What a great selection of published pieces to celebrate in April. Congratulations to all!

From “Panama” by Donna Sprujit-Metz at SWWIM:

wings, the hummingbirds— 
part of one thousand 
species of birds here—they sip sweet
sap, beaks bright,
the lush forest shows, greens

Further congrats to Donna for publishing her poem, “Tiny Hammers,” in Smartish Pace!

From “Visitation” by Cybele Garcia Kohel at New American Legends:

La Virgen materialized to me- Me!
on a car bumper a medallion of divinity
appeared
where a US Army Seal had been
small
but not impotent

Also from Cybele, “Moon’s Shadow” at New American Legends:

her buxom breadth
her waning flow
true comfort
in this wicked world

From Stephanie Abraham‘s “Telling Stories that Matter for an Increasingly Influential Generation” at My PRSA:

Thanks to the social-media sharing habits of their Gen X and millennial parents, most Gen Zers have had social-media footprints since conception and learned to swipe before taking their first steps. Although the youngest in the age group won’t be eligible to vote until 2030, the oldest have already graduated from college. Starting next year, Gen Z will make up 40 percent of consumers.

Also from Stephanie, “‘Ramy’ Will Get You Laughing — and Thinking,” at Ms.:

The 10 episodes, 22 minutes each, are designed to be binge-watched—which Youssef called the “most 2019” part of the production after a screening in Los Angeles last week. Episodes are not resolved neatly, he added, because “that would be sci-fi.” The plot’s primary tension comes from Ramy’s grappling with believing in God and wanting to be a “good” Muslim, or what he perceives as such, and everyday life in the U.S.—including navigating dating and sex, peer pressure and Islamophobia.

From Romaine Washington‘s “A Thriving Writing Workshop in San Bernadino” at Poets & Writers:

Our workshop participants range in age from mid-twenties to eighties, from college students to retirees. The octogenarian from Germany and the dancer in her twenties who works with at-risk youth have a mutual admiration for each other’s poetry and joie de vivre. The creative process, natural flow in fellowship, and mutual respect makes each meeting memorable.

From “The Button Maker’s House” by Sakae Manning at Carve:

At the center of the front garden, a Deodar Cedar, taller than any tree for blocks around, broad-branched, and regal, planted for shade, a children’s swing, a place for family gatherings. The tree reminded Mari of the flat-topped cedars growing at the edge of her grandfather’s village in Japan. Bending to the ocean’s whims, shaped by monsoons and tsunamis, but never breaking. The four intertwined trunks created a perfect spot for marrying up to the big-nosed man Mari’s mother believed held so much potential. 

Congratulations to Sakae who won a 2019 Summer Fishtrap fellowship!

From “Four Days: A Provocation” by Deirdre Hennings at Litro:

“Papers! Papers!” Shouts of armed soldiers wake me as they tromp through my train in long coats and helmets. So this is East Germany, 1972. We scramble for our passports, watching passengers exit under machine guns aimed at our train from atop nineteenth-century iron catwalks arching above the tracks. One blond, Nordic-looking woman is pulled from her seat in our car at gunpoint, crying and pleading in German, broken English and some other language I cannot understand. She looks to be twenty, the same age as me.

From Rosa Navarette‘s “A Busted Window or My Observation of Luz Moreno, mi Tia Paty” at Label Me Latina/o“

Luz Moreno, also known as Paty in our family, was born in 1979. She was the last of the Morenos to emerge, and she stood out like a sore thumb with her lighter complexion and short legs. A small suspicion wandering the halls of my grandmother’s house, that no one in the family was brave enough to confront. Her older sister, Magda, had become a kitchen helper in the family and home business — the indoor garage was turned into a restaurant, that once belonged to the eldest, sixteen years Paty’s senior. The eldest was at the time of Paty’s childhood, crossing the border to be reunited with her husband. Paty only remembered that her sister’s husband used to
bring her toys, but that those presents stopped when he moved away.

Congratulations to Arielle Silver, whose lyrics for “The Calling” won second place in the March/April 2019 Lyric Contest at American Songwriter:

Freight train’s in the distance
Hear that whistle blow
See it slipping like a serpent
Beneath the sunset glow
Further out, the clouds
Are building up a storm,
Throwing bolts of lightning
They say it’s gonna pour

From Flint‘s “The Clubhouse” at Bending Genres:

The golf cart got a flat 20 yards past the eleventh hole, and three-quarters of a mile away from Frank’s now warm vodka Martini waiting for him at the clubhouse bar. They were only supposed to play nine, and Shirley always had his drink out of the shaker and fogging up the glass at 12:15pm on the nose, not a second before or a minute later, not even if she had to stop mid-pour, leaving some luckless bastard’s Black Label

A great month for Flint who also published “A Villanelle by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet” at Arts & Letters and “Ink” at Unchaste Readers. Congrats!

From Judy Gitterman‘s “Money for Nothing” at The Wild Word:

As I stood in line to reload my Metro card at the station, a man in front of me turned around and stared. It took me several seconds to recognize my old lover. It wasn’t as though he’d aged. He was as gorgeous as ever, a silver-haired Richard Gere look-alike with an irresistible smile. Eyes so dark they resembled bottomless black wells. No, what threw me off was his attire. He wore the most exquisite charcoal grey suit, so sharply tailored he could have been a model for GQ. In the three years we were together, I’d never seen him wear anything other than ripped jeans and faded tee shirts.

Congratulations to Janel Pineda, whose “When the Death Squads Come” was published at Latina Book Review!

Finally, the winter chill has started to thaw into a warmer, sunnier spring. Making the days even sunnier are these amazing publications from the members of Women Who Submit. Congratulations to all!

From Lisa Cheby‘s “Roof Clearing” at Ruminate:

At 9:30 that morning, I climbed onto the roof of my church, thankful for the overcast sky. I had committed to help at our church work party a few weeks before the government openly started separating and imprisoning families at our borders and criminalizing refugees seeking a better life, like my father did 60 years ago when he immigrated from Hungary. I had considered going downtown to an occupy protest, but I chose to be on the roof among an array of brooms and rakes, a leaf blower, and five other church members. Our task was to clear pine needles from the roof.

From Erana Leiken‘s “Retail Therapy” at *82Review:

What I thought would be a summer job in a small, college town in Indiana, became a time of unexpected and sometimes tragic encounters with other women’s lives. In my early twenties, I just finished my first year of teaching and needed work for the summer. 

Also from Erana, “What I Learned from a Cockroach,” at Women for One:

Like most people, I find cockroaches disgusting and repulsive, but one cockroach taught me a lesson just at the time I needed it. I’m afraid of bugs…always have been. I still remember them knocking and buzzing at the screen as I tried to sleep on a hot night without air conditioning in Chicago when I was a young girl.

From “Testament” by Lituo Huang at The Grief Dialogues:

On the day of your passing
I watched your friends
scatter—

some, to high places—tops of trees
to wave their branches in winds that waved yours,
tips of staves, ascending keening notes—

Also from Lituo, “My Neighbor, Who Has a Mail Order Bride,” at Recenter Press:

Gosling-waddling,
skinned peach eyeballs
in a blown-glass bulb
lodged atop a golem of clay.

In honor of National Endometriosis Awareness Month, we share Marnie Goodfriend‘s “9 Endometriosis Symptoms You Shouldn’t Ignore” at SheKnows:

Many endometriosis symptoms have been normalized by our culture, hovering under the golf-sized umbrella with the label “female problems.” The injustice in this is when the invisible illness is diagnosed and managed earlier, women have better options and better help managing their pain. Even though there is no known cause or cure, a diagnosis is critical in creating a care plan with your doctor to help mitigate these symptoms and puts an end to the question, what on earth is wrong with me?

From Carla Sameth‘s “Spinning” at Mutha Magazine:

She has begun to spin. Thirty minutes on the bike, thirty minutes on the weight circuit, trying to follow along. Keep her body moving, round and round.

The gym sits in the little town of Sierra Madre where her older sister lives with her family.

She is the middle sister who lives nearby. Like the Rose Parade floats, she makes the trip from Pasadena traveling on Sierra Madre Boulevard, but the floats only go once a year on their voyage to their holding spot near Sierra Madre, on Orange Grove Avenue.

Congratulations to Lisbeth Coiman whose essay, “Grey Hair of Desire,” was published in Unchaste Anthology Vol. 3!

Congratulations to Lisa Richter whose essay, “Flood,” was published in Joomag!

Congratulations to all the women who were published in February – a wonderfully long list!

From Carla Sameth‘s “Making Love to My Toes” at Anti-heroin Chic:

Girl glares sullen for a moment, thinks: this shit job, this hotel, these people make
so much noise about nothin’ and I bet no tip gonna be left 

in my room tomorrow. 

Also from Carla, “Mourning Morning” at Entropy Magazine:

I remember her breath quickening, holding her breast while she touched herself; I was too selfish to make love to her because I was already off and running, ruminating. As if I was on the ride: Soarin’ over California in Disneyland, California Adventure. I take notes like I’m already remembering the embrace I’ll never feel again when she’s gone. Something will take her away; I’ll think about how far away I floated, as she stroked my body in the morning, just behind me, as she leaned into my labia, my clit (I write these words as if I always had, but they come out awkwardly).

From Ava Homa, “Theatre review: A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts,” at Signal Tribune:

It is only in a musical that brings to life caricatures of British snootiness that the horror of several consecutive murders can turn into jolly entertainment.

One of the best examples of this comic portrayal of ignorance, in this reviewer’s opinion, was the lofty lady Hyacinth D’Ysquith, who was desperate to find “a place so low that hope itself has been abandoned.” 

From Antonia Crane‘s “Secret Life of a Stripper Who’s Also a Social Worker” at narratively:

It’s slow as shit at Showgirls. Summer in the Coachella Valley is a sadistic blow-dryer you can’t turn off, and business comes to a screeching halt because all my regulars leave for their other houses in colder places or go on fancy European vacations with their wives. I’m “Candy” here but my regulars call me “The Lady in Red.” Riley and I always work on Tuesdays, waiting for the rare drifter to pop in for a happy hour beer and a quick blast of AC so we can talk him into a twofer and pay our bills. Riley’s the best pole dancer here by a long shot — she can do the Running Man while suspended in midair. Right now, she’s a superhero perched to fly, but there’s no one to dangle upside down for, so she leans on her fists with her elbows on the bar and talks, while her long, toned legs drip off the barstool. She tells me about her recent relapse and her anxiety disorder while our buns stick to the vinyl barstools.

From Diane Sherlock‘s “The Inedible Footnote of Child Abuse” at The Manifest-Station:

There was no bodily autonomy in the house I grew up in. No privacy, no warm baths without ice water dumped from above, no agency over my body, and my brothers and I had no say in what we ate. Three seemingly random vegetables were force-fed.  Why those three? Why not? They were the favorites of the reigning narcissist of the house. They were our mother’s favorites. Reject them, reject her. The essence of narcissistic abuse.

From “Water Tank” (and other poems) by Sehba Sarwar at Paper Cuts Magazine:

we are fish
swimming
below the surface

in our aquarium
beneath broad
banana leaves

From Janel Pineda‘s “In Another Life” at wildness:

The war never happened but somehow you and I still exist. Like obsidian,
we know only the memory of lava and not the explosion that created

us. Forget the gunned-down church, the burning flesh, the cabbage soup.

From Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo‘s “‘A While’ Means January,‘” at The Acentos Review:

“It’s like you fell from the sky,”
he said mystified, but he didn’t know
I conjured him in a new moon.
Bees buzz in his ears ordering
him to work till callouses grow
into houses for their dreams.

From Soleil Garneau‘s “Shaking the Magic Eight Ball” at catheXis:

i went out lookin’ for something
like i go out every day
i walk
the broken concrete
and think of what else won’t be fixed

Congratulations to Ryane Nicole Granados whose “Kids Gym Provides Inclusion for Children – and Its Owners” was published at L.A. Parent!

Congratulations to Toni Ann Johnson whose story, “The Way We Fell Out of Touch,” was published at Callaloo!

Congratulations to Lituo Huang whose story, “The Climb,” was published at Bosie Magazine!

Happy New Year! And happy Women Who Submit publications! Congratulations to all the writers who were published in January.

From Ryane Nicole Granados‘ “Course Offers Specials-Needs Moms a Mindful Return to Work” at LA Parent:

Having a baby is a transformative experience, bringing intense physical changes and engulfing emotional ones due to the pending needs of this new human. The mind races from nesting to nursing to concern over who will care for this bundle of joy once parents return to work. These concerns are heightened when a child is born with a disability of medical condition.

From Noriko Nakada‘s “People Don’t Strike for 6%; We Strike for Justice” at United Teacher:

…this weekend was not like all the others, because I’m an LAUSD public school teacher, and like every other year, I had many papers to grade and many students on my mind as I made my way through the weekend, but unlike other years, this year held an added stress. All weekend I carried the weight of a looming work stoppage and very
public contract negotiations that put my colleagues and me in the crosshairs of public conversation on the sidelines of sporting events or gathered around a table waiting for the cake to come out.

Also from Noriko, “Lessons from the Picket Line,” at Cultural Weekly:

We are both UTLA members and we had been bracing for this day since December 19th when our winter break was interrupted by the setting of the strike date. Over the holidays we talked with friends and family about the strike and made plans for our kids during the work stoppage. Then, we worried and waited. After the new year, we went back to work at our school sites, and the strike was postponed, and maybe wouldn’t even happen, but that Sunday night, when the strike was definitely happening, new levels of anxiety rose to the surface: Would all of the teachers who had committed to strike show up to the picket? Would the lines hold? Would the community support us?

From “Yesterday Small Voices” by Donna Spruijt-Metz at Poets Reading the News:

whispered to me through the day
slick-nosed, nudging
demanding my elusive attention

I looked up from my
busy ephemera, startled,
as if caught in mid-slaughter

From “The Promotion” by Karin Aurino at Literary Orphans:

His eyelids fluttered. There was a ringing in his left ear. He didn’t think he would be nervous, but maybe he was.

It was the fifth city in six days. The audience had settled into their seats. It was a large crowd, maybe a hundred and fifty people at the Westfield Mall. He had done these over a hundred times before. He could do it in his sleep.

Congratulations to Anita Gill whose essay, “Hair,” was published this month in the Iowa Review!

Congratulations to Nina Clements whose poem, “Our Mother of Sorrows,” was published in Prairie Schooner!

2018 comes to a close with another impressive roster of publications from the writers of Women Who Submit. Congratulations to all!

From Noriko Nakada‘s “Not Your Job” at Mutha Magazine:

When the doctor went to pierce
the flap of skin under your nose
with his sterile silver hook
I told you to squeeze my hand
and said, “You are so brave”

From Mahin Ibrahim‘s “Hollywood and Representation” at Nina Sadowsky:

I would not be Muslim if it weren’t for my father.

To combat “intellectual” Islamophobes, I’d like to say it is science and my own rigorous search for the truth that keeps me a believer, but it’s not.

It’s my father.

From Antonia Crane‘s “California Barbers Are on the Front Lines in the Fight for Labor Equality” at Mel Magazine:

In short, the ruling allows millions of workers — from barbers to Lyft drivers to strippers — legal protection and clout where they previously had none or were considered disposable. After all, for employers, the economic incentives to misclassify workers is colossal. 

Also from Antonia, “The Sign Flashes ‘Girls, Girls, Girls,’ and It Reminds Me that I Exist” at The Establishment:

I never told anyone about the man who punched me on the 22 until now. This is the quiet violence sex workers face every day because of gender discrimination, stigma and whorephobia. It’s easier if we stay silent and pretend it’s not happening. But it’s also easier for us. Because if we speak out about violence against sex workers, we will be blamed for living a “risky” lifestyle. We will be fingered the Whore.

From Julayne Lee‘s “Don’t Tell Me to Be Thankful for Being Adopted to a ‘Nice’ Country” at ILDA South Korean Feminist Journal:

What began as a humanitarian gesture had evolved into the reinforcement of the stigma of unwed mothers in South Korea and the intentional division of families. It is because of my desire to seek justice that I joined the planning committee for the Dual Citizenship Act, served on the ASK Steering Committee, joined the coalition to secure retroactive U.S. citizenship for all intercountry adoptees, co-founded Adoptee Solidarity Korea – Los Angeles (ASK – LA) and launched a writing workshop for adopted people of color. If we want equality and access, we have to create these opportunities and keep these spaces accessible.

Congratulations to Lisa Eve Cheby whose poems “Still Life” and “yoga for the too much alone” were published in the Santa Barbara Literary Journal and whose poems “Exorcism of My Father” and “Kitchen Closed” were published in Tipton Poetry Journal!

Congratulations to Mona Alvarado Frazier whose short story, “Lucky,” was published in Palabritas!

Congratulations to Andrea Gutierrez who reported and edited on the feature, “At Home,” at The California Sunday Magazine!

November was another banner month for Women Who Submit publications! Congratulations to all the writers.

From Ryane Nicole Granados‘ “Helping Out in L.A.” at L.A. Parent:

My children have taught me that, if you look close enough, you’ll see tiny flowers breaking through their concrete and waving their tenacious petals in the breeze. That’s the beauty of children: they can see brilliance in the bleakest situations. With guidance, they can also harness their vision and use their innocence to change the world. As we embark on these holiday season, here are some family-friendly organizations making a difference…

From Désirée Zamorano‘s “Austin” at Moria:

After two weeks of a dull rage, the rage turned into despair, then confusion, then transformed gloriously into a plan.
Things made no sense, they made no sense, and sometimes it was up to the individual to turn the inside out all right side out again.  That’s what Austin would do.
Make it all right. Continue reading “A WWS Publication Roundup for November”

Happy Halloween and Happy publications! Congratulations to all the Women Who Submit who were published in October.

From Arielle Silver‘s “Mother” at Matador Review:

Mother: [Noun] a woman who has borne a child.

    1. First came love.

                       Father: Spring break she took a road trip down from Georgia for the weekend. Ended up at my frat party.

                                   Where are you from? I asked.
                                   New York, she said.
                                   Your name sounds Jewish, I said.
                                   I am, she said.
What’s that on your finger? I asked.
                                   I’m engaged, she said.
                                   Why don’t you break up with your fiancé and go out with me, I said.

    2. Then came marriage.

From Arlene Schindler‘s “The Night I Became a Gift from Cary Grant to One of His Friends” at Purple Clover:

The party was in a fancy restaurant in New York City attended by 75 rich and famous types. The entertainment preceding me were five different -grams. I had to follow a singing Yankee Gram, a gift from party guest George Steinbrenner. Shortly after I got into my costume, a guest who was an infamous nasty person—Roy Cohn—walked up to me and said, “If you are not funny, kid, your friend loses her job.” No pressure there. Continue reading “A WWS Publication Roundup for October”