Katiee Rose started this blog around 2015 to gain published writing experience. What began as a space for the relatable, over-caffeinated college student grew into a full-throated feminist platform. Here you'll find honest essays on bisexuality, eating-disorder recovery, sexual-assault awareness, mental health, astrology, and music β all written with warmth, candor, and a strong point of view. Sometimes a single voice on the airwaves can reframe an entire season of your life. In How A Podcast Helped Me Make Sense Of A Life Change, Katiee explores how one podcast helped her find clarity during a big transition.
Katiee has volunteered at a rape crisis center, worked at a domestic-violence shelter, and written for other outlets. Her blog categories β Feminism, Lifestyle, and Make a Change β reflect a commitment to personal storytelling as a tool for social change.
This blog began as a humble outlet for a coffee-fueled college student who simply wanted to see her words in print. What started as a space for relatable, over-caffeinated musings gradually transformed into something far more intentional: a home for honest feminist writing that doesn't shy away from the messy, complicated parts of being alive. The shift wasn't planned so much as it was inevitable, the natural result of a writer growing into her voice and finding the topics that demanded to be discussed.
At the heart of this platform is a commitment to candor. The essays published here don't polish away the rough edges or pretend that healing is linear. Whether the subject is bisexuality, eating-disorder recovery, or the quiet exhaustion of managing anxiety, the writing meets readers where they are. There's no lecture, no judgment, just a hand extended across the screen from someone who has been there and is willing to say so out loud.
Mental health has always been a recurring thread woven through the site's content. From panic attacks to the slow work of finding stability, these pieces explore what it means to care for a mind that sometimes feels like an unreliable narrator. The writing treats mental health not as a trend or a hashtag but as a lived experience, one that deserves nuance, patience, and a whole lot of grace.
Music runs like a current beneath much of the writing here. There are pieces about the artists who shaped a generation, the songs that felt like they were written specifically for one person's worst night, and the strange intimacy of singing along to someone else's pain in a crowded room. Concerts appear too, not as backdrops but as meaningful spaces where people find community, safety, and permission to feel loudly.
The intersection of feminism and everyday life is explored with both fire and tenderness. These essays ask hard questions about what it means to be a woman in a world that often isn't designed for us, while also celebrating the joy, solidarity, and strength found in community. From body politics to the quiet labor of caregiving, nothing is too small or too large to warrant thoughtful examination.
Astrology shows up here not as escapism but as another language for understanding the self. The writing engages with the stars in a way that feels grounded, using cosmic frameworks to talk about real human experiences like heartbreak, growth, and the slow process of becoming who you are. It's less about prediction and more about reflection, a mirror made of planets and placements.
Beyond the personal essays, this space also serves as a resource hub of sorts, pointing readers toward women-owned businesses, healing practices, and community resources. There's a belief threaded throughout the content that sharing what you've learned is a form of activism. If one person finds a helpful resource or a validating perspective here, the work feels worth it.
Readers are invited to stay a while, subscribe to the weekly letter, and return for new editions as they land. This is a living archive of one writer's evolving perspective, and it grows alongside the community that reads it. Whether you've been here since the early days or you're just scrolling through for the first time, there's a seat at the table and a fresh cup waiting for you.