created, maintained, and curated by womyn, for all.
April's theme is
MOTHERS & SISTERS.
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RAINCOAT is a community of musicians, writers, visual artists, filmmakers, and more. We champion the work of womyn and the nurturing of safe, dynamic spaces that encourage its creation and distribution.
I find a rough draft of a letter sitting atop my mother’s bedside table, scrawled into a beaten spiral bound notebook. The header reads “Dear Brittany”. It’s a letter written to me, but one I never received. It begins, “I am sitting here in the wee hours of the morning, unable to sleep as I am still in shock and utter disbelief to your recent decision to have your body tattooed and permanently disfigured.” The letter quickly digresses from simple motherly concern to something
This is one of two ceramic sculptures that I made for my sister when she was pregnant with her second son last year. She had a lot of health complications throughout and after her first pregnancy resulting in the premature birth of my nephew. As a result of that experience, her second pregnancy was a subtly nerve-racking time for all of us. I wanted to create a vessel for her that clearly showed off the sort of strange and beautiful form that her body was becoming, but also r
Dear Mom, Thinking back on our family trips together, more than the stressful plane rides and grand sightseeing destinations, I most vividly remember the little things. I wanted to reminisce about a few of them with you. My current adventure, which has become yours and Dad's by extension, is exploring Japan. Temples are all well and good, but I think you like the clothing shops, katsudon, and Yoku Moku cookies the best. We will make sure your next visit is filled with all of
(I’d call you unborn but that makes it sound as if you’re in my womb at this very moment which you are NOT). There are things I’ll never tell you. About your looks. About your boyfriends, or girlfriends. About your nose, which could be crooked. About how some days you’ll feel so tired you’ll think you could never feel this tired again, and how the next day you’ll wake up and feel the same way. I’ll never tell you about your weight, lost or gained. I’ll never tell you your hai
Whenever I post pictures of mothers with children in Russia I get comments that they look miserable and unhappy. However that's not the way I perceive it. Maybe more people would see tiredness, and general vulnerability and motherly attachment instead? #photography #motherssisters
“What do you think of me drinking decaf coffee?” I texted my sister today. We talked about it, and then I told her how nervous I was about writing this article. We planned a phone call for her to give me wisdom, at which point she said, “I know that what you write is going to be fantastic.’ “Oh, Leah,” I said, knowing my own ability to be atrocious and her ability to be right about everything. Then she sent me three articles she wrote for this magazine so I could have inspira
she's in the lost and found again. the other night on the radio, the dj said "shout out to all the homeless folks taking a bath in the rain" and i wondered if he'd ever taken a bath all night with each one of his possessions. she looked lost when we found each other in clarion alley, as i'm looking at her just long enough to quickly smile, quick enough to acknowledge her humanity while offering nothing, really, and she asks me what i can spare and i am ready for this question
You were two and three and four and five in this room. When the window stretched dark from floor to ceiling gleamed against the yellowed light of the lamp, your mother would come in run her cool fingers through your still-damp hair. Then she would do the same thing with your brother, who lay on a bed pushed up next to yours, so that when he slept with shadows on his lids, face close enough to put your cheeks on the crack
between the two beds large like two nations you could
Upon graduating high school, I wanted nothing more than to get away from the house in which I grew up, and into NYC, away from everyone I’d ever known. Tbh, I blame Gossip Girl for making the big city look so beautiful and clean, and for portraying disgustingly independent teens whose parents never seemed to be around. Regardless, this was the dream, and it would’ve worked out perfectly, maybe, if I hadn’t been too unmotivated to fill out the Common App. Because of this, I fo