The Australian National University's intersectional feminist magazine.
Everyone knows the name of Chanel Miller’s rapist; we know he could swim well, he liked steak, and that he went to Stanford. Yet, for a long time, we didn’t know Chanel’s name or all that she is: a writer, an artist, a poet, and a sister.
“There is a moment between when you mention sexual abuse victims and when I speak my next words, where I decide my identity for this conversation.”
“I feel you in me / My insides do not twist / like they did when / I felt him …”
“I was a love-ridden fool. I thought he would never do it again. I was wrong. But I did not leave. The good times were too good to leave.”
“Then, I see your face and I no longer have any desire to fight for my next breath. Your touch burns my skin. I feel your fist against my cheekbone.”
“Seeing these words in his handwriting was the only truth that could have ever convinced me that I really was in an abusive relationship …”
“At my back the blade refracts. I feel the rush.”
“Not to mention the fact that, after months of regularly faking orgasms, it is slightly bizarre when you first mention you are aorgasmic.”
“This recipe for couscous salad assisted me on my journey to regaining joy from food.”
“A recreational interest in ‘edgy’ or ‘kinky’ stuff never excuses abuse or assault, in the same way that punching a pro wrestler outside of the boxing ring is still a felony.”