A Letter From a Fellow F-word

“Hi Catherine,

My name is Alex and I am a Communications Manager at Barnard College. I am reaching out to you today with an idea for your blog. Being perfect and powerful, being a feminist: these are among the most popular topics of conversation among today’s young women. Barnard College’s new podcast series, Dare to Use the F-Word, tells the story of today’s feminists through the ideas, art, and activism that define them. Barnard President Debora Spar, in her new book Wonder Women: Sex, Power & the Quest for Perfection, explains that while most women today struggle with the idea of perfection, they also struggle with the concept of feminism itself. Are the two connected? Read President Spar’s thoughts in this exclusive post.

As a communications manager at Barnard, I want to continue these important conversations among feminist thought-leaders like you.  I ask you to republish and share this post on your blog. Pose these questions to your audience; they may dare others to join us and use the f-word.

Kindly,

Alex”

I encourage you to read President Spar’s riveting article. Please continue to write to me!

Someday

Someday you won’t miss me this much

You won’t crave my familiar scent

Or reach out to touch my hand

You won’t smile when you hear my name

Or think of me during class

 

Once in a while, you might remember me

On a cold night when your mind has been wandering

And you’ll stop and think

“Oh, so that was the girl I used to love”

Roses

Even roses could not survive in this frozen tundra of a world,

where darkness perpetually sweeps the land,

digging up chunks of wet dirt

and eradicating long forgotten daisies

with one simple flick of the hand.

New Beginnings

We are all dying

Shedding and decomposing

As the worlds spins on

Unforgiving

And you and I

And our broken hands

We have yet to mend

Hold on for dear life

For although we want to die

Life has only just begun

Mourning

We buried them with our tears

Their silent sorrows muffled by our cries

As we painted pictures in the night sky

With drops of blood from our finger tips