If you’ve ever wondered about the stigmas associated with weight loss and food culture, you are not alone. Having endured hateful comments and destructive food habits, author Viviana Rose tackles these issues head-on in her activism and published work.
Mai Nolasco from Sonic Feminista shares her tips on being a mujer filmmaker <3
Beautiful poem by Necia, Anaïs.
Nearly a year and half ago, I made a decision to pursue love. Love for myself, love for my work and the love of my life. I took a chance and left everything and everyone I knew to pursue a romantic love, work through my burnout, be one in myself and attempt to figure out what’s next.
I used to hide underneath my towel after a shower, from my own self. I was taught by society to be ashamed to even look at my own body. But through motherhood, I accepted my body for what it was. After seeing it change through pregnancy, giving birth in my own home, and using my breasts to feed my child, I now see my body as something powerful, something that can create and sustain life. I now embrace it completely. I feel comfortable looking at my body, and touching my body and I praise it for it's magnificence.
Tall as a sea of sunflowers face first into the sun
With the jingle of the metals, soft stones, and bangles
effortlessly placed on your body.
ScholaR Comics creator tells us what Love is all about.
The reason we are here is because the love our ancestors had for us. They wanted our survival, through the survival of their children who are now our parents, grandparents, etc. As both WOC and POC, and especially when you are first generation in this country, the love that enables our passions is what enables our survival. The survival of our futures, of our community, and especially of ourselves in a world that tries to break us down.
What does it mean to be the same person everywhere?
A poem called Love... by Leilani Lopez.
Love was always complicated in my house. Como chiles ardiendo en el aire, stinging your insides as you try to breathe. Love cared for you, controlled you, filled you with possibility and was always there. My mother could never leave my father, even if she should have. That is how I learned how to love.
Dancer between a rhythm and a reality
hips open in bloom to a new song while
lips, releasing letters into long legged vowels
whisper in the ear of another hour
An eyelash once spilled
from the bottom of a wink
predicting tomorrow’s weather.
With all this talk about love in the month of February, Necias will deconstruct this in our second call for content!