In honor of Women’s History Month, VOX ATL poets offered raw, resonant voices on womanhood, resilience, and identity. 2025 Youth Poet Laureate, Norah Fonder-Kristy, delivers a sharp indictment of gendered violence and bodily autonomy, counting 19 “no’s” — one for each year since the 19th Amendment — as a pointed reminder of how far society still has to go. Eliza Germany’s “Dance” shifts the lens to discipline and performance, capturing the grueling yet gratifying grind of a dancer’s life and the quiet power of owning a stage. “Ash” rounds out the collection with vivid, visceral imagery of physical and emotional dissolution, tracing a journey of isolation and endurance across an unforgiving landscape. Together, the three works reflect the breadth of young women’s inner lives — from outrage to artistry to grief — in their own unfiltered words.
“No.” By Norah Fonder-Kristy
I have spent my whole life saying no.
And yet I have become a witch on trial, but they never burned witches, no, they burned women.
I am haunted by their claims of treason for misused femininity,
for I am a miracle, and yet, I am held in one palm, a single greasy hand I didn’t wish to be grabbed by.
Oh, their fingers—no, their claws—that scraped maliciously are masked by their outwardly acceptable excuses of my skirt length.
I am a canvas, and you
and you
and you
have stained me, and I am not new, I am not shiny, I do not appeal to your standards of pretty enough to be prey.
I was born a feather, and you the wind.
Do you wish to tell which is stronger, don’t you see the advantage you were born with, don’t you spy the slant of the hill?
No, of course not.
The injustice only lies on the wrong side of the fence, the one we’ve been chained to.
The crow dies on the highest branch, and we all smell its corpse.
And I
And I
And I
am tired of starting each sentence with an “I.”
Let it once be you, let it once not be I who is handed the short end of the stick, that’s how this goes, isn’t it?
I have to hide my depth behind a shield of a giggle, I have to live through “Boys will be boys, but girls will be women”, I cannot exist in a world in which my autonomy is mine, no, no, no, it must be that crow’s, the one that’s never had to be a girl.
The one that’s never had to bleed, red, like the Georgia clay I crawled from
Never had to pull his dress down, never carried keys between his fingertips, never had to check under his car for the sake of an Achilles, no, never been taught “Never speak unless you are spoken to, sit down, hush up, be kind,” never had the men in the streets say, “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”
He’s never had to grow up, shrink down, be big, be small, be quiet, be loud, be seen, be heard, be believed
No, we live in a courtroom, and the verdict’s already been decided,
and the jury wasn’t fair, no, it never is
I didn’t get an attorney; he didn’t need a defendant.
And they all watched as I angled my jaw to the stars, and I screamed with all that I am:
No.
No.
No.
And you,
You heard yes
I should not have to be grateful that my body is still mine
I should not have to bite my tongue,
or call a friend to walk home at night,
or cover my drink,
or beg for my being, no,
My hands should belong to me
And my brain and my body, they should too
And the belief, and the right, they should not be privileges
I should not have to fear for my life because of a little thing called femininity
And I can make my body big, I can yell, I can shriek, I can be the wind
And yet I’ll never stop saying no
And I’ll never be a man
Nor should I have to want to be
But here we are
In 2025
A hundred years since the revolution
And we are crawling backward
And I have said no 19 times in this poem
The same number as the amendment that supposedly gives us rights
But no,
No, I don’t think
No, I know, I know, I know
It’ll never
Never,
be enough
“Dance” by Eliza Germany
Warm-ups and workouts take you around like a roller coaster
Your body twists and turns, and your pain worsens.
But you like it, weirdly enough
The process makes you strong and tough
Conditioning your body to move and bend
Wishing hopefully that this “minute” will soon end
Nothing comes overnight
So repeat it till you got it right
Even though in the morning you’ll be sore and tight
Do it again so those jumps stay airy and light
Work work work be classy and poised
Soon, the crowds will make some noise
Amazed by your tricks, your leaps, your flicks
Spotting in your turns so your landing sticks
Bun, ponytail, or maybe even down
Show some emotion, smile, sass, or a frown
Improv your moves, keep them on their toes
If you mess up, who’s going to know
Fluid and quick, robotic and slow
Change up your movements to put on a show
Foundation, lipstick, set your face.
Let everyone know you run this place.
When everybody bows and the curtains close
You’ll carry your smile all the way home.
“Ash” By Neelam Chadha Jimenez Potter
May skin fall from bone
As I crawl towards the sun
Tenderized in a voyage
I have long not called my own
A crew used to hold me
As I leaned to graze the waves
Hands keeping me steady, with the constant sway
I’d watch the schools pass me by
Scaled creatures stealing my eye
Holding glimmers of the sun
In their frigid expanse
At times, I would shake
Wary of the cold
Holding your hand
With a leg dangled below
Now I hold onto the waste
Grasping at moving bones
Cracking and splintering
Too far from their abode
I leave a piece with each pulverized carcass
Flesh tangled in bone
Something for a creature to gnaw at
In their new apocalyptic home
The sun beams down at me
Smiling at my pain
Dangling perfect bliss
With flakes of my unneeded skin
I try to follow the heat
But all I know now is to burn
My eyes won’t open
My nerves are rubbed raw
My bones are scraped clean
Bleached in the sun
Just like all the others I’ve passed
Left utterly alone
With a practiced, senseless might
Soon to be
Ash
