it is just that: A CHOICE.

Even the most excited new mother isn’t microchipped with a guide book. Sure, one can leaf through What To Expect When You’re Expecting, attend classes, and listen to well meaning elders, but inevitably you take a brand new human home and your one job is to keep it alive. Daunting.

What if that’s a job you didn’t choose or want? In 1949 women were not only expected to be fruitful and multiply, they were expected to bask in the glow of doing the selfless work of mothering. I know I could not imagine compromising my freedom in such a fashion. Children can sense when they are considered to be an obligation.

Even the most seemingly devoted mothers slip into being overbearing on occasion. You can’t spell SMOTHER without MOTHER, as they say. It’s a slippery slope to be involved and supportive and manage to give a girl some space to fuck up and learn things on our own terms. Your way ain’t always the right way, Mommy Dearest. It’s just your wire hanger-less way.

“I’m not against mothers. I am against the ideology which expects every woman to have children, and I’m against the circumstances under which mothers have to have their children.”

What can I say? I was on a roll. Still holds true.

The bond between mothers and daughters can be quite powerful. The mere notion of creating a tiny replica of oneself and then setting it out in the world is wild. How do you honor their independence and let them make their own mistakes? How do you sidestep thrusting your unfulfilled dreams down their throats? How do you get them to make a sex tape so your whole family can benefit by gaining fame for doing nothing?

I think that last one is only directed at Kris Jenner. I digress.

Because the world has been stingy with treats of late, I’d like to call to your attention that our fearless leader Nan Tepper has honored me with place not only in her heart, on her masthead, but on her person, as well. On her left forearm, to be exact.

Please note my knowing smile.

The Mothers & Daughters themed slam was the first to fill up. In a flash! Storytellers want to share, presumably because everyone has a mother and it’s always a hot topic. Some have daughters. Some stories are comical, some get complicated. Each is a unique swirl of the two women involved. Come experience it for yourself on May 16th at 5 pm EST.

^^^^^^ Look at them. These mothers. Do you think they’re happy? ^^^^^^

Could be. I shrug and grimace in my tres Français way. My guess? They might want to write a book about overthrowing the patriarchy; the patriarchy that only wants the servitude of women and the breeding of more servants to their evil plans. The mère-fuckers.

Get Tickets!

Find out more

Mother's Day is in May. So, It's Time for the Mothers & Daughters Slam!

Nan Tepper — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:32:54 GMT

Our April show, Death & Taxes, was wild.

We talked about evading death and evading taxes.

Evading death? Not so easy.

Evading taxes. Easier. But maybe not so smart.

See Death & Taxes Replay

When I announced the Mothers & Daughters theme for 2026, storytellers filled the open spots in record time…and I have the waitlist to prove it.

Everyone telling a story for this slam is a daughter. Our mothers were daughters, too.

Why is our most formative relationship often the most complicated?

Which of us is going to say their mother was their best friend? How many of us might feel jealous? How many of us won’t believe them? And who will tell a harder story? One that’s not so rosy. Most of us love our mothers. And sometimes we hate them. Our mothers love us, but sometimes they hate us, too. Hate is such a strong word.

We often find that we mirror each other’s worst faults and best qualities. I know that’s true for me.

We’re gathering to tell those stories, the ones about the women who brought us into the world, through birth or adoption, and the ones about the daughters we’ve raised.

I’ve never been a mother to another human being. I’ve loved plenty of dogs & cats. I won’t have a parenting story to tell, but yes, I have a mother, too.

Even when I don’t like her and she’s not liking me very much, I’m pretty sure that underneath it all, we love each other.

Come play with us. Hear these women’s stories. These slams come packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy.
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here in April, May, and June.
And every month that follows.

After you’ve the seen the slam, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send me a message.

I’ll put you on my handy-dandy spreadsheet.

And now, we have a fiscal sponsor. Direct donations made to WBTYS are tax deductible as permissible by law in the U.S.

Law? Do we still have that here?

See the last few slams:

Death & Taxes. The Show!

Nan Tepper — Mon, 20 Apr 2026 10:02:02 GMT

We did it again! Death? Taxes?

We slayed. But did we pay?

We’ve been told that the only two things we can count on are Death & Taxes. I’m pretty sure that’s true about death. Not as certain about the tax part. I sure as hell don’t want to fund the disaster we’re witnessing now.

Scroll down for all the stories and the full recording of the slam.

A message to feminist writers who publish on Substack.

This slam’s for you.

Come play with us. Come listen. Come watch. The slams come packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy.
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here in May, June, and July…
And every month that follows.

After you’ve the seen the slam, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send me a message.

And you don’t have to come to a slam, first. If you already know you want to do this, DM me, now.

I’ll put you on my handy-dandy spreadsheet.

If you prefer to watch the show in its entirety, scroll to the bottom of the post.

You’ll find it after the individual stories of each writer.

I decided to tell two stories this time because there was more than one option and I couldn’t choose. I started with Taxes to open the show and ended with Death, as we all must do one day. We are each shown in order of appearance. Enjoy!

PAID SUBSCRIBERS GET IN FREE!

Here it is, the entire show. I want to offer this project with no paywalls and only charge for the live show.

A paid subscription entitles you to a free ticket to every slam (at a deep discount) or you can buy a ticket. Those options help subsidize this space for people who might not be able to afford a ticket. My policy is to accommodate anyone who wants to come see it happen, regardless of ability to pay.

DM me to let me know you want to come to show. No questions asked.

Those of us with a little more need to step up and support others who may have less. It’s a core value I want to share and inspire.

Generosity works in all directions and can be expressed in many ways.

SUPPORT THE SLAM

Enjoy the show!

Be a paid subscriber, because…

or you can…

BUY TICKETS!

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There’s more than one way to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! You can buy a ticket to a show or become a paid subscriber (you get in to the live show for free).

You can sign up to tell a story.

We now have a fiscal sponsor. Direct donations made to WBTYS will be tax deductible as permissible by law in the United States.

Law? Do we still have that here? Coulda fooled me.

Slamone Talks Death and Taxes

Slamone de Beauvoir — Fri, 03 Apr 2026 11:02:21 GMT

Slamone would be remiss if she remained silent on the Lindy West kerfuffle…so many words and thoughts about her polycule that feminists are shaking their fists about! I’ve been listening to her latest audiobook (I need both hands free to sip scotch and puff and pass judgment). So many people wringing their hands over polygamy. Just let her do as she pleases. Who among us hasn’t had a change of heart to make someone else happy? Just because reading Shrill made you feel like she was your bigger body-positive girl power hero doesn’t mean she has to make the same decisions that you do. At least she’s honest, a rare trait that should be commended.

I’m glad I was too poor to marry, it saved me a lot of explaining as to why I took so many lovers. And in France we understand that sexual dalliances make for good stories!

‘Til death do us part brings me to the first half of this month’s theme: DEATH. You know, as in “In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

This quote is attributed to Benjamin Franklin. I have a hard time remembering all the old American guys in wigs, but they put him on the one hundred dollar bill and he wasn’t even president so that indicates he probably stood out as a proper gentleman. Hamilton only rated the ten spot, but he did get a Broadway show a mere 225 years after he died.

I offer my own quote on death: “It is old age, rather than death, that is to be contrasted with life. Old age is life’s parody, whereas death transforms life into a destiny: in a way it preserves it by giving it the absolute dimension.”

Slamone never feels old. I always feel eternal. Speaking of old age and taxes, how much do you think might be accomplished if some old white billionaires paid taxes? NBD, just throw in a mere pittance of your wealth for affordable housing, clean energy, education, health care…what Jeff Bezos spent on his wedding could provide college scholarships for thousands of students. Or millions of school lunches. And those two cyborgs are already rumored to be squabbling over money. What a waste.

I will also accept churches paying taxes as a strategic upgrade. Didn’t Jesus help the poor or is that particular book out of print now?

Instead of the “buy, borrow, die” strategy to avoid capital gains where the elite invest in appreciating assets and borrow against them to keep themselves in diamond-crusted pickle forks, Slamone proposes they skip to the end and just die. Or as Abigail Thomas suggested at our last slam, let’s bury them up to their necks in the desert and let the ants eat their faces. Quelle soirée!!!

Are you getting back some money from the government this year? Would you like to see it go somewhere positive and life-affirming? Consider investing in a female-owned and operated story collective by either buying a ticket to our April 18th show or becoming a paid subscriber to WBTYS with a monthly or yearly option.

Or maybe you have a tale to tell…if you publish here on Substack and identify as female, or nonbinary, peruse here and drop us a message. And when I say “us,”I don’t mean me. I’m too busy flitting about to do anything to be helpful. I just randomly appear when I deem salty commentary to be appropriate.

A bientôt!!!

More info!

Get tickets

Death & Taxes. Is It April, Already?

Nan Tepper — Mon, 30 Mar 2026 11:03:11 GMT

BUY TICKETS!

Our March show, E.R.A. Now, Dammit! was phenomenal.

So, we figured we’d bring you phenomenal, again.

It’s April, and it’s tax season if you have the misfortune of being a citizen of Trumpstakistan.

Oops. Did I just call it that? If he’s putting his name on our money, I promise, the U.S.A. is going through a major re-brand. Don’t tell him about Monrovia, for goodness sake. Because then, he’ll cite precedent.

There’s really no difference between a Trump Hotel and the whole fucking nation, and gee, we’ll all get gold-plated toilets and Big Macs for life. That’ll be swell.

I digress.

How do YOU feel about funding this fascist, I mean “federal” government?

And, what about death? Does death frighten you? Or are you at peace, knowing that one day we all end? What’s your take?

I’m not currently aware of a workaround for dying, unless the billionaires know something we don’t. Because, dude, those guys are terrified of death.

GET TICKETS

Come play with us. Hear these women’s stories. These slams come packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy.
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here in April, May, and June.
And every month that follows.

After you’ve the seen the slam, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send me a message.

I’ll put you on my handy-dandy spreadsheet.

PAID SUBSCRIBERS GET IN FREE!

Be a paid subscriber, because…

or you can…

BUY TICKETS!

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There’s more than one way to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! You can buy a ticket to a show or become a paid subscriber (you get in to the live show for free). You can sign up to tell a story.
And now, we have a fiscal sponsor. Direct donations made to WBTYS will be tax deductible as permissible by law in the U.S. Law? Do we still have that here?

See the last few slams:

E.R.A. Now, Dammit! The Replay? Kinda.

Nan Tepper — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 19:26:39 GMT

Scroll past this part to go to the stories…but don’t, because this part’s pretty great.

Wow. Just wow. This was one of the best story slams I’ve ever participated in.

I’m going to jump right in and I’ll tell you what went wrong, first. Then, I’ll move on to all the things that went so very right. Even the thing that went wrong turned into something beautiful.

The thing that went wrong? I forgot to hit record. Really. Really and truly.

Didn’t record it.

When I shut down our Zoom Playhouse for the night, I expected the video to start downloading. But. NOTHING. My heart jumped when I realized that I didn’t have it. Any of it. This magnificent 90 minutes, gone. A reminder that things are indeed impermanent. And it was a whisper in my ear to stay connected to mindfulness.

The funniest part was that when our Zoom Maven, , and I met before anyone got to the room, we made a special note out loud to each other not to forget to push that little button labeled “Record.” Oops.

For me, a miracle occurred. I didn’t go to that horrible place of self-flagellation or calling myself a loser. I didn’t go to a place of blame (though Slamone could have been an easy mark), none of my old stuff came up. I didn’t run to my fridge or pantry to feed the discomfort or shame, because there wasn’t any.

Instead, I jumped into action.

The larger miracle and a perfect example of how women are able to work together to problem-solve, support one another, and get the job done. I witnessed it in real time.

I reached out to every storyteller on Saturday evening, right after the slam to tell them what happened. No one flipped out. Not a diva in the group. And I had a plan.

I asked each of them to meet with me, one on one, to record their stories again. From Saturday at 6pm to Sunday at 8pm, (minus a ten-hour break for dinner, sleep, the Sunday NYT Crossword Puzzle and two cups of coffee instead of my usual single, I worked with each storyteller, gathering their words, treated to a private showing and sent off each recording to my video editor and best pal. Everyone involved stepped up, gracious and willing.

We all came away knowing how special this show was.

Working with each storyteller and putting the show back together with them felt triumphant, similar to the live event we’d just offered to our audience.

Shit happens. How we deal with it is up to us. This time around, we don’t have the video of the show in its entirety.

To me, that’s another selling point for coming to the live show. Or not. But let me tell you, the people who did come were gifted with an experience that will stay with them for a very long time. I’m sure of it. Almost immediately afterward, I saw that a new paid subscriber. A man.

The show was breathtaking. One story after another moved me and gave me goosebumps. At one point, as I hosted, I remarked that I was having simultaneous moments of wanting to scream at the injustices, cry for the pain we as women live with every day, and laugh during the lighter moments that provided balance to the stories told, our lives reflected back to us.

You’ll see. Every story was brilliant.

Don’t miss the next one. We’re doing this thing!

P.S. If you take the time to “like” or comment on the post, please take the extra moment to restack (little spinny icon) this to spread the word to the people who subscribe and follow you. It will help us grow and get the word out to more people who might know we exist. I’m grateful for any boosts you can give.

P.P.S. As of March 2026, we were granted fiscal sponsorship from the nonprofit arts organization, Fractured Atlas. Because of that, people can now make tax-deductible donations in the U.S., to support the work of Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Donate!

If you’re a feminist writer with a Substack newsletter, and you want to tell a story at one of our themed monthly story slams, check out the theme calendar, send me a DM and sign up. We want to share our virtual stage with you. And for the time being, anyone who identifies as male is welcome to sit in the audience and hear us tell our lives.

Calendar of Themes

Let the Words Fall Out

Can't Sink THIS Rainbow

American Woman

Living Room

What Comes Next?

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There are other ways to support this project. We now have a fiscal sponsor, which means that donations made to WBTYS are tax-deductible.

If you’re a feminist writer with a Substack newsletter, and you want to tell a story at one of our themed monthly story slams, send me a DM. We’d love to share our virtual stage with you. For the time being, anyone who identifies as male is welcome to sit in the audience and hear us tell our lives.

Calendar of Themes

Slamone Tells a Scary Story

Eileen Dougharty — Thu, 19 Mar 2026 11:01:38 GMT

Slamone here to tell you kids a bedtime story. You might not sleep well afterward, because the main character is a monster.

This cautionary tale is about how sometimes women can screw over other women… and then label it family values.

Our lady monster is named Phyllis Schlafly, born in 1924 in St. Louis, Missouri. She was a “real housewife” long before Andy Cohen ever dreamed up wealthy women throwing wine at each other on television.

But Phyllis was no trad wife by today’s standards. Not even close.

She had six children, earned advanced degrees, wrote 26 books, ran for Congress, gave endless speeches, and was extremely enthusiastic about nuclear weapons.

She was doing everything except staying at home. In short, Phyllis was a busy beaver.

But her most monstrous hobby involved equal rights for women, specifically the Equal Rights Amendment.

The ERA was first introduced in 1923, then finally reintroduced in 1972, with a ratification deadline of 1979, later extended to 1982.

And for a while, things were moving along pretty well thanks to women like Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Bella Abzug, Shirley Chisholm, and lots of other women who were burning bras, demanding equality, and telling men to make their own damn dinner for a change.

There was even Playgirl magazine, which featured full frontal male nudity. Zizi everywhere!

Mon dieu! Feminism was having a moment.

But then the Phyllis monster rose from the suburban depths and decided she could not abide.

She launched the STOP ERA movement. That stands for Stop Taking Our Privileges, which is a twisted way to frame equality.

Phyllis traveled the country warning women that if the ERA passed, terrible things would happen.

Women would be drafted into the military. There would be unisex locker rooms. Unisex prisons.

And worst of all, apparently, men might have to start pitching in. GAH! The nerve.

She also warned that stay-at-home mothers would lose their special protections and that feminists were bitter radicals who were probably lesbians.

She also opposed gay rights and abortion rights, which makes it extra special that one of her sons later came out as gay. RAINBOW PLOT TWIST.

Anyway.

Phyllis spent years touring the country, rallying conservative homemakers, and warning them that if the ERA passed they might lose things like alimony protections.

She convinced enough women to oppose the amendment that the momentum slowed down.

When the 1982 deadline arrived, the ERA was three states short of ratification.

Three. Not the magic number School House Rock sang about.

Which means the Constitution came this close to guaranteeing equal rights regardless of sex… and then Phyllis smashed that shit with her sensible daytime pumps.

The housewife monster won that round. She lived to be 92 years old, behind Trump’s 2016 campaign all the way, because of course she was.

If you’d like to learn more about this ERA (see what I did there)… Slamone recommends the excellent series Mrs. America.

If you were too busy sterilizing your groceries in 2020 when it came out, now is your chance.

The Phyllis monster is played with terrifying perfection by Cate Blanchett, and you can view it on Hulu.

Yes, I know streaming services are politically complicated these days. Perhaps your phone company will pay for it. Or you can borrow a password from a conservative relative and consider it wealth redistribution.

AND/OR…

You can join us for a live all-star equal rights extravaganza on Saturday, March 21 at 5 PM Eastern.

Our modern-day storytelling feminists will share their four-minute personal tales about the long road to gender equality.

So throw off your bra, tell your family to Door Dash dinner, and buckle up.

Because unlike Phyllis Schlafly, these women are actually trying to protect and raise up ALL WOMEN. Don’t miss your chance to support them!

Get Tickets!

More info

Help!

Nan Tepper — Mon, 16 Mar 2026 00:01:07 GMT

Why Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!?

Remember the ERA? The Equal Rights Amendment? From the 1970s? I do. I was quite young at the time. The ERA that’s still NOT the law of the land or the world?

Remember Phyllis Schlafly? The anti-Feminist? The hypocrite. The lawyer. I do.

The devil’s spawn and a traitor to women.

She did everything in her power to burn the ERA down. We lost back then, but we never stopped fighting. It’s still not ratified and the way things have been going, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing that victory any time soon, so we need to take care of one another, not just emotionally, not just socially, but economically, too.

That means supporting one another’s ventures. Spending on women-owned businesses. Paying it forward any way we can. It doesn’t always have to be cash. But let’s face it, cash still makes things happen, gives us power, and we don’t talk about often enough.

The fascist patriarchs in this country want to take away our right to vote. They’ve already taken our bodily autonomy.

Now, we have to fight even harder because the idiots in charge want us barefoot, pregnant, stupid, and silent. They want to enslave us.

Well, I prefer to keep wearing shoes (but no socks), I’m too old to get pregnant, I’m smart, and loud, and I will never, ever stop talking, telling stories and bringing other women together to tell theirs.

If you haven’t been to Wham! Thank You! Slam! you want to check this out. It’s not just a fun playground. It’s a battlefield. But our weapons aren’t guns.

Our weapons are words. Our weapons are our wallets and our love.

The theme for this month’s slam is ERA Now, Dammit!

I’ve always been a feminist; I became one at the age of five.

How it works:

Storytelling builds community and we need community right now and always.

We’re providing a virtual stage to showcase women’s stories and women’s voices.

If you’re a feminist, a cis or trans woman, nonbinary, or a person of color, you’re welcome to come tell a story. If you’re mad as hell about the way things are going, come tell a story. The only requirement is being a writer on Substack.

Every time one of you takes the stage to tell your story, your potential audience is multiplied, because between us, we have thousands of readers. We create a video record that can be watched for years.

When you sign up to tell a story you get at least a month of free promotion from us.

For now, we’re not featuring male storytellers. Sometime in 2027, I’d like to invite feminist men to come tell their stories. I’m thinking maybe an all-male revue. Like Chippendales. Or not. Because being clothed at the slam is absolutely MANdatory.

The patriarchy is toxic and deadly; it’s divisive and cruel. We’re creating a structure that’s flexible, unifying, and non-competitive. There’s love here. A lot of the women participating in Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! have been writing about the power and purpose of building matrifocal communities. They’re teaching me so much and they’re telling their stories right here.

The Ask:

1. Become a paid subscriber. An annual paid membership comes with free entry into every monthly slam. You get 12 shows for the price of 10. And there are no ticket fees.

2. A monthly subscription gets you entry for as long as you’re subscribed. And there are no ticket fees.

3. Buy a ticket and come to the show (there are fees). Then, become a paid subscriber.

4. Make a tax-deductible donation. WBTYS now has a fiscal sponsor, a non-profit arts organization called Fractured Atlas. So now we can offer this option. Donors will receive two guest tickets for any contributions above $100. Any donation of $1000 or more will receive tickets and some fabulous merch.

5. Sign up to tell a story. C’mon. You know you want to. That’s another way to give.

6. Volunteer! We can always use some help. DM me (Nan) and we’ll talk.

Please remember, if you can’t afford to buy a ticket, let us know and you’re in. DM me.

The Players:

This is a community effort and I can’t do it alone. is a huge contributor to Wham! Bam! and to me. She’s writing great copy. She comes up with one pithy zinger after another. I don’t know how she does it.

She’s the one who named us Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Slamone is supposed to help, but we hardly ever see her, and is my go-to Zoom maven. Jeanne Vitale is our video editor and my oldest friend.

Some of our positions are paid, and some aren’t. All the income from subscriptions and ticket sales are going to expenses and I’m building a fund so that in the near future we’ll be able to pay honorariums to our storytellers. I haven’t spent a single cent on myself. I use my design job to fund this work.

Consider that my quarterly financial report.

Here’s the thing. I’m not great at asking for help. I like to do things my way. So this is a departure from my usual M.O.

A lot of us think we have to take the world on, solo. I don’t want to live that way anymore. It’s a hard habit to let go of, because it tends to make me feel vulnerable.

I’m fierce. I’m also a lover.

And vulnerability? It’s a superpower.

Read about our Storytellers

This month we’re featuring: , , , , , , , , , and .

Time to get your tickets for Saturday’s show!

Donate!

Sample some of the stories, or watch them all!

Life Comes Full Circle

Nan Tepper — Sun, 08 Mar 2026 14:03:32 GMT

I didn’t wear glasses when I was a kid. I used to try to fake my vision tests, I wanted glasses so badly. My brother had them. I was jealous. He looked smart.

Huzzah! It’s official!

Today, I’m a senior citizen. I think it’s hilarious. In Yiddish, I’m an alte kaker. It means old poop. It’s what Katherine Hepburn called Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond. They were goyim, they didn’t know the Yiddish.She just called him an old poop.

I can’t believe I’m this old because I feel like a kid. Oh. That’s what old people say. I’m beyond happy that I’m alive and sixty-five. It’s not my custom to publish on Sunday, but today’s the day.

On March 8, 1961, at 9:30 or 10:30, in the morning, not sure which one’s right, I emerged, two weeks late. 5 pounds, eleven ounces. 19” long. Apparently, one of my feet was malformed and had to be casted at birth. I don’t know which foot, they both seem fine. Well, the right one has a bunion, but that’s an old lady thing. I earned it.

Almost every year, my mother texts at 12:01am to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. I’ve never told her how sweet I think that is. Please don’t tell her I said that.

Every year she tells me she was in labor for 14 hours as if it was some Guinness World Record. I only asked her once if it was exciting to see me come out. Why did I ask only once? Because she missed that part; she opted for the drugs. My feelings were hurt, though in retrospect, I would have opted for the drugs, too. Never tell her I said that.

Every year, my mother tells me I was born during a huge snowstorm. She told me the storm was a blizzard. She said it was so bad, my father couldn’t make it to the hospital. My mother has a reputation for being the queen of hyperbole (as an aside, it’s possible I may be the princess. It’s a genetic predisposition).

You know what I’m going to say now, right? You don’t? Okay, you’re not going to tell her I said that, either.

There was a blizzard in 1961, it wasn’t March, it was February and yielded 17 inches of snow. It’s documented; I looked it up, today. On the day I was born, 0.6 of an inch of snow fell, the low was 32º, the high was 41º. It’s documented; I looked it up. It seems hyperbole won the day. But was it hyperbole or was it a lie? Where was my new dad the day I was born.

Hmmmm. Not sure I want to know.

This IS NOT my father on the day of my birth. This is some other dude, after the real storm. And we didn’t have a Rambler. We had a Studebaker Lark. Or did we??

After all these years, it never occurred to me to look it up until I was writing this post. I have to tell you, I’m not a bit surprised. What IS surprising is I’m not upset. I laughed. That’s important. It means that the feelings of anger and resentment I’ve carried around for most of my life about the dysfunctional family I grew up in are falling away.

There are times I think I know too much about the past. There are other times, when I think that the information I do possess has only scratched the surface of all the things I don’t know and will never learn. And today, it doesn’t matter.

The most important thing is that I’m here and I’m happy. My life is the life I always wanted. As a storyteller, a memoir writer, facts are important, but what ARE facts? What I rely on, when telling my stories are my impressions of the life I’ve lived and the memories I hold. My interpretation. That’s all I can ever have.

Facts are for the weather.

When I was a child, someone told me that I was born on a Wednesday. Then they told me that meant I was full of woe. Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Wednesday’s child had far to go. I know that one’s for Thursday’s child, but it was true for me, too. I was a sad kid, a sad teenager, and a sad adult, for a very long time.

When I heard that I was born on Wednesday, that was the fact, but I took the other piece of information and made that a fact as well. It was my brand. Sad. That’s how I lived for most of my life, carrying this core wound, this core belief.

Many of you know from reading my previous stories, that I’ve come a long way. I’ve done hard work to dispel that old belief. I fought for my life. And now, my life is mine. It’s mine.

I guess by the time these were taken, the cast was off, and I was well on my way to feeling my feelings.

So today IS the happiest day. It’s a good day. Because I can look at the last couple of years and know for a “fact” how far I’ve come, how much I’ve healed. The life I live now is the one I want. Sad isn’t my go-to, and sometimes I feel sad. But it doesn’t scare me and it doesn’t linger. I embrace the feeling and then move through it to the next one. There’s more pain in resisting the feelings, than letting them come. Sometimes, I have more than one feeling at the same time. And guess what? Feelings aren’t facts. Nothing is black and white anymore. In 12-step meetings, we speak to that, we celebrate when the black and white thinking goes away. Many say they’re grateful to be living in the gray.

Not me. I live in the rainbow. It’s a spectrum of feelings, and it’s far more entertaining. Life is vivid when you live in a rainbow.

So, I’m not going to hang with you too much longer today (famous last words). It’s my birthday, and I have some work to do before I go hang with my best friend, Jeanne. We celebrate our birthdays together every year. We were born 5 days apart, and a year. I’m the older one.

For a long time, I needed to make a big deal of my big day. It meant expensive dinners out, usually French. But if my birthday didn’t feel special enough; if not enough people got in touch, or sent me cards, or got me great gifts and baked me delicious cakes, I’d get depressed. The let-down was enormous. Not anymore.

This year, instead of spending a big wad of cash, I’m going to her house. I’m bringing my pups. We’re going to have pizza. That will be a treat, because I don’t eat it as much as I used to. She bought me seltzer, my favorite flavor. Plain. It’s Jewish that way. Flavored seltzer? I don’t think so. We’ll probably get high and watch a movie. And we’ll laugh and laugh and laugh. Because that’s what we do best together. And nothing compares to that particular brand of joy.

So, here’s a quick inventory of what I’ve gotten done this past year, because I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished and the direction I’m heading in. Here’s the list:

Published an essay in The Rumpus. It was my first submission ever.
Got brave enough to submit again, to Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, and it was rejected! It’s official. I’m a writer.
I’m going to be published in an anthology of essays about mothers and daughters. It’s a real book I’ll put on my shelf. I’ll be in the company of some stellar writers. You’ll see, in 2027.
Writing my first memoir.
Started a GLP-1 and lost a bunch of weight. The weight loss is great, but feeling healthier is the best part for me. I’m loving my still-fat body. If I never lose another pound I don’t care. I’m perfect the way I am. I needed help to get here. Now, I have to get this ass to the gym. That’s the goal for this year.
I’m staying on the medication, because it takes the food noise away, and my A1C is normal.
I go to ACA 12-step meetings.
After 5 years (and quite a few decades) I graduated from therapy. It was time to stop, for now.
Officially retired from web design. Now I can do more graphic design, the part of the job I love the most.
Left a client I worked with for fourteen years. She helped me discover my storyteller self and gave me my first web design job. I realized it was time to do for myself what I’ve been doing for others, for years.
Started Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! an online feminist story slam.
Applied for fiscal sponsorship through a non-profit arts organization and got it, so now people can support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! by making donations that are tax-deductible.
Published a weekly essay for my 2^nd year in a row.
Realized that continuing to write a weekly essay is more than I can produce right now, so I’m giving myself permission to write one essay a month and treat my Next Write Thing readers to the video of the monthly story slam. Cutting back was a hard decision. But I want to be good to myself and my readers.
I’m making wonderful new friends and letting go of relationships that don’t serve me.
Axed Zuckerberg and everything Meta, once and for all. I’m not ready to pull the plug on Bezos. I have to be honest about that.
Realized that I’m in love. With being single.
Love who I see when I look in my mirror, and I look at all of me now, not just my face.
Learned how to make and keep boundaries.
Have a solid relationship with Grace, my higher power.
Not afraid of those bullies. You know who I mean. I’ll be damned if I give them the satisfaction. I have a life to live, and lots to do, including fighting the forces of evil, just like Wonder Woman.
Making a difference.
I’m forgiving my family. I never thought I’d get to that place.
My 5-year-old self and my teenager. are safe and happy.
My inner loving parent is doing a great job.

Last, but not least:

I have everything I need and always did. I just had to figure that out.

Thank you to all of you who read my stories, comment, and share. You give me more than you’ll ever know. You blow me away.

Oh, and the thing I love the most about my birthday?

It’s also International Women’s Day. See, I was a feminist from my very first day on the planet and I’ve got the paper to prove it.

xoNan

More info

Get tickets!

Donate

Slamone Slams Into Spring!

Slamone de Beauvoir — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 12:02:19 GMT

Salut, mes petits amis! First, I wish to wish an early joyeux Nanniversaire (see what I did there?) to la grande dame du slam, Nan Tepper, who celebrates her birthday tomorrow. I will raise a tall glass of scotch in her honor when I complete this missive. And a bit of birthday gâteau? Don’t mind if I do.

Also, let there be more light! Tonight is when Amérique springs forward an hour for some archaic reason. Too bad they moved the political clock back decades in the wrong direction! I could never envision myself in servitude to another human, especially a man who couldn’t recognize that my abilities are just as valuable as his. Quel dommage, probably why I remained single and was known to kiss hot girls on occasion.

In my native France we have been ensuring equal pay for equal work in our Constitution as far back as 1972. And we are working on the future for our female population with legislation requiring companies to have at least 30% of the management be women. In 2027, it will be 40%. We have parity laws enforcing gender balance in elected leaders and transgender healthcare including puberty blockers and hormone therapy are available. We even have a law against street harassment named after our former minister of gender equality, Marlene Schiappa.

Does the land of the free and the home of the brave have a minister of gender equality? Ca c’est drôle, just kidding. Here they are trying to prevent women from voting with some nonsense about married last names. Yet another reason to never be wed.

Thank goodness for Alysa Liu modeling how to be a (s)hero. She agreed to return to skating after retiring at 16, but only if she was fully in control of how she looked, what she ate, and all aspects of her creative expression. She wanted skating to express her JOY, not an unreasonable standard of perfection focused on scores. She went on to win gold with her tiger-striped hair and her newly found freedom. Félicitations, Alysa!

Here’s hoping Persephone breaks free of Hades and the underworld soon so we can celebrate Printemps and the return and rebirth of life here in the mortal realm. Or so the Greeks profess. As usual, the oppressed goddess has to do all the heavy lifting.

If you’re searching for a first day of spring celebration to fill yourself with feminist spirit without leaving the house, our soon-to-be birthday girl Nan will give you all the details below.

À bientôt!

Shhhh. Don’t tell Slamone I popped in. What? She told you I’d be here? Damn. She ruins all my fun. Here’s the scoop:

More info

This show is gonna be great. Here’s the lineup:

, , , , , , , , , and ! Nan, Eileen, and Mel will be stepping up to tell their stories, too. Hope to see you on March 21! xo

Crew!

Nan Tepper — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 03:19:08 GMT

First, meet the delightful and dangerous divas of dish, and . Our beloved muse and matron saint of feminism, . She’s a little unreliable, but even when she’s MIA, her spirit fills our hearts and minds. And then there’s our Zoomarella aka . And our media maven, Jeanne Vitale, who puts the finishing touches on the storyteller videos.

Our crew is strapped in and ready to take off.

Nan is memoirist-in-chief at The Next Write Thing. She’s a graphic designer who styles stacks for other writers at Style Your Stack. She does all the design for WBTYS. If you like what you see, give her a holler. Nan doesn’t believe we have to be competitive to win at writing or life. She knows that we have to show up as our best selves, keep sharing our truth and we need to make each other laugh.

Style YOUR Stack

When Eileen Dougharty isn’t flying around the country passing out drinks, snacks, and snark, she is furiously scribbling her musings at You’re Right, I Do Look Tired, here on Substack. She began writing sketch comedy when she moved to Chicago in 2009, but quickly found her real life adventures were far more entertaining. Diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2018, Eileen chronicles her unconventional life, most recently featuring tales of how she spent her Hot Brain Surgery Summer.

Too poor to marry, Slamone chain-smoked philosophy and took lovers instead. No time for kids while birthing feminism with a pen and a glare. Could out-drink and out-think her existential fuck buddies, including Sartre and Nelson Algren.
Nickname: Beaver

Chez Slamone de Beauvoir

Mel Moseley is a storyteller, writer, actor, musician, artist, and fledgling witch. She lives with her black cat, Shadow, mostly off-grid in Fiddletown, California. If you want to collaborate with her, the project has got to include play, community, and creativity. Mel writes Mel’s Messy Love Lab!

Get Tickets on Eventbrite

E.R.A. Now, Dammit! Our March story slam.

Nan Tepper — Tue, 03 Mar 2026 11:02:54 GMT

Hi All,

We’re doing it again on Saturday, March 21, 2026 at 5PM ET. I’ll let you figure out your time zone! The line up this month at Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! is phenomenal. Again!

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy. Again!
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here next month, too.
And, the month after that…

Come play with us. Hear these women’s stories. This slam comes packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

And, afterwards, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send Nan a message, and she’ll get you on the roster.

Let the Words Fall Out

Can't Sink THIS Rainbow

American Woman

Living Room

What Comes Next?

Get Tickets on Eventbrite

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There are other ways to support this project. We now have a fiscal sponsor, which means that donations made to WBTYS will be tax deductible.

Enter Slamone!

Slamone de Beauvoir — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:24:07 GMT

La collage (c’est Francais!): Nan Tepper

Bonjour, mon petit chatons! Slamone here. I have been getting a bad rap around in these parts for being a slacker. C’est vrai, I’ve been spending a majority of my time at cafes, smoking and sipping coffee with my graph paper and my fountain pen. I prefer to do my writing by hand out in the world, I can’t be bothered to “live online.” In my defense, I applied for the job of MUSE…you didn’t think that meant I would show my face on a regular basis? MUSE sounds like a remote gig if ever there was one.

For March, however, I am making an exception. The theme for le slam is ERA Now, DAMMIT. As a preeminent voice for feminism and author of “The Second Sex,” I felt like the time was right for me to chime in. In my native France, things are decidedly more progressive; did you know that in 2024 France became the first country to include the right to an abortion in their constitution? Here in the land of the free and the home of the brave, the Olympic hockey brutes celebrate with Lame Duck à l’Orange, making disparaging comments about the women’s team, those dames should hit them in their petit pee-pees with their hockey sticks. Disgraceful!

I once mused, “Man is defined as a human being and a woman as a female - whenever she behaves as a human being she is said to imitate the male.” See, I MUSE like no other as far as gender inequality goes, that’s why I have this “job.” Certainly you have feelings on the subject, especially after witnessing two qualified women lose the presidency to the fake-tan crétin. Perhaps you have a story about gender injustice? Le slam has one opening for storytellers willing to tell a four minute personal tale revolving around this theme. You must be a writer who does not identify as male with a Substack publication to shout about. Let your voice be heard!

Surely you want to hear women’s voices and support them…I didn’t write that damn book for nothing. Your country’s State of the Union address requires a fact-checker for heaven’s sake, now is the time to tune in and get involved. I would bet the bottle of Johnny Walker I keep in my desk for special occasions (like days that end in “Y”) that you will be energized by hearing women talk about their fight for equality and their experiences with the lack there of. I will hand you over to Nan with the event details to follow, my work here is done.

À tout à l'heure! La Muse out!

Slamone

Get Your Tickets

The Love Boat Replay

Nan Tepper — Mon, 23 Feb 2026 16:12:22 GMT

Hey, it feels like we’re getting the hang of this. Though, we’ve been battling with something. To paywall or not to paywall?

“But, on the other hand…”
~Tevye the dairyman, a guy who possessed more than two.

On the one hand: We paywall the entire show, then only paid subscribers will see it. The perk for paid subscribers is the option coming to the live show and seeing paywalled posts. But maybe, coming to the show is enough?
But, on the other hand: if we let everyone see the whole replay for free, then more people can see what this is all about, get the word out, and come to the show.
On the one hand: if we paywall, are we sabotaging the mission? We want inclusivity, regardless of financial status. We don’t want to open the door and then hold our hand up and say, “Oops, sorry, but YOU can’t come in.”
But, on the other hand: we ALWAYS prefer to err on the side of generosity and trust.
Two hands clapping! We’re leaving the replay open to all. We hope this will sell more tickets to next month’s show.
Standing ovation: We want everyone to enjoy a hearty meal, not just a little taste! Bon appétit!

If you can afford to upgrade to a paid subscription to support the work, we’re forever grateful.

$100/year gets you entry into every live show, no ticketing fees, supports the art of what we’re doing and the visibility of people whom others might silence.

And now, The Love Boat, our alt-Valentines Day Romp!

(If you don’t want to watch the show in it’s entirety, scroll down, and find each storyteller’s performance.)

Nan was a little mortified at how long she went on at the beginning of the show, and won’t be insulted IN THE least if you skip that part!

Please help us get the word out by restacking this post. Word of mouth is powerful.

Find each storyteller’s performance, in order of appearance, as you scroll down the page. Enjoy!

We kicked the show off with a warm-up by Eileen Dougharty, my always partner-in-slam. Eileen knows how to get things started:

Notes From An Uncaged Warrior Parakeet

The Long Climb

Open Secrets Magazine

A Suitable Vessel for Magic

Age of Enlightenment

And now, an interlude from ZoomaMella, more commonly known to all of us as Mel Moseley, who publishes Mel’s Messy Love Lab. Mel is our wonder woman in the Zoom room, and helps Nan run the show. And, she’s a damn good storyteller.

Mel's Messy Love Lab

Editor on Board

Pathways of Connection

There's Nothing Wrong With You...

To see the whole thing the day it happens, the banter, the intros, the energy and appreciation of our live audience, you’ll need to upgrade to a paid subscription to come to a show.

In order to grow this project, and to pay honorariums to our wonderful storytellers in the near future, Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! needs to generate income.

We’ve applied for fiscal sponsorship to allow people another avenue to support our work and receive a tax deduction, too. Hoping to get the decision by week’s end.

You’ll get an idea of how much fun it is to attend the live show.

If you were at the show on Saturday, tell us what you loved. If you’re watching for the first time, tell us what you loved. If you’re a writer on Substack and don’t identify as male, and want to tell a story on our virtual stage, DM Nan!

Fascinated with Nan Tepper

Jess Greenwood — Wed, 18 Feb 2026 12:02:52 GMT

Hi gang! I’m sharing this article with all of you because, oh boy! I’m a star! This post is paywalled on Jess’s site, but you’re getting a sneak preview of the whole article because I love you all….and I want to strut my stuff a bit! Women need to brag more. Okay, , take it away, sister!

This is the first article in my brand spanking new Fascinated series. To see the full write up, you will need to upgrade to a paid subscription. If you’re wondering “What the fuck is this?”, you probably missed last week’s post.

No worries! You can catch up here.

Welcome to Fascinated! A series where I interview people who fascinate me about their work, their why’s, and their what the fucks and share all of that with you. Today, I have the sincere pleasure of introducing you to our first guest, Nan Tepper.

I just adore this pic of Nan in her signature green, tattoo all glaring at ya in the forefront. This photo says I’m too smart to fuck with, and man oh man, is she. Portrait: Franco Vogt, Woodstock NY

The first thing you need to know about Nan is that you will not get anything past her. She does not stand on convention, she will not let you slide, and she expects that you have a reason for everything you do. Because she does. And, when questioned (or criticized), she’s happy to share said reason. Boldly, but not bitchily. Nan fascinates me because when called to the carpet for anything she’s said or done, she doesn’t lash out, she reaches in. A lifetime of therapy (from talk to shock), a more recent trip through the 12-Steps, and Grace, her name for whatever floats beyond us, has made her an unapologetic advocate for Nan. Where that could easily produce defensiveness or even arrogance, in Nan it comes out through carefully considered words that are meant to do nothing more than share her truth. Your perception is your problem, but she will entertain your perspective all day long.

That is fascinating.

Along with her buddy, Eileen Dougharty, Nan is the originator of Wham! Bam! Thank you! Slam!, a virtual version of the live story slams Nan has been participating in for the past several years. The tagline, “1 story. 4 minutes. Zero dicks.” garnered gobs of attention on Substack, the current home of the publication, both the good kind and the party pooper kind. WBTYS (because who doesn’t love an acronym?) is a place for female authors with smaller Substack publications to tell their stories. Men are welcome to watch the Slam, encouraged, in fact, to buy a ticket, although at a higher price than their female counterparts. But, they are not allowed on stage. Zero dicks. Period. The anatomical kind or any other kind.

People felt some kinda way about that.

I knew they would, and if I’m honest, I was cringing behind my computer on Nan’s behalf, waiting for the onslaught of patriarchy to rain down on her parade. It did. And she didn’t care. To her, it’s a joke. With a broader meaning. It’s also her stage. You don’t like the rules? You need not participate. But there was one pushback that gave her pause. She picked up her pen and responded in such a beautifully human way that I was, you guessed it, fascinated. If you, too, are feeling some kind of way about dicks and their inclusion or lack thereof, read Nan’s response here.

The care and conviction she showed in this response is when I realized that WBTYS was far more than just a fun project for Nan.

I knew from Nan’s writing on her original Substack, The Next Write Thing, that she struggled mightily with depression for most of her life. We’re talking the ugly, dark, take over your life kind. I also knew that she used to be a person who was afraid to try, her fear of failure or judgment so strong that it overwhelmed any sense of “I might,” “I could,” or heavens to Betsy, “I can.” So, how in the hell do you take someone like that and get them to go on stage to tell a 4-minute story about their life?!? And then entice them to return and do it again?

Nan explains the crack factor here:

Hey, it’s Nan. I’m interrupting this post for a moment to say I’m upgrading to a paid membership because I want to read the rest of Jess’s Fascinated! conversations, because I hate missing out. xo

Subscribe to Jess!

And this is when I found out Nan was a clown.

Y’all, I couldn’t have been more confused. A what?!? Apparently, in the seventies on Long Island they offered “How to be a clown” summer camp where official Ringling Brothers clowns came to teach kids their craft. I’ll hold off on inserting my disdain for clowns here because they scare the living crap out of me, but whatever. Nan, ever the entrepreneur, saw an opportunity, and promptly got her mom to start schlepping her around the boroughs on weekends to be the paid entertainment for story time at the library. Picture Nan, indignantly avoiding any public demonstration of her talent, hamming it up with some balloon animals and and a bright red nose. I can’t. It’s confusing, right?

I didn’t see that coming, I will admit, but as our conversation continued, it started to make more sense. Nan is a performer at heart. She wants to be the source of people’s feel good, but that didn’t feel possible when she played herself until very recently.

Nan and I got into the body shaming stuff early on in our relationship. As a fat teenager (her) and an anorexic one (me), I understood immediately how her body has gotten in the way of her storytelling, and she sees how my fear of food continues to eat away at my joy.

Nan’s ability to articulate how hurtful her own body has felt to her at times can leave me breathless, the air disappearing from my lungs as if she borrowed my breath, my own truths rolling off of her lips. I felt my eyes prick at her unabashed acknowledgment of the role fatness has played in her inability to fully step into herself, this quote in particular landing right across my solar plexus.

“But as a fat teenager, if I dressed up like a clown, and pretended that I wasn’t me, I could do it. I was somebody else.”

Ugh. That’s sadly not fascinating. Just true.

She’s working on letting that body shaming shit go, but it still shows up, particularly in her preferred way of performing now. The Story Slam. She hates going up on stage in her body. Podiums are her friend, another place to hide. But, despite the lurking fear of judgment from every body in the audience, Nan takes the mic anyway. She knows that if there’s an asshole sitting in the audience that’s more focused on her body than her story, that’s on him, not her.

See, this is what fascinates me. The Nan that perseverated over whether her body is good enough to stand on stage is the same Nan that stole her brother’s underwear because she just wanted to wear boys underwear. They were more comfortable, and she liked them better. One q

uestions whether her body has worth and the other values its comfort so much it goes about stealing to make it happy.

I could cop out and say ‘It’s complicated, and so is Nan.” But I actually don’t believe that. I think Nan fascinates me so much because she’s not complicated. Complex…absolutely. But, not complicated. I wonder if that’s because she’s written so honestly about herself that I feel like I understand her complexity, its origins, and how it shows up for her these days. If that’s the case, it’s a testament to her writing, which is, in and of itself, confusing as Nan didn’t become a writer until two years ago.

For most of her life, Nan claims she wasn’t a writer. I stopped myself from inserting the tired argument that “If you write, you’re a writer” because Nan got ahead of me and told me she only wrote about 1,000 words a year for the slams she participated in up until she joined Substack. Okay, just kidding,

maybe you weren’t a writer. Then, how in the hell did you decide in your 60’s that you would go from writing two essays a year to one a week for over two years straight? That’s quite the transition, Nan.

Just jumping in might be a slight understatement, but it turns out that the simple joy of making people laugh in the context of the Slam helped shepherd Nan into the next iteration of herself. One that is, unequivocally, a writer. As she says, “It was an evolution.” Yeah, I’d say. That evolution involved a ton of therapy, medications, and a 12-Step program that Nan credits with saving her life. Going through the program helped her see what a dysfunctional home she grew up in and that her parents were not necessarily intentionally awful or neglectful people, but a product of their own dysfunctional homes. And despite the years of suffering, she’s kinda grateful that she lived the life she lived because its helped her see other people that suffer with compassion…most of the time, at least (her words, not mine).

And, WOW, has it given her an arsenal of stories from which to pull both for the Slam and for her writing.

I wanted to understand how Nan sits with that discomfort in her writing, especially given that she’s a person who does not enjoy discomfort. Nan scoffs at my proclivity for exercise as she loathes “sweating and panting”, and she has a person who does her grocery shopping because who likes going to the grocery store? But, she’s a master at approaching her own psychological discomfort bravely, and from a place of peace. As she says, “When I have a feeling like I want to defend or I’m reactive to something somebody else does, most of the time, I can step away and ask myself what is it about this that’s creating this reactivity in me?”

That’s such a masterful skill, and, unsurprisingly, for Nan, it came from doing the hard work. The personal work. The work that comes when you’re ready to dig through the dirt in order to actually find a clear path. I am just awed by what comes out on the other side when Nan goes through that process of self exploration.

So, because this publication is primarily about joy, I had to ask what brings Nan joy.

Her first response? “Getting into bed at night.”

Welp, yup, that tracks. The comfort thing and all.

Beyond that, her dogs, her cup of coffee in the morning, the NYT puzzle (the only part of the Times she can tolerate anymore), writing, and reading. Friends. And laughter.

Simple stuff. Predictable stuff. Fulfilling stuff.

There’s no wanderlust here. Nan wandered far and wide inside her own life for many years, and now that she’s finally found herself, the biggest blessing she can offer to that self is to stay put. BIG curiosity. Little footprint.

Now that’s fascinating.

If all this talk of dicks and slams has tickled your pickle, check out this month’s Wham! Bam! Thank you! Slam! slated for THIS SATURDAY, February 21st on Zoom. Tickets are still available, and you can laugh your ass off in the comfort of your own home. In your bed, in fact, if you’re like Nan and find joy there.

Sweating and panting is not required, so what’s holding you back?

Find out more!

Get Tickets!

Another message from Nan. I know the names might be hard to read on the graphic, so…here’s the line-up for Saturday: , , , , , , , , , , with special appearances by , , and . , we’re sure, will be missing in action, once more. But her spirit surrounds us always. It’s a little creepy, honestly. xo

Our February Story Slam: The Love Boat

Nan Tepper — Mon, 02 Feb 2026 12:04:16 GMT

Please help us get the word out by restacking this post. Word of mouth is powerful.

Support free speech and daring creative expression.

I started Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! as a way to amplify feminist voices and other marginalized populations. And yes, it’s impossible to believe that women, who comprise more than 50% of the world’s population, are marginalized, but it’s true; in almost every culture on the planet. That’s unacceptable.

I want to boost women writers on Substack and introduce them to our community of readers and fans. When WBTYS storytellers step onto our virtual stage, we get to introduce them to you, and to one another. This is how we grow.

Our voices mustn’t be silenced, ever.

We welcome feminists, women (cis and trans), nonbinary & intersex folks, all the people of the skin color rainbow, religion, sexual orientation, there are so many etceteras. We welcome anyone who identifies as male to support this project as generous audience members.

Come tell a story. Come listen. Come learn.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Scroll down to read about our featured storytellers. It’s a great line-up!

On February 21, 2026 at 5PM ET, we’re bringing you our second slam. YES!

We’re telling stories about love, and that could mean anything. The storytellers are calling the shots here. Savor a sampling of mushy love notes, heart-stirring, heartbreaking Dear John/Jane letters, a smattering of O.Henry irony, mixed with a soupçon of Cole Porter Anything Goes joie de vivre!

We learned so much after the first slam, My Body, My Rules. If you haven’t seen the videos yet, head on over and take a peek; the stories and the storytellers were fabulous.

For now, have a look at our line-up and buy a ticket OR take a leap of faith and become an annual paid subscriber. You’ll be able see the live event on Zoom, and then to return to the archive of stories we’re building. You’ll never miss a thing, and with an annual paid subscription, you’ll get 12 shows for the price of 10.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

If you can’t make it, you can always see the replay later. That includes ticket holders.

If you choose to become an annual paid subscriber you’ll get more than if you buy a one-off ticket:

Access to the live show.
12 shows for the price of 10.
Access to all shows going forward.
After-show posts which include videos of all the stories.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Notes From An Uncaged Warrior Parakeet

Meet our storytellers for this month’s slam, The Love Boat. The storytellers all have publications on Substack. You can find out more about them by clicking the button under each writer’s bio.

The Long Climb

Open Secrets Magazine

A Suitable Vessel For Magic

Age of Enlightenment

Editor On Board

Pathways Of Connection

There's Nothing Wrong With You...

Modern Mythology

Personal Statments

Individual tickets are $12 if you’re a guy…it’s that pesky wage gap thing. We call it our SIRcharge. There’s a lot of recouping to do! Everyone else pays $10.
Fair is fair.

TICKETS ON EVENTBRITE

You can attend any slam live (12 of ‘em) or in replay by becoming an annual paid subscriber.
That way you get 12 shows for the price of 10, and support the growth of this community project with your contribution. We’re speaking up, we’re speaking out, and we need your help to do that.

Find out more

Help us get the word out about the February slam. Click the heart “♥️” to “like” this post or the speech bubble “💬” to leave a comment, and use the spinny arrow thingy “🔄” to share/restack to the Substack community.

Available for iOS and Android

Start Here: Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Nan Tepper — Sun, 01 Feb 2026 16:43:00 GMT

Why did I start Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!?

I’ve been performing in local, live story slams since 2015. When I began, I had very little stage experience and I was barely writing. But life conspired to present an opportunity for me to get out of my own way and try something new. Something daring. I challenged myself to feel and face my fear, put it to the side, and get up on the stage and tell the stories of my life.

It only took one slam and I was hooked.

I wanted to create a slam on Substack since I landed here 2 years ago, but I knew I needed to wait so I could make friends, find my feet, and get acquainted with what’s possible on this platform. I began scheming and dreaming of all the ways I could champion storytellers here, and do my part to help others succeed.

Now, I’m offering you an opportunity to tell your stories, get your name out to a wider audience, find new readers, and make connections with a great community of wonderful writers and creators.

Given the state of the world and the backlash we, as women, are seeing and feeling, I decided to make the slam a feminist space. We welcome any writer who doesn’t identify as male to join this community as a storyteller.

And anyone who does identify as male is welcome to join us as an audience member.

Qualifications:

1. You publish on the Substack platform.

2. You have something to say about being a woman or marginalized in this culture.

3. You’re a wild lefty feminist troublemaker; antifascist and want to make change.

4. A sense of humor is always nice, but not mandatory.

5. You can tell a story in about 500 words/4 minutes or you’re dying to try.

6. You’d like to have some fun.

Ways to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

I’m asking you to support this project by making a financial gesture that feels right to you. An annual paid subscription grants you access to every live show and all paywalled posts. You get 12 live shows for the price of 10.

There’s a founding member level; you get to be a “Big Mama.” This level is for those of you who can afford to give a little more, especially if you believe in this project and would like to help it grow.

Reach out to us directly if a paid subscription is onerous, and we’ll comp you, no questions asked. I don’t believe in one-percent attitudes here.

My bottom line? I want to spotlight writer’s words and wisdom. Women’s words.

I’m a little Pisces fish swimming in the greater Substack Sea. It’s easy for us to get lost. Community is exactly what I need right now, so I’m making it, and hoping you’ll come play.

The world is crazy. Let’s build something good together.

Sisters are indeed, doing it for themselves.

Let’s talk about “Zero dicks.” Again.

The question keeps coming up. I think people might be taking this a little too seriously. To me, the fact that there’s been dismay means something powerful is happening.

That’s an opportunity for a conversation. But this first. Maybe it’ll clear things up.

Our tagline is “1 story. 4 minutes. Zero dicks.” Using the word “dick” is intended to be tongue-in-cheek. As in “don’t be a dick.” Meaning “don’t be an asshole.”

In life, and on the stage.

That applies to men and women. Yes, this is a feminist project. No. I don’t hate all men, just the bad ones. I don’t like hating anyone, but sometimes my hand is forced. Making the choice to not invite men to be storytellers is more about saying no to male privilege, mansplaining, and manspreading. It’s not about a body part.

I’m happy to know that there are plenty of people who find humor in the tagline. For those of you who don’t, oh, well. Different strokes. Don’t read anything into that.

We can take ourselves a little less seriously and have some fun. I’m sure of it.

After an important conversation with a dear Substack friend who was concerned about the tagline, for reasons I didn’t consider, here’s some info on inclusivity and gender and how it’s being addressed in this space. This one’s important.

I believe in generosity. I believe in supporting others.

Step onto this virtual stage, face any fears you might have and tell us your life stories, we want to hear what you have to say. You may discover something new about yourself in the process.

Live storytelling has been one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done.

Each story slam is recorded on Zoom.

After each live show we edit the video and each story will be posted.

Are you a writer who wants to tell a story? Read more here for the lowdown.

THE LOWDOWN

Are you a wonderful and enthusiastic audience member looking for your next great entertainment? We have a post for you, too, because without you, we’re a just a good idea with nowhere to go. Check out your awesome role here.

WHAT'S MY JOB?