feminism

Invoking the Red Tent: A Vow to My Wounded Sex.

I feel a snake, uncoiling; an energy, unfolding. I see an earthen star forming the five points -- the rooted stakes -- of my hearth’s tent. I see it rise, solid and strong. Stoic, in a way, as it holds within its walls all of the mysteries, the atrocities, the stories and the epiphanies leading  ...

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