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redrosethorns journal
Conscious raising, frequently utilised by feminists, involves individuals sharing their experiences to enhance awareness of social, personal, and political matters. This method has proven highly effective in fostering unity, building communities, and shedding light on broader issues affecting diverse demographics worldwide. It's a means of expressing our identities and experiences, ultimately empowering us.
Inspired by this approach, redrosethorns launched an online journal publication aimed at facilitating conversations about mental health, gender, sexuality, self-care, and empowerment.
ISSN: 2978-5316 (online)
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Learning to Fly
You must fall before you can fly.
I was often overlooked and underseen as a child, but when I was seen, it was for all the wrong reasons. Like when my fourth-grade teacher wrote on my report card that I had a ‘defeatist attitude,’ I leaned into it, quitting every chance I got, every time things got too hard.
Jenny Morelli
Dec 19, 20253 min read
Borders of the Heart: Lessons in Grief, Love and Freedom
We have all heard the phrase, “You just need to let go,” spoken with the serene certainty of a therapist, a wise aunt, or a well-meaning friend, as if the words themselves contained some secret medicine. “Let go of clutter,” they say—the dusty boxes, the broken promises of projects never finished. Let go of toxic people whose presence leaves you diminished. Let go of jobs that drain the soul, roles that stunt growth.
Margarita Dale
Dec 19, 20258 min read
Alienectomy
What a twisted treat it would be
For our bodies to clash grotesquely
Mustn’t think on it too much
Parts of me still long for your touch
Sonia Bhojani
Dec 19, 20252 min read
The Anxious Thing Inside
It’s hard to believe my mum when she says that I never had a twin. Because there’s something inside me, buried deep within. It’s like its own person, a sibling of sorts. It’s trying to protect me whilst offering worrying thoughts. Am I being punished for consuming it as it consumes me? That’s the only thing that could make sense, you see.
Holly Pratt
Dec 19, 20252 min read
My Adoption Story
I have always spoken frankly about the fact that I was adopted. My parents were very open about it, which made me feel very comfortable mentioning it to others, whether in casual conversation with acquaintances or more in-depth heart-to-hearts with dear friends. It’s understandable that people are curious. The most common question is, “Did you ever want to find your birth mother?” Every time I reply, “No.”
Karen A. Adams
Dec 19, 20256 min read
Naked in a Lake: Body Liberation and Self-Discovery in Berlin
A man whose name I can’t remember called, “I’m heading to the lake. It’s a beautiful day; you should join me. It’ll be fun. There are some nice FKK beaches.”
That invitation would have been much more unusual if this were back in the US. (It was still uncommon in Berlin because this was a first date!) But in this part of Germany, almost every public beach has a nude or Freikörperkultur (FKK - Free Body Culture ) section.
Laurianna Murray
Dec 19, 20256 min read
The Life-Size Drawing
“He died last night.”
My dad told my sister and me this at 5:00 a.m., the morning my grandpa on my dad’s side passed away. My sister broke down into big sobs, and I cried quietly, my small body shaking in my mom’s arms. I was seven years old, I didn’t know what dying meant.
Jenna Hensel
Dec 19, 20255 min read
Rocket Fuel
Highest octave, riding high
You’ve fallen in love again!
Rocket fuel, wings that fly
Kaylee Baucom
Dec 19, 20251 min read
Sin Eating
I took a bite. Just a bite.
The sour under taste moved about my heart.
It was a taste I understood
through my own hunger.
It had the salt of tears
and the bitterness of wormwood.
Christine Emmert
Dec 19, 20251 min read
Prior to Midnight
The drip of darkness
against the windowpane
distracts me from slumber.
I would awake your memory further
with the magic of my pen,
but some sleeping is forever
Christine Emmert
Dec 19, 20251 min read
How to Swallow Glass
They said: Be strong. So I
clenched my jaw and swallowed
every sharp word they threw
at me.
Ebenezer Mowete
Dec 19, 20251 min read
Midnight Madness
Thinking about what I forgot during the day,
Flooding back into my mind at night,
All these thoughts I try to fight
Prove to me that I'm never right.
Eman Ozair
Dec 19, 20251 min read
Not Me
My reflection doesn’t move like I do
I shift, touching my face
Cringing at the rough stubble
Still deep-rooted
And my reflection stares back
Sighing at my frustration
Zoey Knowlton
Nov 21, 20251 min read
Who's That Girl?
In the attic, Jess pulls open a bin stuffed with Mom’s things, searching for an ‘80s costume party outfit, maybe a neon leotard with matching leg warmers, but instead finds an empty bottle of Jean-Nate-After-Bath-Splash, a cracked Avon make-up mirror, and Simplicity sewing patterns, all several sizes smaller than Mom’s worn in years.
Liz deBeer
Nov 21, 20252 min read
Our Mole
Our little Mole rarely leaves her room, just scurrying downstairs for toast and tea in the morning or peas, potatoes, and chicken cutlets — nothing touching — in the evening. Mid-day, she burrows in her room, reading books or playing with paper dolls using just a dim flashlight, shades down, lights off, taupe paint morphing into shadows.
Liz deBeer
Nov 21, 20252 min read
Frankenstein's Grandmother [1]
Oh!
What a monster she created!
Oh!
What terror she raised
in
the hearts and minds of men!
Oh!
From what an unnatural
mind
her colossus sprung!
Thomas Redoubt
Nov 21, 20252 min read
Mother?
Worst are the mornings. They start with slipping and sliding and make her breasts—hard as boulders—weep. She clings to the mattress edge. Below her, cracks in the floorboards gape wider; above her, cracks in the ceiling spider into the corners; crumbling plaster pitters her brow like a thousand accusing fingers, tap-tap-tapping. What kind of mother are you?/are you?/are you?
Heather D. Haigh
Nov 21, 20252 min read
After Echo and the Bunnymen
“All my... all my life revolves around laughter and crying,”
Ian McCulloch sang to me in those late 80s days.
I wonder if he knew I’d still be trying
Maria Fischer
Nov 21, 20251 min read
After Leah Umansky
in love in echo in armor
starts Leah Umansky’s poem,
the one that ends with
These days, I think I am smiling, even when I’m not.
Maria Fischer
Nov 21, 20251 min read
Why One Writes
“Why one writes is a question I can answer easily, having so often asked it of myself. I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me – the world of my parents, the world of war, the world of politics. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every
Maria Fischer
Nov 21, 20252 min read
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