Double dutch girls, we never did learn how to be apart.
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I wouldn’t say that my love for Emily was romantic, but it was not entirely platonic either. I loved her like you can only love your childhood best friends. Some combination of sisterhood and friendship with a dash of romantic love tossed in to confuse things.
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My crisis of writing and publishing stems from writing the darkest and most horrific parts of my life, without having processed them, publishing in soon-defunct literary magazines with little to no audience, and getting eight likes on social media as payment. Is this what I should turn myself inside out for?
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Hinge in 2020 brought about a new degree of hysteria within me. And I was not alone. Our all-girls group chat has been alight with a near-constant stream of screenshots. Everything from poorly disguised ‘negging’ to full-blown sonnets. It has been a circus of delights and disasters.
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Historians have removed the idea of women as flaneurs for years, deeming their experience of city walking to be limited. Perhaps it was never limited, just different.
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Sitting in front of the GP, a large middle-aged man, I described my symptoms. As soon as I mentioned bleeding, he put his pen down and looked at me. “Are you on your period?” he asked. I’d already told him I wasn’t.
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When my partner's aunt remarks to him how he would be much happier if he were thin – I stop her, look her dead in the eye and tell her that life is beautiful and he should enjoy it.
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I thought if I could just pull up these weeds my garden would be perfect. My garden is a patio courtyard, a circle of tiles holding a glass-top table, framed with a square of flagstones, and between the cracks there are ants, woodlice, the occasional worm, and weeds.
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I started writing again following my partner's disclosure of her intention to transition from male to female. I wrote this after my partner did my make up for the first time. It’s an emotional and lovely memory.
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The image of a monstrous woman is used to belittle, shame and discourage powerful women, teaching them to adhere to the status quo and remember their place.
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We eloped. The pandemic helped me justify the wedding I wanted.
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Here are a few things that could happen to you on Friday the 13th that would probably maybe be the worst thing that happened to you this year. (I don’t want to hear about your actual problems, don’t @ me).
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As we celebrate the centennial of the Nineteenth Amendment, Vice President-Elect Kamala Harris will become the very first woman and the first Black South Asian person to serve as Vice President.
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Election results have been trickling in since Tuesday night and the world awaits the results. Boshemia editor, Erin Ammon, reflects on the situation we find ourselves in.
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2020 is not the year to wallow in despair about how little your one vote matters. Here’s how to vote.
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Superhero moves offer simple solutions to simple threats. There are bad guys and good guys and nothing in between. The Boys takes that view and turns it in on itself. There are no good guys and bad guys: there are simply corporations and people fighting for power. And they can do whatever they want.
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Boshemia designer and contributor Lauren Elizabeth, who lived in France for close to seven years, reacts to Emily in Paris.
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I’m sure that once, not so long ago, this green grow-pot was the perfect size and shape and fit for those poor roots. It’s nobody’s fault – plants grow. This one was just long overdue.
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I’m uncomfortable with how Appalachian identity works in the media and in academia, both because I think it’s a problematic identity that I hold too dearly and because I think I’m faking it.
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May her memory be a revolution.
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