A poem about that typical family gathering – when the men relax and the women toil.
New research shows children's images of scientists are all too often male.
When a random man started to lecture me about how to dress, a stranger's kindness offered me the support and community I never even realised I needed – women.
There is no harm to speak with all the hurt, the brokeness, the lisps, the slips, because that is how I learn this language, that is how I make it …
It runs through my heart, sings in my ears and loves me with its gentle touch.
Let the world be suddenly afraid of our chests, for our breasts are finally staring back.