WELCOME TO Welcome to VOLUME VIII of F WORD, a feminist collective based in Montréal, QC. Through our publication, we aim to provide a platform for the marginalized feminist voices that are underrepresented in our community. Our notion of feminism is not limited to gender politics, but rather extends to all anti-oppressive perspectives. With this intersectional framework in mind, we aim to separate ourselves from feminisms that refute such values. We want our content to reflect these goals and to be a space where people feel safe sharing their experiences. As well as being a platform for our contributors, we hope F WORD will evolve as a community resource in Montréal and stand as a meeting place of feminists. We are currently working to partner with other groups and organizations that share our anti-oppressive values and interests. If you or a group you are involved in would like to collaborate with F WORD, please e-mail us. As always, we have the greatest appreciation for all of the support that we receive from our contributors, allies, and readers. Lots of love from the collective!
F WORD seeks to explore feminism in its present-day cultural context as a unifying, anti-oppressive, intersectional force. We seek to provide an accessible community resource through inclusive, constructive multi-media content. Through our collective’s non-hierarchical structure, we aim to challenge and move away from existing systems of oppression. EXPLORE: fwordmtl.com COnnect: facebook.com/fwordmtl FOLLOW: fwordmtl.tumblr.com tweet: twitter.com/fwordmtl INSTA: instagram.com/fwordmtl CONTACT: firstname.lastname@example.org SUBMIT: fwordmtl.com/submit
Content warning: As a feminist publication, some of the content in this zine discusses traumatic experiences. Please read the table of contents and the accompanying content warnings carefully.
F WORD acknowledges that Montreal/McGill is on traditional Haudenosaunne or Kanien’kehá:ka land
BIENVENUE à Nous avons le plaisir de vous présenter le huitième publication de F WORD, un collectif fondé à Montréal. À travers nos publications, nous nous sommes donné pour mandat de fournir une plateforme aux féministes marginalisé(e) s qui sont sous-représenté(e)s dans notre communauté. Notre vision du féminisme ne se limite pas à l’aspect politique, mais s’étend plutôt à toutes les perspectives anti-oppressives. Dans ce cadre multidimensionnel, nous visons à nous dissocier des féminismes qui rejettent de telles valeurs. Nous voulons que le contenu de nos publications reflète ces objectifs et assure un espace accueillant où toute personne puisse se sentir à l’aise de partager ses expériences. En plus d’être une plateforme pour nos contributeurs et contributrices, nous espérons que F WORD évoluera en tant que communauté ressource à Montréal et pourra servir de lieu de rencontre pour les féministes. Nous tentons présentement de nous associer avec d’autres groupes ou organisations qui partagent nos valeurs et intérêts anti-oppressifs. Si vous ou un groupe dont vous faite partie souhaite collaborer avec F WORD, n’hésitez pas a nous contacter par e-mail. Comme toujours, nous apprécions énormément tout le soutien que nous recevons de nos contributeurs et contributrices, allié(e)s et lecteurs et lectrices. Nous vous envoyons plein d’amour de la part du collectif!
F WORD cherche à explorer le Féminisme dans son contexte culturel actuel, en tant que force intersectionnelle, anti-oppressive, et unifiante. Nous voulons créer une ressource communautaire accessible grâce à un contenu multimédia inclusif et constructif. Grâce à une structure non hiérarchisée au sein de notre collectif, nous désirons nous distancer des systèmes d’oppression existants. EXPLOREr: fwordmtl.com COnnecter: facebook.com/fwordmtl nous suivre: fwordmtl.tumblr.com tweet: twitter.com/fwordmtl INSTA: instagram.com/fwordmtl nous joindre: email@example.com Soumettre: fwordmtl.com/submit
Avertissement sur le contenu: En tant que publication féministe, certains éléments dans le contenu de ce magazine font référence à des évènements traumatisants. Veuillez lire la table des matières et les avertissements attentivement.
F WORD reconnaît que Montreal/McGill fait partie du territoire traditionel Haudenosaunne ou Kanien'kehá:ka.
Table of Contents After Sunset by Laura Brennan ................................................................................ 1 Hair Piece by Meaghan Storey.................................................................................. 2 Mon genre; un caméléon by Laurence Guysinger....................................................... 3 from blue, into gold by Natalie Olivares..................................................................... 4-5 My gender; a chameleon by Laurence Guysinger....................................................... 6 The tiger isn’t dead (only sleeping) by Niharika Russell ............................................ 7 RUINS by Catherine Jeffery (CW: implied self-harm) ................................................... 8 chameleon by Nahid Widaatalla................................................................................ 9 Naked at the Western Wall by Hannah Dolin Paradoxically Woman by Alicia Lapeña-Barry ........................................................... 10 Time by Alicia Lapeña-Barry .................................................................................... 11 Gran by Hannah Taylor (CW: cancer) ......................................................................... 12 Night Mode by Emily Curling ................................................................................... 13-14 Untitled by Mariah Lamont-Lennox .......................................................................... 15 phil two-three-seven by Nadine Pelaez ghost by Nadine Pelaez............................................................................................ 16 Emily Dickinson, Feminist Icon by Andrea Ivan Today by Katharine Birkness (CW: harassment) ......................................................... 17 Flora by Tallulah Lebowitz ....................................................................................... 18 The Silent War by Ally Shap (CW: body image) .......................................................... 19 Love Blood by Christina Rosché (CW: blood) ............................................................. 20 forgive your mother by Saf Jarvis............................................................................. 21 My Mother Me by Mary Thieffry ............................................................................... 22 That Girl by Kaylina Kodlick ..................................................................................... 23 Atonement by Emma Ciereszynski 2 by Maya Keshav ....................................................................................................24 Untitled by Mariah Lamont-Lennox Complexities by Alicia Lapeña-Barry ........................................................................ 25 vanishing point by Grace Gunning INSTRUCTIONS by Emma Ciereszynski (TW: sexual assault, rape culture) ................... 26 Don’t Call Me Your Daughter by Laurence Guysinger (TW: transphobia) ......................27 Front cover: Flowers by Ilichna Morasky Back cover: Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women: Phoenix by Kim Wapachee
Meet the artists
Laura Brennan is a U1 student studying Microbiology with a minor in Computer Science. She is also one of the Illustrations Editors of the McGill Daily, and a F WORD collective member.
Emma Ciereszynski is a rollercoaster. You can find her on Twitter @gothcompost, and also on Instagram @ciereszynski Hannah Dolin is a second-year student, pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Biology. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, being outside and, of course, art. She especially enjoys working with bright colors and usually gravitates towards oil pastels and acrylic paints. Grace Gunning is a U3 Classics and History student at McGill. Laurence Guysinger, Laur, they/them: After six years of Spanish and ASL, despite their French Cajun heritage, French will actually be their fourth language (if they can ever manage to pronounce prononciation). Laur writes about their experiences with intersectionality through poetry and songwriting. If you’re curious, find them @laur_guy_the_singer or in a dark corner of McLennan. Andrea Ivan: Website: andreaivan.com Instagram: andrea.littleblackdress Catherine Jeffery is a non-binary butch lesbian studying gender and sexuality at the insidiously oppressive institution of mcgill. Besides scouring the shelves of mcgill’s libraries for any radical literature (spoiler alert: it doesn’t exist), they spend time writing poetry and cooking absurdly good vegan food with their partner and their two pet hamsters. They are a walking stereotype. Maya Keshav studies linguistics and classics at McGill, and also really needs a haircut. Kaylina Kodlick: As a self-proclaimed internet sleuth & real-life Cultural Studies student, I enjoy painting, film, and secret YouTube videos of old high school acquaintances. This past winter, my first in Montreal, I spent hours and hours painting at home and during that time I finally saw myself as a real painter. Through colour, I illustrate my own whimsical perspective, often depicting my favorite things ie dogs, elephant ears, and in the case of That Girl, feminism & me. Mariah Lamont-Lennox grew up in Cabbagetown (Toronto), Canada and is currently living in Montreal. She participated in several student art exhibitions throughout high school, specializing in life drawing. She is in her second year studying Art History at McGill University. She loves interpretive dancing, astrology (she is an Aquarius in case you were wondering), and Fleetwood Mac. Alicia Lapeña-Barry is a 20-year-old queer angel, feminist, lover of cats and astrology, but most most importantly: the women in her life and friends. She is currently in her third year of undergrad at McGill University, hoping to one day help heal others and herself through the power of words. Tallulah Lebowitz studies Political Science and History at McGill, although she recognizes that this is subject to change. She comes from the Bay Area, specifically Albany, CA, where she has created the majority of her photographic body of work using primarily 35 mm film. Many of her photos deal with her friend’s playful interaction with the Northern California landscape, both
urban and natural. She is ignorantly looking forward to winter here in Montreal so she can finally build some character. Ilichna Morasky (aka Strangerfamiliar) is a Chilean born, Canadian raised illustrator with fine art pursuits. Working with mainly acrylic, wood, and brush pen drawings, she draws inspiration from the contrast of the strange and familiar and the magic that occurs when you put the two together. Currently residing in Montreal, she hopes to discover the secret to dreaming, creating, traveling, and performing for the rest of her days. Natalie Olivares is a 19-year-old activist, photographer, and blogger. Her blog, Confessions of a 21st Century Chick, is an outlet for her to share her thoughts on art, activism, beauty, and fashion for all to see. Constantly striving to be a more inclusive and understanding activist, she aims to work with more people of color and members of the LGBTQIA+ community to share their voices too! If you want to collaborate, hang at the dog park, or model, find her on Instagram at (@confessionsofa21stcenturychick). Nadine Pelaez is eighteen years old and from Vancouver, BC here at McGill in U1 Political Science and International Development. She hopes you enjoy this issue. Christina Rosché is an Environment and Development student at McGill. Originally from Washington State, she draws inspiration from the colors and shapes that are naturally present in the world around us. Her preferred medium is watercolor and her favorite color is orange. In her spare time, she runs the corporate Instagram account @freeandforsalemontreal. Niharika Russell: I work primarily in the mediums of drawing and painting. I use mostly oil paints, black and coloured inks, and watercolours. I have also been experimenting with ceramics and printmaking in order to get more involved with the physical processes of making my art. My work is narrative, and I like working with the personal and larger cultural histories of my family and self. I am very interested in the medium of illustration and the image as a means for storytelling. I take inspiration from old books and images of folktales and mythologies from different cultures, as well as the history of botanical and biological illustration. Ally Shap is a U1 majoring in English Literature from Toronto, Ontario. Meaghan Storey started writing at the age of 16. Her writing has been an evolution of self-awareness and self-love. Hannah Taylor is a photographer from Winnipeg, MB who is inspired by the kind of genuine that hits you in the gut. Her little sister is the best person on earth. Mary Thieffry is British, French and Swiss, from Geneva, Switzerland currently an Arts Undergraduate student at McGill University. Kim Wapachee is a sixteen-year-old Indigenous artist from Mistissini, Quebec. She does block printing, writing, and music. Find her on Instagram! @bidablex Nahid Widaatalla: I am a third-year student studying Anatomy and Cell Biology and International Development at McGill University. My interests include global and public health, dancing for fun, chocolate, and spending time with family and friends.
Hair Piece Iâ€™ve always had a problem with my hair The hair that bounces and springs and spirals each day Forget the hair that roots itself deeply on my body The hair that grows out of my head is wild and fierce Brush it out, and I am lost in a thick, dense fog I was told when I was little it was special It was beautiful That I should never change it Never let the clamps of a hot iron hold it in its midst But I wanted white girl hair With bangs Side bangs That was feather light and could be run through with a stroke of a brush Or the tips of fingers Not patted like a dog Or pulled on to prove its elasticity I knew it was distinct But I wanted to braid it and comb it and twist it like everyone else I knew I wanted it to be sleek and shiny and fall gently to my shoulders It wasnâ€™t until I knew different could be magic That yes, I do in fact wake up like this That only by changing my hair would people see that I shared the same face as my mother with whom I do not share the same skin As if finally freeing my hair meant accepting who I am Both parts of what make me Only then did I see that trying to keep strictly white-ish hair was not as authentic as embracing my curls Only then did I notice an extra bounce in my step Only by chopping off the weight of length Did I see it come to life
Mon genre; un caméléon Je souhaiterai être un caméléon Pour que je puisse me transformer Pour je pourrai transformer. Je ne peindrais jamais ma peau en teints de bleues ni roses. Je me refuserais à rougir Pour le peur, que dans vos yeux, Je me serais libéré de votre confusion en me piégeant dans des binaires De déception et feint. Pour si j’avais le choix dans cette instance Dans cette existence Je souhaiterai être un caméléon pour que vous me voyez telle que je suis; et si ceci n’est pas possible, pour que je sois invisible. J’aimerai que vous me voyez tel que Je suis mais ainsi ce n’est pas la réalité Dans cette réalité, D’après vos normes vous m’identifiez comme une fille… Mais qu’est-ce qu’une un fille? Dans vos yeux, Dans vos stéréotypes de genre? À quoi ressemble t-elle? Je veux exister telle que je suis, Et ceci me donne l’ennuis de disparaître dans le confusion de violet. Ainsi, j’aimerai que mon genre sait aussi fluide que l’apparence d’un caméléon. Et ainsi dans cette réalité dans laquelle on accepte la fluidité, Un caméléon n’aurai aucun genre et je pourrais exister comme moi-même.
from blue, into gold
from blue, into gold
My gender; a chameleon I wish to be a chameleon so that I can transform myself so I could transform. I would never paint my skin in colours of blues nor pinks. I would refuse myself to blush For fear, that in your eyes, I would have liberated myself from your confusion By trapping myself in binaries Of disappointment and sham. For if I could have a choice in this instance In this existence I wish to be a chameleon so that you see me as I am; and if that is not possible, so that I may disappear. I would like you to see me as I am, but this is not the reality In this reality, According to your standards you identify me as a girlâ€Ś But what is a girl? In your eyes, In your gender stereotypes? What does she look like? I want to exist as me, and this gives me the trouble of disappearing in the confusion of purple. So, I want my gender to know too, the fluidity of the appearance of a chameleon. And so in this reality in which one accepts the fluidity, A chameleon would not have a gender and I could exist as I am.
The tiger isnâ€™t dead (only sleeping)
RUINS My body is a temple I continuously destroy because I hold nothing sacred. A disconnection, a disembodiment, a growling yawn that flows through my veins, poisonous as mercury, hydrogen cyanide, lead. The patterns of toxicity that inhabit my spirit. What do you wish for at daybreak? Vision, disheartenment, infertility? The veins of our mother are exposed, infection ripping at the leftover tissue; And everyone follows suit in their own way, biting nails to the quick, smoking at dawn on the back porch, letting their eyesight decay over pints of warm coffee or melty beer. We are all in a process of destruction, inspired by our collective catastrophe; all being led on by the little white lies we tell ourselves. Fueling our small addictions of self-annihilation.
This is a photo I took at like 10 pm on a Friday night where I just layed out some of my hijabs from the plethora in my drawer and threw some pins on top. Hijab to me is something so versatile and developing that it’s not even about the fabric or the pins. It’s the fact that I can put it on and take it off everyday, but it’s still just as much a part of me when I’m not wearing it. It’s something so much deeper than changing colours or styles - it’s an internal bond with God, your Muslim sisters, and yourself. It’s not always an act of resistance and I don’t need your praise for ‘wearing it with everything that’s going on right now’
- it’s just who I am.
Naked at the Western Wall
y ll ca n xi a do m ra o Pa w
It is a curious thing; we mistake a womanâ€™s confidence for annoyance her quietness for insecurity her restraint for softness (a one dimensional being) when a man is assertive or deep and brooding or otherwise he is characterized as complex genius multifaceted â€œinterestingâ€? he can be many things in one
as a woman: I can exude sex I can exude confidence I can exude intelligence I can be anything and everything at once but it is as if I am caged, I am limited to be but one of these things as If I cannot exist outside of my relations to man or a single defining attribute that characterizes my complete being a woman is a multiplicity of things she is her own universe and entire planet
TIME healing is not linear it is a mountain with deep creeks and high summits it is a journey despite those who have tried to inhabit you you are your own territory your own land you will grow and you will sometimes plummet you will rise and you will fall but someday you will stand tall like the trees like the mountains you will be okay
phil-two-three-seven i read kant over coffee with your legs brushing mine in a 5:23am cafe on milton. we both know i'll be four thousand kilometers away in less days than i have fingers and i suppose this is the new static i feel between us when your skin touches mine. the morning light in quebec is the exact twilight blue of the night sky in b.c. and i think of all the things we can still share. maybe you'll call me when your bed feels too big and your room too small and maybe i'll call you when my vision gets blurry and black but we'll probably just talk cafes and countrysides while i miss the way you could cradle my bruised knuckles like you were familiar with the pain that brought them there. i hope the rural rain is warm and the summer brings solace in a place where the stars know no faltering against the dying of light. in another era i hear kant wrestling with reason.
i trace the outlines of your shoulder blades while your back is bleached in moonlight. i think of how they slump while you undress at the start of the night at the end of my bed. when you get quiet and your eyes grow cloudy like youâ€™re seeing straight through me and through us and through anything of any substance. right then your bones look hollow and your skin translucent and i panic because i cannot stop this fading away that starts in a place in you that has no light and tries to reach up and snuff it out of your smile. i kiss you softly and plead that that will do anything at all.
Today, a man came up to me I was on a bench, reading - my lunch break when he lumbered up, reached out his hands, and slurred: “You’re just a little baby. You’re my little baby.” I grabbed my book, and ducked under his arms. Today, a man took pictures of me I was in my car, waiting - a red light when he took out his camera, and from the sidewalk, focused on my face I turned away, rolled up my windows. When I turned back, he was beside my car.
Today, I stayed inside.
Emily Dickinson, Feminist Icon
Today, a man laughed at me same bench, same place - the park when he yelled, so I looked up caught my eye, and grinned, winked licked his lips I sat in place, and waited it out. He got bored before I did.
The Silent War Fragmented bodies of those who tore apart their minds searching for solution where Gaia found no flaw. Her image not suited to their industry, they forage for perfection, amongst the rubble. bruised and brittle slowly they uncover: Amazonian stems, anime eyes, dancers hips perky tits, members without a whole. So instead they lie delicate frames sprawled about the wasteland longing for attention craving help Starving. Unaware that when Eve â€œforgot to eatâ€? the apple she lost her head.
forgive your mother I was born out of my mother’s mouth She should have called me Voice or Mouth I spoke for the both of us She screamed at 15 so I screamed at 15 She told him she loved him no matter what No matter the objects under the pillow She chose the kitchen knife, not hers I chose the hairspray, not mine. My birth was an act in unison, a female crime of passion: where we were both accessories. Mum took out the bins and me to visit the women in makeup and heels. Our chores were the same, my mother explained but we will do it much better. I put on her perfume, bottle shaped like her body and nothing else for some pint shaped boy who would forget the corkscrew. We ended up smashing it on a concrete ledge instead. I thought my only crimes in my mother’s eyes were those we commit together and some Grey and pink Primark underwear, those were our secret possessions. Red lipstick is hard to wipe off in a hurry. Don’t you know that’s degrading? Perhaps it would have hurt more had I donned some armour, some Disguise or a smile.
My Mother Me
Atonement when she laughs the way that the late evening sun beams from her cheeks feels sacred to me, and I weep at the altar that is her whole being. I don’t think that my hands could cling any more tightly to this fervent worship of my false goddesses. this, all of this, the feeling of loving a woman, is still heaven-sent. I have found myself both whole and holy in this. Even amid your lamentations I maintain that your God made me too. I am met with furrowed brows, clenched teeth and wishes that He will forgive me but there is nothing here that could ever merit forgiveness
I love your haircut you say beaming as if you invented the compliment yourself. as if you were the one to coin the noun that attaches itself to this graceful negative space, this missing, this place where hair used to be. as if you had choreographed the tongue’s recoil from alveolar ridge the brief hum of larynx and the lower lip’s brush with teeth: love a waggle dance of articulators that looks nothing like what it carries from your mind into hers — this unwilling adoration of her face, newly framed.
COMPLEXITIES my womanhood is a strange thing it is curious and complicated it is beautiful I have seen my heart grow and I have felt it break I have loved and unloved I have hurt and been hurt I have forgiven and I have let go I feel my resilience and strength in waking up every morning despite the moments I could not leave my bed
I am thankful for being a woman I am grateful for this heart this body of mine this brain I am thankful for being a woman
and the strong one I am
vanishing point I N S T R U C T I O N S Walk home late at night, keep your eyes low to the ground, cry out when he grabs your soft jaw heave and struggle when he moves his sandpaper face and smoky lips and stained teeth close to your mouth. His body is cold but yours is warm this is as it should be. Close your ears, run,
wait until it hurts wait until youâ€™re praying bleed, but mop it up well salt does wonders for blood stains and smile for everyone, there is great comfort in knowing that only you can feel every part of your body clawing the dirt off itself.
Don’t call me your Daughter Don’t call me your daughter I haven’t been that for a while. I gave away all my dresses Swapped my lacy things for boxers and binders No amount of “she” Is going to change the truth: I will not grow out my hair again for you No matter how many times you ask I will not wear the dresses No matter how many times you beg I will always wear my binder No matter how many times you try to bury it in places across the house like the way I try to hide pictures of myselfFrom before, from myself The ones as I am, from youI will not go by she or her I will not go by the name you choseyou picked for methe name you thought I would grow to be Since you looked at my face less than an hour born, my eyes not even open Did you really think you could predict what I would see in myself 18 years later? Call me as I am See me as I am Love me as I am Or not at all You must lose me as your daughter If you wish to still have me.
Artist Statements After Sunset by Laura Brennan (In reference to the title) I wanted to point out the duality of the water at the bottom the page, I wanted the person in the drawing to look like they were sinking into the night sky. Hair Piece by Meaghan Storey A piece that has been a long time coming. Mon genre; un caméléon by Laurence Guysinger I wrote (originally in French but also translated into English with the help of my friend Logan) about how if I could live another life, I would do so as a chameleon, and how my experience with my gender is easiest explained through a chameleon The Tiger isn’t Dead, Only Sleeping by Niharika Russell The Tiger Isn't Dead, Only Sleeping is an interpretation of the role women have in fairytales and folklore. We have so many examples of girls and women who are kind and brave and powerful, who are connected with nature and their own instincts. Naked at the Western Wall by Hannah Dolin The Western Wall, located in Jerusalem, is considered the holiest site in Judaism and is, as such, a modest place. Modesty entails segregated prayer for men and women. Modest dress also dictates that women cover their shoulders and knees. This summer a 23-year-old woman (who was later alleged to be mentally-ill) stripped naked at the wall, causing a commotion that would quickly cause her to be detained by Israeli authorities. This triggered anger within religious and secular communities. Major news publications were quick to condemn her actions. My piece, titled “Naked at The Western Wall” aims not to condone or denounce this event but
rather to challenge the viewer to think about their ideas of modesty in relation to religion and femininity. This piece is not a call for society to reject clothing. Rather, the nude in this piece symbolizes subversion of social graces and a rejection of modest ideals (whether or not the 23-year old woman’s actions were meant as such). If this piece angers you, ask yourself “Why?” What values do you hold that make the woman’s actions and this piece defamatory? How do they relate to your notions of modesty and social expectations? Are these notions in accordance with your feminist ideals? Gran by Hannah Taylor Throughout my entire life, my Nana has been an incredible combination of resilient and nurturing and fierce. I've had the amazing privilege of benefitting from her unwavering love and devotion, her dark Irish wit, and her ever-working, ever-giving soul since I can remember. When life handed her a double mastectomy, she handled it with the same no nonsense humour and concern for others that we all knew she would; she knitted herself a new pair of knockers and got back to taking care of her neighbours and her friends. And of course, us. phil two-three-seven and ghost by Nadine Pelaez These two poems are about my girlfriend who I love so much it scares me. One is about the fear of losing her to distance when I was about to fly thousands of kilometers away for four months. The other is about the fear of losing her to herself when she was right by my side.
Artist Statements Emily Dickinson, Feminist Icon by Andrea Ivan This image is part of a series of a Feminist icon series. Emily Dickinson wrote her poetry in private and was considered an eccentric. Her work was only published after her death. Today by Katharine Birkness A poem about my summer. Flora by Tallulah Lebowitz This photo was taken at the Women's March after Donald Trump officially took the Presidency. This is a father with his daughter. Love Blood by Christina Rosché Love blood - is about trying to de-stigmatize and almost desensitize people to period blood. I feel like it is thought of as really gross and taboo - but it can also be very beautiful. My Mother Me by Mary Thieffry Drawing of a women breast feeding her child. That Girl by Kaylina Kodlick Inspired by les Fauves, 'That Girl' is an honest self-portrait (acrylic on canvas) illustrating me in my element. I'm a modern girl from a small island who loves her blue jacket and can paint just like those wild beasts. Atonement by Emma Ciereszynski god loves his children 2 by Maya Keshav This is a poem about admiring someone’s new haircut! Time, Paradoxically Woman, and Complexities by Alicia Lapeña-Barry As a young woman, I have often struggled with understanding myself and prioritizing my well-being. Speaking with friends and loved ones, I know this is not a singular feeling. It has been hard to
communicate what I have felt and experienced growing into the person I am today. Having experienced a sexual assault as my first ever sexual experience, having gone through a tumultuous and emotionally abusive relationship as my first ever, life has been at times, challenging. Being a woman is challenging. Loving myself in times where I felt no one else did was difficult, but essential. Is it through writing where I have begun to understand myself better than before and where I first began to feel strength. In writing these poems, (three of which I have submitted-separately), I have contributed to practices of healing, growth and self-love. Most of the inspiration for my writing comes from the presence of women and love in my life. It is through processes of art and collaboration (words by me, poetry by fellow artist friend and healer) where I will continue to love myself, love others and heal. INSTRUCTIONS by Emma Ciereszynski instructions to myself after one particular late night on St. Laurent Don’t call me your daughter by Laurence Guysinger I wrote this as an un-mailed letter to my mother before coming out to her with my queer and non-binary identity. While I am still working on my pronouns and such with her, she and I are looking forward to picking out my first suit together. Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women: Phoenix by Kim Wapachee “The Phoenix, seen through a flash of fire, ignites as it senses danger. And through a process of transformation, rises from its ashes reborn stronger.” -Francine Cunningham
Cassidy Barnes Madi Bode Maame Brako Feodora Chouakri Emma Ciereszynski Jiselle Dallaire Jacky Davidson Delali Egyima Avery Frank Gina Fung Emma Hignett Emily Hoppe Judy Huang Grace Jumbo Ariana Kaye Mahsa Khallaghi Zadeh Annika Klein Mariah Lamont-Lennox Tiffany Le ChloĂŠ Legrand Devona Lean Thea Lee Emily Levine Felycia Luo Camille Malard
Moragh McDougall Natalie Olivares Skylar Page Francesca Pastore Nadine Pelaez Gwyn Peters Celine Prell Alexis Racicot Grace Ren Maggie Roberts Isabel Robertson Christina RoschĂŠ Katie Ross Sophie Schaffer-Wood Yael Sheinfeld Arielle Shiri Audrey Shu Hannah Taylor Viv Trang Gloria Tong Anthi Tsobou Carmella Uwineza Jillian Wesselow Kirsten Wesselow Claire Williams
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Welcome to the eighth edition of F WORD. F WORD seeks to explore feminism in its present-day cultural context as a unifying, anti-oppressive...
Published on Nov 16, 2017
Welcome to the eighth edition of F WORD. F WORD seeks to explore feminism in its present-day cultural context as a unifying, anti-oppressive...