Mapping Me: A Landscape of Women's Stories

By Mapping Me Productions Ltd

Mapping Me: A Landscape of Women’s Stories' contributors are published authors and artists of various backgrounds and from all walks of life. They are storytellers mapping the geography of their lives as they negotiate the demands placed upon women every day.

We are privileged to feature the following authors and artists:
Bibi Asgher, (New Zealand); Sarah Bainbridge, (New Zealand); Linda Breault, (Canada); Batsirai E. Chigama, (Zimbabwe); Cathleen Cohen, (USA); Gillian Craig, (Scotland); Manal Deeb, (USA); Debotri Dhar, (India); Denise Donaldson, (New Zealand); Jenni Fagan, (England); Sia Figiel, (USA); Shweta Ganesh Kumar, (El Salvador); Cheryl Gilbert, (Netherlands); Kim Goldberg, (Canada); Brigitte Haberland, (Mauritius); Tania Haberland, (Italy); Farha Hasan, (USA); Danijela Hlis, (Australia); Abha Iyengar, (India); Tammy Ho Lai-Ming, (England); Beatrice Lamwaka, (Uganda); Sherrye Landrum, (USA); Karen Lazar, (South Africa); Jessica Loomis, (New Zealand); Sharanya Manivannan, (India); Cindy Maresic, (USA); Claudia Morales McCain, (USA); Traci Meek, (New Zealand); Courtney Sina Meredith, (NZ/England); Ira Mitchell Kirk, (New Zealand); Nuala Ní Chonchúir, (Ireland); Cheryl S Ntumy, (Ghana); Shabnam Piryaei, (USA); Zara Potts, (New Zealand); Shahilla Shariff, (Hong Kong); Sarah Snowneil Ali, (United Arab Emirates); Somaya El Sousi, (Gaza, Palestinian Territories); Kate Spencer, (USA); Michèle Vassal, (France); Gloria J Wimberley, (USA).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mapping Me Productions Ltd
• Release date: Apr 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9780473256777

Mapping Me Productions Ltd

Mapping Me Productions Ltd is about exploring and sharing people's extraordinary stories through photography, artwork and written word. Mapping Me Productions is run by Tamara Azizian. Most of the time Tamara lives in New Zealand, contracting in television production. Tamara is an aspiring photographer, documentary photographer and videographer.

Book preview

Mapping Me

A Landscape of Women’s Stories

Published by Maymona Productions Limited at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Maymona Productions Ltd

Auckland, New Zealand

Website : www.maymonaproductions.com

Email : [e-mail]

Twitter : @Mapping_Me

First Published: April 2014

Compiled & Edited: Tamara Azizian

Initial Design: Andrew Vesey (Vesey Creative)

Final Design & Technical: codeSauce Limited, NZ

Cover page artwork: From There, Manal Deeb, USA

All content © Copyright by the named author(s)/artist(s). No part of this manuscript may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior permission of the author(s)/artist(s).

Introduction

Mapping Me: A Landscape of Women’s Stories is an anthology of fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry and artwork, which explores the connections – the invisible threads – that exist between women across the globe.

Never before has the human race been so transitory. We are travelers across the world either physically or through cyberspace. Mapping Me is about transcending the physical geography of our contributors as they map the internal landscapes of their lives.

Our themes are those ‘points, which connect us’. While the female reality varies across countries, still we laugh and we cry. Some of us may not personally understand the experience of arranged marriages, bound feet, or restrictions across military checkpoints but we can understand a mother’s love, a daughter’s pain and a young girl’s giggle.

Our reason to focus on female contributors is simple: women continue to struggle against gender bias in the arts. Mapping Me wants to celebrate the diversity of female creatives. This anthology gives voices a chance to be heard and the reader an opportunity to listen to the stories outside of global tabloid gossip.

The female body is a landscape of stories. Each chapter of this book is titled after a part of the human anatomy as a way to link the emotional experiences with our physical characteristics. Artworks illustrate the words as Mapping Me captures the stages of a woman’s life and self.

Tamara Azizian

A Selection of Voices

For the first time in a while she didn’t fight nor cry nor flee

Pick Up Speed

Katie Spencer (16 years)

USA

my arms unfold my love

your body is open country

Wolf menuet

Courtney Sina Meredith

New Zealand

The darkness brings fears and ideas you’d never dare to think in the light of day. You’re good at this game.

Thoughts in the Dark

Somaya El Sousi

Gaza

A mother must always do what her child needs, even if the child is a woman, like you

Miriam

Karen Lazar

South Africa

The look said things were never just right enough.

Tiny Atom

Abha Iyengar

India

I should have deciphered our prophecy in the mythology of our meeting.

Undersea

Shahilla Shariff

Hong Kong

Books saved me and my sanity. I found my wings in books. They enabled me to fly and soar above the sadness that was my life.

Happy Birthday Li’l Eagle

Sia Figiel

Samoa

Everything is upside down, inside out. We are young, strong and in love. We deserve the world.

The Mother

Cheryl S Ntumy

Ghana

Mapping Me

My Feet

This chapter includes stories of movement, motivation and of standing still and restriction.

My Hands

My Hands recalls stories of sensuality, love, support and letting go.

My Womb

Motherhood. This chapter brings together the female experience of childbirth and mothering, infertility and freedom of choice.

My Eyes

Who do we see in the mirror? My Eyes is all about perception, self-image, observation and the moments of self-realization.

My Mind

My mind is the constant dialogue partner with my heart. This chapter continues the thought process by including stories of relationships, partnerships and society pressures.

My Feet Movement Motivation Restriction

Take A Chance

Ira Mitchell Kirk

New Zealand

Pick Up Speed

Katie Spencer

16 years old (at the time the story was written), Strafford, Vermont, USA

Some great large hands were tossing handfuls of pebbles across the sky as she ran towards the river. Feeling the rumblings and knowing she shouldn’t even think about water in the midst of such a storm, she ran faster. Her legs flashed in time with the splashes of lightning. Sometimes all you can do is pick up speed and flee. The rain was dropping a straight line down the street for her to follow. It whispered of clean and easy roads. And laying ahead in the future and through tall grass the river sang and waited and frothed, whispering its own promises. Sometimes, all you can do is pick up speed and flee.

Earlier that day the sky was blue and everything wrong propelled itself towards her. She woke up and saw all of it piled at the door. She tripped over the truths as she made her breakfast. She was sure she didn’t know where joy was found anymore.

Mid-morning, sky a mixture of light blue and heavy grey, she dug around in the garden. She uncovered her failures there, finding them in the grassroots and weeds that completely blanketed the back row of rutabaga. When she felt the weeping of the sprinkler system on her shoulders as she bent to disentangle a stubborn choke weed she was reminded that she could cry. So as the storm clouds, uprooted weeds, and her ash colored sorrow gathered, she tried a few tears out. But what felt even better than crying was pulling the tough lengths of grass out of the soft dark earth. More people need to pull some garden weeds every once in a while, she thought, Screw counseling.

After throwing the plant rubble over the hill and wiping her hands half-clean, she was here, pounding down the dirt road to the rush of the water. She felt almost all right, in all that sweat. When she reached the bank she introduced her toes to the spinning water. Like a tear she eased herself to the chill cold river bottom. It was blue down there. For the first time in awhile she didn’t fight nor cry nor flee. She stayed below the surface of the storm - under thunder, needles of lightning and the weight of her failed joy. She knew she should emerge soon. But it took a few beats in the blue of the river for her to realize she could. So she pushed forward to meet the gray of day and gulped in that new air. Then- without much fanfare or celebration- she stopped fleeing.

---

This

Gillian Craig

Scotland

It has come to this:

a solitary wine glass

that survived the trip.

---

The Snow Holt

Jenni Fagan

Scottish living in London, UK

The factories where coal

mines used to be, waft

winds candy sweet

across waste-ground,

clothes flap on makeshift

lines an’ dogs bark,

Seven boys circle

me slowly

ma bare fists up,

incredible hulk

t-shirt kicked tae fuck

sodden wi slush.

An’ they are tinkers

an’ boys

but I am gypsy

just out the snow holt

like a white fox wi girl eyes

to glint as the winter sun fades

an’ the factory siren blares

its bloody war cry.

---

Miriam

Karen Lazar

South Africa

It is four in the morning, in the Neurological Intensive Care Unit. It is as quiet as a shrine and as purposeful as a ship. Pitch-dark except