A trace of her hair tucked away, his skin beneath her nails. Each square reminded him of hopscotch. Her head like a tetherball. What kind “The loneliest thing in the world is waiting to be found.” —Sarah Linden, The Killing A trace of her hair tucked away, his skin...
Okay, or entitled little shits Okay, or entitled little shits until taught not to throw sand, “bitch,” direct punches. A catchphrase can be cute, explain away aggression, catcalling, rape. Blame, “can’t help themselves.” Try putting other words there, say, “choice,”...
With her new magic, she makes you invisible. With her new magic, she makes you invisible. The women with black eyes do not see you, in your bare sleeves, your tired, unmarked face. The women with black eyes can say doorknob. Can say staircase and fell down. She...
If I had to describe myself at twenty, this is what I would write. A hyper-verbal, defensive, funny, and skinny skate betty. A poet, thin-skinned and capable, ambitious and in love with the idea of love. A lonely girl from a big family who was open to everything and...
Before reading this essay about accessing appropriate health and wellness care as a sex worker I’m going to ask you to reflect on your own relationship to othering—perpetuating, witnessing and surviving it—and how it has impacted your health. 1. Trust Exercise One...
We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness of our bodies. We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness...
This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little girls like cats. 1 This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little...
I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station that spring in Pisa. Jordan at the other end in...
When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An unforgettable voice in fiction.” When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An...
I attended the University of British Columbia from 2008-2014. I spent four of those six years in the Creative Writing Department, first to get my Bachelor’s degree, then my Master’s. I was raped twice during my time at UBC, once by one of my classmates in the Creative...
ROOM 49.2 SCIENCE
I hope this issue makes you curious and furious, leads to 2 a.m. Wikipedia rabbit holes, fulfills urges to seek out knowledge-keepers. Quickly or slowly, dive in: -ologies of all varieties await you.
ROOM 49.1 No Future for Who?
In Room Magazine 49.1 No Future for Who?, we are really asking. We are coming in hot. We are causing a scene. We are being unreasonable. We are not fucking around. We are not taking “no” for an answer. “No” is the only word we still know. For who? For who? No.
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