Feminism | Posted by Carmen G on 01/14/2013

Skirt

It’s so damn hot out. I open the door to the oven outside, and the idea of walking to Safeway for a smoothie and some moisturizer seems like something worth procrastinating. I’d like to shut the door on the sweltering heat, the desire to lie in the shade, panting like an animal, was prominent. I need a drink. I need moisturizer. God it’s so hot out!

I change out of sweats and into a skirt, rotating slowly in front of the mirror by the front door, eyes roving over the reflection, making sure I’m covering up what society’s deemed tasteless of my body. My brother breezes past with a hello goodbye, artfully flicking his hair before slamming shut the door behind him with the self-approving glance lingering in his demeanor. …

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Feminism | Posted by Anonymous on 09/7/2010

A Reason to Believe in Feminism

I have for you a tale of feminism in its physical manifestation.

It was only weeks ago that I, a nineteen-year-old girl, sat at a window seat on a bus swindling its way down a road in the city one night. Ere long I felt another’s presence, and turned to find a beefy drunkard leering at me as he stumbled to sit by my side. He had prickly grey stubble covering his weathered cheek; bloodshot eyes and thin lips smacked together as he looked me up and down.

‘How ya going, alright?’ He grunted, and I nodded curtly before stepping away and re-settling myself on a different seat, a couple of rows back. I had smelt the Red Label on his stale breath and seen how his eyes had rested …

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Feminism | Posted by Zoe Y on 05/10/2010

Why Was I The One Who Was Ashamed?

The other day, I was home from college and sitting at the back table with my mother where we were talking about the state of the world. I had brought up an article sitting before me in The Week about another girl who had been bullied to the point of her suicide. I felt that this was becoming a common theme in the news and it worried me. Why was it that kids were so cruel to each other and why wasn’t anyone stopping this?

That’s when my mother asked me if I remembered “that Beck boy” who sexually harassed me in middle school. I was stunned. I’d forgotten completely about this incident until that moment. Both of us had difficulty remembering the details of what had happened. We both …

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