Daley-Ward’s themes—addiction, mental illness, sexuality, body image, womanhood, self-expression—are familiar territory for Instapoetry. In addition, “The Terrible” has the experimental form and style one associates with verse more generally: there are invented words (“blackshining,” “powerfear,” “diediedie”), promiscuous italics and capitalizations, and irregular typefaces. Lines of text hover in fields of white space or are stacked into perfect rectangles. Daley-Ward prefers evocative fragments (“these parents of ours / our makers / our stars”) to complete sentences. Some chapters unfold as scenes in a play, replete with stage directions. (“YOU go the bathroom and struggle to peel this leather costume off your skin.”)
Daley-Ward, a British writer and model, embodies select elements of Instagram poetry while skirting its worst hazards.
I understand why #TimesUp initially forgot about Disabled people, I do. We are not there. We are not visible on the carpet, in movies, in the workplace. Our bodies are not sexualized, or understood as rapeable, and even those closest to us do not understand our pay.
The book’s 100 photographers range from 13 to 91 with work across genres. “What I love about this is that midcareer and emerging women are highlighted,” Ms. Barrayan said. She met the youngest photographer, 13-year-old Fanta Diop, at the Bronx Documentary Center where she is a member of the Bronx Junior Photo League. She met the oldest, 91-year-old Mildred Harris Jackson, through Karen Taylor, the founder of While We Are Still Here, a historic preservation group devoted to Harlem’s famed Sugar Hill neighborhood, which has been home to many cultural and political luminaries. Armed with a Brownie that was given to her as a Christmas present, she documented her family and neighborhood from her teenage years through her mid-30s.
The pussyhat is part of a larger contemporary phenomenon known as Craftivism, which actively challenges the longstanding disparagement of women’s traditional art forms and has itself become a vehicle for feminist opposition. Craftivists run the gamut from hobbyist cross-stitchers urging us to “smash the patriarchy” to professional artists devoting painstaking hours to gallery exhibits. The Craftivist movement inherits a long tradition stretching back to the earliest history and literature of the West: Greco-Roman writers showed again and again how feminine art forms, particularly spinning and weaving, both segregated and subordinated women while also offering them an avenue for resistance.