Writing is an act of resistance
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The Heron
By Sam Rafferty Sunset was approaching when the birdwatcher kayaked deep into the swamp. She hid behind shrubs, which offered a full view of the cypress trees where several herons would soon arrive to roost for the night. The trees reminded the birdwatcher of the uncomfortable debutante balls of her youth. Their roots spread into…
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Equality: In Memoriam
By Joani Reese Five decades stunned, gone mute with disbelief.Fixed rules destroyed; religion bares its teeth.Six judges’ force unwanted, fetal crownsthrough pro tempore vaginas, MAGA-owned.Five men conspired to sully settled law,one last false flag claimed Roe too hot to touchclaimed lawful norms were stone, inviolate.Judge Amy lied, fired Roe v. down to ash. New words…
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Worry
By Malavika Rajesh Many people agree that pursuing a family hobby is important in the age of disconnectedness. Other families bond over a puzzle that refuses to be solved or a kitchen garden waiting to be sown. Mine worries. We do it together, instinctively, like breathing. We connect over frantic phone calls, contingency plans that…
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Gathering
(written the day after the 2024 election) We woke at 2am to a world on fire. In dark times, I am driven to gather hidden light. After the shock,I wove a basket from tearsand texts “I love you” and “are you ok?”and gritand tatters of faith. I lined the basket with a nest for hope,one…
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Welcome to Writers Resist the 2025 Summer of Resistance Issue
Wouldn’t it be dandy if this season were a 21st century version of the Summer of Love, but more inclined toward the civil rights movement? An uprising of all ages—of every identity!—leading a powerful return to our generations-long quest for liberty and justice for all; for diversity, equity and inclusion; for a moral commitment to…
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Work Trip
By Alyssa Curcio Crisply folded sheets,strange faces—the warm bite of Cognacagainst my teeth at the hotel bar—I must admit,it is all rather romantic.I’ve been sent to California(the client needs us!)and I’ve left my life,excuse me, my wife,at home. I might just understand,as I kiss a cigaretteon the balcony of my hotel room,why The Men fought…
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Manure
By Robert Delilah That morning, something jammed the automatic sweeper. Every hour—on the hour—the sweeper pushed the cowshit that matriculated from the pens above to the waiting troughs just beneath the barn floor. Thanks to the sweeper, the sludge would be shunted off into the pit-like tank beneath it all, instead of rising through the…
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The Neighbor’s Goldfish
By Ashley Dryden I saw her today, the next-door neighbor’s goldfish. They keep her in a shabby, old pond in their backyard where the lawn meets the patio. I watch her swim around the lily pads from my second-floor bedroom window, every splash of her tail makes ripples along the surface of the water. The…

