Final girls
You only live twice
Emily St. James is a writer and critic whose work has appeared in Vox, The A.V. Club, and the New York Times. She is the co-creator of the podcast Arden and a writer on the TV series Yellowjackets.
You only live twice
I loved TV criticism until I didn't
If I'm finally me, then where did I go?
And the land we belong to is grand!
Welcome to Episodes by me, Emily VanDerWerff. Emily VanDerWerff is the critic at large at Vox and the former TV editor of The A.V. Club. She's written books and podcasts and other things too. Sign up now so you don’t miss the first issue. Subscribe now
Mad Men, one of my favorite TV shows ever made, begins its final stretch of episodes with a melancholy reflection on impermanence. Don Draper, who has just learned of the death of a woman who might have been the love of his life, but for all of the ways his
I didn't mean to go full time. I just did. This is the opposite of almost everything else in my transition, which has been carefully, rigidly planned, sometimes down to the literal second. I knew which friends were going to find out when, and I picked the date
When people ask me, "When did you know you were a woman?" my answer tends to come in three parts, which are sort of a nesting doll. The easiest answer is "In March of 2018." That was when I was forced out of the mental closet
There's been some small degree of debate on trans Twitter (which, really, why would you go there?) about a topic that seems easy to answer, until you realize it's twisting you in knots: Before you came out and/or transitioned, who were you? This seems like
A couple of weeks ago, I had to lay down on my bathroom floor and cry for about 15 minutes. Never mind what got me there, or what happened after. Just live with me in that space for a second, the concrete floor hard and cold, and the towel I
Today, I called a doctor and made an appointment for a consultation on vocal feminization surgery. It's the first step I've taken toward whatever form my surgical transition will take, and it's a step I have a lot of trepidation about. What's
It felt a little like the bird was following me around the upper floor of my parents' home. I would walk past a window, and there it would be -- thonk -- flinging itself at the glass, for reasons unknown. Red has always been my favorite color, so when