The Women of the Alt-Right

A previously posted open-sourced photograph of Lana Lokteff was removed because she did not consent to her image being published in association with this article.

By Rosemary Anderson

The American alt-right movement wants to strip women of the right to vote, allow men to use violent tactics to “keep women in line,” and force women back into the home–but alt-right men are not the only ones who support these statements. Women do too.

With the rise of the alt-right, increasingly more women have become involved in the movement.

Racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, anti-Semitism, antifeminism: all are words that can describe the alt-right. So how do people get involved in the first place? Specifically, how do women get involved?

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Walking the Line: Religion and Feminism

           By Kali Nelson

Religious themed necklaces sitting on a white background.
Some of the religious necklaces I have received.

Easter has almost come and gone and I am once again reminded that I walk a thin line between my religion and my feminism. For the last month, I have been doing a lot more thinking about how sometimes my religion and my feminist beliefs conflict. I find it hard to believe that my God loves me but also doesn’t believe that I am a second-class citizen.  Feminism and Religion have long been on separate paths but it time to see that the two can and should work together.

I would like to note that I don’t have many experiences with other religions besides the one I was raised in, which is Catholicism. I will try my best to bring in other religions and if I get something wrong please let me know.

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My Feet Upon A Rock: A Memoir on Sexuality and Faith


By Eryn Connery

It was a night I couldn’t bear to be home with my thoughts, so I ran to her. Down the street – the rough concrete paving the ground, paving a world that I felt might as well have been coming to an end – I was running away and running toward. Fleeing the family I thought would hate me if I told them the truth, I ran to the girl I had fallen for in secret. No one, not even her, knew why I cried that night. Running blind down the street between our houses, too young to even comprehend the new, strange desperation that pushed me, stumbling, a clumsy child.

I came crying through her door, and her father found me first, pulling me into his arms. He placed a hand on my head and prayed fervently, eyes closed, while mine remained open. Will Pentecostal prayers still bless a girl in love with the pastor’s daughter? Can they? I heard her come down the stairs, she reached for my hands and I fell into her, heavy under the weight of the world. It was a world I couldn’t explain, whispering “it’s nothing, it’s nothing,” over and over as she pressed her face into my hair. “Amen,” her father said. And so be it.

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