Creative | Posted by Poulami S on 11/27/2015

Nameless

Little bits and pieces; memoirs of the future,

Box of broken laces; stitched up with a suture.

My soul’s meant to be sold,

As the story unfolds-

A sinner has no shame,

I’m the girl without a name.

No bones in my spine,

No morals entwined,

Your truth’s the biggest lie,

Broken wings never fly.

My soul’s meant to be sold,

As the story unfolds-

A sinner has no shame,

I’m the girl without a name.

I’m the girl who fits no locus,

Like a picture out of focus.

When “I” is purged with deceit,

Silence speaks with no conceit.

Yet, my soul’s meant to be sold

Let the story unfold;

I’m the sinner with no shame

I’m the girl without a name.

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Feminism | Posted by Lana S on 11/26/2014

What Are You Teaching Your Children?

Sometimes I walk into my high school and realize that the young boys and girls who surround me will grow up and have children of their own. Just like we learn from our parents, so will our future children learn from us.

That’s when I panic.

There’s one kid in my class who particularly worries me a lot. He is sixteen years old and preaches equality because he’s a self proclaimed “punk rocker” yet still talks shit about women. What’s worse, he genuinely believes in what he says. I don’t think he is trying to be a bad person when he says he truly believes that rape is not just the attacker’s fault, but the victim’s as well. Someone – maybe his father, maybe another influential adult – taught him …

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Feminism | Posted by Bridget C. on 08/12/2013

Southern Belle or Southern Hell?

Charlotte La Bouff of "The Princess and the Frog"

Growing up, I always had the benefit of playing sports and hanging out with boys. It was great until around seventh grade. Then girls and boys separated. We didn’t play sports together during recess, PE was divided by gender, and we didn’t even sit together at lunch most days. The worst part was the teachers. Every time I dared to sit without my legs glued shut, ate quickly, or made a crude joke, I was quickly reminded to “act like a lady.” I went from a tomboy to a dainty, “ewh dirt!” exclaiming, knee-length skirt wearing teenager within a year. I hated myself for two years trying to become the lady that my community desired.

This was to be expected though. …

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