Author Bio
• Birth—ca. 1976-77
• Where—Evanston, Illinois, USA
• Education—N/A
• Currently—Kalamazoo, Michigan
Samantha "Sam" Irby is the writer behind the popular blog, Bitches Gotta Eat. She is also the author of two collections of memoir/essays, We Are Never Going to Meet in Real Life (2017) and Meaty (2013).
As if that's not enough to keep her busy, Irby co-hosts Guts & Glory, a reading series featuring essayists. She has performed all over Chicago, opening for Baratunde Thurston during his "How to Be Black" tour. She has been profiled in the Chicago Sun-Times, Chicago Reader, Chicago Tribune, as well as in TimeOut Chicago. Her work has appeared on the websites, The Rumpus and Jezebel.
Personal
Irby was born and raised in Evanston, Illinois, to parents who were older (37 and 45) and in ill-health. Her mother had MS and her father was an alcoholic. As Irby put it: “We were crazy poor — Section 8, food stamps, Social Security, disability." But she was still able to attend Evanston High School, an experience for which is ever grateful.
A chunky, kind of outcast black girl could be there and be really into Dave Matthews, but also into Cypress Hill. I had a lot of black friends, but also a lot of white, lacrosse-playing friends.
Since then both her parents have died.
Irby started Bitches Gotta Eat to impress a guy. It began as a personal page on MySpace written during her off hours as a receptionist at an animal hospital in Evanston. The guy became her boyfriend, but even though they parted Irby kept writing. In 2009, she turned the personal page into a blog.
It was just this thing that I could point people to if in real life — if I couldn’t prove to them that I was worth their attention. That’s, like, the saddest shit ever, but it’s real. A lot of good things have come out of my work, but I am not noble.
Writing is a form of catharsis for Irby. As she told, Chicago Magazine, "It's not brave at all; it's freeing." Irby finally left Evanston and moved to Kalamazoo, Michigan, to live with her wife Kirsten Jennings, whom she refers to as "Mavis" in her essays. (Adapted from various online sources including Chicago Magazine.)