News — being woman

Writing - 11.05.2021

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Writing - 11.05.2021

Maybe I’ll read this post in 5 years, thanks to Facebook, and I’ll cry because I’ll say to myself “if only you knew that you are own wish come true.

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Writing - Poetry - The Freedom Between my Thighs

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Writing - Poetry - The Freedom Between my Thighs

The Freedom Between my Thighs- (written in 2014, edited 2020) by Yvette Hess   The Freedom between my thighs Consoles his fears Of being a smaller man, A lesser man By consuming me.   Fists aim for the sky But land on either eye- I’m blinded by promises, Once again left Empty. My insides hate me for allowing His bitter tongue to taste me. So I wait for the lashings daily Expectant, Pregnant with the truth Pregnant with his fruit Ignorant to the fact that I can escape: And live life full, Not bruised, Not used. Not only seeing black...

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Looking Back - Art - 5 April 2019

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Looking Back - Art - 5 April 2019

Using Facebook’s nifty activity log, I am reflecting on old works, their meanings and what was happening at the time I created them.  One of the works below were included in the Spring show at Ruth Prowse school of art I attended but unfortunately went missing. I don’t think there is anything more painful than work that goes missing or gets lost or damaged. This especially when you were not even completely present in the creation of it - no memory’s of process but an expression of a truth nevertheless. And when that work goes missing, it is like a...

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Dear Diary - 08.04.2021

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Dear Diary - 08.04.2021

“Even though the battle is fought with my mind, my body responds to it being real, in a very real way. Freezing completely, or shutting down. My eyes will close involuntarily, my legs have pins and needles , like they’re switched off.”

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Writing - “Shape of Home” - 2018 - Poetry

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Writing - “Shape of Home” - 2018 - Poetry

If I’m shaped by all my experiences, then why am I left feeling hollow? “Make space, make space!” They say. There’s more of them to home. Aren’t you lucky that I’m open? Open to receive and give and give.   Why am I the space you occupy? Why am I the space to gather round, To sing your war songs, your silent cries. While I- Constantly swallow the gratitude of being the space you call home.   Yet all I want to feel is home again To feel like I belong in my skin, again. In this mind, and soul,...

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