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please register your interest via (non-anonymous!) asks or dms if this is something you might want to be part of; i would like to make sure we have at least a few active and invested women present for the start of it, to not immediately run out of vital momentum once the server (hopefully 🤞🏻) launches

i would like for this to be a space of revival of local feminist culture, a tribute to the amazing women who came before us and, most importantly, a way to foster new in-person connections. the obvious safety concerns are something i would like to see addressed collectively once enough of us get together. the ultimate vision for the server includes private location-based chats as well as a forum to coordinate group plans for FiLia 2027. ultimately, though, you can keep your more specific location as private as you wish!

by Margaret Atwood

Another sword, another cairn. Cut up an old necklace for the chain. The background fabric is scrap fabric from a thrift shop in Edinburgh, Scotland. Photo doesn't do the fabric justice! It's very pretty!

notice anything? notice anything missing? any commonality amongst all of these women that is being deflected from and obfuscated by unclear vague all-inclusive language?

lesbian. lesbian is the word for female homosexuals. not gay, not queer, lesbian. lesbian. lesbian. ellen did not come out as gay, she came out as a lesbian, melissa etheridge is not a queer rock icon, she is a lesbian rock icon, the wnba contains no gay players, it contains only lesbian and bisexual players, tegan and sara did not grow up gay, they grew up as lesbians, ellen degeneres did not have a queer talk show, she was a lesbian with a talk show. please please please just say lesbian it isn’t a dirty word. soon enough, the only exposure people will have to the word lesbian will be through bleached blonde straight girls with fake boobs and long french tip nails fondling each other on pornhub for male pleasure. when we talk about actual lesbians it is so important to use clear language and say LESBIAN!!!!!!!

We did meet. Nineteen years ago. I was 8, you were 9. Outside the temple. The Wong boys were taunting me about my parents’ divorce. You beat the crap out of them. You were wearing a Kristy McNichol t-shirt, tan cords and a pageboy. You spilled your mom’s groceries. We scooped them into a bag. And then I kissed you…on the nose. And you ran.