As the world keeps spinning and one or two cars buzz by, what is the best way to remember the amazing women who make other women? Well I have a quote that I made up. Would you like to hear it? Of course you do, well it goes like this, "Beauty is just a mask you hide behind but the true beauty is you're creative and you're imagination and how you bring it to the world". The wonderful woman who inspires me to be a creative and out of the box is my favorite actress Meryl Streep. She inspired me to be an actress myself and I'm very passionate about it and I know I have what it takes to be one.

By virtue of living inside a system that is built to undermine your body, objectify and dismember your beauty, chastise and fearfully funnel your power into exploitative ducts, imbibe your soft and essential waterfalls until only barren spaces are left, bury your fiery and exact flame into caskets of underpaid production and mandated reproduction, you, my dear, are my inspiration. When I say you, I am asking every womxn identifying body to look in the mirror. That is, precisely, the you I mean. It is impossible for me to choose just one of you. For I know that my life as a woman is inextricably interlaced with yours- meaning all of us. So, let me honor all of us.

The truth is, strength comes from many different places. We all go through different struggles, face different challenges, and walk different paths. However, there are a few lessons that most of us learn along the way to becoming the strong individual that we are. So here are some lessons you might learn on your way to becoming the person you are meant to be.

These powerful and fragile women dedicated their life to express herself, in their most complicated ways dismembering in their works the Intermediate sexualities, the performative of body and sexuality.

My grandmother bought me my first bra when I was 14 and I hated it.

Listen.

The world has changed, but not yet for the best, especially for women. Though the condition is now much better than it was centuries ago, we are still far from our goal of equality between men and women. There is absolutely no reason for women to die at the rate they are dying today.

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They told you that you weren’t beautiful and that made you angry. Then they had the nerve to call you manly and that made you angrier. Next, as if that weren’t enough, they chastised you for being angry, berating you with appellations such as attitudinal and bitter, and that sent you into a rage. It was a rage that you have every right to be in, because you are, essentially, a victim who has been disrespected in every way. But, while before mentioned folks might be causing you quite the angst, quite the annoyance and are factors you could certainly do without, in all totality, they are actually correct.

We are about to enter the Holiday Season. It kicks off with Black month, formerly knowns as Black Friday, followed by Thanksgiving, St. Nick’s Day Dec 6, Chanukah, Christmas, Kwanza, New Year’s Eve and finally New Year’s Day. Later in the year, other holidays are also celebrated.

I’m going to be straight for a second: I get a really heavy flow. Ever since the miracle of womanhood first hit—imagine me, a pimpled, chubby twelve year old, cursing the universe for endowing her gift during gymnastics class—I’ve dealt with the difficulties of a heavy period.

When I saw Alexandra Tara Reade's Twitter profile picture on Twitter, I couldn't help but be reminded of my own mother, Sharon, and the cat she used to own named Spooker.

I had just heard the phrase yesterday, "If you stab her in the back with a ten inch blade but only pull it out five inches, you can't really call that progress".

Wangari Maathai,

Several makeup brands have misrepresented women of color for years. Personally, I do not wear a lot of make up. I'm a simple kind of gal who only beats her face for the occasion. I like to experiment with a little bit of concealer and foundation. Also, I crave lip-gloss and mascara. Unfortunately, when I shop for makeup it's hard to find my shade. Usually, I have to mix (experiment) with colors to find the match for my skin. I should have more options as a woman of color.

I remember looking at myself in the mirror when I was a kid and thinking how ugly I was and how I couldn’t wait to be able to afford plastic surgery.

In recent years, there has been a surge of female empowerment and girl boss-style advertising campaigns. The world is marching forward and media is becoming increasingly open to positioning women as leaders of that march.

My grandmother bought me my first bra when I was 14 and I hated it.

Tits , knockers , bangers , jugs , boobies , breasts , fun bags , what ever you call them . Boobs are every where . You don’t have to look very hard to find advertisements that include an image of a hyper sexualised woman with an ample bust being used to promote some kind of product be it a car , energy drink or Aftershave .

Boobs , breasts , chesticles , bangers , knockers , fun bags , melons , titties , boobies . I’m sure I’m not the only woman who has insecurities around them . I’ve had big breasts and I’ve had small breasts ( naturally due to weight gain and loss not because of surgergical enhancement *not that there is an anything wrong with breast argumentation. )

Alex Haley, the author of the best selling book Roots. also wrote a book named for his paternal grandmother, titled Queen, the story of an American family. Each book was turned into a made for television mini series. Queen, aired over three nights in February 1993 on CBS. Alex Haley died before the book was completed and it was finished by his co author David Stevens. I’ve watched the mini series three times and read the book at least five times. I find the story of this woman to be simply fascinating. Since March is women’s history month I decided to celebrate this woman in American history who I believe is very inspiring. According to Wikepedia, David Stevens said he had hundreds of pages of notes that Haley’s left behind, but he completed the book mostly from the memory of conversations he had with the heroine’s grandson.

As you read the tales of the Japanese culture on geishas, you are taken on a self-identity journey. This era of Japan is where entertainment and a patriarchal society begin to go hand in hand. This book imprinted on all its international readers because it touched every culture controversy that made outsiders raise their eyes. In the told tale you find themes of sex taboos, foot-binding, child neglect, adaptation, and perfectionism in outstanding reach. These events being true and someone actually living through them evokes a greater amount of emotion. Some chapters are more heart-wrenching than others. The journey begins with the passing of the mother; Chiyo is the main character and she is sold to a geisha house by her father.

Priya’s Shakti, a superheroine online comic from India, stands out in the world because of its impact. UN Women named her a Gender Equity Champion. It’s the first comic of its time to confront teenagers with the reality of sexual violence. This free comic is available online, translated into many languages and adapted into many formats at https://www.priyashakti.com .

As the world keeps spinning and one or two cars buzz by, what is the best way to remember the amazing women who make other women? Well I have a quote that I made up. Would you like to hear it? Of course you do, well it goes like this, "Beauty is just a mask you hide behind but the true beauty is you're creative and you're imagination and how you bring it to the world". The wonderful woman who inspires me to be a creative and out of the box is my favorite actress Meryl Streep. She inspired me to be an actress myself and I'm very passionate about it and I know I have what it takes to be one.

I have been in the workplace for over forty years, I have been sexually harassed and discriminated against more times than I care to remember. Who hasn’t right? The only thing new here is that my perpetrators were other females. I know right. We don't typically hear this. In the workplace, it's usually accusations from a female against a male counterpart. I am here now to say that sexual harassment and discrimination in the workplace is a two-way street, equal oppportunity offence. Over the years I have felt harassed and discriminated against many times, and yes I was harassed because I was female. My harassment came from the hands of other women. I have been victim to bullying, conspiring, gossiping, isolation, control, betrayal, withheld opportunities, right down to termination.

We live in a day when women are struggling. They are fighting, tooth and nail, to prove something, to this world, and to themselves. We are living in a world, where the woman of old are looked down upon, considered as weak, second rate, hiding in the shadows of men.

When I began junior or high school in seventh grade, Carol was in the eight grade. She was a pretty girl, about 5”7 inches tall slender and popular. She had shoulder length blonde hair and hazel eyes and was a cheerleader. She was actually the captain of the group. Looking back I would say she resembled Marcia Brady from the television show The Brady Bunch, only a few inches taller. I would see her walking through the halls of school with her hair bouncing on her shoulders, often with an enterauge of other cheerleaders with her. I was a shy teen and would imagine what it must be like to be so pretty and popular.

A bare stage. Slowly, a single pool of light to the far left side lights up. It is a perfect circle. Gradually, the intensity of the light brightens, threatening to blind us for a moment until it dims down to tolerance. We wait for a minute until a second pool of light comes up in line with the first on the right side of the stage. This does the same as the first light, brightening with much intensity but then returns to tolerance. Finally, the last pool of light glows in between the others far upstage and center, to reveal the silhouette of A NAKED MAN standing in a tub of water. His back is turned to us. The NAKED MAN can be a father, a brother, a lover, a rapist, or a photographer. We don’t know. What we do know is that the light he is in doesn’t get brighter. It just obeys the laws of darkness, and is barely lit, leaving the man in an uncomfortable night. From stage left, A GIRL walks in backwards, holding an empty leash in her left hand and a basket in the other. She seems to be looking for something, or searching for someone—perhaps the animal that belongs on the leash, or the food that belongs in the basket. This too, we do not know. What we do know is that the basket is white, and the leash is white with red. Both were made to be white, but a crimson design lives on the collar of the leash. The crimson is blood. A GIRL steps into the first stage left pool of light, and blinks eight times in an attempt to clear her vision. She inhales deeply. The sound of her inhale is magnified, and the tiny breath can be heard from six directions. A DRUNK enters from upstage, passes the NAKED MAN, and joins the GIRL, dressed in an elegant evening gown made of green silk. Her wet hair hangs on her cheeks, and she appears to be very pregnant, stretching the delicate fabric too thin around her swollen belly. The two speak.

By virtue of living inside a system that is built to undermine your body, objectify and dismember your beauty, chastise and fearfully funnel your power into exploitative ducts, imbibe your soft and essential waterfalls until only barren spaces are left, bury your fiery and exact flame into caskets of underpaid production and mandated reproduction, you, my dear, are my inspiration. When I say you, I am asking every womxn identifying body to look in the mirror. That is, precisely, the you I mean. It is impossible for me to choose just one of you. For I know that my life as a woman is inextricably interlaced with yours- meaning all of us. So, let me honor all of us.

Walking alone at night. Paying the bill. Having children. Leading a work project. Dressing up for a party. Maintaining the household. Making the first move. You know what they are. Without explanation you've probably heard about these expectations for women—things women are expected and not expected to do, the way women are meant to act and the way they aren't. Each situation highlights something very important—the prevailing existence of the gender gap.

"We got our faces from the wimmin before us. Placed our hands on our side to firmly situate ourselves upward, to sway with some 'tude'. We stood like the tallest of trees, rooted in the survival of the ones before and the ones after. My mother folded herself into the corners of my mouth, stretching my dimples from the center of my cheek to the curve that shaped my chin. My grandmothers laid their lives along my collarbone, only revealing themselves when I lost the weight of the world, after gorging myself on energy that I couldn't use, but could only store, making me feel heavy in myself. My aunts came together and imprinted their marks that stretched across my entire body, creating a roadmap only I could read. Their legacies, I carry with me. Literally." - Breanna Taylor.

Women, every single day, go through this form of harassment whether it be on the streets or online, and the topic of sexuality is such a broad broad topic. Inequality itself is a massive topic, and we have people on either side fighting consistently. However, there are reasons why this fight for equality has become such a forerunner especially after the #MeToo movement.

I don't have many unpopular opinions because as long as you're minding your own and not interfering with the party I got going on over here then we’re cool. I just cannot understand why people over inflate the conflict in this subject and why my opinion is even considered an unpopular one. Lemme set the tone for you then you’ll understand where i’m coming from but before you read the title, get a glimpse of the language or if someone told you to read this rant they found of some random girl with no credentials smashing her keyboard,

A few weeks ago I was going to take part in a documentary about women´s rage. For the documentary I had to record a personal interview where I was asked how I was raised regarding my rage: was I taught to acknowledge and express it or to ignore it and suppress it. That part was no problem. In fact, it was fun because I don’t have much of a filter and I learnt more about how I view women’s rage through my answers.

Hello Powerful Women,

This stress could be due to negative pregnancy results, even after trying for months. And at some moment, the couple realizes that they might be struggling with infertility and choose to visit a fertility clinic.

As Women’s History Month comes to an end, it’s important to acknowledge the achievements of influential women and their stories. During my research on some of the world’s most remarkable women, I stumbled across Linda Boreman - more famously known as Linda Lovelace. To be clear, Linda was no Oprah Winfrey or Rosa Parks, and I did not find her on any of the “Top 100 Women” lists that I endlessly scrolled through.

In February, around Valentine’s Day, my friends and I planned a girl’s night out. We all parked our cars along the road and carried our bags into our friend’s house to all get ready together because, for us, getting ready together is half of the fun. It was a whirlwind of glitter, wine bottles, cigarettes, mascara wands out of their tubes, eye shadow sprinkled onto the table like some kind of party drug. Clothes were flying everywhere and music was playing and there were a lot of laughs and hugs. That’s what I think of when I think of the women in my life. A beautiful whirlwind.

My mother met Milly Sawyers two years ago, after she had been deceased for nearly two centuries. Despite this, their connection was instantaneous and both women breathed life and fire into the other. Their solidarity and light grew and spilled out to influence and inspire young people, their homeland community, their state-wide justice system, and, quite soon, their justice system on a national level.

I first started taking birth control because my periods were so heavy and long. I started with the pill, I think it worked for awhile but I always forgot to take my pill so it just wasn't the right one for me.

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About a year ago I decided to tackle my menstrustral cycle waste head on and be done with it, period. (yes, pun intended, lol). I have never been a fan, since the first day I discovered those pesky feminine products, of the waste I was producing every month and the health warnings that came with them. My monthly flow served with the potential side of Toxic Shock Syndrome was not appealing in the least. Which made my first menstrual cycle (and every one after that) more frustrated, anxious and guilty.

The women who inspired me and left an indelible mark in my life -a catalyst to say is Billie. I am a strong independent women. Fierce as I have had to stand by myself and pull my own self up by the bootstraps. As an athlete, dancer and yogi and a upcoming actress I have to face all sorts of set backs and onstacles ontop of rejection, pain and suffering. Being married and now divorced I have lots of time to think about my self. As a women, as an independent human looking and longing for love in with another human being. My thoughts and memories drift back to Billie. She is a preachers wife. Devoted, beautiful and firecely strong. She knows all the emotions I have and continue to come in contact with. Loss, loneliness, rejection, fear , abandonment, love and loss. One thing she cannot relate to is divorce. She is happily married. She is the picture of love. She is the framework around marriage and commitment. She is submissive. She prefers to be as is her womenly stance but not because she has to be. I use to balk at this. This submissive quality and say no. Hell no. Not me. Yet looking back and seeing this life she has created because I believe we create out reality and therefore our legacy. Billie is the epitome of it. She let it be known she is a strong women yet in that strength she was humbly submissive to her husband. She knew what it was to walk away with genuine love for her partner even in the midst of a heated arguement. She understood timing and responding and not reacting and hunting down another human to finish something that in the end would not have the desired outcome she truly wanted. Billie was a women of great stamina. She would challenge me to think about timing and how critical it was to have a conversation at just the right time. This decision to wait to just the right time has been invaluable to my life. I had 2 years to see how this played out in Billies life and how to pratically apply it to my own. It is a legacy of timing. The art of waiting, the divine ability to hold back until just the right time. Not to soon and yet not to late. Right on time. So many of lifes issues would be settled and have the desired outcome if we humans would understand and be humble enough to submit ourselves to submissiveness. To submit our thoughts, our words and our actions to wait. To not give in and often times lose out. Her marriage, her relationships her life is so plentiful, so blessed so happy because she submitted. She held back and only in perfect timing went forward at the exact moment to execute her plan. It worked. This may not be a big thing in life in your experience but if you look back and evaluate maybe you would be a one step ahead, one move ahead of an opponent and one leap from a life you could only imagine if you learn to watch, to plan, to execute in such a way that you could have everything you ever wanted. Billie taught me a life long lesson. She taught me something that I can apply in every area of my life. The art of timing. The art of not being humble and the art of submissive in accordance with divine timing. Learn this and learn the key to a fullfiing and absolutely joyous life and a legacy that inspires many people after you. If it boded well for Billie. Who is an example of the verse from Solomon “there is a time for everything...” learn this. A time for everything under the sun.

For the longest time I searched for safety, as a child and young adult I was to busy just trying to survive the internal, spiritual and intellectual damage that had been done to me as a result of an abundance of abuse.

At 5:25AM my brand new alarm clock shatters the silence with its incessant shrill: BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. I begrudgingly roll out of my warm blankets, turn on my hair straightener and coffee machine, and settle into my chair to begin applying a fresh face of makeup. Today, though, I move a little slower than usual. Today, I find myself staring at my features in the mirror.