I feel compelled to jump onto my feminist soapbox and wave my agro feather-duster whenever I think about Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf. All three of whom have been celebrated as a kind of holy trinity in works such as Bowditch’s The Ophelia Project. Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with celebrating these writers’ lives and I’m sure Rachel Bowditch had nothing but noble intentions. (more…)