When a woman from my sober group confessed to me that she felt invisible, I did and didn’t feel that—the tension of aging out of the civil hold society still has on its women. The burning question is not, should I drink, but how do I stay relevant as my body changes, without having given birth or given away my name and even still, to be known is the ultimate disobedience—sitting with my two breasts out, carving space in the remembered world. I wanted more for my own mother, even if that meant not having given birth to me. That’s what I think of when I see a particular wedding image of her pitched on a small green hill, carving space against a stark blue sky, her veil caught in the wind as if to say it knew something none of us did.
Jocelyn Ulevicus is an artist and writer with work forthcoming or published in magazines such as The Free State Review, The Petigru Review, Blue Mesa Review, No Contact Mag, Blue Bottle Journal, The Santa Ana Review, Humana Obscura, Dewdrop, and elsewhere. Working from a female speculative perspective, themes of nature and the unseen; and exit and entry are dominantly present in her work. She resides in Amsterdam and is currently working on her first book of poems. You can contact her on Instagram at @jocelyn.ulevicus or via her website: jocelynulevicus.com.
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