
Archive | For Mahsa, a poem for the women of Iran | by Victoria Gugenheim
It was the merest strands of hair, / On a girl adept at daylight / That were wayward signs to these infernal men.
It was the merest strands of hair, / On a girl adept at daylight / That were wayward signs to these infernal men.
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When you can’t block people’s access to food and shelter, and you can’t stop them from leaving, how can you control them?
A reminder of how very global the rise the far right is
Time to Accept Our Assingment
:D I did not choose this essay because I am often quoted in it. I chose it because it's a brilliant synthesis of complex ideas beautifully presented.
I was with my sisters dancing to the rhythms correcting the misconceptions that I am any less than a goddess of the sun, or whatever that rapper said.
Pogroms Must Not Be Tolerated
Reader-Friendly, Elegant Refutation of 'Postfeminism'
"An old woman’s lack of regular intercourse might mean that poisonous gas would build up in the womb and dissipate through bodily orifices, such as generating deadly eye beams to emanate and blind others."
My body knows the secret to clearing the ground.
Revisiting Authors' Contributions from the Archive
News
Pythia Tiamat & Special Offer Members
coalition
Cooking up collaborations!!
Fiction
People lived around the Lake at the Center of the World for thousands of years.
The Emergency
When I imagine globally cooperative, strategically coordinated feminist coalitions I do not picture that monolith, and I do not forget about the splinters or how they came to be.
The Emergency
Deep austerity and climate catastrophes can intensify :/
The Emergency
& anyone trying to outwit and outlive oppressive regimes
Poetry
that man! created from Angels mist / born to feed flowers / god passed him down to me / like shoe gone out of style
Poetry
She nearly finds what she came for, / Where flowers bloom for no man’s market. / Mostly heather speaking the women’s purple language.
coalition
We're all out here trying not be consumed
podcast
And where to get you some FiLiA tix!!
Poetry
We have leopards breathing between our thighs.
radmatfem
In their dream there is no future but collapse and war. | In our dream there is femina-futurism, there is the Hyper-Lithic, there is life and vitality.