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9/2/17 Sitting on a bed of newspapers, I spent 3 hours quietly embroidering hate speech onto my own dress. Inspired by the helplessness I felt about the increased incidences of hatred that began with Trump's rise to power, I wanted to use my body as an instrument of truth. After a couple iterations I settled on embroidery. An art that's associated with an innocence and purity of women. A quiet domestication. When they saw me from afar, people expected I'd be writing poetry, something beautiful. Forced to come close to read me, I got to watch their faces change as they read me; watched their discomfort as the realization struck them.
A couple reactions moved me to tears. One man came up to read me, and upon realizing what I was doing, simply said, "f***" and sat down, head in his hands. Another woman looked at me, tears in her eyes, set a hand on my shoulder and bowed.
I'm filled with gratitude for those who let themselves connect deeply with this piece. Thank you.

Photo credit to OddHourz

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