5 years ago I was going to the gym at least 5-6 times a week. I was working out, squatting, drinking my post work out smoothies and had the best looking ass of my life. Near that same time I was entering the first stages of my life as a sexually active woman and men started to notice. I guess you could say that those early stages were when I "peaked". I was getting a lot of attention that I wasn't used to like men wanting to take me on dates, sleep with me and call me pretty. Men that had the chance to see me naked went nuts about my body yet I was still unsatisfied with the way that I looked. For a solid year I was working out and living the single life. My figure looked fit and I was quite busy with men. From the outside, it may have looked like my self esteem was at its apex. But the truth is, my self esteem had never been any lower.

Pissed off and in pain.

UK's definition of Endometriosis is:

Retro sweat to red tents. We discussed it ALL.

My journey through abuse has been long, exhausting and at most times it felt never ending. I’ve spent most of my life feeling like I’m drowning and I’m still learning how to navigate through my life as an adult, even though I sometimes still feel like a vulnerable 10-year-old girl.

Let’s pick up a few shifts, as a side hustle while in school, I thought to myself. After all, working as a bartender or server in a high end restaurant in a big city can yield some nice cash. If you’re a student or at the beginning of a career with many expenses and zero third party support, making some extra bucks to alleviate the struggle is appealing. However, it comes at a price.

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.

The #AsSheIs Challenge has swept Instagram by storm through the Miss Universe/Miss USA Organization, sharing the Live Life Unfiltered initiative. The “challenge” is to empower women to be as they are. As many of us have read, social media is linked to a significant increase in depression, suicide, anxiety, and body image issues. The mission of #AsSheIs is to remind women that we all have insecurities and bad days, despite what Instagram may portray.

Today, Toni Morrison transitioned from living legend to ancestor.

This piece was originally published on Medium.

Summer is here, and that means it’s time to go to the beach. Everyone loves that wonderful ocean smell, the way the sand feels between your toes, and the warm sun-kissed glow a day at the beach gives your skin. Beach-going is glamorous, fun, and a perennially summer thing to do. I mean, who doesn’t love sipping drinks near the sea?

Before I got pregnant, I thought that all of the "New Moms" in my circle were intentionally going out of their way to cut me out.

Retro sweat to red tents. We discussed it ALL.

My journey through abuse has been long, exhausting and at most times it felt never ending. I’ve spent most of my life feeling like I’m drowning and I’m still learning how to navigate through my life as an adult, even though I sometimes still feel like a vulnerable 10-year-old girl.

I’ve experienced a lot throughout high school. I’ve had drama between friends, annoying teachers, and don’t get me started on the crowded hallways.

She Ain’t Pretty (Thank god)

Sitting in my kitchen, so nervous I was shaking, I decided to shave my head. I remember all the weeks I had paced about within the confines of my mind, rolling the idea around like marbles, popping the 'yes' and 'no' in and out of the realm of possibility. Around this time, I had suffered a tremendous breakup, and in my acts of stress, I resorted to my cyclical shaving and dyeing and re-dyeing and growing... and found myself with about two inches of growth, and pastel pink locks.

For those of you who don't know, I am currently working with Queens and Future Queens (a non-profit organization determined to assist young girls in becoming future leaders through mentorship programs consisting of female CEOs, CFOs, etc. of big companies as well as inspirational speakers, artist, etc.) to create an event called Champions for Change Leadership Awards 2020. Now one of the things I needed to do was find empowering music for women to feature at the event and I found one song that really made me think. The song is "Strip" by Little Mix.

5 years ago I was going to the gym at least 5-6 times a week. I was working out, squatting, drinking my post work out smoothies and had the best looking ass of my life. Near that same time I was entering the first stages of my life as a sexually active woman and men started to notice. I guess you could say that those early stages were when I "peaked". I was getting a lot of attention that I wasn't used to like men wanting to take me on dates, sleep with me and call me pretty. Men that had the chance to see me naked went nuts about my body yet I was still unsatisfied with the way that I looked. For a solid year I was working out and living the single life. My figure looked fit and I was quite busy with men. From the outside, it may have looked like my self esteem was at its apex. But the truth is, my self esteem had never been any lower.

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.

You used to be a good friend to me. My movie pal, my gym partner. When I got with someone that I had been close with for a bit, you weren’t happy. You’d start leaving the room if I got calls, you’d start being snappy with me and just downright mean. You never used to be like that with me ever. You were always careful with me because I’m often sick and frail. I never even neglected our friendship despite the relationship. It got bad, you got worse. You started shouting at me all the time, cornering me. I was scared, so scared of you. I never felt safe anymore and I didn’t know how to tell anyone. I ended up crying a lot. You got so mad the last night you stayed and you shoved me into the counter and raised your hand to me. I was terrified and crying. It was 2 AM and I begged you to calm down or the neighbors would complain. I was shaken. I finally managed to go to bed. You had a date the next day and I was happy for that. I always told you put yourself out there. I woke up to you touching me, and I tried to push you off and told you no please stop. You didn’t. You kept going and telling me how pretty my body was and it would be such a waste not to. I cried. I didn’t have the strength to shove you off and you kept me pinned. When you were done you fixed yourself up and left for your date. I had tears coming down my cheeks and laid there in silence. I curled up with a stuffed animal feeling so broken. I didn’t talk to anyone much at all. My partner didn’t even find out until later in the evening because of one of my roommates who I had cried to silently about it before passing back out. My partner was angry very angry. Authorities were called and you fled the state.

A few years ago it came to our attention that female statues of actual, real women who lived (have a name and birth date) were underrepresented compared to the men. The media coverage seem to be focused on New York City. I started researching the entire United States to see how many I could actually find.

"If only you'd listened to us, none of this would have happened."

Let’s pick up a few shifts, as a side hustle while in school, I thought to myself. After all, working as a bartender or server in a high end restaurant in a big city can yield some nice cash. If you’re a student or at the beginning of a career with many expenses and zero third party support, making some extra bucks to alleviate the struggle is appealing. However, it comes at a price.

Despite the various challenges that women still face in the workplace, many industries have seen significant growth in the number of female employees over the past 40 years. Although sexual harassment, lack of mentoring and stereotypes based on gender roles continue to be a problem, more women are joining industries that have been historically dominated by men. The STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) sector in particular, are seeing more and more women join the ranks. Here are some of the largest fields.

Well I’ve finally done it folks. I’ve finally went off and started an official site of my own dedicated to the women I’ve penned about here on Vocal. This is actually kind of a scary thought to me, if I must be frank. Why? Well, the internet is a vast machine of barking bloggers, it’s a saturated platform, and it’s very easy to get lost in the sauce. Still the key is time and patience (of which, I have none, but I do have persistence and determination in spades, so there’s that…)

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.

There have been a lot of articles saying that woman collect DNA from every man they ever slept with (even in their brain), all of these articles seemed to be case off of one study which... isn't exactly about what I thought it would. For one, the study does not once mention sexual intercourse as a potential reason why woman may carry 'male' cells. If anything, the study suggests that these 'male' cells are from their sons. Yes, sons! Mothers who have carried baby boys for nine months. Another theory mentioned that these 'male' cells came from an older brother, which they also while they were still in the womb. So... NO! These stories about gaining DNA from every man you have had sex with is still yet another mis-use and inaccurate use of scientific research targeting woman with a sexuality because... sexism!

We all want to believe that a rapist is an undeniable monster. A person who is so easy to pick out in the crowd for being an undeniable creep. They are that stranger in the dark alley or lurking in the bushes. Some despicable man with no semblance of soul or care for other human beings that lives to attack women because he couldn't be with a woman otherwise.

It’s no secret that "feminism" is something of a dirty word to a lot of people, to the point that “feminist” can be considered an insult (Waugh 2015). But where does this come from? Is the movement that started with women getting the right to vote (Ruiz) and progressed into fighting against environmental destruction (We Rise; Kapoor 2015; Ruiz), capitalist oppression (We Rise; Red Letter Press 2007; Kapoor 2015; Ruiz), and racism (We Rise; IWDA 2018) really such a terrible thing?

So for those that don't know, I am an Ismaili Muslim and, like the Christian concept of Sunday school, we have religious education on Saturdays. Now the teachers are expected to go through training to ensure that we teach the students facts and accurate information, rather than opinions or perspectives. However, when I went into this training I realized that there was a fault in the training itself. Within teaching the facts, we somehow twisted the perspective based on emotional bias. When I was pitted against the trainer and the other teachers trying to explain my perspective, I felt something inside of me shift. The perspective you teach the students, regardless of the intent, does impact their view and emotional outlook on life because your emotional outlook on life will end up showing.

Growing up I never gave much thought to the word feminism or the works of feminists. Instead, I believed that feminism wasn’t needed since women in contemporary Western societies had more freedom now than at any other times in history. My beliefs about feminism were informed by the readily available stereotypes circulating in society that characterize feminists as angry women, man haters, ugly women, outspoken women, and many other negative descriptive words. Listening to the connotations surrounding feminism, I was convinced that I wasn’t a feminist, for ‘I didn’t hate men, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t ugly; I was contented.' All this further confirmed what I already knew: that I wasn’t a feminist. Moreover, none of the people I surrounded myself with claimed to be feminists, so labelling myself as a non-feminist made perfect sense.

A friend of mine and I were talking about politics, social injustice, and a lot of other current events, and he asked me, "Why do women try to portray themselves as very strong? Why do they do so much? Are they trying to prove themselves? Do they feel as though they must prove themselves? I need to know." Now me being a male, I am, of course, the wrong person to ask those types of questions, but I'm glad he brought it up so I could tell him what I thought. Til this day, the matter is still circulating: "Do women still have to prove themselves?" Through statistics and many real-world workplace experiences, sadly, it seems the answer is yes. There are many stereotypes/cultural norms regarding women in the workplace that may even justify why women feel as if they're obligated to prove themselves more, stereotypes such as: They're less equipped and experienced than men in the workplace, or that they'll leave or become distracted at work for family reasons. There are some stereotypes outside the workplace, like women are just people with crazy mood swings who are also always on their period, they can't fight cause they're women and fragile, they're needy, or they can't amount to anything substantial. Through it, all women rise and defy the odds, and show that women are just as high, if not far greater than, the man next to them and so on.

We all know the girl code. Regardless if it was taught to us or we simply learned it as we grew up and heard "Don't you know the girl code?"or "It's part of the girl code." An internationally known code that was never written in stone, and never truly verbalized, but universally followed. And the girls that broke the girl code? Shunned and isolated. A code created to protect us from getting hurt or betrayed. One based on the ethics of the young girls that created it and followed it.

I am a mother, I am 31.

UK's definition of Endometriosis is:

Throughout the thirty or so years that a woman is experiencing menstruation, and menopause afterwards, it can be difficult to navigate the complex world of hormones and hormone regulation. Here are some tips to control your hormones and bring your levels back to where they should be.

…You shouldn’t be scared to seek help.

This Changes Everything is new in theatres and should be required viewing for all women, girls, and anyone in the entertainment industry. Tom Donahue's discussion of the lack of female representation behind the camera is well-structured, compelling, clear, and concise. Though it doesn't necessarily tell us anything we haven't been hearing for years, it’s (hopefully) still enough to get people listening. It reiterates that men outnumber women in film in almost every department and, while the Me Too movement has pulled many peoples' heads out of their asses, we still have a long way to go before the representation on a film set matches the demographics that represent our society.

She gazed out her office window and sighed. She had no idea how she was going to handle her workload today. Those she supervised had their own cases to deal with so there was no dividing her work among them. Normally when she walked into her office, she made herself a cup of tea and jumped right in. But this day, a nagging headache made her too tired to even pick up a file. She opened her desk drawer to get an aspirin. But the bottle wasn’t there. Then she remembered: She took the aspirin bottle home the day before with the intention of purchasing a new bottle. She must have forgotten. Jane Wisdom left her office to walk to a store on Barrington Street to get some aspirin. It was December 16, 1917 in Halifax, Canada. Jane pulled her coat around her as a chill breeze surrounded her on her walk. The scent of the harbor wafted along that breeze: the smell of water, smoke, and iron from the ships passing through the Narrows, the strait connecting Halifax Harbour and Bedford Basin. Though she was 1.8 miles (3 km) south of the Harbour a clear, cold day like today carried the scents throughout Halifax. Like most people who lived and worked near the harbor, Jane was accustomed to the sights, smells and sounds of the ships that traversed the waters. At precisely 9:04:35 AST (Atlantic Time Zone), just before she reached the drugstore, Jane lost her footing as the ground beneath her shook. A tremendous boom! reached her ears amidst the shattering of glass storefront windows along the street. She cried out and reached for a wall to keep herself from falling. Born March 1, 1884, Jane was influenced by the Social Gospel of her Presbyterian upbringing. The Social Gospel focused on utilizing social involvement to assist those in need, such as the impoverished and those suffering alcohol abuse. She attended McGill University in Montreal and got a taste for professional social work. Though social work was well established in England and the United States, it was still a new concept in Canada. She attended Columbia’s New York School of Philanthropy to earn a diploma in the field of social work. She took her diploma and knowledge back to Canada. She worked for the Montreal Charity Organization, helping families assess needs and resources. She was offered a position as secretary general for the Halifax Welfare Bureau. The first thing she did was to create a social welfare agency consisting of charitable organizations in the area. Ever hands-on, she continued working individual cases and supervising other workers. The scene around Jane was utter chaos: people running, crying out in fear and pain: glass shards from broken windows littered the street and sidewalk. Whatever had happened had thrown everyone into a panic. Instincts prevailed as she ran to a man who had fallen nearby. She attended to a gash in his forehead, watching as smoke began to drift over the city. A new smell entered the atmosphere: the acrid scent of smoke from a fire. Her first concern was for the people of Halifax. Just from those she saw on Barrington Street, many of them needed medical attention. Some were on the verge of hysteria. She could only imagine how many more people needed assistance in the area. She knew the world was at war. Was it possible Halifax had been bombed? But the blast Jane heard had not come from a bomb. Two ships had collided in the Narrows: a Norwegian vessel, the SS Imo and the SS Mont-Blanc, a French cargo ship loaded with high explosives. The impact of the collision damaged benzol barrels on the deck of the Mont-Blanc. This released vapors which ignited during the collision, setting off an explosion aboard the ship. Structures within a half-mile radius were destroyed. Pressure waves from the blast snapped trees, bent iron rails and grounded ships. A tsunami created from the blast entirely wiped out the Mi’kmaq First nation living in the Tufts Cove. Fragments from the Mont-Blanc were spread for miles. Two thousand people were killed. Nine thousand more were injured. Upon learning what had happened, Jane was numbed by the realization that, had she been in her office, she would have been killed by the implosion of the glass windows beside her desk. But she knew there was no time to lose. She was the only trained professional social worker in Nova Scotia. Gathering more than sixty local charity workers, they created a food distribution system, depots for the distribution of clothing and blankets and applications for food and coal. Jane worked tirelessly for the first twenty-four hours after the disaster, organizing workers for distribution of supplies and to go street-by-street making lists of survivors and their whereabouts. Those first twenty-four hours following the worst disaster on Canadian soil were critical in the recovery of the people of Halifax. Jane’s efforts brought attention to the need for relief efforts – not only in time of disaster – but also relief to those in need in general. It was Jane’s belief that a social work system should help create jobs, assist with education and medical needs, and help with recreation for the indigent. A broad scope of social work such as this had not been achieved, but her vision formed the foundation upon which modern social work is based. After the Halifax explosion, Jane worked as a Supervisor for the Rehabilitation Department of the Halifax Relief Commission, organizing Community Houses for survivors of the explosion. In the years after the Halifax Explosion, Jane worked as the director of the Halifax Relief Commission’s Social Service Department. She acted as liaison between the local charity sector and the more official governmental side of charity work, enabling them to benefit from each other. She worked on the Nova Scotia Provincial Commission focusing primarily on women’s issues: Mother’s Allowances and wages and working conditions of women in factories. She eventually returned to McGill University where she was an instructor part time of the social case work in the Department of Social Science and School of Social Work. She then worked for the Women’s Directory of Montreal, specializing in the care of single parent families. Ending up in Glace Bay, Jane studied the social conditions in the coal mining town. She remained in Glace Bay as the town’s first social worker, developing their program of social services. She retired in 1952 to Sutherlands River, Pictou County. On December 16, 1917, Jane Wisdom was in the right place at the right time. For want of an aspirin. The historical portrayals are fictionalized, powered by pure imagination. Pen is a published author with 30+ titles to her credit. A biography of Jane Wisdom is included in Legacies and Legends, Women Who Dared to Make History, Volume 1. Please also visit Nero’s Fiddle for more books by Pen.

Cleopatra. Name brings up many words: seductress, selfish, mistress, harlot, and many other negative words. What about smart or great ruler? Yes, she might have died without insuring her country's independence, but she did all she could to try to accomplish it. She was wickedly intelligent and knew how to use her feminine ways to get what she wanted. If Caesar had not died she could have accomplished all she wanted for herself and for her people. Cleopatra was truly one of the greatest pharaohs of Egypt. She had the makings of a great world conqueror and general, always thinking ahead, knowing her opponent, and being intelligible. And as said in The 100 Most Influential Women of All Time “it was both her desire and ambition that made her the Queen of Kings.”

Pissed off and in pain.

The birth control patch is one method of birth control that uses a release of hormones to prevent pregnancy. It is a beige patch that is stuck to the skin. The user wears the patch for a week before replacing it with a new patch. This is done for three weeks in a row and then a week break is taken for menstruation.

I decided to buy my first collection of affirmation cards and I ended up choosing one called She Believed She Could, So She Did byPeter Pauper Press Inc. However, I realized even before buying them that I can't see all of the cards that come inside. Since I took the chance anyway and had them delivered to my doorstep, now it's my turn to let you know what cards come in this pack and what I thought about them.

He had a dark look on his face, his nose was upturned and he was scowling down at something long and skinny in his hands. I cleared my throat and asked if everything was ok and that seemed to snap him back into reality. His eyes shot up to me and look of disgust crossed his face. His hand lowered slightly and I could see the positive pregnancy test in his had. He threw it down at my feet.

In this day and age, we need to relearn what consent is. In the Netflix show 13 Reasons Why, one of the main characters (Bryce) said: "I could tell she wanted it and she didn't exactly say no." That's such a young guy way of thinking, and some men never grow out of that. They can't wrap their minds around why women don't want sex with them all the time. Men also don't understand why women don't want sex to be the focus of a relationship. You will not die if you don't get sex when you want it. Not every girl is going to want you... shocker, I know. Now I know not all men think the way I just described. There are decent men out there. It's not just men that need to learn about consent either, we all do.

It happened to me about 4 years ago. I just got out of my first relationship and I went back on a popular dating site (I won't name it because it may not want to be associated with this). About a week later I started to talk to a guy who lived about 30 or 45 minutes away. This new guy and I met a few days later. It went well but at the end of the night he touched me and I didn't stop him. I think that's where the ball started to roll in his head about what he would do next to me. So we saw each other the next day at a park near my house. At dark we sat in my car talking. One of the last things he did was touch me down there; I wanted it so that wasn't the assault. This is going to sound weird, but I think when I consented he thought my consent overrode the times I would say no. At this point it all seemed normal. I felt like I found a good guy.