Once upon a time, I had writer’s block. So I’m all trying to come up with something inspiring to say about dog food — and can’t — so I walked out to the kitchen to rest my tired brain (and, if memory serves, indulge in some empty calories).
On the counter, was a copy of my then-husband’s Maxim, and a copy of Good Housekeeping (which I would never subscribe to on my own — who puts “good” and “housekeeping” in the same sentence? A well meaning relative had sent me the subscription. Maybe it was a hint?).
Completely mindlessly, without intent or agenda, I started to peruse both publications. What I accidentally discovered took my breath away. Maxim was all about video games, beer reviews, women in school-girl skirts and stories about dudes who eat tarantulas.
The light bulb didn’t just go off…it burned my retinas. Men’s publications were all about whatever made them happy or was entertaining to them. Women’s publications — filled with 823 ways to cook a chicken breast and 23 clever ways to clean a bathtub — were about what made OTHER people happy.
That time I photo-shopped my face over Oprah’s, put it on the cover of my magazine (like she ALWAYS does) and called myself “Doprah,” — Oprah’s less-known, less-connected and less-successful half-sister.
All that how-to be a better wife, mother, employee, domestic diva content — oh, and look like a million bucks while you’re doing it — made me think. Where the hell was our publication that was purely for our entertainment? Why were we not talking about our hobbies, interests and things we’re passionate about? (And I’m not talking about quilting or decorating magazines, not that there’s anything wrong with that…)
And so Sistah, a print publication for women’s entertainment was born. Much to my surprise, it was a big hit. We had a vastly talented pool of contributors (most of whom have joined up for Round 2), a national subscription database, a sh*t ton of the COOLEST advertisers in the Pacific Northwest and a massive audience of amazing readers — men and women — who felt the same way I did. Who knew?
“After a couple mugs of sap, Mrs. Bigfoot speaks candidly about marriage, the Middle East and why you’ll never see a focused photo of a Bigfoot.”
So it took me a divorce and six years of my life to resurrect Sistah, but here you are. Welcome to Sistah Diaries. This is where women come together to share the kind of sh*t we talk about with our friends over coffee, wine, whiskey (insert bonding beverage here). This is reality TV for print — only unlike reality TV — it’s real.
Sistah Diaries will not make you skinnier, or prettier, or a better mom, or a better wife, or a better employee. Those topics are being covered — ad nauseam — by other women’s publications. You won’t find any feminine correctness here — there’s going to be a lot of attitude and swearing. F*ckin’ aye.
What you will find is a community of like-minded women who are just doing their best to get through the day, and who are sharing interests that fall outside the tired format of what we’ve always been told we should be good at.
So, as I used to say in Sistah, “Close the door, pull up a chair, put your feet up, grab a coffee or a beer and enjoy some time with your Sistahs…”
Kat, Media Empress and HBIC at sistahdiaries.com and www.sistahdiariesplaza.com
P.S. A little more backstory: I was occasionally criticized for calling my publication Sistah, because people thought it was too ethnic or some stupid sh*t like that — I wasn’t really listening. The reason I named the publication Sistah was because I have a dear friend who called me, before the days of caller ID, and just started the conversation with, “Sisssssssssttttttttttaaaaaaaaaaaaah.”
I wasn’t related to this woman by blood. But like so many women that I am blessed to call my friends in life, this friend felt like a sister.
That’s why I decided to name my original publication “Sistah.” It’s a tribute to all the incredible women who we get to call our friends — and whom we may not be related by blood — but we are related by heart.
P.S.S. Lest you think we are a pack of bitter, jaded man haters — think again. We love men! We are inspired by them. That is how this whole thing got started. Men are typically unapologetic about engaging in, reading about and investing in the things they love to do. Additionally, we have a few male contributors. Oh my God, what’s not to love about that? A guy who has the stones to jump and play with us? Love, love, love.