stark raving and bat shit smeared I care nothing for anything that does not rejoice in my sister’s curves that does not dissolve in the plaited luxury of her voice that refuses to surrender to a body of knowledge more profound than Challenger Deep “she must be mad” only scratches the surface of 30 days … Continue reading she must be mad – Tamara Fricke
feminism the oxygen I inhale gratefully often desperately in a world where rapists’ reputations and futures are held in higher regard greater importance than the legacy of trauma that has been inflicted on girls on women against their will where old white men declare balls of dividing cells have more rights than living breathing women … Continue reading Feminists Don’t Wear Pink and other lies – Christine E. Ray
two women changed a car battery and a man had to supervise lest they blew a whole through reality and let sulfuric acid corrode the very chains that bind us ignorant to the fires that are decimating our lungs, that man held fast to his crop speculating on futures where a black woman with beaded … Continue reading Feminists Don’t Wear Pink (and Other Lies) – Tamara Fricke
I like the rain and the way mud slides between unshod toes. The smell of gasoline makes me smile and deserts bore me tearless. I know the weight of each breast and precisely how to please myself. Chocolate hangs on my last sweet-tooth and Sahara-dry red wine is my Achilles' heel. I don’t like hugging … Continue reading What We’re Told Not To Talk About – Tamara Fricke
On the surface it’s hard to tell that my loathing isn’t personal it’s a pervasive all consuming beast hell bent on shredding every ounce of inhumanity determined to compost all lies and ready to food process all oppression into convenient lozenges you can suck on to remind you that this shrill, loud woman will personally … Continue reading Shrill Notes From A Loud Woman – Tamara Fricke
Side eyes as I slide by, my perfume thick and heady, like my thighs-I am expected to disguise the perfect of creation. But they don't get it yet, you see…to them the glory of the mystery is lost in the trees, and I am the forest, the goddess, the moon, and so are they; but … Continue reading Shrill: Notes from a loud woman – Susan M. Conway
Brave & Reckless 