Whether the world we imagine is one composed at its base only of physical forces interacting, or whether we instead incorporate the social world of meaning in our understandings, we cannot avoid the fundamental acknowledgement that our own perceived consciousness of a world must figure centrally in any successful theory of knowledge. As Descartes rightfully contends, the grounding of any future knowledge is the realization of the self as thinking and perceiving, doubting and willing, and, I would add, interpreting and understanding. These attributes that seem central to an idea of the self as a knowing subject are all necessarily tied to a subjective point of view. As theories of knowledge have unfolded in Western thought, however, the significance of the necessarily subjective character of any individual's experience has been successively diluted. At present, contemporary accounts of knowledge prevalent in mainstream analytic epistemology focus instead on objectively knowable fact as the basis for real, legitimate knowledge properly construed. These accounts shy away from addressing the complicated, messy, and frequently confusing aspects of experience that fill out our understanding of the world and constitute the unique character of personal experience and the knowledge we gain from it. My aim in this work is to argue for the inclusion of the messy, the complicated -- the personal -- as fundamental to a complete theory of knowledge. Here I endeavor to convince you that experiential knowledge is knowledge. I show that to claim otherwise is to deny huge features of our personal and community understandings of ourselves, our environment, our world. I offer narrative evidence that experience teaches and changes lives. I present intuitive examples of knowledge building and ask the reader to deny that something has been learned. I present a set of criteria that, when met, point us towards knowledge, and offer an explanation of how we can conceive of this knowledge being shared, and how we can arbitrate between conflicting claims to know the truth about a seemingly shared, or common, experience. Finally, I suggest the ways in which the work I have begun here is important to epistemology, specifically, and to philosophy and social theory, generally. I point out future directions I envision for my work and the ways in which my explication and defense of experiential knowledge -- of "knowing what it's like" -- can and should influence work in both epistemology and feminist epistemology.