Where is the Script for Decentering men?

“Give me a call when you’re ready to start talking about something besides men.”

I found this quote decontextualized on a screenshot from Sex and the City, Miranda wearing a floppy, peacock blue beanie and green turtleneck, her sharp stare looking out of frame. Knowing the show’s preoccupations, she could have been talking to any of the other three primary characters. 

Where is the Script for Decentering men?
ReadsEdil Hassan

When Amaal Got a Postcard

Amaal got a postcard from her father sometime this afternoon. I wondered if the East Coast shoreline on the back of it got on her clothing; she smelled like salt and drowning. She pulled it from her coat pocket, and my hand shook for her as I took it. I finished reading it in a minute.

ReadsEdil Hassan
When Amaal Got a Postcard
ReadsJacqueline Barnes

Where the Hell Do Our Black Girls Get Off to?

Slipped beneath the cracks in sidewalks, in the gaps of sucked white teeth and darker alleyways? Where do young black girls go when they disappear?

ReadsJacqueline Barnes
Where the Hell Do Our Black Girls Get Off to?
ReadsSophia Terazawa

The Cubicle

The new job was a honeymoon period with the shelf life of ninety days.  It all seemed fantastic in the beginning—a health insurance premium, paid time off, the promise of growth.  We were in the bull’s eye district of Dallas.  Across our building sat a community gym.  Two of my co-workers convinced me to join, the three of us like musketeers marching into the YMCA with our income verification and subsidized application fees.  We had no excuse.

ReadsSophia Terazawa
The Cubicle
InterviewsFabiola Ching

In Conversation W/ Samera Paz

For our next installment of series of interviews with women doing work for women we talked to Samera Paz, a photographer, editor, and curator. Through creating movements such as Girlpower Meet-ups, she’s dedicating her work towards making spaces for girls and women, especially in the Washington D.C area.

InterviewsFabiola Ching
In Conversation W/ Samera Paz
ReadsAyanna Wimberly

Two Dancers

I see who you are. I see you in completion. I see you before. I see you after. I see you. You are not invisible. You’re here. Our blood rushes the same way. Our veins are the same hue. Why can I see you and you can’t?...

ReadsAyanna Wimberly
Two Dancers
ReadsFallen Kittie

Adrift

The Professor was a self-conscious man. He could never commit to his words. He was unbalanced. More often than not, his eyes swam in his notes to steady his convictions. You’d think he was just another teacher, the kind who lacked purpose: a pretentious pedantic roused by respectability politics. But to this day, he remains the most insightful professor I’ve ever had.

ReadsFallen Kittie
Adrift
ReadsKade Walker

Perfect Blue

Ade comes home from boarding school early, in May. We make arrangements for her arrival: I buy two packs of Sobranie Cocktail cigarettes and wrap one in brown paper. I finish it with a brown twine bow. Her mother leaves grape hyacinth in the bathroom. She buys it by the pound from the afternoon market and carries it home to the small apartment in blue plastic bags.

ReadsKade Walker
Perfect Blue

Parlour Story

House no longer home. Her tiny frame withered, as if it was paper. And turned away. The stairs spun spools around the echoed frame, the wooden shell that swayed in the wind. The bedroom’s sheets were white and innocent as newlyweds’ kiss, unflinchingly stretched from the frame like a lovers’ quarrel had come. But it had come, stormy night stretched into dawn.

Parlour Story
InterviewsFabiola Ching

Representation and Women Capturing Women: In Conversation With Tyra Mitchell

In a field where your success is determined by how high your connections go or if your work is visually appealing for the masses, it’s hard to come across artists who put out work that they believe in or that is true.

InterviewsFabiola Ching
Representation and Women Capturing Women: In Conversation With Tyra Mitchell
ReadsEtima Ette-Umoh

In the Days of My Abandonment

As of now I am in a precarious state. I am neither in nor out, teetering on the tightrope of uncertainty. Do I go or do I stay? If I stay, if I remain here, what will I become? These questions flit around my head, while I lie in solitude, pulling me to a point where escapism seems like the best cure to this headache. So, I give in. I escape.

ReadsEtima Ette-Umoh
In the Days of My Abandonment
ReadsMalavika Sahai

Women Who Record Alone at Home

At home we get to be our true selves, alone in our bedrooms we can laugh the hardest, cry the loudest, and daydream for hours on end without external judgment. For women who record music at home, in isolation, the empowered private space allows for a unique set of circumstances in which the male gaze no longer dictates direct power over their art.

ReadsMalavika Sahai
Women Who Record Alone at Home
InterviewsFabiola Ching

Aeon Fux's Reptilian Drawl

The first verse of Aeon Fux's "Reptillian" hauntingly tells the beginning of a love story that bloomed in a reptile room.

InterviewsFabiola Ching
Aeon Fux's Reptilian Drawl
ReadsCatherine Chen

The World Shrunk to the Size of Me

For thirty minutes he follows me. I’d been sitting in a park, reading Bernadette Mayer. “My theoretically recipient pussy (I take that back),” she says, just as a man stops to ask what I’m doing. When I do not answer, as I repeat to myself “I take that back,” he offers me his phone number, then to take me to Mcdonald’s, and then home.

ReadsCatherine Chen
The World Shrunk to the Size of Me
ReadsJasmine Kabale Moore

The Girl and the Apple

Marjorie got the feeling that she was missing orbs of worlds fly past as she listened to Victoria. The rays of an alien sun ebbed into the stale air in their craft. It was so lovely to be in this corner.  In the nuance that lives in the little places.

ReadsJasmine Kabale Moore
The Girl and the Apple
ReadsSasha Isaac

In the Ordinary Instant

Five years ago my grandfather on my mother’s side was diagnosed with cancer. Four years later he passed away. Three months after the fact and two months after the funeral, my mother located a small lump in her breast. A month later she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

ReadsSasha Isaac
In the Ordinary Instant
InterviewsFabiola Ching

A Conversation With Angelina Fernandez

Over the last year, many young artists have wholeheartedly adopted the internet as their medium. For marginalized artists, however, the internet has become more than a medium.

InterviewsFabiola Ching
A Conversation With Angelina Fernandez
ReadsElodie St Louis

Five Spaces in One Year

I am in love with my friends, in the selfish way in which you want to both be and protect them. I love them each until They becomes a Her becomes a We, as in We ate this meal together, We sat on the floor and watched the other cry, We know the ways in which we learned to hate ourselves.

ReadsElodie St Louis
Five Spaces in One Year
ReadsZainab Viqar

The Urgency of Limbs

I’m going to remind them of the erotic. About the urgency of limbs, and anarchy electric. I’m going to dream in this body of mine –some sort of flower swelling in an enclosed space- until I have no choice, but to meet eyes with it, until I able to hold it up by its elbows and carry it in my mouth.

ReadsZainab Viqar
The Urgency of Limbs
ReadsJean Boampong

Be Careful It's Fragile

The storage room in my home looked like a rock climbing facility for gym rats because it held boxes on boxes on boxes of things in it, especially ancient cookware boxes. Those belong solely to my mother who refuses to move them or throw them out.

ReadsJean Boampong
Be Careful It's Fragile
InterviewsFabiola Ching

An Interview With Designer of 000sportwear and Fellow Bald Black Bitch Sarah Nicole Francois

I just want to create and share it with the world and if I make a fortune in the process, that would probably just be an added bonus to all that.

InterviewsFabiola Ching
An Interview With Designer of 000sportwear and Fellow Bald Black Bitch Sarah Nicole Francois
ReadsSher Xavier

Her Selfish Happiness

The list of what I hate is more than what I love. I don’t think I have a bitter heart, I think I’ve just been exposed to what I end up hating more than what I end up loving. I love and I hate and I fear, but each feeling is almost exclusive. I’m terrified at the prospect of not holding on to reality with bitten nails and bright eyes.

ReadsSher Xavier
Her Selfish Happiness