I totally heart Jessica Zafra. Am in the middle of reading her latest (?) book, Twisted 7, a compilation of columns she’s written for a Philippine daily paper. She’s funny, she’s smart, she’s snarky, she’s brilliant, she’s Twisted. She’s exactly the kind of columnist I want to be, sort of like a Pinay Janeane Garofalo with a wicked, wicked pen.
I just submitted another column to the local paper. It’s supposed to be biweekly (it was originally weekly, until I got a full-time job that morphed into the Job That Took Over My Life), but lately it’s been Whenever I Can Squeeze In The Time. Anyway, like Jessica, I write about whatever comes to mind, whether it’s the whole immigration controversy in the U.S., traveling, gay marriage (a rather weak attempt at satire, I have to admit, but hey, I was new at it), and stuff like What Women Don’t Want. It suddenly occurred to me earlier this afternoon that I’m one of very few women columnists they have, and possibly the only one who contributes on a regular basis. It’s not necessarily the editor’s fault, as he’s fantastic and helpful and just plain adorable, but I wonder why this is so, as I’ve met plenty of very talented women writers in town, most of whom have opinions out the wazoo. Where the hell are they? (Knowing us women, they’re probably doing the whole Superwoman routine everyday, which doesn’t really leave much time to spout off on paper. But then again, maybe that should change. If we don’t stand up and demand attention, we’ll never get it.)