Like all our issues, we hope that this week offers a sense of community, and that you may find some courage or inspiration in the stories and ideas it includes.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Alexis Pauline Gumbs's "BlueBellow."
This is one of six stories we're presenting this week as part of our Resistance special issue.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Lewis Shiner's "A Box of Thunder".
Nobody pays attention to a slump-backed brownish girl with droopy-lidded eyes. She's got all the genes that make her look Less Human, according to the Important powers that be.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Meda Kahn's "Difference of Opinion".
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Abbey Mei Otis's "Blood, Blood".
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Anya Johanna DeNiro's "Tyrannia".
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Samantha Henderson's "The Red Bride".
I hold a star in my eye and a pistol in my hand.
You will not find us on the six o'clock news
These are women / who have danced to an ancient pain
You Are Here
You need to take the Blue Line to Memorial Park – move up around the
axis to the second exit.
Resistance is struggle. The struggle can be physical or emotional or ideological, but there is always something for individuals in collective resistance movements to have to reckon with.
I'm blessed to come from a line of healers, artist, educators, entrepreneurs, and ancestral alchemists.
I am still here, I want to say, I still mean something
I'm sixteen when George and I figure out the aliens will pay to watch us fight.
«They're coming,» Rosa said. She was out of breath, and Alex watched her put one hand on the door frame to steady herself. So much for hope, Alex thought.
The story of the Red Bride is a slave's tale in slave speech, which I do not generally hold in my head around humans lest my face betray me.
And then, nothing was important anymore. So he decided to become an agitator, to disturb the peace.
First you think it’s jet lag. At some point you make a joke to yourself about how you have finally internalized their thing about how “all black people look alike.” At the beginning a lot of us just tucked it away along with everything else that didn’t make sense about our lives.