We are women. We are rising. And we have some things to say. About power. About pleasure. About who gets to speak, and who’s expected to smile. We can be soft and still mean business. We can love men and question the world that puts them first. We can look hot without making it an invitation. There is room for our beauty, our anger, our humor, our ambition. All of it. We’re picking up the phone. We’re saying the thing. We’re asking for the woman in charge. And sometimes, we’r

I don’t want to paint. I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to sit in a bath pretending the sweaty stillness will save me. Everything feels wrong tonight. My art waits for me like an accusation. Canvases calling. Brushes clean. I have no excuse, Except that I am empty in a way my own creative hands can't touch. I want someone here. I want a body in the room. I want weight on the other side of the bed. But the people who want me aren't healed. And the people I want, disappear.

Every day I wake up Already on her back Strapped in the saddle Feet off the ground, Hands on reins along for the ride She runs to every...