Long ago when I was in college, my good friend began embracing the term “chick” as an appropriate way to describe a new generation of feminism. I think “chick” is a rather brilliant signifier, describing female-specific content that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Plus, this coinage reclaims the word from its more demeaning form (an activity socio-political-activist-types adore). So, at the risk of putting off male audience members and pissing off old-guard feminists, I’ve decided Not Your Granny’s Revolution is a chick show—that is, a show about chicks who have moved past the sensitive diatribes and onto the self-aware humor of personal discovery.