don’t you dare call me beautiful

We are our fear and hope and courage and pain and love and doubt and anger and salty, dripping tears mixed with snot, sweat and redemption. To recognize us for who we appear to be instead of who we are actively being is to deny, in a way, the truth of who we experience ourselves to be.

s.p..a…c…..e……………… [part the first]

My birthday gathering has wound down a bit by now. The background noise from adjacent conversations is no longer shout-inducing. People have relaxed beautifully into each other despite (or perhaps because?) of the fact that they’re wearing ridiculous outfits and drinking hard apple cider on a cool Saturday September evening. I find myself standing in…

{11.4.15} (un)mask

We Wear the Mask // Paul Lawrence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and…

{28.3.15} friction

How can we talk along friction lines? Feel out the clash without crashing… and burning? This is a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. I keep on reading about feminism, about heteronormativity, the hierarchical gender binary, internalized sexism, daily microagressions. And then I have conversations about this, all gung-ho with my new knowledge, with guy…