activism

It feels like a community that I don’t fit in now.

I wasn’t always a witch. Or a feminist.

I wasn’t always a witch. Or a feminist.

Showing up to occupy physical space isn’t the only way to care about the world, so why do we seem to think it is?

6 months ago, a Facebook video about calling Congress wouldn’t have been viral, but here we are. This is what we have to do.

The next few months are going to feel like drinking from a firehose of bad political news. Just today, my email is pinging away with alerts about all the executive orders that Trump seems to have signed expressly to make me, Rebekah Kuschmider, lose my mind. I keep feeling jolts of adrenaline, and I reach for my phone to email or call or Tweet or SOMETHING to release my endless rage.

... the last thing I want to do is open my legs for a man to penetrate me. Or to pleasure a man with any part of my body. Even if that man is my loving fiancé, who does listen, who does understand (as best he can), who does respect me through this ongoing turmoil. It is all too symbolic of the lifetime I have already experienced of being fucked and then told to smile and politely ask for more.

... the last thing I want to do is open my legs for a man to penetrate me. Or to pleasure a man with any part of my body. Even if that man is my loving fiancé, who does listen, who does understand (as best he can), who does respect me through this ongoing turmoil. It is all too symbolic of the lifetime I have already experienced of being fucked and then told to smile and politely ask for more.