Writing is an act of resistance
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Welcome to Writers Resist, the June 2023 Issue
Summer’s upon us, and wild flowers have painted California’s landscapes brilliant. The flowers’ seeds can lie dormant for decades, emerging only when their soil is disturbed. While the works in this issue have been inspired by seemingly countless disturbances confronting us today, may the poppies inspire hope and action. In the meantime, we’re delighted to…
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Two Poems
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The Rise of a Martyr
By Bänoo Zan For Nika Shakarami 1 At your memorial 2 the Luri 3 song echoed on speakers: “Mother, mother, it’s time for war . . .” 4 Today would have been your birthday Forty days before on the streets of Tehran dead girl—living God— burning your hijab— darkness on fire— your Derafsh-e Kavian…
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The Revolution Is Wherever We Are
By Andrea Dulanto I. Yes, I wore the thrift store T-shirts, the torn fishnets, but I was no riot grrrl. I was already in my twenties when I read about riot grrrls in Newsweek, too old to write manifestoes on my body. No, it was more like I was too afraid of music that gets…
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Birthday Wishes
By Phoenix Ning Sixteen-year-old person of color desires escape from this inferno where dark-skinned individuals burn, and alabaster spectators cheer from the sidelines, popping confetti guns and feeding oil to ancient flames while claiming to be long-awaited saviors. Eighteen-year-old student desires world history classes with curriculums that celebrate African kingdoms, Indigenous empires, and South…
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(Judges 19) Remembering the Concubine
By Emma Goldman-Sherman After being done to by the pack of men after she collapsed at the threshold of the old man’s shack after her master discovered her there unresponsive he cut her up with his sharpened axe not for nothing, not for hate, to get everyone’s attention crying the way men cry when…
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Hi
By Rachel Rodman “I’m just saying. I’m a nice guy. I just want to say HI. And you’re going to accept this greeting whether you fucking like it or not.” —Elon James White, from a now deleted Twitter account “Hi,” he demanded. He waited, while everyone watched; he waited with a smile, because…
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Where My Family Is From
By Howie Good Artist’s statement: My family originated in Eastern Europe. Any member who did not emigrate prior to the rise of the Nazism—my maternal grandmother’s parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins—were exterminated in the death camps during World War II. No record of exactly what befell them or where was ever discovered, despite…
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Yet Another Poem About Trees
By Larry Needham “Ah, what an age it is When to speak of trees is almost a crime For it is a kind of silence about injustice!” —Bertolt Brecht, “To Posterity” Before the jar the anecdote and Tennessee, wilderness. Forests primeval, grim and awful— extravagant as first growth imaginings. The Dark Ages. Then dominion…