Behind The Red Curtain

I’ve always suspected fate was less an invisible force and more like a bureaucrat with a clipboard, assigning people to the appropriate stations in life.

Two years back, my friend and self-appointed sibling Carol decided we needed something called the Red Tent Collective—a name with just enough mystery to bewilder the uninitiated—on our North American Angst program. At the time, “North American” seemed more like a suggestion. We were a patchwork operation, still clinging to digital life preservers tossed from TERF Island and Australia, hoping the internet would eventually discover us.

Then, strolled the Red Tent crew, bursting into our X Spaces like they had always been there. I was floored. Here were women not only confident in their “sex class” (which sounds like a required course at a very progressive university) but fiercely supportive of any woman who dared speak. It didn’t matter if you were a single mom considering an Etsy empire or a bestselling author hiding in the witness protection program, the Red Tent had your back.

For years, I had viewed myself as a retail Sisyphus, forever rolling the boulder of business up an endless hill.

Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by women who genuinely believed I could do whatever I set my mind to—an opinion previously reserved for fortune cookies and motivational mugs. The real shocker? They meant it. For the first time, I wondered if maybe I should, too.

So, I worked with the Red Tent for over a year. They helped me launch House Blackbird (which, I assure you, is not a Game of Thrones reference), taught me the difference between a blog and “just yelling into the void,” and convinced me the world was my oyster—although, to be fair, they left out the part about the world sometimes tasting a bit briny.

Astonishingly, I’ve gone from Red Tent client to board member of The Greys—a group whose loyalty is rivaled only by golden retrievers and whose purpose is to show women they can do literally anything.

Over the past year, we’ve experienced the usual highs and lows. Everyone stumbles, sometimes quite dramatically, but the Red Tent’s superpower is this: when they don’t know how to do something, they go figure it out. I wanted in. I have always prided myself on my rugged individualism, declining group invitations with the same frequency as gym memberships, but the Red Tent changed my mind.

I grew up believing female socialization was a competitive sport

I grew up believing female socialization was a competitive sport—an impression helpfully reinforced by every movie, TV show, and murder-mystery book ever written. But these past years have thoroughly debunked that fiction. Women can support and empower each other without anyone bursting into tears or plotting a coup over canapés.

The Red Tent Collective has introduced me to women around the globe and given me an unofficial degree in geopolitics, culture, and how to mute myself on Zoom. We listen, we strategize, and—when sufficiently caffeinated—we launch plans to change the world.

That’s why I’m here, that’s why I stayed, and that’s why, if you’re a woman who suspects she deserves a seat at the table, you should come, too. Besides, we have better snacks and the recipes to make yourself!