Creative | Posted by Caroline B on 08/20/2015
I begin peeling off a layer of the mask that once covered my wounds. Starting with the
rehearsal smile hung high on my face
Revealing anger, torment, loneliness, vulnerability
I had to ignore the brewing storm of
frustration in my head
Just as they said to
On moving on
On healing yourself
What about working on justice?
What about having control over my own body?
That didn’t matter. Not to them. Because
somehow they had come to the conclusion that rules could be broken
By the man who held me down by my neck and told me not to scream
By the boyfriend who never made her comfortable enough to say stop
Because somehow suffocating the cries of violated women is the best way to solve a problem…
Creative | Posted by Hilary W on 05/29/2015
Love For A Season
Columbia Pictures via http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51RGP0YGFSL.jpg
My prom dress was too big to fit into the car. I worked my hands around the silky tulle of the rhinestone-studded gown and gathered the fabric into my lap. But as the car picked up speed down the hill, the boy in the driver’s seat took hold of the manual handle, cranking down the window. “Here,” he said. “You can let go.” He motioned to my hand, which was tightly grasping my dress. I let my fingers release the now-wrinkled fabric and watched it billow freely toward the window. My open palm followed the free pieces of silk and my arm glided out of the window as we picked up speed in the cool May evening. I was on my way to prom with a …
Creative | Posted by Karaleigh S on 04/24/2015
call me a Woman
I am not just pretty.
I am Ethereal.
I am Lethal.
My Eyes are Sharp-Cut Stones
My Smile spreads like Hot Butter
I have Galaxies of Freckles
a Millennia to Explore
My Legs have Traveled
My Brain has Gone Further
I am Lethal.
I am Ethereal.
I am not
I am not
I am not
Creative | Posted by Saskia G on 04/3/2015
The curve of you,
where the cheek meets the thigh,
is sweeter than lips strawberry
in a tinted photo
which is not your own anymore.
the place of skin wrapped by summer
clothes stretched as you run.
of grass at the back of your neck
and sweat on your hairline,
in its stickiness trailing down,
down into the gentle creases
circling the mounds.
You create your own humidity.
Trap it here now,
to use it later or maybe
find it in memory
at that party where you sent the calling,
just sitting, testing,
like smoke in your favorite princess movies
and you were asked to dance.
The first time is power.
Twine them out, those summer tendrils,
use them only when you wish…
Creative | Posted by Samantha P on 02/6/2015
Basic Human Rights
What are you women truly fighting for?
What rights don’t you women have?
Basic human rights.
My consent for you to approach me and get to know me
Is a basic human right
My body does not define me
My clothes do not describe me
And your words are certainly not inviting
We the people, for the people, by the people
Don’t they mean we the men, for the men, by the men
I would love to walk down the street
And not be whistled at like a dog
I would love to sleep with whomever I want and not be called a slut
You receive a pat on the back while I receive a text
What makes any of this okay?
You feel content in your …
Creative | Posted by Jules C on 01/30/2015
When I was a little girl my grandma told me that there were princes. Sitting in our house in the Sunset, the N rumbling by, the sky grey and the ocean roaring, she’d tell me about them as I sipped my soup and tore off bread to dip. She said the princes were scattered around, trapped in skyscrapers and under bowling alleys and hidden away in train stations. Some had green eyes, some had black hair, some had baby faces, some were short, some less so. But they were all waiting. They had nothing to do but sit around, doing pushups, combing their hair, shaving their beards till they were just roguish enough for a princess to save them. For a princess with an AK-47 and a leathery attitude to …
Creative | Posted by Augusta G on 01/7/2015
If you can’t handle me,
If my girl-power, middle-finger, bra-burning bothers you
Because I am only gaining momentum
I am charging,
Ignited by the tide of my moon
Surrounded by my sisters.
I am a bitch
And damn proud of it.
You label me,
For fear of my labia –
You try to turn down my volume,
Fix and fondle me.
But I don’t need to be handled,
I have two hands
And they work damn well between my thighs.
Creative | Posted by Kinder L on 12/26/2014
In class my professor stated that being comfortable
is a key factor to a society evolving.
At the time, I took her word for it. But
that night as I tried to fall asleep, I couldn’t help but
think about what she had said.
The more and more I thought about it,
the more and more I started to disagree.
It is with being too comfortable that my problems began
and I was lead astray.
Astray from the life I wanted to live.
Astray from the person I wanted to be.
I got too comfortable with the idea that I wasn’t good enough.
I got too comfortable with thinking that it is alright to
dismiss your intelligence to appear more attractive
in the eye of society.
I got too …