woke up this morning finally heard the anthem to my blues baby daddy blues baby daddy didn’t have a father folks split up when he was young papa said he had a new family that relationship was worth his time mama probably had the blues herself left mexico behind and found a new man the womyn/child beater kind woke up this morning finally heard the anthem to my blues baby daddy blues baby daddy hated school hated men that didn’t care for baby mama’s used his rage and trained EZLN/AIM militant security talkin’ bout taking back our…
An online zine by radical/women/queer/people of color
Tagged oppression
“Why are you so angry?”
How about — why do you try to hold my anger above me, as if it strips me of any credibility? why do you have to dangle my unhappiness in front of me? I’ve become the most ultimately unamerican I can be — I’m an unhappy brown girl caught in a white man’s world. I’m pretty sure if you grew up being stared at or called a sandn***er you wouldn’t be too thrilled either. If you had to wonder whether or not your masjid was going to be shot up or if your mother was going to get cussed out at…
Attn: Voices Needed
Voices Needed Because that one time at the bar you felt it was okay to go up my skirt with your hand Because my drink made me sloppy drunk with a few sips AND you took advantage Voices Needed Because community peeps for ‘social justice’ feel that it’s okay to support a rapist instead of their semillas Because that movie tells ‘our’ story ‘so beautifully’ AND semillas need sunlight to grow… NOT… shade… Voices Needed Because young girls can get raped because they ‘drank too much’, ‘wore that dress’ and ‘were looking for action’ Because those beautiful wombyn find ways…
Rest In Peace
Rest in peace. Past midnight when the sun is no where in sight There lies the struggle to maintain the fight Don’t give in don’t stop the try Tears turn dry I can’t cry I won’t cry Trying constantly to paint rainbows in the sky Ghetto streets turn dry as blood spills in endless crime I can try to paint the rainbows but the ghetto vibes will turn it dry & they will just cry
Dress
She used to wear a dress And her dolls watched as she danced And the sun smiled upon her, and her light was bright People would come and go And tell her she was pretty But HE stayed Told her she was pretty too Wanted to show her just how much HE liked the way her dress was easy HE could go in and out Unseen Not even her dolls watched But she could feel it ALL She could feel her light go out Every time she wore a dress Then HE turned into SHE SHE saw her…
Borders borders
When I went through the border I heard a man speak his name, speak for his freedom and the freedom of those around him and I saw a soldier standing behind him who was there to kill, disappeared, repress, impoverish, murder, steal, lie, thieve, die sometimes too, everyday inside he died, that soldier, I saw it in his eyes soldier funded to stand there, given money, by a government that I “have” somehow to call “my own”. … I Pledge Allegiance… But I can’t I can’t I cant I cant I cant I cant I cant I cant When…
Men Threaten
Men like to threaten, to loom over us to show they’re bigger stronger I’ll beat you to a pulp, little girl. They use their loud voices push tobacco-scented onion-flavored beer-laden breath in your face and I’ll show you who’s boss. Who da fuck you think you are, bitch? worst thing you can call a man “a girl” “womanly” “feminine” “C’mon, ladies” — sneering football coach/drill sergeant — the biggest insult Men say threatening things on your blog and send revolting pictures horrible pictures of other women beaten cut bloody headless bruised and battered This could be you, watch out,…
Womyn
Artist: Amy Hagemeier
Soundless Song of the Corn Maiden
She stood there at the top of the mountain overlooking the valley The city and all its people inside. A skin tight black dress flowing flowing, breathing, as she stares up to the cosmos and brings down her clenched fists- and soon the sky burst forth and you heard that first damning sound of thunder while the acidic scent of moisture in contact with earth entered your nostrils, as she cries out in pain, “Bring on the storm! I, simply known as Malinche, who rides the winds as swift as justice, am opening up these vaults of pure and utter…
malintZINE does the telling
By Anna NietoGomez, Coughing Woman Custom was that violence against women was private and should not be talked about in public. The women’s rights movement changed all that, and violence against women became a public discussion. Women demanded that they have the right to be safe at home, at work and at play. Traditionalists ignored this challenge, blamed the woman for the violence done against her and took no action. Then women told their stories. First they began the telling with friends and family, but nothing changed. The story was forgotten, and violence against women continued. Then the telling became…
