“The fact that people go to Portland to visit a tiny feminist bookstore—no matter what the impetus is for them getting there—the fact that they go in there and look around and shop for books or stationery or whatever, is a major source of pride for me,” Brownstein says. So even though there’s a silliness to [our sketches] and it’s very pop culture, we also express a multidimensionality that feminism has always embraced, even though people have often tried to make the movement seem less than multidimensional.
“I just felt like I was touring emergency rooms as much as I was touring clubs and theaters,” she says with a subdued laugh. “He also came up through music, so we had traversed the same landscape.
He’s older than I am [by eight years], but it felt like we had gone down the same paths, sleeping on the same couches on tour.
You have to be kind of intentional about friendships as you get older, because people drift apart so easily with their own lives or families or just physical distance.
The friendships you want to maintain, you really have to protect—not just by commenting on their Twitter feed but by actually, like, inviting them over,” she says, laughing. ’” more than the one we might remember from Sleater-Kinney, though of course it’s all the same to her.
Brownstein’s not unusually short, but she is legit petite and low-key. As we chat, seated on a mustard-colored vintage couch at the photo studio, there’s a thoughtfulness to all of her answers. [But maybe you can] superimpose Janet and Corin next to me? A., Airbnb-ing a house in Laurel Canyon with one of her two dogs (the less adaptable one stayed home in Portland with her house sitter) while writing season five, which will premiere early next year.