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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.

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to redrosethorns journal, click here.
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Shushed
I speak, loud and proud and vocal,
For those who have no voice.
For those who have been shushed,
Squelched,
Stomped down,
Silenced by a world focused on
Meaningless models of
Empty externals.

Mary Beth Magee
7 days ago2 min read


you turn on the radio
you turn on the radio
hoping, i gather, to make me angry,
everybody knows how i feel
about rock and roll—it just makes
you want to drink and smoke

John Swofford
7 days ago1 min read


On Being Plagued by Recurring Nightmares
Things I did and didn’t say or do still haunt me like candles flickering at the periphery of my psyche, bearing with them those things over which I never had control. Calculated, cold, and condescending, these thoughts that plague my slumber are only incorporeal in spirit; each word they carry cuts like a razor blade, jarring me from sleep. My anxiety bleeds in shallow breaths spent lying awake and wondering if the outcomes could have been different, the dark recesses of my

Jennifer Weigel
7 days ago2 min read


Please, Keep Me
I sat up with a jolt of pain in my abdomen. My eyelids begged for relief, but my stomach ached as if I had been kicked by a steel-toed shoe. 6 a.m. My alarm clock glared at me. I had disturbed its time off, its peaceful dawn. I am not some newscaster who needs to roll out of bed and drive down dark, desolate streets toward the station. I do not need to be up this early, I don’t want to be up this early. Vacation does not require some strict wrangling of the teenage sleep sche

Juliette Brookman
7 days ago9 min read


As If
Premise: Who is the protagonist? What do they want?
I wake up as a girl, I don’t know who. Woman, woman. The thing we all want is a story to tell. A reason to be the main character in our own lives, for someone to be watching. The thing we all want is an audience.
Exposition: What is in the way of what the protagonist wants?

Rowan Tate
7 days ago6 min read


The Girl Who Learned How to Disappear
Don’t be afraid to open those notebooks.
You think you only remember the pain.
But even in the darkest places, there was light.
You loved. You were loved.
That’s what matters.
You are Dee. That’s enough.

Denise Dalfino
7 days ago5 min read


Magpie
Maggie was at the gynecologist when she realized she might not be a feminist. With her bare feet propped up on the stirrups, her underwear bunched up inside her purse, and Dr. Jennings’ gloved hand currently prodding at the space between her legs, her thoughts were decidedly un-feminist in nature. She was not thinking about womanhood, or sisterhood, or the advancements in reproductive health that allowed her to be here now; she was thinking about how much she regretted not sh

Ella Newell
7 days ago11 min read


Into the fold
I am living large
In a time of split lips and bruised oranges
Like a bug caught in amber, suddenly revived

Anthy Strom
7 days ago1 min read


Will You Be Mine?
I asked you to see me. Suffocating. My breath stuck somewhere in over-expanded
lungs, dying to exhale- gorged to the edge of implosion-
Not with noxious refuse of the blood,
With truth--Begging for light.

Jill Euclide
7 days ago2 min read


Onion Skin
I peel a friendship today…
Shuck the crisp skin
Off another’s pride.
Reduce this warrior’s armor
To a soft, discarded rind.

Sam Barbee
7 days ago1 min read


Questioning the Suspect
Why did I walk out that day
into the river that flowed
faster than my intentions?
Escape was in my body’s movement
while my mind had stopped
at remembrance of your face, your voice,

Christine Emmert
7 days ago1 min read


Comet Riding
Climbing aboard
is easy
compared to balancing
the bucking journey
through the stars
to new pastures
feeding my pleasures
with their bounty.

Christine Emmert
7 days ago1 min read


Blooming Spirit
As I went for a walk through nature last winter, I could see spring coming out of the silent trees, the bushes, and even the ground. Everything was becoming alive and vibrant again; everything was ready to flourish and scream its vitality in colors. It happened last spring, and I’m quite certain it will happen this year, too: just as I could see nature around me starting to bloom again, I could feel my soul blooming too.

Sara Gasparini
7 days ago3 min read


Harbinger of Death or Damned Nuisance
The nurse, not the regular hospice nurse, but the stand-in named Lori, was by today and said that before people die, they hallucinate, become anxious, and lose bladder control. That’s what my husband’s doing. Does it mean he is dying? If he is, those problems are not permanent, and I can get through them.

Sylvia Keepers
7 days ago2 min read


Dance
The overlap of threaded vein, set upon the skin
Of muscled sinew in the flesh
In hands of carnal sin
That grips the curving
Sensually swerving
Undulating hips

Cassandra Manuel
Apr 252 min read


The Final Femboy Year
The gothic style of a rosebud tattoo
Manifested treacherous ideas from within
My scarecrow-like figure
Was forever signified by serendipity

CJ The Tall Poet
Apr 251 min read


Her Voice
Early one morning, her beloved husband brought a cup of coffee to her in bed. “Surprise!” he said. The real surprise was that that was the day he started drinking in the morning. He poured coffee for her and vodka for himself. She thought he had become the husband she dreamt about, but no, he thought first my vodka, then your coffee. She deluded herself believing he was being kind. No, he planned to keep her out of the kitchen while he drank.

Rosemary Williams
Apr 255 min read


Iron Cross
My trans daughter walking among pines and oaks
Her ambling feet whooshing leaves
Sap sticking to her shoes
A bicycle tramples her
Face slammed. Rock shards
Eye stitches

MD Bier
Apr 251 min read


Fall Mood
I forget what silence feels like
until I step outside into a breathless
moment when wind pauses
at the frayed edge of an afternoon.

Sharon Scholl
Apr 251 min read
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