I used to feel ashamed of having body hair. I perceived this to be unfeminine and even gross, as unfortunately some people still do.Read More
How can I have feelings of love and loyalty and gratitude to the same group of people that make me feel scared to leave my house at night? Or are they a collective group at all? But if they are not then who am I scared of? And who am I angry with?Read More
Being a feminist is hard. Being the kind of feminist who is unafraid of calling out bullshit wherever they see it is harder still. [...] In response to the sometimes overwhelming weight of being a feminist killjoy I’ve created and compiled five ways to turn around everyday sexism and ensure life is always more amusing and sassy than painfully patriarchal. Take these into your own life to ensure you’ve always got the energy to smash the patriarchy.Read More
I guess I am writing to you guys for a couple of reasons – first, I have to apologise to you both. I’m sorry that for the first few years of our relationship I was less than impressed with your presence, or lack thereof. I sort of stumbled into puberty – there was no fanfare, no angels descending from the heavens, not even a rapid growth spurt.Read More
(NSFW): 9 prints from a series of 27 artworks depicting female masturbation. The self potraits are part of a larger body of work concerning how women and their bodies have been sexualised by the male gaze but are not 'allowed' to be sexual on their own terms.
Rachel Ang is an illustration and comics artist from Melbourne, Australia. She tells stories about the mysterious worlds which lie just beneath the surface of our own. This comic entitled "The Wound" was first published in a short-run zine called The Craft.Read More
Men say a lot of stupid things to me. That’s not an accusation. It’s not even an intelligent observation. It’s a fact. And do you know what makes me feel worse about myself?
I let them.
And that’s not fucking fair.
It started maybe about ten years ago. It would be a sweltering hot day and, in accordance with the weather, I would choose to wear one of my flowing sundresses that used to make me feel so happy. But then I would walk to a friend’s house or to catch a tram. The sweaty place where my thighs meet and rub as I walk would become red, raw, and irritated, until I would find myself at home hours later- lying on the couch, legs up, bag of frozen peas on my thighs, cursing the day the sun came into being, along with the sick, sadistic liars who told us that summer was fun and carefree.Read More
"This is about exploring my sexual identity whilst also being in a long-term heterosexual relationship; how I navigate and balance this. It's about whether I can question these things with my limited experiences, whether or not my sexuality has to be "proven", and whether I even need to define it at all."
Love 6, 2016
Crayon & watercolour