RAGE Zine Volume 1

RAGE

ABOUT RAGE

RAGE is a new global multidisciplinary feminist digital and print zine and platform for expressing feminist rage as a tool for creative change and action.

We are an inclusive and non-profit feminist platform for expression – one where rage can be set free with vulnerability and dignity. Our zine publishes bold and experimental feminist content (writing, art, & more) primarily in English, with an emphasis on multidisciplinarity, harnessing rage as the powerful source of creativity it can be. We also host launch events, workshops and talks seeking to provide a space for voices that are usually unheard.

The project is led by the RAGE Collective, a group of young feminist artists, creatives, writers, academics and activists based around the world but headquartered in Copenhagen, Denmark.

FONT

NewEdge 666 by

Charlotte Rohde

DESIGN & VISUAL IDENTITY

Julie Savery

PRINTED BY Eks-Skolens Grafisk Design & Tryk

IG: @ragezine Substack: @ragezine

EDITOR’S NOTE

JUNE 2024

In this very first volume of RAGE Zine, we have collected works from a group of 30 artists, writers and activists from almost 20 different countries in a collaborative exploration of feminist rage from a diversity of perspectives through multiple art forms. Featuring poems, paintings, articles, illustrations, collages, photography, film stills, and more, the zine seeks to showcase the many faces and manifestations of rage in a feminist context.

From Izzy and Nicola’s humorous but subtly violent piece about the sexual politics of swimming pools, to Alexandra’s exploration of the historical context of abortion through the art of collage – this volume brings together a mosaic of rage’s many expressions, each piece demonstrating how feminist rage is felt in all spheres of our lives, and how we can creatively do justice to the profound value of this complex emotional state.

As some of the works in the zine address, we are currently faced with consistent global backlash against rights of all kinds, and multiple violent conflicts happening before our eyes – all largely affecting and harming those most marginalised. While we are struggling to find the words to address the horrors of the war in Gaza and the inaction of global decision-makers, we stand in solidarity with the widespread outrage and enragement, and encourage creatives who feel unheard in their rage about Palestine to share their work so we can platform it. There is much to rage about. And this rage is a necessity for change, for rallying our collective power; fuelling the flames of this project.

People of marginalised genders, particularly those facing intersecting factors of oppression, are rarely socially sanctioned to exhibit rage in the spaces they occupy; their rage is labelled as too inappropriate, too loud, too assertive, and they are often told that they are too young, too inexperienced, too emotional. Just too. We want to counter this narrative by providing a space for voices that are usually unheard, for art that usually remains unseen, for words usually unwritten and unpublished. A space to provoke, a platform for experimentation and release.

The use of art as activism is a longstanding feminist tradition, of using creation as a form of resistance – and as Soraya Chemaly writes in Rage Becomes Her, anger itself is ‘an act of radical imagination’. This zine is a vulnerable space, with room to express the full scope of our rage, including the pain, sadness, and other raw emotions that accompany, complete, or precede it. A space for us to examine our feelings through a feminist lens, to be silly or serious about our rage – to slide across the spectrum of emotions with dignity.

We are not advocating for the aestheticisation of rage, or for the palatable transformation of rage into consumable artistic or literary products. Instead, we want to encourage channelling and harnessing rage as a force for creativity which can, in turn, transform the world around us. A form of catharsis, of releasing strong emotions through a particular medium, to understand and communicate them.

We hope that RAGE Zine can be an antidote to the systematic repression of our rage. love & rage, The RAGE Collective

by Renate Adriaansens

ugh, I’m mad again for no reason by Mika Zurim

by Zainab Hussein

The Red Lie of Rage / Des Wütens Rote Lüge by Anika Krbetschek

ON RAGE by Ada Günther

Oktoberfest by Isabel Rudek

R A G E RESEARCH

Roselil Aalund, Psychology Editor

Dearest reader,

Welcome to a real rage experience, a unique research project seeking to explore the phenomenon of rage from a free phenomenological point of view.1 Rage Research is based on interviews conducted by me, a young psychologist eager to explore and understand rage. I’ve interviewed a group of RAGE Zine’s editors with great pleasure, and what a tremendous inspiration it was too.

The humble questions presented to the editors were: ‘What does rage mean to you?’, and ‘How do you experience rage?’ These questions were meant as an open invitation to reflect upon rage and allow the interviewees to freely make associations with the phenomenon rage. Below, I present my thoughts and subjective findings inspired by the interviews, recurring themes, unique observations, common emotions, and distinctive experiences.

This project can be perceived as ongoing research investigating rage, starting in this first volume of the zine, because rage must be perceived as an inexhaustible phenomenon. I do not seek to define rage, but to explore the many facets of this phenomenon. Conducting interviews, listening, and exploring different people’s experiences of rage, has allowed me to present this first edition of Rage Research.

With this edition, I invite you to be curious about your own rage, maybe even reflect on the questions yourself. Some of the findings might speak to you, some might not. This is what the research is all about. And who knows, maybe you’ll be the next participant in Rage Research?

1 Phenomenology is the exploration of the phenomena of the world, such as rage. It is an open discovery of a phenomewnon from different perspectives, well-knowing that we cannot possibly exhaust and finish the examination of a phenomenon. There will always be other sides to discover. However, the different perspectives and discoveries do lead us closer to understanding the world we live in. With this philosophy and method we seek free associations and descriptions to get as close to the actual phenomenon as possible. It is a subtle boat trip, floating with the current without a firm destination.

TO WONDER

Posing more questions than presenting facts is, to me, a sign of successful research, in contrast to most scientific research standards. I don’t strive to categorize the world, but I wish to create room for you and make us reflect upon and explore this together. I consider these reflections, wonders, and questions to be my most valued findings and the results successful, if you find yourself wondering about rage.

Feeling or experiencing rage can be perceived as an invitation to become aware of something and to express it. When feeling rage, one can understand this emotion as a point of attention and a space-creator, bringing our attention towards something and wonder: why do I feel rage right now? Feelings and emotions deserve to be expressed, and we deserve to feel and express them. Rage can be understood as a reaction to something. You can gently let this invitation be your red-hot thread throughout this whole zine, as we explore the different things that can make us rage.

Welcome to your rage room.

WHEN DO WE FEEL RAGE?

Exploring rage also means exploring what can provoke rage to appear in us. The interviews painted an interesting picture of what brings us to rage. Feeling bored or confused were themes which could lead to rage. More commonly, the feeling of the world or people being unjust, unfair, or feeling helpless could provoke rage. Not being seen or feeling unheard can create such anger in us. When I don’t have the space to express myself, I burn, I rage. And so, the room to rage becomes an opportunity here, throughout this zine.

Another rather important perspective is found in rage as a defense mechanism. Rage as a mask, a reaction to something, when, in reality, you feel sad, maybe overwhelmingly sad. “I was wronged”, “the world is wrong”. And maybe rage can be understood in relation to sadness, as a reaction with which comes tears and sadness. This leads me back to the rage that I don’t feel room to express, and wondering how one can express one’s rage.

Whether you and rage meet often or not, I invite you to be curious about who rage is, and how this reaction can create meaning for you.

THE STAGES OF RAGE

An interesting perspective was presented to me in the interviews: perceiving rage in different stages, where the initial stage is more raw, destructive, and unproductive – a fiery reaction of anger, rage as blinding. You are feeling it all, with all your bodily being. This stage is followed by what I would call the stage of action. Rage becomes manageable, and with this a motivation is often raised, an urge to create, rebel, act – transforming rage into a constructive reaction. I do not understand these stages as linear, but rather stages to swing back and forth between. However, this presents us with a diverse understanding of rage, and rage as a dynamic phenomenon to dive into.

THE BODY OF RAGE

During the rage research, so many descriptive words appeared to the participants in the interviews, leaving me with a strong bodily experience of rage. The world of rage is to be perceived through our bodies to outline the initial experience of rage.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

Who has the right to rage? Are some people more entitled to rage than others?

Is there a right and a wrong way to express rage? And if so, what are they? Are we disguising our rage in culturally acceptable forms by creating angry art, just like in this zine?

I would love to hear from you if any thoughts, feelings, comments, or anything else came up during your reading of Rage Research. Please don’t hesitate to DM @ragezine with the heading Rage Research.

zinnia,

Annika Hyeonjin Julien pink

like being cursed with budding breasts, while yours full pink like braiding, our roots growing intertwined pink like a tight, aching braid pink like little pricks pink

like our pinks unbearably alike pink

our pink chemical kiss our silent, firm goodbye. i don't want to want to think dead pink i tried to bury it but i planted the seed in spring, i tried to pull it up but the root keeps piercing farther and deeper

Rage is stored in the teeth

Zélie Lézin, General Editor

EXPERIMENTS IN RAGE

Gabby Koumis

Experiment 1

Rage in and from the domestic space. My neighbours drilling for 3 weeks straight, me screaming at the top of my lungs out of frustration while I work from my home office. No one is home to hear me. When my girlfriend returns, she stops me knocking (passive) aggressively on the wall.

Experiment 2

My other neighbour installs a new fence between us and leaves the old one on our balcony. Like we are their fucking personal bin service. It pisses me off so much, I pick it up and… balance it back on the fence, willing the wind to blow it into their garden. The wind blows it back to us. I take it downstairs, put it into a bin bag, before deciding NO. I SHAN’T. Hot and swearing, I leave it on the balcony for another week, traipsing pieces of old fence in and out of the flat. When I eventually take it down again and bundle it into the bin, the council refuses to take it.

It’s still sitting by our front shed. I pass it every morning before work, a reminder of my lost rage.

Experiment 3

Don’t get me started on my housemate. The way she’s oblivious to mess. The way she picks out individual spoons or cups or frying pans from the pile by the sink and only puts hers in the dishwasher. Like we don’t live in a shared space. Like I don’t clean up after her. Like packing up a teaspoon will kill you.

I instil a cleaning rota to “open up the conversation” and tell my girlfriend that actually she should be raising this as the flatmate is her friend. Like it’s not an excuse because I don’t know how to express this rage. I am pleased with the rota and proud when I tell her once to clean up her shit.

Experiment 4

When I think of the man who sexually assaulted me at eighteen, I want to cry, but I don’t.

Experiment 5

My therapist told me one of her clients beats up their teddy when they are angry. She is trying to give me practical examples of how I might express rage.

But I don’t even own a teddy at this point. I buy one a few weeks later after a childhood memory bubbles up. My dad taking me and my brother to Hamley’sthe greatest toy shop in the world - and telling us that we could have one thing. My brother taking the opportunity with glee, while I tell my dad “it's ok”. Eight and anxious about his bank balance. Eight and prioritising everyone else’s needs and desires. Eight and already programmed by the patriarchy to accommodate. I’m praised for my selfless-ness.

So last year, I went to Hamley’s and bought myself the most overpriced, branded teddy I could find. She’s a huge fuck you and a symbol of my healing inner child. So no, I can’t beat Fred up.

Experiment 6

Other examples my therapist gives include buying old plates from a charity shop and smashing them into a box in the garden. A very neat and British kind of rage. I have not tried this one yet.

Experiment 7

But I have tried punching my bed and screaming into the pillow. Something angers me while I’m lying in bed next to my girlfriend. We’re putting the world to rights and I need to let the frustration out. It feels good to be aggressive. It feels good to use my voice. She looks bewildered. We laugh. I am pleased.

A week later, I speak with my manager. He asks me if I was ok after the training and that its clear to him the incident has not been resolved. I do not expect him to see me, and I burst into tears.

The body keeps the score.

A few weeks ago, I do ‘psychological safety training’ at work. The noise in my head is so loud I can hardly hear what the trainer is saying. I cannot stop thinking about a homophobic incident a few months ago. I do not feel safe here. I want to scream… or run. I grab a colleague to express but she bulldozes me with her feelings. The next day, I am violently sick. My manager suspects I have taken a mental health day and asks to chat, but my head is stuck in the toilet. I fly to Poland two days later for a solo trip and have a panic attack on the first night. I can’t work out why.

Experiment 8

Experiment 9

In therapy, I’ve been trying to acquaint myself with my emotions. Rage as protective, boundaries being crossed. I speak to my therapist about how my inner child’s response to a threat is silence. Any discussion about fight, flight or freeze makes me think of that night, and the freeze that I wish I fought. We talk about dialects, about psychological and physical safety, about being angry at the wrong person (myself). I am fragile for the next few days.

Experiment 10

A man on the morning commute is high as a kite and chewing my ear off. I take my headphones out each time and politely answer his nonsense. Someone from a distance tells him to shut the fuck up. I wish I had done the same. It is both true that I could be better at asserting boundaries, and that sometimes people pleasing is about physical safety. Dialectics. The mental gymnastics of being a woman. When I turn around to leave the tube, I fear he will touch me. Would my rage protect me?

Asphalt Sociopath

Tuesday, Oct 25, 2022 ca. 21.00 in Rema1000 on Pakkerivej 19, 2500 Valby Iskra Dinkova

Spill Risalamande on the ground, that’s a hate-crime.

Call me a “stupid fucking monkey”, that’s just fine.

Anger and violence, at the end of the line.

Queue of the silent, complicit in his crime.

Brown bag boy –avert your eyes.

Establishment and institutions –ignore my cries.

Camera footage? Access denied.

Social laws –what we abide.

“If you don’t like it, go back to your own country” on top of everyone’s mind.

Right: UntitledStine

Vestergaard

but my mouth is never open and you will never know; you love my calm aura and you paint me in cute cupcake ambition and pastel colours.

the in-betweens (after rage)

Laura Griss, Poetry Editor

First, an earthquakemy hands are shaking and my stomach is aching and my heart is breaking and the world is falling apart

Then, there is the wave(I cannot master it) Suddenly, it is S

I clamp my hands over my ears but the roaring is in my head & my knees connect with the ground and my body screams until I blissfully melt into the water that I was meant to be

Meant to be? Who taught me I was meant to be water?

There was a wildfire (the hungriest) and all that’s left to do is sift through the ashes in hopes of finding you.

In my purse, I carry a butter knife In case I need to make myself more digestible for you.

Gaze wanders over these hills that rise like melodies from my lips from my hips that wrap you up in hopeful spring breeze.

I am soft(ness), the blush on my cheeks, smiles without teeth, mother-of pearl tears (paralyzed with fear)

Rage hates me And I am afraid of hate Rage hates everything But I need everyone to love me.

Forgive me?

JANIE APPLESEED’S ABORTION GARDENS BOOK

Alexandra Jamieson

This collage project is a thought-provoking and visually striking altered book that delves into the history and complexities of abortion. Inspired by the need to explore the multifaceted narratives surrounding reproductive rights, the book takes readers on a journey imagining an anonymous woman known as “Janie Appleseed” who walks across the North American 40th Parallel planting secret gardens in byways, graveyards, and deserted fields. The premise centers around the idea of intertwining historical knowledge with contemporary discourse, challenging readers to confront the nuances of this contentious topic.

The creative process of “Abortion Gardens” is a meticulous blend of art and research. The author meticulously sourced vintage papers, images, and documents from various periods to provide an authentic glimpse into the past attitudes and perceptions surrounding abortion.

Through the art of collage, these materials were combined to construct visually captivating pages that immerse readers in the evocative history of reproductive choices. Additionally, the book features interactive elements, such as flaps that ingeniously conceal real seeds from abortion-inducing plants like American Pennyroyal, Mugwort, and Safflower. This innovative approach to storytelling further encourages readers to engage with the book, fostering a profound connection to the subject matter and promoting empathy and understanding.

“Abortion Gardens” emerged as an exploration of abortion’s historical context, weaving together herbalism, feminism, and guerilla gardening. By employing the medium of altered books and interactive elements like Google Maps, the book transcends traditional narratives, making it an essential read for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the complexities surrounding reproductive rights and the deeply-rooted history of human choices.

Category: Girl, by age and expectation

Editor, & Mika Zurim

Corey Ruzicano, Community + Education

Reality

Girl, 29 picks at cuticles watches The Boss take credit publicly, brazenly for her own year’s work

Girl, 29 creases brow trench-deep above the bridge of her nose

Girl, 29 is told not to “flail” is told to be grateful is told to step up is told to smile

Girl, 29 swallows muddy thick

Girl, 29 smiles tight corners mouth pressed molars grit

Girl, 29 Nods

Girl, 29 draws breath to speak begins the rust of an unused voice clears throat begins again

“thank you.”

Girl, 29 exits eyes down

Fantasy

Girl, 29 watches her boss take credit publicly, brazenly for her own year’s work

Girl, 29 rises with the singularity and reverence of a mountain Silence enters the room, settling like fog

Girl, 29 and her boss join eyes level met and unwavering

a long electric exchange & then

Girl, 29 Flips conference table With the resplendent audacity

Of a cobra striking

a building storm of school and secretarial and nurse materials begins inky lettering--figures, equations, rules, expectations, limitations, chastisements, commandments--bleed from within the room, in from under the door their distorted blur joining jaggedly the gathering wind tunnel the air full and alive a tornado there, inside swirling, incandescent

Girl, 29 does not smile.

Girl, 29 raises her hands slowly conducting this Symphony of Rage a cacophony: all cymbal and gland, raven calls and guttural roaring, the screeching of metal on metal, the sound of some great tall tower plummeting, shattering, shucking, shells spilling out over the room.

Girl, 29 lowers her hands. a heavy quiet. weather receding. earth still steaming

Time like it does more than we’d like speeds up to stand still. the world is different.

Girl, 29 turns the knob & walks out into it.

Girl, 13 walks into room steadfast and frustrated by the situation alert; she does not let herself be comforted by familiarity

Girl, 13 sits down arms crossed; boundaries set yet welcoming critique Curious and naive eyes

Man, 46 spews some condescending belittling BULL SHIT meant to put Girl, 13 down

Woman, 29 horrified shocked disgusted and enraged starts screaming

Girl, 13 inspired; takes a hammer and shatters the glass walls the walls that pretend to keep What happens in the room a secret a tool for manipulation used in order to set an example and continue a cycle of endless mind fucks

Girl, 13 smashes the apple computer screen and breaks to fishless fish tank water everywhere

Man, 46 shocked disgraced jaw slightly dropped combing endlessly at beard silent out of fear

Girl, 13 & Woman, 29 hold hands leave Man, 46 all alone

a leader with no team a creator with a broken creation they walk out in rage their eyes showing no wavering and their minds feeling no regret

Girl, 13–1, Man, 46–0

Reality

Girl, 13 walks into room confronted by The Glass Office

Girl, 13 sits with a teacher she loves and a principal she worships biting and peeling her lips until she tasted the metallic flavor of blood

Man, 46 tell girl she is worthless, selfish, and only focused on her acute problems

Woman, 29 shocked disgraced jaw slightly dropped picking endlessly at cuticles silent out of fear

Girl, 13 smiles awkwardly welcomes criticism arms wide open she promises she will improve Heart pounding in her lips and ears

Girl, 13 leaves a little more broken than she came head down; defeated she nervously tells others the story laughing off the pain of it all only then does she feel angry when others get angry for her only then is she filled with rage and even with all this pent up anger That was ready to explode Girl, 13, stayed silent And the rage imploded in her

Girl, 13– 0, Man, 46–1

When

Alejandra Ugarte Bedwell

When did I become a feminist?

Was it when I was told I needed to tone it down?

Was it when I was called a slut for dancing with the cute boy from the other class?

Was it at 14, when everyone ignored the sexual remark disguised as a compliment my uncle made?

Was it when I woke up still drunk to find a used condom on the floor and a person I would have never slept with while conscious next to me?

Was it when I realized my male peers tried to prove they were smart while I had to prove I was not dumb?

Was it when I saw the desperate parents of girls and women who left their homes and never came back?

Was it when I saw my mother being pitied by her friends for not having grandchildren, as if she had failed in life?

Was it when my mother-in-law waited until we were alone to tell me her son wanted to have kids before he met me?

Was it when I witnessed my friends go through abortions that were not conducted under safe conditions?

Was it when I lied to my doctor about my reproductive choices out of fear of being judged?

Was it when I realized I did not want to sacrifice my space for others to feel comfortable?

Was it when I decided romantic love would not be the center of my life?

Was it when I got tired of comparing myself to other women?

Was it when I realized the only reason to make us compete with each other is the fear of what we can achieve together?

I don’t know when I became a feminist.

Der Weg zum Nichts

(the road to nothingness)

Ilaria Palmieri

Getting lost never seemed more perfectly timed. As the creature finds themselves in the presence of the fortune teller, they are overwhelmed by an ancient willingness to seek their deepest truth.

They follow the teller, unaware of the magical powers this interaction was going to bring out in them. And as it were, the teller, sat across the creature, drew three cards from his deck, never speaking the creature’s language, thus never providing their meaning in all their glory.

But what the creature didn’t understand in words, became clear to them regardless: the teller’s cards were showing them exactly what they had feared.

The sword of lies: a system built to favor one category of creatures, never allowing anybody else to experience the same level of freedom, quality of existence, full control over their actions. Only the illusion of it.

The hare of destiny: creatures in creatures. Forced to forever be linked with the ability to further manufacture more existence. It didn’t matter if their wisdom told them it wasn’t something they truly desired, the system had decided and the stars had cursed them.

The unwanted weapon: creatures’ outer shells were fun to decorate and adorn, something the system would disapprove of. They tried long, dark capes, but the fate of some creatures couldn’t be saved by a piece of cloth. Furthermore, the stars had decided, many eras ago, that the creatures’ shells and inside must be made of inconsolable pain – such was the agony, that the shells became growing teeth and spikes to protect itself and inflict upon others.

Most of today’s conflicts are not new, but rather the result of long-lasting tensions that have repeatedly resisted resolution. From Sudan to Gaza, the wars that feature on our breaking news are not novelties at all and have developed over decades, subject to failed peace agreements and temporary ceasefires – all of which have obviously failed. Why do these wars continue raging? For one, they have something in common: their perpetrators, who by and large are men. There is no need for numbers, data, or detailed examples to support this claim. Be it from the top of the power pyramid to the lowest ranks of the military, men across the globe are the main wagers of war – and these wars often affect women and marginalised people the most, either as direct targets or as “collateral damage”.

According to some, “considering masculinity and war may provide part of an answer” to understanding the root causes behind conflict and violence.1 Interestingly, in international aid and international relations jargon, ‘root causes’ of conflict are often attributed to factors external to human nature. From climate change to resource scarcity, we tend to blame conflicts on things rather than people (read men). But to solve the conflict, its instigators must be held to account, and we must ask ourselves why they felt compelled and supported in their war mongering in the first place. In other words, “the question addressed here is, why is it almost always men? Growing minds get the message in countless ways: to kill is manly.”2 But indeed, this only provides a partial answer. For conflicts are not only waged for individual men to prove themselves. Perhaps this is the trigger and the means – men wage war to gain power, men participate in war and join the military to adhere to common standards of manhood. But to be sustained, conflicts feed off something much larger: power and profit.

WHY DO MEN WAGE WAR - and prevent peace?

Anonymous

So the question is not only why these conflicts erupted in the first place, the answer to which goes beyond manhood and includes a good mix of colonial legacy, Western interference and territorial claims. Rather, the question should be: who benefits from these conflicts and how can we stop them? The answer is often quite simple: men in power. A few examples to illustrate. In International Crisis Group’s Ten Conflicts to Watch in 2024, all of the countries mentioned are governed by a man and all of the cross-border disputes are led by men on each side. The world’s Top Global Arms Manufacturers – some of the most obvious benefactors of conflict – are all (white) male-dominated. A survey of the world’s biggest oil and rare mineral extractors would likely lead to the same conclusion. So, both government and private interests in protracted conflicts converge in one significant commonality: manhood and its greed at the expense of others.

If some benefit, others systematically remain on the losing end of war. First, children, who not only loose family members and a sense of security, but also years of education.

1 R. Brian Ferguson, Masculinity and War, Current Anthropology, Volume 62, Number S23, February 2021, Toward an Anthropological Understanding of Masculinities, Maleness, and Violence

2 Idem.

Second, women, often left as the sole adults on the receiving end of war, as victims of torture, rape, and displacement. In particular, conflict continuously goes hand in hand with violence against women. The eastern DRC conflict that lasted decades has become known for its horrifying levels of sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV), and this remains true in 2023: “a recent report from the aid organization Doctors Without Borders found that some 90,000 women and girls had sought medical assistance after being assaulted and raped this year”.31For reference, the three eastern provinces of DRC (Ituri, North Kivu, South Kivu) make up about a third of France. Similarly, in Sudan, an alarming number of SGBV cases have been estimated by NGOs still operating in the country.

Of course, the role of women is much more complex and goes beyond being victims of men’s violence. Women can be perpetrators and collaborators (historically, see the Rwandan genocide, and the Holocaust). But, more often than not, women can serve to build a path towards peace. The issue is, they are usually side-lined and excluded from these processes, where men end up making decisions on their behalf – from the diplomatic decision-making table to the military ranks. This is part of the far larger problem of women’s exclusion from decision-making structures globally. In January 2024, there were 26 countries with women serving as Heads of State and/or Government out of the world’s 195 recognised countries – in other words, 13% of the world is ruled by women (UN Women). Meanwhile, the share of female active duty personnel in NATO member states’ militaries ranges from 20 percent to 0.3 percent in the 27 countries (2021). When governments, militaries and private companies with vested interests in conflicts are all male-dominated, it comes with little surprise that conflicts persist, and peace processes fail.

In Afghanistan, a fragile peace was relegated to a male-dominated government in partnership with a male-dominated U.S. security apparatus – and today, women are the first suffering from the failed attempt at peace in the country. In Gaza, the focus of the main conflict party (Israel) remains on eradicating Hamas in response to the hostage-taking, while the international community is largely buying into this narrative – instead of focusing on the millions of civilian deaths incurred, including the deaths of innocent women and children. In Somalia, while the (male) head of state is painting a compelling picture of a country progressing out of internal fragmentation, focus remains on a military approach and women are still kept out of the picture. Instead, women should be seen as indispensable actors in peace processes with agency to make the right choices, rather than solely victims of war: “precisely because they have also been victims of violence in armed conflict, they can help in the reconciliation process and prevent violence in the future if they are fully included in the reconstruction process.”42

While resolving conflict comes down to more than blaming men for the mess made, a lot of complex dynamics that fuel or benefit from war – from arms manufacturing and military deployment to resource extraction and illicit financial flows – are by and large controlled by men in various corners of the globe. If we include more women at the negotiating table, perhaps they will be more willing and capable to point the finger at these equally guilty perpetrators and stop the real root causes of conflict: male power, profit, and impunity. And at the end of the day, who better placed to push for peace than those most affected by war?

31VOA, December 2023.

42Charlotte Lindsey, Women Facing War: An ICRC study on the impact of armed conflict on women, October 2001

One of the reasons I love to swim is the slight element of fear: the feeling that if I give up halfway through a length there’s no real way to go but down. The need to persevere makes me focus. Through the regularity of each stroke, I let my lungs expand and I dissolve into a kind of meditation.

But all too often, I am interrupted.

I cannot remember the last time I went to the pool and did not come away feeling angered by the behaviour of the men around me – ranging from obnoxious and showboating to threatening and outright violent. I have had sly comments thrown in my direction when I don’t automatically move out of the way to let a man go first. I’ve been threatened, witnessed physical altercations and have been splashed in the face out of spite more times than I can count. No longer content with dominating life on land, the Pool Man seems set on transforming water into the newest masculinist domain.

Sunday morning. My heart drops when I hear it: the unmistakable sound of thrashing, the deafening

of two arms and two legs hitting the water at once. Butterfly. The man in the green swimming trunks convulses down the length of the pool. There are three other people in the lane, but he doesn’t care. This is his territory. I have to dodge

out of the way suddenly

as he hurls himself towards the end of the lane. I ask him to keep an eye out for others around him.

He calls me a

and splashes me as he swims away.

I share my stories with my female friends to see if I’m alone in my anger. The stories multiply. It seems as if every woman I know who swims has experienced the phenomenon of the Pool Man in one way or another. Exasperated, we have long wondered where this deep-set feeling of virile superiority comes from. After all, it’s out of place: many of the women I encounter at the pool are in their 60s or 70s and can easily outpace everyone around them, purely because they’ve been swimming every week for decades.

Yet for the Pool Man, this is an affront. Surely, he must be the best, the fastest, the strongest. Along with his towel and goggles, he brings with him an entrenched indignation that refutes the very idea that a woman could keep pace with him, let alone be faster. He pushes in front at the start of each lane. He overtakes just to prove to himself that he can. The crisis of masculinity has found a new arena, and the battle lines are red, white and

Saturday afternoon. He’s nowhere near me, but I feel his performative impatience pulse through the waters.

He builds up speed and overtakes,

darting around me in an elaborate dance of superiority.

But he’s overestimated his own strength.

He runs out of steam and slows d o w n a b r u p t l y ,

just as he glides back in front of me. His foot grazes my forehead. His dance is over. At the end of the lane, he berates me for swimming too close.

By its very nature, the pool is a strange place for gender relations. Half-naked bodies are packed tightly together, forced to share small spaces and interact – largely gesturally – with one another. Tensions run high. Yet at the same time, it’s completely desexualised. The smell of chlorine is overpowering. Each swimming cap and pair of goggles has a remarkable power to mask, to anonymise, to turn the potentially erotic into the comical.

I find myself wondering whether this contradiction is what guides the behaviour of the Pool Man. If women cannot be regarded as sexual objects, why would their presence need to be regarded at all? If the Pool Man is not swimming to impress, what are women to him if not an inconvenience?

Wednesday evening. The man in the red swimming cap is ostentatiously timing himself and pumping his fist every time he reaches the end of the lane, so we know he means business. I hear him coming up behind me, so I signal for him to overtake. The other, much faster woman in front of me is not so submissive and pushes off from the side before he catches up. He is beside himself. He p u

off with all his might, hot on her tail, and in his haste launches straight into another man swimming the opposite way. All hell breaks loose. At the sound of screaming, I swim to the side of the pool and grip on tight.

the man in the red cap shouts as he attempts to wrestle the other man into the neighbouring lane.

The woman jumps to his defence: “You need to swim less aggressively.” The man in the red cap spits at her, puts his goggles back on and swims away. I get out of the pool and go home.

Maybe the fear that keeps me swimming is a shared feeling; maybe it is what keeps tensions in the pool running so high. The phenomenon of the Pool Man could well be a manifestation of this feeling. If the choice is between fighting to stay afloat and succumbing to the depths, it is no wonder that many men will go to extreme lengths to win the fight. In these troubled tides, maybe we’re all just a bit scared of drowning.

Words by Izzy Blankfield Artwork by Nicola Stebbing

To Be One of Those...

Lorenza Pia Foglia, Science Editor

To be one of those... women in STEM, for whom the doors are open but the stairs are steep, who have been awarded a grant despite that they are women or because they are women, serving as role models or tokens for a DEI campaign.

No one ever told me I couldn’t be a good scientist and thank god for that cause it might have stopped me, I don’t know for sure but it might have, cause I felt I already struggled on day 1, I came prepared, I studied in advance, I made a comprehensive schematic on Lagrangian mechanics but I hid it cause I was asked if I was there to impress but I was there cause I had questions to ask.

A professor once told me to stay after the lecture and then went on to ask me what are you doing in my class? I honestly thought that was a trick question, he honestly thought I wouldn’t pass.

To be one of those... women in STEM, means you might have to remind them you have the same degree as them. Sometimes they forget and they ask you for advice on gifts for their wife clothes, make up, high-heeled shoes you must know something about it, you look like you do!

Women in STEM

Yes, I do! and I also look like I know why your laser beam isn’t focused, why your model is biased where the bug in your code is if you cared in the slightest.

I read a zillion articles, will you take me seriously? I’m wearing my turtleneck, will you take me seriously? I did this myself, will you take me seriously?

I ask with politeness with urgence with guilt to not ask me to fight for every single bit to not ask me to speak louder than I want to louder than you when you interrupt me.

To be one of those... women in STEM, who, as little girls, operated on their dolls, made them fly to the Moon, connected plastic straws to make pipes for their Barbie doll house.

To be one of those... women in STEM, who think it’s not worth it until another one of them tells you you inspired her and she believes she can do it and makes you feel like you can pick up the world and lift it.

(das) Wagnis

Emely

Das Selbst, das Ich, das Wesen, das etwas tut, weil es es tun will, weil es sein Wunsch ist, weil es ihr Wunsch ist, weil sie es liebt, weil sie es lernen, weil sie darin aufgehen möchte, weil sie jemanden entzücken möchte, weil sie es wichtig findet, weil sie dafür leben möchte,

wird unterdrückt,

darf es nicht wollen, ist nur zaghaft gewillt, wird gestoppt, niedergemacht, hingehalten, sie wird geschwächt, bewusst geschwächt, bewusst klein gehalten, aufgehalten, angehalten.

Wer darf es sich nehmen?

Der ewig Unterdrückende, sich Nehmende, was er wölle, ohne zu zögern, nimmt er es, reißt es an sich, aus Gewohnheit, Gewohnheit als Entschuldigung. Sie stellt sich an, sie hört nicht auf – soll sie doch aufhören, sie sollte still sein.

Sie macht sich wichtig.

Er ist wichtig.

Er entscheidet, weil er immer entschied.

Sie verrichtet, weil er sie immer verriet.

So gehört es sich: Er darf seine Schuld aufarbeiten, sie darf dabei zuschauen und applaudieren. Mehr applaudieren, klatschen darf sie!

Ist es das Wagnis der Frau? Das Leben? Muss sie es wagen? Muss sie es riskieren, um einfach nur zu leben? Keiner darf schweigen und doch wird geschwiegen.

Stark sein?

Wer ist stark?

Wie bin ich stark?

Wann ist es vorbei?

Wann höre ich mich?

Trete aus dem Schatten des furchtbaren Sprechenden, Handelnden?

(the) Venture

The self, the I, the being, that does something, because it wants to, because it’s its wish, because it is her wish, because she loves it, because she wants to learn it, to thrive on it, because she wants to delight, because she finds it important, because she wants to live for it, is being oppressed, is not allowed to want it, only tentatively willing, is stopped, put down, held back, she is being weakened, deliberately weakened, deliberately kept small, held up, held back.

Who is allowed to take it for themselves?

The eternally oppressive, taking what he wants without hesitation, he takes it, snatches it, out of habit it, habit as an excuse. She makes a fuss, she doesn’t stop – she should stop, she should be quiet.

She makes herself important. He is important. He decides because he has always decided. She performs because he has always betrayed her.

As is right and proper: He is allowed to work through his guilt, she is allowed to watch and applaud. More applause, let her clap more! Is that the woman’s venture? Life? Must she dare? Must she risk it, to simply live? No one is allowed to remain silent and yet it remains silent.

To be strong?

Who is strong?

How am I strong?

When is it over?

When do I get to hear myself? Do I step out of the shadow of the terrible speaker, doer?

UNITED in ANGER, a Tribute

vAl Rauzier

I saw the best she-minds of my generation destroyed by what they called madness

Starving (for deciding to exist beyond the limits of their gender)

Hysterical Naked

Always asked to undress but whose true nudity was too hard to handle.

Dragging themselves through the streets, under male gaze, under pouring sexist comments:

HEY SEXY, WANNA FUCK? WHY DON’T YOU ANSWER, BITCH?

Angels with rotting anger growing in their bellies And seeking, always, the securing “everything is gonna be alright.”

Seeking the strength to believe in it again, in spite of everyday’s proof that it never is (Possibly will be) unless you keep your mouth TIGHTLY SHUT

Possibly thighs wide open.

I saw them one day refuse the blindfold. I saw them

ask for the rights that had once been gained but seldom respected

I saw the BACKLASH And back lashes

I saw them bump into the patriarchal walls of intolerance and violence For wanting to follow their own lines, in their own terms.

WHORE MAN-HATER STUPID BITCH DYKE STUPID PIECE OF SHIT HOLLOW HOLE OF SUBHUMANITY, I’M GONNA TEACH YOU YOUR RANK.

Who’s gonna write the lines in between?

Who’s gonna stand up and smash the barred windows of misogyny?

FREE

I hear music raising Angry new tunes meeting old ones. DIG ME OUT

You sacred rebel gurlz Cry no more bloody tears And ocean wave and breath

BREATHE

Cities sinking on the last radio with the absolute heart of the song of life And whispering Ginsberg to rioting seas.

Tokenized, yet Villanized

Julia Plum

I am a Black and queer woman. That alone speaks volumes. Acknowledging myself as a Black person, especially a Black woman, has allowed me to see, unfiltered, the daily confrontations that we (Black individuals) constantly face. Despite living in a privileged context, racism has always been present, whether subtly or overtly – both are violent. I grew up in an elite environment as the daughter of Black parents working in the financial sector: an economist father and an accountant mother. My parents defied Brazilian statistics and managed to provide me with a materially comfortable life – something that contradicts the reality of most Black Brazilians. I attended the "best" schools and occupied the "best" spaces, but never truly fit in. I always had to conform my being to what was deemed the whitest (and most acceptable) possible. I had to worry about clothing, how my hair looked, the type of music I listened to, and how I spoke; because if I didn't, I would undoubtedly face bizarre instances of subtle racism, like being scrutinized from head to toe or questioned regarding my identity and associations or even inquired regarding my parents' success – presuming it was either earned through effort and work (I don't believe in meritocracy) or through criminal activities/scams.

These constant, subtle details take a toll on us, affecting our well-being. It took me a long time to realize that my distress was not merely something pathological, congenital, or hereditary, but rather a product of my own socialization. It is also spiritual, a topic I will delve into another time.

Let me share a specific incident that haunted me for years. Through psychoanalysis, I discovered numerous unresolved traumas and conflicts buried beneath the surface, locked away in a chest a million miles out of my reach. Acknowledging that I was hurt and genuinely needed to process these situations, then heal, was of paramount importance. It's not an easy process. It's complex and requires immense strength, but has proven to be crucial over the years.

The year was 2010 or 2011. I don't recall exactly because, aside from it being a long time ago, I suppressed this memory for a considerably long period, convincing myself that it didn't affect me that much, that it was resolved. However, with time, I realized that these, along with other traumas, were deeply ingrained and evident in how I walked, breathed, gestured, and thought.

My tremendous anxiety wasn't rooted in nothingness or emptiness but rather in a series of brutality and events that no one should have to endure. It took time and money to come to terms with the fact that I was genuinely broken and in need of healing. I often questioned the narrative that my parents or other ancestors had gone through worse matters and are still "standing strong." In everyday life, they bleed too. They are exhausted, they are in pain. Yet, I used to think, "I am a Black girl, the daughter of Black peripheral parents who achieved all these material things. When I cry or complain, I know it hurts their hearts, and they say, 'Wow, I wouldn't want it to be like this,' but I've been humiliated, and look where I am now. Everything worked out. I made it. You'll make it too." At least, that's what my father told me once during my adolescence when I turned to him at home and said I couldn't stand living anymore since I hated my school and life, despised people and everything around me, including myself. He embraced me as best as he could, and I am very grateful for that, but I thought: "I will never be like them; I am not like them." And then you ask me:

"Like who, Julia?" And I answer: the white people in my school, my neighbourhood, my everyday life. I grew up in a white and elite environment where I barely knew people of other ethnicities, especially people who weren't white. I was the only Black person in a class of 50 students. Being the only person in a space and not fitting in brought me empowerment after years, but initially, it was a place of much pain, partly because I had difficulty understanding and accessing my own Blackness. Yes, I always knew I was Black, but I didn't truly understand what that would structurally entail or how having money and being dark-skinned didn't matter because I would always be the "other" of the other, as written by Grada Kilomba and Lélia González. Racism doesn't distinguish between class and gender, but it took time for me to comprehend that, although there is intersectionality, race precedes gender. After all, when I was in my mother's womb, before being marked by sexuality or class, it was already a fact that I was Black. Prior to being identified as a woman, man, or genderqueer, the phenotypic and ethnic-racial denominator already existed.

But, let's go back to the year 2010 or 2011.

In Brazilian literature class, I had a young teacher - white, slim, with tattoos and short hair. At the time, she introduced herself as our new Brazilian literature teacher, and as soon as I met her, I felt happy because, aesthetically, I was an emo (I called myself goth, enjoyed listening to Evanescence, Bauhaus and Epica, among others: that very pre-adolescent Gen Z vibe derived from the internet), but I'll admit I was just an emo all around. Anyway, her style caught my attention. It was different from what I was used to, and right away, I was enchanted. With her, I continued to learn about the phases of Brazilian romanticism, different Brazilian literary genres, and so on. I was around 13 years old at the time. Around the same time, I developed a certain admiration/crush for this white authoritative figure. I went to a store that sold punk rock culture items (she claimed to have been active in the underground/punk scene in Rio) and bought a Bad Religion band T-shirt, which I had discovered through Guitar Hero, in their 1994 song "Infected" (I loved video games and backgammon.)

Anyway, I eventually gave her that goddamn T-shirt, and she was very happy. She thanked me, not just with words but also with a book by a Brazilian author named Álvares de Azevedo, entitled "Noite na Taverna" which is considered a classic in Brazilian romantic and gothic literature. Skipping further because I'm tired of providing too much context, let's jump to the part that causes "real hatred," shall we.

On a 40°C day in Rio, this teacher said the following statement: "If something went missing here in the classroom, who do you think would have stolen it: Giovanna or Maria Julia?" Giovanna was a friend of mine at the time and she is white (yes, folks, she's still alive and follows me on Instagram, by the way). This question destroyed me. The shame I felt in that moment was surreal. How could an academic "professional" have such a racist and biased approach?

Nothing was done whatsoever. In that situation, I felt ashamed, lowered my head, and remained melancholic. I stayed that way, not speaking to anyone, and no one at any point asked how I was or came to discuss the incident. The room's gray color, in silence, turned achromatic while other students laughed at the teacher's question, and I felt embarrassed.

With that in mind, there have been so many other experiences, but I still care not to be overly wordy because, after all, there are few people who genuinely want to hear me out. There are few people who truly care about my body.

It's easy to label oneself as queer, anti-racist, or as a spokesperson for such causes, but when it comes to dealing with dissident bodies –who is truly present?

Another situation, believe it or not, involves the same 'teacher,' but now in the midst of 2018. We had added each other on Facebook, and she had posted something about how she wished Carioca (people from Rio) youth would listen to 'real music,' which, for her, was basically Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin, suggesting that poor people living in favelas are restricted and have no other perspective of reality. I never cared much for Pink Floyd, although I had access through my father's ancient record collection. However, Led Zeppelin is a band that I listened to quite a bit, and she talked extensively about Page and Plant. The issue is that, even after years, this woman continued to project an absurdly authoritative and racist ideology. Her white savior complex became clear when she taught literature to a certain peripheral set of youth, so she could simply assert that one musical genre is superior to another – a Western genre, absurdly enough.

Upon viewing her post, I was horrified and extremely upset. I criticized her stance, and I recall other young people (probably her own students) feeling uncomfortable with her statement. However, being students, they measured their words much more than I did –even though I was very polite, I now question why I didn't just tell her to go fuck herself.

Her post conveyed the idea that people from the favela needed a white savior to have 'good taste' – which, for her, meant listening to Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin. Essentially, she dwindled and rejected the experiences of individuals from Brazilian favelas – it was entirely ethnocentric and racist. She suggested that we, as Black people, have bad taste and don't know how to behave: that our aesthetics are poor, foolish, and need to be altered. Questioning or asserting this is absurd. What's even more absurd is the fact that, in 2018, I saw her post on Facebook arguing against it. In a cowardly manner, she said that I was in the "casagrande" and she was in the "senzala": an absurdity! "Casagrande and Senzala" is basically a classical Brazilian book about colonial relations. To say that I, an exhausted Black woman, am in the "casagrande" just because my parents could afford certain things and she couldn't, highlights the stupidity and lack of racial awareness present in Brazilian society.

To those who agree with her, I offer my sincerest “fuck off’’.

Joy

2023/11’/Fiction/Digital 35mm 4K (Stills)

Julieta Tetelbaum

Joy is a journey through the mind of a 65-year-old autistic lesbian who’s addicted to sugar and can’t stop thinking about her ex-girlfriend from her youth. She lives with her partner—a mannequin that she’s built to look like her ex. The tragicomic piece delves deep into moments of intimacy, loneliness, sexuality, joy, and the desperate longing to be loved.

Rage, Revolution and Rest

Renate Adriaansens

I moved back home for a while during the Covid-19 pandemic, which meant I was back in the conservative small town where I grew up. Although both the town and I had changed in many ways, there are always parts and people that stay the same. This became abundantly clear when I was running some errands wearing one of my favourite feminist outfits – a black shirt with the words “feminist killjoy” on the front. While peacefully roaming around the shop, the man working there came up to me and asked me out of nowhere: “Are you angry?”. I still regularly think of the great responses I wish I had given, but instead my reply came out as a confused no.

The actual answer is “Yes!”, I was angry, about a lot of things, but not all the time. Women are not supposed to show anger, especially feminists. We are supposed to bring change in a way that is nice and palatable to those in power. But change and revolution is never a smooth process and if it were easy, things would be different already. It is inherent to injustice that it makes people angry and inherent to change that there will be people that are uncomfortable. As an activist, I also recognise this anger within myself and previously used it as the source for my actions and drive for change. It was a place within myself that I could tap into to find an endless pit of energy to bring about change. And it was from this place that these words of Audre Lorde deeply resonated with me:

“everything can be used, except what is wasteful (you will need to remember this when you are accused of destruction)”

- “The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism”

It was this anger that drove me to want more, to do more, and to do it faster. But such energy is finite, and if you let it lead you, it will wreck you.

For me, this moment often came sooner than it would for others. As someone with a hidden disability and chronic fatigue, it was my body that showed me where my boundaries are, while my mind wants to keep going. My anger often turned inward: I was angry at my body for not allowing me to be a part of all the activism I could and wanted to do. But this feeling meant letting the oppressive systems win, by making me feel that, because of my disability, I wasn’t enough.

These days I am still regularly angry, probably more than I’ve ever been. Yet, I am angry in different, and perhaps more effective, ways than before. Today, my anger finds it roots in love, both for myself and for others. This love experiences anger in the face of injustice, but allows me to make space for myself and others to rest, in all the ways and forms we need it. And this rest has become a form of resistance in and of itself, not only for myself but together with the activists around me. Because it is by resting together that our actions will become more sustainable, more strategic, and more ready than ever to find new energy for a revolution.

ugh I’m mad again for no reason

Mika Zurim

my rage comes in the smallest ways my hands hurting after spending hours on a slick back bun when my makeup smudges, when i stand up too fast, when i wake up with a pimple, when i pop said pimple, when pants are too short, and i don’t fit into the same sizes i used to

and even though all of this is likely due to the fact that i’m still growing and I’m a teenage girl but feel like an adult so my brain thinks diet culture is right for me and that my acne should be gone, because adults have clear skin and that I should have everything figured out

i feel rage when i say something out of pocket or smile at the wrong time or try so hard to assimilate

i feel rage when i’m cold–Or too hot when my alarm doesn’t wake me or i don’t feel pretty even though i want to all these things make me want to smash my head into a wall; i actually have done that many times

but a man gaslighting me someone catcalling me a teacher being condescending a suicide, bullying the things that should really make me so angry none of these evoke rage in me these evoke compassion, understanding allocating the reason for someone’s anger to myself or blaming anger on life trauma (classic) which very well may be true but i guess shouldn’t fall on me

it is so easy to be an empath for situations with others

DISABILITY

Zainab Hussein

Left: I am too exhausted to be angry anymore (the pandemic isn’t over)Sophie Buck

Oh, the horror!

Accept my apologies, most genuine, heartfelt, for the immense agony of this interaction.

I sympathize with you, I do, how excruciating it must be, to witness my gruesome condition, and be forced to tolerate me.

Oh, how my break breaks for you!

To be afflicted, with breathing the same air as Iwretched creature that I am, is indeed a most exceptional feat, a most noteworthy accomplishment.

How you have endured these moments of poignant discomfort is beyond my comprehension. How will you go on, after bearing witness to this tragedy? How will you sleep through the night, without being haunted by the thought of me?

The red lie of rage

Broke all the glass in the cupboard

And let the fine haze of splinters trickle on dusty blood,

A wind of the filthy lament

If they were not standing - the young mournersit could all be so simple, everything could stay as it was

But suffering must be felt, in order to exist

Yet their scream holds purple longing and brings blue hope

The red lie of rage

Sweeps hats from heads

Takes dignity and air and space

In an attempt to tame - failing, yet mighty

Torn wounds stare at him with thousands of eyes

The Red Lie of Rage

Anika Krbetschek

Only the rager, he cannot look back,

For the rage is blind and numbs the fierce sensation

The rage's red lie

Drips down crystal clear water like miserable blood

Does not lift its gaze

Knows nothing but that one path

The red lie of rage

Shrouds their faces in black cloths

Runs its pointed fingers over silky bones

Holds bridle and bridles fat in her mouth

Eventually devours: itself

Des Wütens Rote Lüge

Des Wütens rote Lüge

Zerbrach alles Glas im Schrank

Splitterdunst auf staubiges Blut,

Ein Wind der dreckigen Klage

Wären sie nicht da - die jungen Klägerinnenes könnte alles so einfach sein, alles so bleiben wie es war

Doch muss sein Leid gefühlt sein, um zu existieren

Im Schrei birgt sich Sehnsucht in Violett und Hoffnung in Blau

Des Wütens rote Lüge

Fegt kleine Hüte von großen Köpfen

Nimmt Würde und Luft und Raum

Im Versuch des Zähmens - der scheitert, doch mächtig

Zerfleischt die Wunden starren ihn mit Tausenden an

Nur der Wüter kann nicht zurückblicken,

betäubt der starken Empfindung

Des Wütens rote Lüge

Tropft elendes Blut kristallklares Wasser

Schaut nicht nach oben

Kennt nur den einen Weg

Des Wütens rote Lüge

Hüllt ihre Gesichter in schwarze Tücher

Fährt mit spitzen Fingern über morsche Knochen

Hält Zaum und Zäume fett im Maul

Verschlingt am Ende: sich selbst

RANT ON RAGE

Ada Günther

my favourite tarot reader and psychology writer, Jessica Dore, once taught me that the evolutionary origin of anger or rage, as an emotion, was as a response to injustice, to an imminent threat to our survival. for example, if someone takes something that you need to survive, or if you are deprived of something that you cannot reasonably replace without putting yourself at risk, or if someone you rely on is threatened – you have no choice but to react. those who did not react did not survive.

now, we learn that our rage is inherently excessive and something to be held in, to be played down. that it doesn’t behoove us, that it is an ugly emotion. but there is a reason for our rage – it is something we still feel because in all the stages of humanness we went through, it served and saved us when something wrong was being done to us. so here are some times that I was angry recently.

- when the translation AI translates „i’m sorry“ into french, a language where adjectives are gendered, and automatically adds a gendered marker. „je suis désolée“, i am a sorry woman. not because AI is sexist, which it is only as much as the rest of the world, but because it has received significantly more input of women who are sorry than of men who are sorry. AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM AND THROW SOMETHING, IF WE CAN’T HAVE GENDERLESS LANGUAGE THEN WHY CAN’T WE AT LEAST HAVE AN EQUAL AMOUNT OF INPUT FOR COMMON VERBS AND WHY WAS I NOT EVEN SURPRISED THAT MEN APOLOGISING IS SUCH A RARE THING THAT IT DEFIES THE JUST AS SEXIST RULE OF MALE NEUTRALITY

- when i go to the sauna on my own and there’s two clothed men wiping the floor right in front of the door i want to go through, so i hobble around them on the wet floor mumbling „sorry“, and then i have to take off my bathrobe next to them before i can go in, and they don’t move out of the way at all and one of them is SO close to me and i can FEEL his GAZE going down my BACK and my BUTT as i’m getting NAKED and IT DOESN’T LEAVE UNTIL I’M ALL THE WAY IN THE HOT ROOM. WHEN THE SAME GUY LATER WON’T STOP STARING AND GRINNING AT ME WHILE HE’S FANNING HOT AIR AROUND AND THERE’S LIKE TEN MEN AND ONE OTHER WOMAN IN THERE BUT HE’S STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME THE WHOLE TIME AND IF I WAS WEARING MY GLASSES I WOULD FEEL EVEN MORE IMPRISONED BY HIS GAZE,,,, WHY CAN’T I JUST ENJOY THIS STUPID HOT AIR IN PEACE WHY CAN’T HE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND (NOT) LOOK AT ME, LIKE I’M JUST SOME GUY

- when i tell my parents about the creepy sauna guy afterwards as a funny story and my dad says „now, don’t exaggerate, you’re probably just reading too much into it, how can you even tell what his intention was“, and i have to SWALLOW –FROM MY OWN FATHER – AND TELL HIM THAT HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE LOOKED AT LIKE THAT AND YES, AT LEAST HE SHUTS UP AND DOESN’T ARGUE BUT NOW I KNOW THAT HIS FIRST INSTINCT WHEN I TELL HIM WHAT MEN DO TO ME IS STILL TO DEFEND WHATEVER FUCKING RANDOM STRANGER OVER HIS OWN FUCKING CHILD

- when a random old university teacher decides to let out his own queerphobia by writing an incendiary transphobic article about surgery on intersex babies and HE HAS NO AUTHORITY ON ANYTHING HE IS TALKING ABOUT, NOT MEDICALLY, NOT ETHICALLY, NOT IN ANY OTHER WAY and STILL he has the AUDACITY to say that the sex binary is REAL and he doesn’t even mention GENDER and in the same breath he CALLS INTO QUESTION THE ENTIRE TRANS COMMUNITY AND COMPARES THE ETHICS OF INTERSEX SURGERY ON BABIES TO FUCKING TONSILLECTOMIES AND THAT ISN’T EVEN THE WORST PART! THE WORST PART IS THAT THERE IS A FUCKING NEWSPAPER THAT HEARD THIS PITCH AND READ THIS SHIT AND DECIDED THAT THIS WAS GOOD AND IMPORTANT TO PUBLISH AND THERE COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD BE BETTER SUITED TO WRITE ABOUT THIS! WHY WOULD ANYONE EVER EVER EVER DECIDE TO GIVE THIS MAN EVEN MORE OF AN EGO BOOST BY LISTENING TO HIM, LET ALONE AMPLIFYING WHAT HE HAS TO SAY ABOUT HIS LEAST FAVOURITE MARGINALISED GROUP!! AND HE PROBABLY GOT FUCKING PAID FOR THIS!

- when we manage, over weeks of hard collective work, to get an article published in the same newspaper in response to this DISGRACE where we calmly explain the science behind sex markers and gender and also take the time to inform the readers of the transphobic dog-whistles he used, as well as the dangers of giving a platform to bigots masquerading as experts, and the only replies we get from them are COLD, UN-SPELL-CHECKED, UNCAPITALISED HALF-SENTENCES, like you can tell they’re gritting their teeth that they have to accept that we have something to say for ourselves, and THEY TAKE THREE WEEKS LONGER TO PUBLISH THAN WHAT THEY PROMISED, and then A WEEK AFTER OUR ARTICLE THERE’S ALREADY A RESPONSE BY THE GUY! AND HE DOESN’T GET IT AT ALL, of course! AND WE ALL HAVE TO ACCEPT THAT WE DON’T HAVE THE STRENGTH TO EVEN READ ALL OF IT LET ALONE WRITE ANOTHER WELL-WRITTEN RESPONSE, WHICH WILL JUST BOUNCE OFF HIS INFLATED SENSE OF SELF-IMPORTANCE ANYWAY, LIKE A PEA OFF OF A WATERBED!!!

- when, four months later, it turns out the same guy has been reprimanded both by the university he works at and the national centre for equal treatment for being a little too queerphobic in public, and instead of taking this to heart and changing AT LEAST how he talks about queer people IN PUBLIC DISCOURSE, he WRITES ANOTHER ARTICLE ABOUT HOW FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION IS IN DANGER AND HE WAS BLACKMAILED!!!!! BLACKMAILED!!!! and he says that he SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF BEFORE BEING ACCUSED, when all he has been given is OPPORTUNITIES to make his stance PERFECTLY CLEAR and all he does when he JUSTIFIES HIMSELF is just REPEAT HIMSELF and not try to refute the accusations at all, JUST TO MAKE HIS OWN BIGOTRY EVEN MORE OBVIOUS,,, and NO this is NOT EVEN what makes me want to SCREAM, what makes me want to SCREAM is that THIS IS ANOTHER ARTICLE THAT SOMEONE THOUGHT WOULD BE WORTH PUBLISHING AND NO ONE READ HIS REPEATED IGNORANT INSISTANCE ON HIS OWN BIASES AND THOUGHT… HMMMM MAYBE THIS SHOULDN’T BE PRINTED THOUSANDS OF TIMES AND HE SHOULD JUST KEEP THIS TO HIMSELF???? WHYYYY WOULD ANYONE WASTE INK AND MONEY AND PROBABLY NICELY WRITTEN, CAPITALISED AND SPELLCHECKED EMAILS ON THIS MAN!!!!! STOP!!!!!

- when I realise, again, for the I don’t know how many-th time, that I shouldn’t be surprised how this went. that I should know that the people running the newspapers are much more similar to this guy than they are to our non-hierarchical queer-feminist organisation. and they are much more likely to relate to him and to sympathise with him than they are to ever remember that we exist and that we are the experts of our own existences and realities. when I have to admit to myself that actually the extraordinary thing here is a) that we even managed to get organised well enough to respond instead of letting this drag us deeper into individual apocalyptic despair, and b) that they even read and published our response at all, and didn’t make any changes to the content or the tone, and c) that so far, none of us have received any death threats. AND THIS IS THE PART THAT SHOULD MAKE ME ANGRY, THAT SHOULD MAKE ALL OF US ANGRY, AND RUN INTO THE STREETS SCREAMING AND SETTING THINGS ON FIRE AND MAKING PEOPLE SCARED OF HOW MANY WE ARE AND HOW RIGHT WE ARE.

it’s that all of this BULLSHIT is happening to all of us. daily. DAILY. it’s the living, breathing, gendering, staring, creeping, minimising, hate-mongering, fraternising arms of the PATRIARCHY slowly GRINDING us DOWN. the fact that I am not alone in this does nothing but MULTIPLY MY RAGE FOR EVERY OTHER PERSON WHO HAS TO DEAL WITH THIS. most of us have learned not to notice it, not to feel it, not to get fucking ANGRY ABOUT ALL OF IT ALL THE TIME. but we have to learn not to ignore it. WE HAVE TO LET IT LIGHT US ON FIRE.

I don’t want to be angry and loud and dangerous. I want our responses to danger to be calm and sustainable and not feel like we are trying to climb up a waterfall. I want to be chill and not screaming. I want us to have rest. I WANT US TO HAVE PEACE. BUT I HAVE TO SCREAM OR THIS GRIEF AND SMALLNESS AND PAIN WILL MAKE ME SILENT. AND BEING SILENT WILL MAKE ME FORGET WHAT’S RIGHT. I WANT THEM TO BE SCARED OF US IF THEY CANNOT JUST LEAVE US BE. I WANT TO DEVELOP SUPERNATURAL STRENGTH WHEN NO ONE ELSE HAS THE STRENGTH TO SPEAK UP FOR US. I WANT OUR RAGE TO PROTECT US, TO DEFEND US, TO LIFT US OUT OF OUR POWERLESS MISERY. I WANT THIS TO BE OVER, AND I WANT THE TIME WHERE WE DON’T HAVE TO PROTECT EACH OTHER ANYMORE TO FUCKING BE THERE ALREADY.

I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO BE ANGRY ANYMORE.

Beatnik prostitute

Johanne Pi

Whenever I speak words, I do see myself as a belated member of the beatniks; surely I wouldn’t want to live then, I am not one of those fools to always speak about being born in the wrong century. Hell. If I was born any earlier I would have been killed off for being queer /or autistic /or female /or not interested in rape /or interested in words /or interested in masturbation — and not so much interested in being a child mothering another child. Or maybe my mutilation would have been done much less clean, and therefore I would die very young from an infection, long before I realized that I wasn’t meant to be alive, and maybe I would have liked it then. But I don’t like it now, and I have beautiful harsh words and a rhythm in my spitting and breathing, so I hereby declare myself af Beatnik! A catalyst for change, fanning the flames of conversation. I will host the gabfest of the century and be the head gabber at the gabfest where we blabber about lucid dreaming (...) American supermarkets (though I’ve never visited one, but I will write you the most beautiful poem about it. I can be American too for a poem). Oh and all the poems I will come to write about prostitutes, I’ve met plenty of them. Never bought one! /Never sold one! /Never been bought or sold myself. But I’ve met plenty, and I’ve read plenty a prostitute-poems; flows so beautifully on my tongue: prostitute-poems. I will write many of those.

Much

Johanne Pi

much distracting

For I had torn them apart, for I couldn’t stand them and they couldn’t stand my retching I found. For my retching is an awful sound I found. It’s awful. All gut wrenched and stuff. For I had to get this anatomy out of my system. Off of my chest, to make it out of my head. It was all too assertive you know. There was only space to hang some skin on, and breasts you know. I wanted something of value there. I have small breasts, so nothing is to weigh me down. Or occupy my mind you know. For I don’t care to have something on my chest, if not for the baby, for I still want to breastfeed, for if I wasn’t to breastfeed you know I would cut them off. For they serve nothing to me and I would love for people to stop jerking off to them, for we don’t know each other and I am wearing a big, white shirt, for I am at an art exhibition and I’m not here to be jerked off to. So it is much distracting to me, that you fail to control yourself when I’m in your presence.

Much much distracting that you’re provoked by me.

RagE MaNiFeSTo

(this manifesto is a work-in-progress, a refusal of perfection; rage is messy, unfinished, unpolished)

Nadia Razali, Founder & Editor-in-Chief

SOME DEFINITIONS?

‘violent and uncontrolled anger’ ‘an intense feeling: PASSION’

‘Manifestos do the transformative work of hoping and destroying, reflecting and violently ending things.’

- Breanne Fahs

latin origin: rabies // rabere: to be mad (literally from a deadly disease, dis-ease, uneasy, discomfort provoked. do we make you uncomfortable when we speak our mind? this is not for you)

middle english: rage (madness) archaic: INSANITY

A MANIFESTO IS A WRITTEN EMBODIMENT OF RAGE

we reject structure and limitations rage is so often boxed up and packaged into something digestible

WERE YOU EXPECTING A FORMAL MANIFESTO?

rage feels overwhelming, like threatening to drown in your own saliva; rage provokes, incites, ignites, and inflames; rage evokes outdated tropes of the angry woman – we challenge you to play with them, twist and turn them, investigate them.

silenced, diminished, controlled, regulated, censored:

Shut the fuck up. Do what’s asked of you. Bend down; bend over; just bend. Be quiet & compliant.

rage is a natural response to being systematically silenced and undermined the mechanism of repeated self-censorship for protection, assimilation, necessity where does our unexpressed rage go? the remnants of hysteria? rage is still taboo.

THIS IS A DECLARATION OF OUR COLLECTIVE RAGE: A CALL TO ACTION

fuelled by feminist fury we harness the power of rage to express ourselves, to dismantle oppressive systems, challenge societal norms, subvert, disrupt transform, re-define

RAGE AS A FORCE OF LIBERATION

RAGE

AS A CATALYST FOR CHANGE RAGE AS CONFRONTATION

ravaged by a rage we have not been allowed to externalise, we resist the repression of our emotions we refuse to apologize for our rage we unleash it in catharsis

with the power of creativity; through art, writing, activism, and imagination our weapon is our rage, and by proxy, our screams, our voice – the blade with which we do not physically maim, but still cut deep; rage is sharp, pointy, cutting we want to submerge systems & institutions in empathy for our rage. why are you more afraid of our rage than of our oppression? who is even allowed to be angry? we want to take rage by force, and pass on the mantle.

BODIES ON THE MARGINS ON THE EDGE

there’s a certain kind of monstrosity to rage – unruly & uncontainable, like marginalised bodies, it is disenfranchised & reviled our raging bodies, archives of our affective modes existing outside the framework we dare you to villainise us, for our brash expression, our lack of conformity, our disobedience it comes from deep inside our guts & reverberates through our bodies

DO NOT DILUTE OUR RAGE, OUR WORDS, OUR BODIES

our rage questions (destroys) the status quo; it is inflammatory, downright wicked.

IT’S TIME TO STOP BEING AFRAID OF RAGE

we sob and howl and cry and wail and lament because we are taught to brutally decapitate our rage – but it is an opening, a beginning, an entrance: refuse the brand of sanitised, streamlined, and neat feminism offer instead one inspired by the tenderness of rage, the sensitivity and vulnerability of our emotions and their revolutionary potential we demand and claim a feminism that is not benign,

RAGE IS SERIOUS, RAGE IS FRISKY, MISCHIEVOUS. A LITTLE NASTY

advocating for a rage that is self-aware: to embody and exist in our rage, consider it useful and radical in pure form –PUT RAGE ON THE TABLE and leave it there for longer than you want us to

emotions have always been political – give our feelings a space where they will be valued, taken seriously, imbued with potential for change: platform our voices

’for within structures defined by profit, by linear power, by institutional dehumanization, our feelings were not meant to survive. Kept around as unavoidable adjuncts or pleasant pastimes, feelings were meant to kneel to thought as we were meant to kneel to men.’ (Audre Lorde, Poetry is Not A Luxury, 1985)

express and evolve our rage so it can be fully dignified and realised as a tool for change

HOW OUTRAGEOUS

thank you to some of my favourite feminist writers & activists for paving the way: Valerie Solanas, Audre Lorde, Emma Goldman, Soraya Chemaly, Kathy Acker, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Roxane Gay and all the ones who came before, writing about their rage with vulnerability, honesty, and power.

MAY OUR RAGE CHANGE THE FUCKING WORLD

CONTRIBUTORS

Ada Günther (they/them) - @scharfepfefferoni

Ada is a theatremaker, writer, translator, linguist and activist. Their work is about queerness, subversion of the canon, social criticism and satire, as well as intimacy, emotionality and the occult. They are currently studying Transmedial Performance in Vienna.

Alejandra Ugarte Bedwell (she/her) - @ugartebedwell

Alejandra was born in Mexico City and lives and works in Copenhagen, Denmark. Obtained her MFA in Advanced Photographic Studies from the International Center of Photography-Bard College in 2010 and conducted her BFA studies in “La Esmeralda” in Mexico City. Recipient of the Mexican National Arts Fund’s Young Creators Grant on two occasions, her work has been shown internationally and is included in several collections and libraries. She has collaborated as a production designer for several film and video projects. In her free time she can be found marching in an all-female/non-binary metal marching band in festivals and events across Denmark.

Alexandra Jamieson (she/her)

- @deliciousalex

Alexandra is a third-generation self-taught artist from Portland, OR, she gets her studio dirty in Brooklyn, NYC. Her latest project includes the Abortion Trading Cards, and was the co-creator and co-star of the Oscar nominated documentary Super Size Me.

Anika Krbetschek (none/she) - @anikakrb.art

Anika is a spring-born artist, curator and author from Berlin, working with and through inner-psychic processes and their effects on perception, identity as well as their relationship to a hegemonic system of injustice. Her work is not only questioning the label “illness” but transcends the concepts of normativity and boundaries, treating them rather as a continuum of human experiences, while reflecting the role of contemporary art in addressing issues of identity, perception and social inclusion. (Written by Silvia Russo)

Annika Hyeonjin Julien (she/her)

Annika is a sweet woman full of anger. She channels what she can through various art forms, not to remedy this anger but to exercise it.

Corey Ruzicano (she/her) - @coreyruzi / @wheres_the_human

Corey is the Community + Education Editor of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here.

Emely (she/her)

*13th of May in 1990 in Germany, Cuxhaven after graduating from highschool explored Russia 10 month in Moscow and surroundings as well studied 12 month later in Augsburg, Bavaria to become a teacher: art and german, pedagogy, developmental psychology, anthropology –graduated in 2016, went to London again to teach German came to Berlin in 2018 – deepened art history and a little philosophy at FU (Freie Universität) now doing a vocational training to create my own bookshop (dream) that should include young authors/readings/discussions & educational relations establishing literature and writing/reading in schools internationally

Erica Engdahl (she/they) - @erica.engdahl

Erica is a blue haired, fat, queer, punk, chronically ill activist and maker. They make mostly political prints and zines about being a fat, queer and/or chronically ill human being in the sex, beauty and career obsessed society we live in.

Gabby Koumis (she/her)

Gabby is a recovering people pleaser, learning to find balance between suppressive tendencies from a British upbringing with her rageful Mediterranean and Middle Eastern blood. She works in Comms and organises the LGBTQ+ Cypriot diaspora in her spare time.

Ilaria Palmieri (they/them) - @sadhillonthehills

Ilaria is a 28 year old genderfluid illustrator currently finishing their degree in Communications Design. Their work is most intertwined with self discovery and a fierce desire to portray emotions with the upmost honesty. Dealing with mental health issues is at the core of the so called “sad comics” series, most of which are born from short stories and poems. Activism, queer films, botanical gardens and dark pop fuel their artwork on a daily basis.

Isabel Rudek (she/her) - @isa.rudek

Isabel completed her training as a graphic designer at the Lette Verein Berlin in 2019. Since then, in addition to her work as a designer, she has also been involved in motion design and regularly creates short films and photo collages.

Iskra Dinkova (they/them) - @iskradinkova

Iskra is a queer non-binary (they/them) conceptual artist who taps into methodologies in different disciplines, such as ethnographic research, working in the intersection of traditional techniques and modern technologies, to visualize their research findings through visual art, site-specific installations, self-illustrated and published short stories, and poetry performance and writing. Inspired by life, their surroundings, and occurrences that they observe or experience, they use poetry to process the subconscious, verbalize the intangible, address issues they burn for.

Izzy Blankfield (she/her) @izzyblankfield

Izzy is a writer and PhD student in German Literature at Columbia University in New York City. She works on contemporary representations of trauma and “unacceptable” female emotions, as well as broader themes across feminist and experimental fiction.

jane (they/them)

jane is an interdisciplinary artist, expressing themself through digital and analogue photography, writing, painting, and film. They primarily create art from personal experiences, aiming to gain a deeper understanding of themself. They seek to destigmatise mental health narratives, explore the intersection between their inner emotional experience and artistic practices, and contribute to the increasing visibility of ideas outside the normative binary. Their artistic influences include performance art, intuitive artmaking approaches, and exchanges with intergenerational artists.

Johanne Pi (she/her) - @atelier_johannepi

Johanne works in visual arts and writing where she focuses on creating from gut-feelings and associations packed with intertextuality and references to popculture, politics and word-play.

Julia Plum (she/they) - @ameixae

Julia Plum is a social scientist, writer, interdisciplinary artist, witch, foodie, and gamer in her free time.

Julieta Tetelbaum (she/her) - @julieta.tetelbaum

Julieta (Buenos Aires, Argentina) is a queer film director, cinematographer, screenwriter, and sculptor based in London. Her artistic vision revolves around themes such as gender, feminism, childhood, violence, intimacy, functional diversity, and sexuality. Tetelbaum's short films have garnered recognition worldwide, among these: "The Misfortune of Femininity" (2020), "Wake Up! It's Yesterday" (2021), "Black Chalk" (2022), and "Joy" (2023). Through her lens, she creates a platform for marginalised voices to be heard, actively confronting social norms, urging viewers to question preconceived notions and embrace a broader understanding of the human experience.

Laura Griss (she/her) - @itslawrah

Laura is the Poetry Editor of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here.

Lorenza Pia Foglia (she/her) - @loyfeuille

Lorenza is the Science Editor of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here.

Mika Zurim (she/her) - @mikazurim

Mika is a teenager currently living in Brooklyn and attending Frank SInatra High School for vocal music. Ever since a young age she has been passionate about activism, public speaking, poetry, and anything musical theatre related.

Nadia Razali (she/her) - @nadiadrazali

Nadia is the Founder + Editor-in-Chief of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here.

Nicola Stebbing (she/her) - @nicola_ks

Nicola lives in Berlin where she pursues art in her free time. She works with a variety of physical and digital media and especially enjoys creating colourful and playful pieces.

Renate Adriaansens (she/her) - @karaterenate

Renate is an intersectional feminist activist with a hidden disability. She specialises in the fields of gender equality, youth leadership, disability rights, SRHR, and peace and security; working and organising from the local, to the national, and global level. Additionally, she is a professional facilitator, moderating and hosting impactful conversations.

Roselil Aalund (she/her) - @roselilaalund

Roselil is the Psychology Editor of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here

Sophie Buck (they/them) - @BusyBeingDisabled

Sophie is an AuDHD and chronically ill writer, content creator and illustrator based in Brighton, UK. Their work has appeared in publications from Vogue and Novara Media to Able Zine and Sick Mag, and they are the editor of the inprogress Autisticulture Magazine.

Stine Vestergaard (she/her) - @stine.vestergaard

Her art journey only really started in 2018. She was 25 at the time, had been struggling with her mental health for a while and reached a breaking point. Her whole life she has longed for to find "her thing". Something that would satisfy the tingling sensation in her finger. She thought she was just chasing a made up thing, that she was just restless. But she found it, in art.

vAl Rauzier (she/her)

vAl is a strong believer in the revolutionary power of the pen and of songs. She has edited some feminist and queer zines (OvaryAction, The Laugh of the Strip(p) ed Hyena, To X With Love) and has been the host of a couple of radioshows on women in music (Babes In Boyland, OvaryAction, RadiOragaZZa).

Zainab Hussein (she/her) - @storiesuntold_poetry

Following the launch of her multimedia poetry platform: “Stories Untold: Poetry for The Soul”, Zainab’s book, “Boundless” was published in 2023. Zainab’s poetry centers around embracing vulnerability, practicing self-love, navigating social issues and most importantly, healing trauma through self-expression. Zainab's poetry has been published or is forthcoming in La Raiz Magazine, Beneath the Mask Magazine, Rising Phoenix Review and Written Tales Magazine.

Zélie Lézin (she/her) - @leziezelin

Zélie is the General Editor of RAGE Zine. See RAGE Collective bios here.

RAGE COLLECTIVE

ALVA GUZZINI she/her

ART EDITOR / @alvaguzzini

Alva is an artist and a book and paper conservator in training, based in Amsterdam.

She is interested in the arts and particularly intrigued by questions around the politics of memory, material realities, bodies, practices of women, and their intersections. She inherited her interest in feminism from her great grandmother and it hasn’t skipped a generation. She recently discovered that she hates neither computers nor squash –people can change.

COREY RUZICANO she/her

COMMUNITY + EDUCATION EDITOR / @coreyruzi

Corey is a writer, educator, and creative consultant from the San Francisco Bay Area, based in NYC.

She believes in expression as a vehicle for individual and collective evolution, the power of having connections and conversations with people of all perspectives, and the glory of a well told story. She is proud to work with Gloria Steinem’s Foundation, the building of her arts & community collective Where’s The Human?, the mutual empowerment of collaborating with young people, and assist Claudia Rankine, poet, playwright and Yale University professor and founder of the Racial Imaginary. Her first feature length poetry collection, ’still’, was published in 2021 by Finishing Line Press.

ERNESTINE BOILING she/her

VISUAL CULTURE EDITOR / @likehotwater

Ernestine is an art history student based in London.

Described as an “angry feminist” since she was 13, she is currently studying for an MA in the History of Art at The Courtauld Institute.

JULIE SAVERY she/her

VISUAL IDENTITY / @juliesavery.jpeg

Julie is a multidisciplinary creator based in Berlin. She works in the performing arts as a performer and choreographer, and digitally as a graphic and web designer. She loves to work visually and experientially, with a focus on bodies and performativity and the correlation between off- and online, or rather physical and digital.

RAGE COLLECTIVE

LAURA GRISS she/her

POETRY EDITOR + SOCIAL MEDIA / @itslawrah

Laura is a Chilean and German poet & writer. After having lived in cities such as Cologne, Cádiz, and Copenhagen, she is now based in Vienna and doing an MA in Comparative Literature.

In her art and in life, she is interested in raw emotions, vulnerability, and softness. For her, women’s empowerment, self-agency, and gender equality go hand in hand with these. She finds beauty in the mundane and strives to live a creative, empowered, romantic life. More often than not, she will turn to topics such as heartbreak, existential dread, ecstatic emotions, and vast sadness, rather than rage. As she states herself, she is ‘way too soft for rage.. rage makes me cautious, it reminds me to zoom out and to wonder what lies underneath’. So this should be interesting.

LORENZA PIA FOGLIA she/her

SCIENCE EDITOR / @loyfeuille

Lorenza is a PhD Student in Biophotonics from Italy, based in Copenhagen.

She thinks being a feminist woman in STEM is such a weird experience – apart from the imposter syndrome and the female quotas, STEM is a place where people generally fear or are skeptical about feminism. She’s part of the DTU Feminist Forum Steering Group, where she works with innovative speakers to give inspiring talks followed by open discussions. She’s always produced her most heartfelt art out of anger, and is looking forward to discovering how others create portraits of their rage and what it sparks in them. As Science Editor she’s hoping to find new expressions of feminism and explore the Venn diagram intersection of science, rage and feminism.

MATHILDE BETANT-RASMUSSEN she/her

POLITICS EDITOR / @mathilde.br

Mathilde works at the EU Commission on peace and security in sub-Saharan Africa and is based in Brussels.

Danish and Swiss, she grew up near Copenhagen and did her studies in London, UK. She wrote her undergraduate dissertation on female trauma and the #MeToo movement, and then focused on human rights in conflict and fragile contexts. Her professional life centres on peace and security and human rights topics, having worked both in NGOs and within EU institutions. Her discussions on feminism across cultures, genders and generations have almost always brought with them anger and frustration from all parties involved – why she’s interested in further exploring why feminism is tied to rage and how this affects wider human rights and political agendas.

NADIA RAZALI she/her

FOUNDER + EDITOR-IN-CHIEF / @nadiadrazali

Nadia is an Algerian and Danish feminist activist and writer based in Copenhagen.

She previously spent years living abroad in Cambridge, UK and NYC, US, where she, besides studying and working, was deeply involved in feminist activism and zinemaking, and wrote about and advocated for inclusive sexuality and LGBTQ+ rights. She is currently a Project Coordinator at UN Women, and an Advisor on Diversity, Inclusion, and Youth for a global conference. In her free time, she directs content and knowledge for the platform Sexualia, volunteers for LGBTQ+ events, and writes about feminism, sexuality, mixed-race identity, psychoanalysis, trauma, and their intersections. She loves synchronicities, wearing the colour green, & reading sexy books in public.

RAGE COLLECTIVE

ROSA DAVIES-JONES they/them GENDER + LGBTQIA+ EDITOR / @rozdavjon

Rosa is a non-binary Brit, originally from London and currently based in Norwich, UK.

They recently completed an MA in Gender, Media & Culture from Goldsmiths College (UoL), and their work seeks to explore the intersections between structural violence, affect and disablement. They enjoy playing football, cooking (but never following a recipe), losing at badminton to their partner and chilling at the pub. They are incredibly excited to be a part of the RAGE Collective and hold space for all the bad-tempered queers out there hoping to share their fury, stories, secrets, injustices, and gender feels.

ROSELIL AALUND she/her PSYCHOLOGY EDITOR /

@roselilaalund

Roselil is a therapist based both in Copenhagen, Denmark and in San Diego, California.

She works with existential phenomenology as a therapist, exploring themes such as how do I want to live my life? What is important for me in my life? For the last five years she’s also been working with sexology and sex education. She runs the art and sexuality platform, Sexualia, which seeks to expand our understanding of sexuality and ‘un-box’ the world. For her, rage and anger are exciting emotions, a natural part of life, and she would like to explore the spectrum of human emotions more and to normalize feeling what we need to feel and create room to express this. According to her, there is a great vulnerability in showing and sharing one’s feelings – this is a strength.

ZELIE LEZIN she/her

GENERAL EDITOR / @leziezelin

Zélie is an English and French teacher based in Canada.

She is mad – especially right now, and is interested in the fluctuation of anger as we grow, and how we give permission and prohibition to rage when it’s associated with womanhood. She’s also questioning and keen to explore how pedagogy is compatible with rage.

ZSOFIA HESKETH she/her HEALTH EDITOR / @sofiahskth

Zsófia is a global health professional currently based between Geneva and London.

Born in Budapest, Zsófia has lived most of her life in France and the UK. She is currently working in infectious disease epidemiology and prevention, and regularly rages about the inadequate state of women’s health research. In her free time, she produces and mixes electronic music and continues to obsess over long-distance running despite the injuries it’s given her.

ARE YOU ENRAGE D YET?

ZINE