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Move Over- Here Come the Girls Gamers!

Programs such as Girls Make Games are empowering girls and young women in being a part of the development side of gaming. With steps such as these, Lara Croft will be regarded as a misogynistic novelty future years, and for good reason!

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30 Latin@ Poets/30 Days: Luivette Resto

Today Another Woman Painted My Daughter’s Nails   Today another woman painted my daughter’s nails, metallic pink reflecting off seven-year-old hands once …

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Poems by Pia Aliperti

From SOLITUDE MUST SHARE MY SOLITUDE   [line on the wall] ______________________________________________________  line on the wall my mind so prompt so dread held …

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In Defense Of Late Bloomers

Late bloomer: When Space Case meets Shy Kid. I have both of those qualities, and I’m doing okay. The Culture Side Of …

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Two Poems: Poetry by cin salach

I have long admired Chicago’s history of artistic endeavor. Chicago is the site of many great institutions like the Field Museum of Natural History, …

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Were You Scared?

“Did you know I almost got shot last week?” Then this 14-year-old proceeds to tell me about being at a party on Tuesday night where there was a drive-by. She and her friend were standing outside talking about Instagram. When she saw the car, she ducked, but her friend didn’t move in time and was shot. The bullet entered in her ear and came out through her eye.

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Seasonal Affective Disorder In Unnatural Cities

Being in New York has been an amazing experience, and I have sought to extract its light, but I feel I am squeezing a lemon whose blood has been let already. I feel I am falling apart here. Between the lack of real, accessible ocean and the grey hue of everything, I am finding it harder and harder to wait through winter.

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Don’t Call Me Cute

The vulnerability of women is not something that needs to be sexualized and preyed upon. Whenever a man calls you cute – especially a man who doesn’t know you well – he’s directly upholding a mentality that you are somehow lesser than he.

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Poems by Jesi Buell

SHALOSH ׁשְלשׁ Last night, I dreamt I birthed three dead birds. They lay on the ground covered in a clear, shivering ectoplasm. …

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Three Poems by Sara Biggs Chaney

inside a limeade tinted prophylactic sphere
atop which a devil monkey perches, squawking
with humanoid joy to have somehow contained you so effortlessly

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Two Poems By Susan Bruce

Sensing the ephemeral
end, he is filled with
the nanoseconds of
your young footsteps
running down the hall.