There’s a word that shouldn’t be controversial, yet somehow, it is. A word that stands for equality—nothing more, nothing less. A word that many of us claim with pride, while others spit it out like an insult.
That word is Feminist.
The Other F-Word was born from rage—raw, unfiltered, and deeply personal. Originally titled Feminine Rage, this piece embodies my visceral response to the relentless erosion of women’s rights. The stripping of body autonomy. The erasure of women from spaces that once championed them. The quiet yet insidious removal of resources and documentation—like the CDC quietly scrubbing web pages that once provided guidance and support for women in STEM, maternal health, and reproductive rights.
Yet feminism has never been about women being better—just equal. It is, at its core, a movement for everyone. For equal treatment, equal opportunities, and the right to exist freely, regardless of gender, race, color, religion, or sexual orientation. But still, people recoil. They roll their eyes. They weaponize the word.
And then there’s the color palette—red, white, and blue. Colors meant to symbolize freedom, justice, and unity. But in this piece, they take on a different meaning. The red is rage, the white is erasure, the blue is grief. This is not a blind celebration of patriotism, but a confrontation of it. A reminder that for so many, the ideals these colors are supposed to represent remain out of reach.
Layered within this painting are symbols of feminine energy, power, and resilience, woven into the chaos. The deep reds and bursts of color are not just aesthetic choices; they reflect the turbulence of our time, the fire that burns beneath the surface. The mouth—open, mid-scream—becomes an unrelenting call, a refusal to be silenced. The tears are there, too, in streaks of blue, because grief and rage are often entwined.
Some have suggested renaming it The Artist’s Scream, but this is more than just my voice. It’s the collective scream of every woman who has watched her rights be debated, dismissed, or destroyed. It’s the voice of those who are exhausted but still fighting.
This month, The Other F-Word hangs at Collective Visions Gallery. And I hope, when you stand before it, you hear it-you feel it.
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