The World We Live In

I haven’t felt like writing for many days. My heart hasn’t been in it. I could not understand what has been happening in the world around me, but then, I have just had my eyes open to the cruelty of a world that has been there all along. There has always been struggles, humanity against humanity, since the first time humans walked this earth. I only have to look around to see how we treat one another based on the look of our bodies, the hue of our skin, the strength of our beliefs; I am sickened by it.

All my life I have been an outsider. As a child, I had very few friends and even than I knew that I really couldn’t call them true ‘friends’. I played kick ball, hand ball, and enjoyed going on the monkey bars. Yet, I was asked by boys why I would ever play kickball, I was a girl (who loved pink) and seeing me there just didn’t seem right. Hand ball was even worse because I was often shoved out of line, but I stayed because I enjoyed playing, and because I knew even then that I had just as much right to play as anyone else.

As I got older, recess and playing outside was no longer something I could do. So, I would take walks on my own around the school yard after I ate. I didn’t speak much to anyone back then. The only time I spoke was in the classroom.

Now I am seen as outsider of my own family, but in truth I have always been seen that way. Every time I call my mom “Mom.” I see people look in confusion wondering how that could ever be so. All people see is the blonde hair, blue eyed, light skinned girl standing with a brown haired, brown eyed, darker skinned woman who looks too different to have a relation. What people don’t look at is the bond.

Being an outsider in these ways is not so bad. I know so many people who have it so much worse. I haven’t felt the bite of being belittled for how I look, or the pain of physical violence because of my religion, I haven’t been hurt, not really, but I can’t stand for the injustice of those who have.

For instance, while I was in high school, I was eating lunch at the tables outside with a group of people I had seen as my ‘friends’ and there was two spanish men fixing the window above where our table was. One of the boys sitting with me Began to make derogatory comments about the workers being undocumented that angered me to no end. To make matters worse, he looked at me like (because I was white) I was expected to agree. Angry, I yelled at him and I left. I couldn’t stand to continue to eat at the same table as someone who said the things he did. This was one of the first instances that made me hate my own race. How could it be that I was expected to hate a certain kind of people just because my own skin was a certain color? Why should I be expected to hate anyone? To treat anyone with hate? To verbally abuse someone for the social constraints others have placed on them? That it would be ok?

I have never cared about the race someone was born into. Race is simply what culture and people you were born into. I could have just as easily been born Chinese. I could have easily born in any other country. I could have had any kind of family. All the possibilities are endless. I do not fault anyone for the family they were born into. I do not fault anyone for what they believe in. I do not fault anyone for what gender they are or what sexual preference one has. To me, humans are humans, we all have our struggles, we all have our dreams. I am no better than anyone else. The only thing I fault people for is when they treat another with hatred. When someone acts in order to harm another and makes them feel less than dirt I feel so much anger. I want to act to combat it.

This is what I want to do with my writing. I want to use it to act. To change the way things have been originally thought. To get people to think. To inspire others to do a bit of good. I haven’t felt like writing these past few days, but I am writing now. My heart is fully invested. I may not understand why society has created the hatred and pain that it has, but I want to be a lyrical force against it. Actions may speak louder than words, but the pen is mightier than the sword and I will fight will all my might. For the people and the beauty of the world that I believe in.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this post. I had written it a long time ago and I don’t know why, but I felt afraid to publish it. I hope that my story here has spoken to you in some way. It would bring my heart so much joy to feel like this has made some difference, no matter how small. 

-Till next time! 

Here We Are: Feminism For The Real World: A Review 

Here We Are Feminism For The Real World edited by Kelly Jensen

My Rating: 5 Feminist Stars! 

Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers

Published: January 24, 2017

Recieved: A personalized signed copy from the editor Kelly Jensen via a Giveaway. 

Purchase: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Book Depository

Have you ever wanted to be a superheroine? Join a fandom? Create the perfect empowering playlist? Understand exactly what it means to be a feminist in the twenty-first century? You’ve come to the right place. 
Forty-four writers, dancers, actors, and artists contribute essays, lists, poems, comics, and illustrations about everything from body positivity to romance to gender identity to intersectionality to the greatest girl friendships in fiction. Together, they share diverse perspectives on and insights into what feminism means and what it looks like. Come on in, turn the pages, and be inspired to find your own path to feminism by the awesome individuals in Here We Are. 
Welcome to one of the most life-changing parties around!


Wow was this a powerful book. Some of it was affirming the beliefs I already had. However, all of them were stories that had an affect on my heart. Yet there were a select few that moved me to tears and outrage and those were the ones that changed me. 

The first essay to make me cry was The Big Blue Ocean and My Big Fat Body by Angie ManFredi (who is now my new hero). It brought to mind my most deep seated insicurity the size of my body and smashed everything I had thought to be true about it. Angie’s message was incredibly positive yet I felt myself go through a shock as I read her words. Basically she goes on to say that she spent so much time in her life to get to a point where she realized that fat is a word that was neither good nor bad but simply described how her body was made. She has a lot of fat on her body so when she describes herself she uses that word because as ugly as society has made that word for her it is simply a state of being. Instead of being ugly fat becomes neutral even normal striped away of all negative connotations and the change in how the word is seen is how she learned to be comfortable in her own skin. I am not comfortable in my own skin. I’m 5’6 and around 156 pounds and while I’m not terribly large there are times where I look at myself in the mirror and I am disgusted. This essay made me cry because as much as I don’t like to think about how negatively I see myself I know that I need to work to see myself in a better life. To look at my generous behind and my not so flat stomach and say I am confident and beautiful because I am me. I define who I am and how I choose to see myself. I may have fat, but that fat is neither good nor bad but just is. If I want to feel beautiful then I must believe I am beautiful now and love the body that has carried me through my 18 years (the same body that will carry me through the rest of my life) to love that body and take care of it. Through all this thought I sobbed, because I haven’t been good to my body and because I have thought so negitively about my life and for all the pain I’ve caused myself through the years and all the times I’ve tried something on I thought was pretty and looked myself in the mirror and thought that it could never look pretty on me. I cried and new armor formed from those tears. 

I was outraged when I learned about a practice in some countries and cultures called FGM or Female Genital Mutliation. Where a female is mutilated so she could never feel pleasure during sex (sentencing the woman to a lifetime of painful sex) to be seen as more attractive and “pure” to a future husband. I had no idea that this was a thing and I am deeply hurt by it. I can’t imagine what that must be like. To be made into an instrument for a man to strum while you are in pain all the while with no remorse. This is a torture that breaks my heart. 

Then there was a piece by a Muslim women who said that she could never be seen as a feminist (although she considered herself a feminist) because of her culture and her hijab. It was at her words I was crying again, because it pointed out the flaws of a movement meant to raise up equality no matter who you are or what you believe and this women is cast out because her religion makes it so she could never be accepted as a “true feminist” and then I was angry crying again. 

So here and now I will declare myself feminist. A feminist who accepts everyone as equal regardless of color of skin, belief, sexuality, gender, or any other bias society creates. All people were created to be equal and all deserve equal rights. As an intersectional feminist I believe that all our fights are valid and that we must be aware of how we act and how we choose to raise up some people but shame others. To be aware to create change and to fight the dam good fight. 

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this review! Let me know your thoughts down in the comments. I hope for all of you to read this book and to continue fighting for your beliefs. 

-Till next time!