activism
Feminist activists are not deterred by the daunting statistics so much as they're fueled by them.
How I Became a "Woke" Black Girl and the Journey I'm Still On...
Summer 2009, my estranged mother and I began speaking again for the first time in about eight years. That same summer I was whisked away, involuntarily, to Virginia to live with her. Up until this point in my life, I grew up in Louisiana, surrounded by lots of family and even more mosquitoes. Now that all that was gone, it was up to me to adjust to my new surroundings. My new life came with a new White stepfather, two little dogs, and two new White step-siblings. A bit much for a girl who was used to being an only child living with her grandparents. Nonetheless, I made the best of my situation. I kept my head low, never acted out of character, and got decent grades for a someone who had to get over a hell of a learning curve. I finished my first year of middle school relatively okay considering the changes. Then in seventh grade, things began to shift when I developed my first crush and I started to notice some things...
By Raven Bickham8 years ago in Viva
We Are Diana Prince
A person connects with a character, storyline, or even a community for a number of reasons. My current icons are Wonder Woman and Jessica Jones. I didn't find them in the comic book store or, in the case of Wonder Woman, on reruns on TNT. I found my love of them when they hit the screen in the last few years. The idea that a woman could save the day when her male counterparts didn't think she could made my little feminist heart sing. And with the state of the world as it is right now, we need all the heroes that we can get. And the amazing thing about Wonder Woman is that she's not just Diana Prince. She's all of us. Diana Prince is white, black, indigenous, Middle Eastern, LGBTQIA+, Trans+, Nonbinary and Genderqueer.
By Katie Kirby8 years ago in Viva
What No One Tells You About Sexual Assault
I used to think sexual assault was something that happened to people at the hands of strangers and in violent attacks. As I got older and heard more about the issue, I realised I was wrong and that it's more likely to be from those that you actually know. But I never would have thought it would happen to me by someone I believed to be my best friend.
By charlie delaney8 years ago in Viva
The Wage Gap
While discussing the newest Avengers movie, one of the actors came up, and a few of my friends laughed a little at Benedict Cumberbatch's statement of how he refuses to take a role if his female costars aren't paid the same. I was surprised to find out that one of my friends believed the wage gap to be a myth created by feminazis as propaganda.
By Maya Conroy8 years ago in Viva
He Won Once. He Won't Win Again.
How do I come to terms with the fact that a man did not just shove himself into me? He did so much more. He shoved hatred into the deepest part of what is left of a broken soul. Four months later and every breath I take rattles. I pray that each breath will become the last but it never does. I am forced into a life I am not ready to live. Before he raped me I was someone. I felt like no matter what I was of some microscopic value. I hardly had my life figured out but now everything is fucked up for sure this time. He gets to go on and live a life free of panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. He gets to feel comfortable around his family. He gets to feel like someone believes him. I am made to feel like a fucking manic wreck which is exactly what I've come to be. I did not ask for this. I did not ask to bay at the moon with my soul shattering at my feet as if the sky could fix my sorrow. I did not ask to watch my nails bleed as I puncture the dirt with my fragile fingers searching for my normality. Liquor slides down my throat so smooth I could almost taste my freedom but it's sad when liquor is the only time I'm free. Only I'm not. I am a prisoner to his face. His spiked hair slicked up. I'd love to spit in his face only I'd never have the courage. A man broke me which is something I never wanted to say again. Only this time I think no man will ever have the chance to do so again. You see when he entered me that night my whole perspective changed. I no longer long for the sun to be against a diamond that compliments my finger. I no longer wonder what the kicks of my child will feel like in my womb. At this rate there is no point of me having a womb. I am no longer a woman. I am a statistic. Every 98 seconds a soul is shattered beyond belief. Only six out of a thousand of these monsters will sink behind the bars they so belong in. My heart screams for the me I was before my vagina repulsed me. My heart longs for the time I loved freely. My life is a movie. It's a horror film and I am the star. I am a monster fighting a monster. One out of every six women has been the victim of an attempted or a completed fucking rape. That is one too many. We are taught to “cover up” or “stop asking for it” when in reality if my nipple was a friend to the breeze no man should ever touch me without my consent. So many rapes go unreported because we are viewed as sluts who beg for a dick to be launched inside us against our will. A mini skirt is cause for a touch or a feel. When in reality, if I strip down to nothing with every intent of sleeping with a man, the minute I say no that is exactly what I mean. The night of my rape I said no a million times but those no's where silenced by the sound of my cries. When did he stop? When he was finished. When he was pleasured. Not once did he stop and think that what he was doing was the most vile thing any human could possibly do to another. My life is over. And I won't rest until the system evens the score.
By The Darkest Sunrise8 years ago in Viva
Life After Rape
I remember when I used to feel normal and adequately balanced. There was a time where my life was at least partially decent. To be honest, right now I'm not exactly sure how I even get out of bed most days. I remember when my life seemed a lot less complicated. I didn't feel anything weighing me down at all. Now, every day I am held captive by the thoughts that ding inside my head like an obnoxious microwave of depression. I'm longing to be cool and pretty and happy. These days all of these things feel substantially out of my reach. Pain and shame have taken over what used to be a pretty okay me.
By The Darkest Sunrise8 years ago in Viva
Social Justice Warriors and Narcissism—What Is the Connection?
When I first heard the term "Social Justice Warrior" (SJW), I thought it was a pretty cool name for an activist, until I realized there was a difference between an SJW and a social activist. I then learned that in this day and age, the terminologies for social change have expanded. We now have more labels than we know what to do with.
By Kate Quinn8 years ago in Viva
