You’re sitting at your desk, doing paperwork; you’ve spent the entire morning editing the margins, perfecting the font – none of that Arial size 10 bullshit for you, you’ve gone for deluxe fonts. Instead of a plain black font, you’ve one upped yourself and gone for dark, dark, dark, dark grey. The difference is barely noticeable but you know. Oh, boy do you know. You’ve decided to print it on the fancy paper that’s normally reserved for special events. Sure, the finance department will probably yell at you again for wasting resources and money, and apparently, the company is nearly ~broke,~ but you don’t care – this report is worth it. You are worth it.
(The report in question is the weekly update for Linda in HR but it doesn’t matter. This report is too dang valuable for stupid Linda and her stupid bangs that she won’t shut up about. Shut up Linda)
The other day, I was in the kitchen, wearing a classic shirt waist dress and an old school apron, chain smoking and generally looking like a discontent housewife, whilst I was cooking a big old home cooked meal for my darling husband. It was his favourite; cheeky Nandos style pot roast. Naturally, I’d never had any, because it’s important that a woman retains her figure, but he seemed to like it, so that’s the important thing.
My darling husband was late. He often arrived late, sometimes with lipstick on his collar, but he swore to me that he wasn’t having an affair so that was the end of that conversation. As I sat alone in the kitchen, with no one to keep me company but my children, I couldn’t help but glance at the salt shaker. It looked so boring. It was just a little ceramic pot with a few holes in it. I hated it. It was dull, drab, desolate, and it reminded me of the limitations of humanity.
I had no such qualms with the pepper shaker. I loved the pepper shaker.
Voices of Resistance is an ongoing project at Boshemia to share narratives of activism in the current geopolitical climate. If you would like your story of activism shared with our global feminist community, contact us at email@example.com. This is our first installment.
For this first installment of Voices of Resistance, we turn to Appalachia—a region of the United States often overlooked—and remembered by many only for stereotypes of rural life, poverty, coal mining, and opioid abuse. This great swath of America has long endured sensationalized myths of identity and little media attention has been offered over the years to mitigate these perceptions.
Appalachia describes the cultural and geographical region in the contiguous United States that stretches from southern New York to northern Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. At the 2010 census, 25 million people were reported to inhabit this land of sleepy hollers and ancient mountains. That’s a substantial population to overlook, and that’s precisely what has happened.
Today, Wednesday 8th March, is International Women’s Day. Today is a day for action, for awareness, for advocacy; a day for celebrating the achievements of women throughout history and for taking a step back to examine how much further we still have to go. Today is about what you can do to further the journey towards equality for women – allwomen. Here are a few ways that you can participate.
With Valentine’s Day and the inevitable nuclear holocaust coming up, don’t we all just want someone with whom to watch as the mushroom clouds explode as you eat heart shaped candy? Well, here’s a post for all the straight male readers out there – that’s right, all three of you. Here’s a post on how to date a feminist; because as the world eats itself up, you need someone by your side to blame everything on the patriarchy. Read on straight dudes for the ultimate feminist dating guide.
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.