Mermaid Mirror: An Anthology of Women Writers - Tapa blanda

A year ago, a colleague told me doing a women’s issue of our magazine would alienate our male readers and contributors. My protestations led to my dismissal from the organization. I’m not sorry. I quickly found a new hook from which to hang my editor hat, a place where the editor over me understood my vision. I saw the mermaid gazing back at me from the mirror, and I heard her song calling me. “Don’t give up,” she sang. Men don’t like it when women speak to challenge them. They tell us to get back in the kitchen and make them a sandwich. They never want to eat the kelp-laden banquet the mermaid lays before them, though. They may try to cover their ears and shut out her song, but she will sing. I am profoundly grateful to bring you women’s voices in this issue. They scream. They cry. They still sing. They imagine life in space holds as much heartbreak as here on Earth. They burn and rise again. They recall the hard times, defy bullies, mourn those who lost their fights. They yearn for home. They commune with Nature. They promise the dead to honor the life lessons taught to them. They dance with wild abandon. They reject the leering gaze of men. They lie among ruins and praise wildflowers. They face the Gorgon with stony determination and know her frozen loveliness. They confront their grief and bolster themselves in their loneliness. They recognize the relationship is over. They love themselves instead. They sink their pain like the sun into the sea. They fire shots across the Thanksgiving table to cut through banal pleasantries with racists. They weather the storms in their own minds and bodies. They defy cultural norms and beauty standards. They scrawl their message with red lipstick for a pen. They carry their scars and curate every drop of blood. They tell the stories of their mothers’ past and the stories of their own past. They wash and hang laundry out to dry, along with memories and dreams. They honor the Grandmother. They all see the mermaid in the mirror, and they raise their voices to sing with her. Come listen. ---Chani Zwibel, 2018