Thus, Jervis and Zeisler founded the feminist pop-culture critique BITCH, which celebrates its tenth year with bitchfest, a collection of "the most provocative" essays of the decade. Jervis and Zeisler included a variety of feminist voices; there are pro- and anti-porn arguments, a piece on being a black female metalhead, a piece on how women generally wear too much makeup and a piece on how hard it is for women of color to find good makeup, pieces by trans women, bearded women, screenwriters, comics, teachers, and an odd piece suggesting that masculinity would go away if we would all just stop acknowledging it. The essays are sharp, sometimes prophetic, and even nostalgic for more optimistic times. Rachel Fudge's essay tracking the inevitable commercialization of "girl power" is noteworthy both for the way it exemplifies bitchfest's fixation on Kathleen Hanna-era genderfucking, but also for exemplifying BITCH at its best--straightforward, fresh, frustrated, and written with the well-researched detail of a grad school thesis. Other pieces examine pop culture phenomena with a damn-I-never-saw-it-that-way twist (an unmarried Martha Stewart as a feminist antidote to the housewife stereotype; female jealousy as latent homosexual desire), nerd-girl rapture (linguistic studies on "choice," "like," and "you guys"), and sheer, satisfying smartassery (an open letter to Carnie Wilson asking her to kindly stop speaking for and to fat women). And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that my straight-girl crush, Keely Savoie, has two essays in the collection. Bitchfest is a brainy, funny, and terrifying account of where women have gone, and how we are portrayed.