Creative | Posted by Augusta G on 01/7/2015

Womantra

If you can’t handle me,

If my girl-power, middle-finger, bra-burning bothers you

Then reevaluate

Because I am only gaining momentum

I am charging,

Ignited by the tide of my moon

Surrounded by my sisters.

I am a bitch

A whore

And damn proud of it.

You label me,

For fear of my labia -

Too crazy

Too young

Too wild

Too scared.

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.

 

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Creative | Posted by Kinder L on 12/26/2014

Uncomfortable

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 …

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Creative | Posted by Georgia P on 08/29/2014

Progress

Shut up he barked

Sit down he wined

Raise your voice he howled

Raise your cup to me he giggled

Make pure and tender love to me he snapped

Pick me up in your arms and tell me how to change he snaked

Shut up he whispered, into my ear on this cold, cold night

Pull out the chairs when they sit down he commanded

Read my mind he yearned

When my mother comes cover your bruises and show me that smile he snickered

When my father comes cover your chest and cross your legs he murmured

Know me like no one has ever known me, care for me like no one has before we wished

to each other

Shut up, he pounded into me, his sweaty hands slurping my …

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Creative | Posted by Ariella C on 08/1/2014

A Daily Serving of Misogyny

Most do not realize that

they have swallowed you up

today along with their breakfast

and that you are their favorite cereal

 

Yours is a deceptive brand

claiming to have enough

servings of vitamins

while it is really only

heaps of sodium

 

Sometimes your sugar

thickens my tongue

so that when my father

says I am a killjoy and

 

my brother sneers and

calls me a lesbian for choosing

to learn amongst girls

and only girls

 

I say nothing

 

They say you are less in

stock nowadays but

as I amble down the supermarket

 

aisle I see enough of you

leering out at me

to last another twenty years

 

You are not as rare as they think

 

And even so, people have …

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Creative | Posted by Emily Z on 02/21/2014

Woman

Ridges of her spine like fish

emerging from the water:

she stands, condensation dotting

the mirror. Swift shock,

change snapped from the fingers.

Past tense, present: glass,

arrows in knees, never: transparency

in spite of itself, choked

back, unnecessary. I wish, I wish.

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Creative, Feminism | Posted by Riya S on 11/8/2013

A Feminist Wave of Fury

I’m not walking ‘before’ Anybody.
I’m not here to parade my body,
Or prance and flit about.

Cause under all the prettiness,
There beats an Amazon heart.

To wear what We want.
To do what We dream.
To be who We are.

I’m watching you with Feminist eyes ,
Waiting for a slip up.
Blood’s been lost for Black and White.
But for battle? Not a drop.

To love whom We want,
But only When We please.
We want to be free.

It’s one thing to be proud of being women but I believe that equality can only be achieved if we treat everyone according to their individual merits. I think that being denied opportunities or being treated as less because of What and not Who you are is a …

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Creative | Posted by Riya S on 08/30/2013

The Universal Sisterhood of Puberty

Pain dripping down my legs.
Bumps growing from my chest.
Doubled up. Feel the heat.
Mum, I NEED something to eat!
Checking out the guys,
Just when did they turn out so nice?
Look at myself in mirror again-
I look good!
Call me hormonal. Call me weird.
I’m feeling sick and tired
Of the pain of my red
And the sore swellings on my chest.
Now I’m staring at the bathroom floor.
I don’t call it a sickness anymore.
It’s my invite to a worldwide party
Of girls celebrating Puberty.

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Creative | Posted by Tiffany C on 05/3/2013

Barbie

Let me ask you this:
What do we teach our daughters
When the bestselling doll on the market, Barbie,
Has a made-up face and mascara-ed eyes and lips as pink as grapefruit,
But not enough ambition or intelligence to calculate her net worth?
What do I tell my daughter
when we pass through Toys-R-Us
And she wants that artificial décolletage in a box,
This trickery, chicanery of Mattel
who fashioned this doll, this plastic piece of shit
With a serial number lingering on her lower back like a tramp stamp
Above slim thighs which gap and disproportionate legs,
Legs, I tell her, that would snap beneath
Barbie’s weight if she were real
That would make her fall at the slightest step,
Only for the purpose of mass-production and consumerism
which …

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