Woman, like nature, have been carved into the shapes societal tells them they should fit into, until the natural part of us kicks in and we realize that maybe, we do not have to be so straight, so cut, so small.
I’ve always struggled with accepting my body and truly loving myself, which made shopping for clothes both my favorite and most dreaded activity.
If I had a dollar for every time I hear the phrase “boys are intimidated by…” Bitch… I would be a rich, rich woman.
Mother Nature is resilient though, and so are women.
Even our own vision of ourselves is tainted by the sexist agenda we are constantly subjected to.
Inspired by the line “I eat mean like air”, I wrote the last stanza of this poem
“A woman you now are,” my mother closed her eyes…
I’ve noticed the dissociation I experience when I hear someone casually throw around words like “bipolar,” “depressed,” “anxious,” or “retarded.”
And why women are the same way.
Community is at the heart of what feminism is all about.
I have found magic in R E V E A L I N G ones true nature.
Self-Love is the greatest love story.
How Overthinking Ruined My Love Life.
My best friend was the first to know. The bittersweet words felt sour on the ears. She disappeared into her own self-induced shock, paralyzed by the reality of three little words (“Kristie, I’m Bisexual”).
I’m sorry, I should’ve packaged up your ignorance in a neatly wrapped box. A pretty ribbon to heal your embarrassment? A sweet label to explain away your guilt?
You both asked me how I’ve been, Good.
if I ever made it to where I wanted to go, I did.
why I left with such certainty. For me.
I got bangs just like my 6-year-old self displayed on picture day.
My clothing is not an invitation for your hands, my sister is not a prize, and my best friend is not able to consent if she is not fully conscious. Simply existing in your room doesn’t make me yours. Content warning: rape and sexual assault.
We are queens of our own, Our crowns don't show. They are hidden in our souls.
1. Being happy and sad at the same time as if that’s completely normal.
I’ll squash myself down in size
to make sure there is room for him.
I remember yearning to feel the intrinsic bond every child seems to share with grandparents, But the title “abuelos (grandparents)” did not make them any less of strangers to me. In that moment I thought, maybe, if we had more in common, that connection would instantaneously spark.
I oblige the genesis, lay the loins facedown on the grass, indulge the sun, the fruits,
his throbbing rib, all he lacks— is it all of me?
We’d rather talk about him, past, present, future- Than her trauma then, Than her invisibility now, Then her lack of justice ever.