2 for 2 on Virtual Tip Jar Readings! This time we will be having Dev Blair featuring Irie and Michael A. Rosegrant!
Short Line Review will be hosting its first Virtual Tip Jar Reading with Lexie Bean!
Virtual Tip Jar is a virtual reading with artists and authors of all kinds from the comfort of your own home. Rather than pay a standard admission fee, these readings are free, but we highly encourage donations to our features.
FEATURE: LEXIE BEAN
APRIL 1 7PM EST
Reading via ZOOM:
Meeting ID: 458 523 603
ABOUT OUR FEATURE:
Lexie Bean is a queer and trans multimedia artist from the Midwest whose work revolves around themes of bodies, homes, cyclical violence, and LGBTQIA+ identity. Lexie’s writing has been featured in Teen Vogue, Huffington Post, The Feminist Wire, Ms. Magazine, Bitch Magazine, Them, Logo’s New Now Next, Bust Magazine, Autostraddle, and more. They have also performed, curated, and facilitated around the world. Their most recent anthology, “Written on the Body,” with/for fellow trans and non-binary survivors of sexual abuse and domestic violence was nominated for a 2019 Lambda Literary Award. In May 2020, their debut middle grade novel, “The Ship We Built,” will come out with Dial Books for Young Readers at Penguin Random House.
ABOUT SHORT LINE REVIEW:
Short Line Review is a literary magazine dedicated to celebrating and fostering connections between communities, identities, individuals, and whatever else we navigate in this world.
We are committed to raising the work of marginalized communities, and will prioritize the work, voices, and needs of POC, LGBTQ, femmes, and women.
My body is speaking to me
The tongues of my skin
Speak languages that do not reach my mouth.
Whisper sweet nothings, to which I can not reply, the words caught in
Trying to translate beautiful
a noun, a possessive word
The word is stuck in the spit of man as he yells at me
The word dies, becomes synonym with his–with plaything
Becomes notes in the orchestra of catcalls that illuminate every city street I have ever walked in.
And yet the tongues of skin, like sirens calling to Odysseus
Urge me to hear them, to learn their dialect, to find the flowers in words
Men turned have into knives
And yet I remind them,
That language is a weapon
Reared against anything feminine, to invalidate it, to hide it, to pretty it up for consumption
And yet, my skin speaks– vehemently of these reclamations
Of taking words weaponized and weaving wildflowers
Of the glory in survival and how to survive we must teach ourselves to speak–
Because the world, the man, thrives on our on fear
And so as I lick my wounds,
My skin, she sings my a lullaby
My mouth finds the hidden curves of her words and mimics them
Moves them around the roof my mouth, down into my diaphragm, and lets them rest in
Between my ribcage, where they safe but soft, but strong, but mine
About Lennix: Queer. Trans. I believe that art is the only way to recreate myself authentically.
I am a student at Simmons University and I love pastels.
(photo provided by Lennix)