relationships
Trace the link between feminism and relationships from outdated norms to modern conventions including chivalry, working mothers, splitting the bill and beyond.
Do You Remember Me?
Do you remember me? I'm the girl that looked "cute enough" to send a message to. I'm the girl that you relentlessly complemented. I'm the girl that you felt oddly comfortable with. I'm the girl that you called "babe" after a few hours of knowing each other. I'm the girl that you built up and then destroyed.
Cristian CarrascoPublished 6 years ago in VivaHell Into Heaven Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Nikki January, 2011 *Smack* “DAMN IT NIKKI! YOU DIDN'T SET THE ALARM ON THE CLOCK! GET UP OR I’LL BE LATE FOR WORK!” screamed my dad.
J.A.K. HansenPublished 6 years ago in VivaHell Into Heaven Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Jesse November, 2009 “Your tie is crooked again, want me to help you?” Said mom. “Thanks, mom, but I got it.” I replied back as I walked back to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
J.A.K. HansenPublished 6 years ago in VivaHell Into Heaven
Chapter 1: Nikki November, 2009 [Nightmare: “I want you to marry me and be my wife,” said Gil. “Your wife? You’re too old for me, silly. I’m like 6-years-old,” I said and gave Gil my tiny fist to his arm.
J.A.K. HansenPublished 6 years ago in VivaSexual Harassment in High School
It's been a few years since I graduated high school and I've been doing much better now. However, I still remembering realizing what it meant to be a woman... I remember teachers and police officers shaming woman for having a sexuality and blaming the victims after an attack.
The Loved Less Swine
Hi, my name is Debbie, and in 2005 I was sexually assaulted by my ex boyfriend. I never reported it, because I guess in many ways I thought I deserved it, especially for how I treated him in the beginning of our relationship, which was horrible. I was head over heels for him, but by the time I realized it, he was gone and I’d pay for that for years to come.
Debbie GabrielPublished 6 years ago in VivaTo the World, It's Just a Really Bad Tattoo
I had $120 left in my bank account when I broke up with him. My neck felt sore, I felt weak, and I guess I just really needed a nap.
Hannah GonzalezPublished 6 years ago in VivaLet's Talk About Consent
This piece is my view on #consent. It is the first of a series of essays breaking down the poem "My Truth" to address in depth the social problems I refer to in that poem. If you haven't read it yet, please do. It'll give you context for this piece. Thanks :)
Lena MarquesPublished 6 years ago in VivaWas I Raped?
It was past my little brother's curfew. The street lights had been on for almost an hour; he knew to be home before they turned on. I was in charge. I was supposed to make sure that he was okay. I had called my parents—my stepfather, too. I was frantic. My stepfather had made it home first, then both of my biological parents. We organized a search throughout the neighborhood and any of his friends' houses that were close by. Being that I was seventeen and had my own vehicle, I desperately wanted to search with them. Instead, they told me to stay in case he arrived home. I was to call one of them immediately if he did.
Opal O'MalleyPublished 6 years ago in VivaUnexpected Friendship Part 4
July 2014 The day that stays engraved in my brain. The day my fear was intensified, my trust in local law enforcement was broken, and the day I learned exactly the type of crazy I was dealing with.
RaeAnna MercadoPublished 6 years ago in VivaDefining Solidarity
For years I have wanted to start the conversation about how women can be more supportive of each other. I have wanted to build communication among sisters. How often have women been able to get to a point in life that they can sit back and reflect, and say, "Because of (this woman), I have gotten to this point of my career."
Regina Stone-GroverPublished 6 years ago in VivaGrateful for the Pain
Sometimes being protected is the very thing that gets us hurt. I grew up in a rather strict and devoutly religious home. We still acted like normal people, watching movies and spraying whipped cream into our mouths, but a few key things were different. I didn't have a curfew because I had to have permission to leave the house in the first place, and breaking a rule felt like breaking a law. My parents gave me or my two older sisters "the talk," because they thought that something that wouldn't happen had no reason to be talked about. All you needed to know was "no," and the rest would come at marriage.
Mikaela MerrittPublished 6 years ago in Viva