Writing is an act of resistance
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God in Hiding
By Kayla Blau Our five-year-old fingers plucked mancala beads, wove white flower crowns, blew dandelion seed wishes. Our Barbies knew no god. Our families spoke nothing of politics. Sleepovers at hers were cardamom and allspice, steaming lamb nestled under mounds of rice, fried eggplant, labneh and cucumber. Sleepovers at mine, sustained by cardboard box…
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In Florida
By Anna Lucia Deloia a school principal confiscates the dictionary. When a student tries to look up the meaning of ontology (n.), she is informed that she doesn’t exist. In Massachusetts, the police storm a classroom to apprehend a graphic novel. They bury it in it the woods behind the station, because ideas aren’t…
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Trans Joy: A Selfie in Five Parts
gender identity, self-harm, LGBTQ rights, Dameien Nathaniel, gender assignment, transitioning, Poetry, transgender rightsBy Dameien Nathaniel 1. 2007 and I have gotten my first flip phone. We are hanging out after the after school art club, and Alyssa has just informed me that this cell phone can take photos. You just have to open it, access the camera, hold the phone at arm’s length, and do your…
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Make a Splash
By Ell Cee Artist statement As a queer person and artist, I’ve been struggling with the constant legislative attacks against the queer community echoing across America. So what’s at the heart of my piece, Make A Splash? Honestly? This is me looking into the eyes of homophobic politicians, homophobic people, and those who just sit neutrally…
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Miss Suzie Had a Baby, She Named Him Tiny Tim
organizing for change, collaboration, reproductive rights, Poetry, Laura Grace Weldon, women’s rights, pollutionBy Laura Grace Weldon Outrage drives me outside, a choice a woman can still make. I clamber close to our muddy creek collecting trash caught in fallen branches. I empty water from a Stroh’s bottle and battered jug of Cheer detergent. Pull out blue plastic bags and an honest-to-God wire hanger. Untangle a multicolored…
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2020
By Zhihua Wang 1 It’s October now, I am still listening to the song “Beautiful Springtime.” It seems the spring of 2020 never came. 2 The moon must love my daughter’s window more as it often has songs flying out of it. 3 I am in love with my bed now. Every time I…
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Suburban Survival
By Myna Chang My sleeping bag’s nestled in the drainage ditch where I used to play hide and seek. The new people living in our house don’t have any kids, so they don’t know the neighborhood’s good hiding places like I do. I see them in our kitchen. Mom’s curtains are gone. The walls…
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Come Mourn with Me
Elizabeth Birch, climate anxiety, Poetry, climate change, environmental degradation, global warming, pollutionBy Elizabeth Birch Come mourn with me. Pour your aching hearts into the endless hole we dug to house Mother Nature’s empty self. Come throw your smashed cans, stretched plastic, burnt oil, and dung on her hollow body below. Come cry for all the ifs, buts, and whys we should’ve asked ourselves decades ago…
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Shukran
By Eduardo Ramos Thank you for sharing your world and helping me connect with mine. For speaking words unfamiliar to my ears stirring memories in my tongue. Usted reacquainted me with Al-Andalus and the road across Africa to Al-Mashriq, reaffirmed that my barrio is a rich mix of cultures, where we eat arroz and…