Writing is an act of resistance
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Photograph and Essay by Nina Pak
Resistance Wears Many Faces By Nina Pak Resistance wears many faces. Sometimes it marches in the streets, a cry against injustice that refuses to be ignored. Other times it is quiet, invisible. Nothing more than a refusal to yield, a single word withheld when obedience is demanded. Victory is never guaranteed. You may rise against…
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What Did You Wish For?
climate fiction, fossil fuels, carbon footprint, repression, dystopia, Fascism, ruling elite, Fiction, climate pollution, environmental degradation, greehouse gas, Myna Chang, climate crisisBy Myna Chang Maria peered at the items locked inside Trillion Mart’s display case. The packet of birthday candles cost only $25, but the environmental tax was 300 carbits. That would put her way over her monthly carbon footprint allotment. She sighed and leaned against the cool surface of the display. She’d hoped to give…
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I visited Gaza in my sleep
By Sophia Carroll I worked in a medical tent. Do they still have medical tents? I’m not a doctor but in my dream, I could tell who we could save by touching them. Some people burned from infection. I knew we didn’t have medicine. I heard mothers scream, that sound that predates language. I hugged…
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Secret Light
resistance, transphobia, repression, Marianne Xenos, hate-based legislation, Fascism, Fiction, homophobiaBy Marianne Xenos Sylvia stood at her worktable polishing a crystal diadem with a soft flannel cloth. The handcrafted headpiece was adorned with prisms and thrift-store rhinestones. Afternoon sun slanted through the large bay windows of her makeshift studio, the dining room of her late mother’s Victorian house. Sylvia smiled, remembering her mother with a…
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I’m Not Happy, the Therapy Client Says
By Suzanne O’Connell “I’m not happy,” the therapy client says.“Tell me about it,” I say.She tells of a broken marriage,a husband, who when he does come home,is drunk and abusive.“He tells me I’m ugly,” she says,“I’m afraid all the time.”“It’s hard for me to imagine howyou could find happinessin such an unhappy situation,” I say.She…
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Don’t Talk About It
By J.L. Scott John Jacob tried to keep his eyelids from falling over his eyes, his chin resting in his left palm. The 7th-graders had to report to school at 7 a.m. now, which meant a bus pickup time of 6:15 and a wake up at 5:30. His mother grumbled about it nearly every morning,…
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Incubator
By Bethany Bruno You were twenty-fourwhen your brain went silent.No dreams.No waking. But still they kept you warmbeneath the weight of wires,your skin bathed in fluorescent blue,your breath machine-fed. Not for you.For the small, curled possibility inside.They called it life,but what they meant was labor. They turned your bodyinto a hushed roomwithout windows,without voice. A…
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The Price of Standing Still
suffragists, Votes for Women, women’s rights activists, Sallie Edwards, Victoria Woodhull, Esther Wise, Frances Gage, Lurline White, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Shirley Chisholm, Narrative nonfiction, the pedestriennes, women’s suffrage, Mademoiselle Lola, women’s rights, Bertha Von Hillern, socially constructed gender roles, May Marshall, Mabel Lee, Melissa Moschitto, Exilda La ChapelleBy Melissa Moschitto Marianne went out for a walk in a smart men’s suit of houndstooth print, so they arrested her. A woman must not look too masculine, too modern, too severe. The arrest was meant to deter us, but it only tantalized. It was 1850 and there were those of us who wanted to…
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Louder than Silence
human rights, DEI, bias, Rabia Akhtar, intersectionality, racism, Poetry, patriarchy, sexism, diversityBy Rabia Akhtar I was raised in patriarchy.Not an idea—a weight.It sat on my shoulders,pressed into my lungs.Silence was law.Obedience—oxygen. I cracked it open.Spoke when I wasn’t meant to.Walked where I wasn’t welcome.Burned their script,page by page. Crossed borders,thought the fight would end.It didn’t.It just got dressed up—new clothes, better manners. Racism at the table.Sexism…