Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from contributor Maura Reiff.
I am confused by you. How rapid you have approached. With your arrival, you have brought back cerulean skies and blossoms of life. As I walk among the Pittsburgh crowd I feel your embrace again, June. Was it not just February? For February was full of heartbreak chased with tequila gold shots. At first, I was not sure if you would arrive, or for that matter, if I could survive the coldness of this past winter. I can say that I have missed you and am delighted to see you. Thank you for shining your golden light on my Memorial Day kissed shoulders.
Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from long-time contributor Elisha Kiriel.
Your beginning has met the tail-end of an era that, at one point in my life, I hoped I would never have to leave behind. You have brought me challenges that remind me of the exponential strength of human will. You have taught me lessons in patience, autonomy, and self-love. You have brought me a newly burgeoning sense of identity. Most importantly, you have kept me company in a place I can only refer to as Pacifying Loneliness. It is a destination, at which I have arrived after years of loneliness which germinated in company that diminished my psyche and identity; that made me feel invisible. This new loneliness is pacifying because, though it is a perpetual, aching, heart-sigh, I have full ownership of it. I have settled here. It has become home. It is mine; mine alone.
A spoken word poem by Boshemia regular Taylor Wear. Taylor is a writer, a bruncher, and a young lover of old things. She will order whiskey and you’re allowed to think she’s doing it to impress you. Her favorite book and favorite shade of lipstick are both Lolita, a fabulous little coincidence. This poem first appeared here.
HOT DATING TIPS FOR THE COMPLETELY FUCKING UNDATEABLE
when he tells you his favorite drink is an old fashioned,
Bo-Arts is a bi-weekly art/literature initiative.Twice a month, Boshemia will share creative writing and visual art submissions from our readers and folks who identify as feminist to give a larger audience to emerging creatives. Our goal is to provide a platform for feminist artists to share and discuss their work.
This installment of Bo-Arts is brought to you by Mary Beth Kuhn. Mary is a classically trained pianist and poet who feels the most creative when she rides the DC metro after a couple glasses of sangria. Mary earned her Bachelor of Music degree from James Madison University. She genuinely likes most people and loves her husband, her greyhound, her cat, and her job at Wolf Trap Foundation for the Performing Arts.
This is Mary’s first poetry submission to Boshemia.
Our talented guest writer Elisha returns with her second instalment of Raising a Feminist.
We are all searching for the reason why we’re here. In some way or another, we’re all embarking on a journey that comes in the form of self-expression, personal development, accomplishment, fulfillment; success and purpose, whatever it may mean to you. The ways in which we try to fill the blanks between “I was born,” and “I was born, because…” are innumerable. Our journeys are all personal and vary greatly based on the individual, but something that I think gets lost is the divide between us as individuals and our children as individuals because being a parent is such an all-consuming job. We live and breathe for them which is, in so many ways, the most beautiful gift we give to them every day. With that said, something that we must remember is that our children each have their own identity and personage. If this is nurtured and encouraged, the product is Independent Children: children who are more inclined to be confident, self-sufficient, self-motivated, make better decisions, and collaborate better with peers.
Boshemia are proud to present a new periodical series titled “Raising a Feminist”, from regular guest writer and US Boshemia babe Elisha. We’ll hand over and let her introduce herself and her gorgeous daughter.
When I first started on my path of motherhood I was clueless.
Real talk: I was under the personal fable that even though I had no idea what I was doing with my life, somehow the love that I had for the life growing within me would be enough. Though I knew that, scientifically, what was growing inside of me was little more than a bundle of cells, Ryenne was already a person to me in mind and spirit, a life which needed to be intertwined with mine. All my confusion was veiled with the endearing, rose-coloured tint that my pregnancy and the hopeful anticipation of this amazing human had cast upon my life. Realistically, I knew very little about myself or who I wanted to be, but I ardently felt (and still feel) that I could wield a metaphorical scythe which would clear away the brambles of our difficult world for this little being; forging a path which could make Ryenne a better person than I could ever have dreamed to be. In this new age of parenting, we are finding this often: parents whose aim is to create a generation free of the binds that have previously tied us. These binds which cause discrimination against us for race, gender, sexuality, religion or lack thereof, unconventional physical and mental abilities: all the demarcations which make misguided minds very uncomfortable, but over which we have no control. We are parents whose goal is to raise a generation of trauma-free individuals with the capability to surpass the pitfalls of the society in which we were raised. We are Feminist parents, Progressive Parents, Modern Families.
Emily Jessee returns to Boshemia to share her reflections on the weeks following the 2016 American election, dissecting The American Problem and looking ahead to Trump’s America. Emily is a young feminist creative who uses platforms like photography to portray the harshness and vulnerability of the world around her.
It is as if reality has become something that dystopia cannot even begin to describe.