Articles From Issue 5

The following are sample articles from Issue 5. Click here or contact to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Underweight is Overrated (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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You know how people like to say that beauty comes from within, and not to judge a book by its cover and all these wonderful, catchy clichés?
I don’t know about you, but this must either be a myth or I’m surrounded by complete hypocrites.
I’ve been underweight for as long as I can remember, not because of any social standard of “visible ribs are beautiful” but because of some genetic reason. Being born skinny and staying that way pretty much until today, I would hear that beauty comes from within, while others told me that for me it would be impossible because there probably is no space within me where beauty could dwell. In fact, they said that if I still have all my inner organs, I must be defying some basic law of physics.
Not funny.
Other members of my family, just as thin as I am, would ridicule me for being skinny by “imitating” me building muscle by exercising with toothpicks.
Not funny.
Others would “imitate” me by eating a grain of rice and hold their belly saying “Oh! I can’t eat anymore!”
I’m getting pretty sick and tired walking into a gym and getting looks of sarcasm that say “Wow, girl, you need to lose weight PRONTO!” Or looks of blunt honesty that say “Get the hell out of here, burn one more calorie and you die!”
My point is that if there are any girls out there who want to lose weight, believe me that being underweight is not a walk in the park. Disdain and ridicule will follow you wherever you go, so you might as well dress and look the way you want to, and be damn proud of it too. Getting plastic surgeries, going on all kinds of weight loss programs, packing your system up with enough pills to stock up a pharmacy will not make you happy. Happiness comes from within - the same place where true beauty comes from. It’s by loving and accepting yourself the way you are that you will be truly happy and truly beautiful.
This issue includes poems about beauty, an article on the spiritual and psychological factors that may affect body image, a piece on body art, a discussion with Angela Gossow and her views on feminism and female empowerment, a piece on the influence two very different girl camps have on their campers, and of course, the usual Riot Grrrl Corner with the Lunachicks and their take on the social standards of beauty.

Beautiful in Spirit (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The Goddess of Love (By Merav Fima)
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Oblivious Face Lift (By Evangeline Avittan)
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Imagine lying on the cutting board, your anesthesia has yet to come to fruition. After two years of researching different doctors to cut up your face and put it back together again you are finally living your dream of a face lift. Before the anesthesia you have met your doctor’s assistant, another doctor, you are impressed with all the concern and obvious care put into your surgery. This man you have chosen to trust is standing over you scrubbed in and he believes you are under. Then you hear this conversation between him and his assistant. Doctor, “I’m going to take a shower now, you know where to make the incisions. I’ll be back before she is out of recovery.” Assistant answers, “No problem.” You start to mumble, the only protest possible when you are half way under, then a gas mask is put over your face.
Plastic surgery can be a wonderful thing for many people. In no way, shape or form would I suggest anyone not do something which could change the way they feel about themselves. I heard this story first hand from the woman who was on the table. I decided if I ever feel the need to have cosmetic surgery, I would make sure it is performed by a close relative or friend.

Metal Girls on Rebel Girls (Angela Gossow and Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The following is a discussion between Angela Gossow, the lead vocalist of death metal band Arch Enemy, and Hadass Ben-Ari, editor of the zine you’re reading. The discussion began as Angela’s response to the previous issue of Fallopian Falafel, which featured an article about her, and turned into an exciting and inspiring dialogue through back-and-forth messages on Myspace.
Horns up!


Hello Hadass,
I am not a feminist. I am an equalist ;-) I haven’t spent one minute in my life even considering I have less strength, chances and talents than a male human being. I was very lucky being raised in a non-traditional household, where my mother owned the business and clearly was the boss and my father was employed and never even tried to outdo my mother, or take the power.
I think being feminist is straining. Trying to be ‘better’ in everything makes it way too hard. I have no intentions to try and match these muscle boys in my gym. You know. And they should never try to beat me in communication skills... I am a black belt in the martial art of discussion and argumentation, hehe.
A strong woman sets her goal right in front of her eyes. And she will get to it, no matter what. She will force tradition, machos and social hierarchy into its knees and move mountains. But I understand there are many places in this world, where feminists are still needed to pave the way. Germany and the whole of Scandinavia are very advanced. We have a [female] German chancellor. Us women are breathing down the northern European men’s neck. We are very close. And this is why I can live in the freedom of being equal. I don’t need to be a feminist anymore. I just need to be me.
‘Just’ is wrong here though. Being one self is the toughest challenge of it all.
So, I vary a bit from the ‘female metal’ movement. I want it to be METAL. And that’s that. I am a MUSICIAN. My gender comes 2nd. I am not a growling kitty. I am an outgrown Bengali tiger and the females are known to be the most vicious.
BE A FREEDOM FIGHTER. And your gender comes second.
Revolution begins,

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Aerobics (By Mindy Aber Barad)
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A Brother's Love (By Lillian Pinkerson Aronin)
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My brother always loving me
Showed me how to treat my body
To refine myself into something better, into somebody
No diet, No trainer can shape the soul
Or relinquish the blubbery blanket the hides-
Hide-like diamonds forced from coal
My brother always loves me

I thought I sat alone upon the desolate knoll
A nobody
Until his caring made me see that anybody
Can be as special as they want to be
My brother always loving me

Lipstick or Drumsticks (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Yesterday Downtown (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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The Old and the Beautiful (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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My hairs are turning white. It started around the age of 17, actually. Since then, every time a white hair emerged I pulled it out after a long rant about how I’m getting old by the minute. Today, I’ve decided to embrace my white hairs as a sign of wisdom rather than geezerness. My fear is not that I’ll become an old, wrinkled, gray-haired lady but that I’ll become a bitter old, wrinkled, gray-haired lady. I think that the earlier a person learns to admit and accept the fact that time leaves its permanent marks, the happier he or she will be as an old person.
I also think that today’s commercial consumerist society has a lot to do with the state of mind of the elderly. Probably ignoring the fact that the elderly make a substantial part of it, society begins by pushing them aside to retirement homes where they sit and pray for a painless and speedy expiration. It also encourages the ideal of everlasting youth with all the commercials about anti-aging creams, hair color products, libido-enhancing pills and all that bullshit. It takes a lot of guts to grow old with dignity in a society that is openly scared shitless of this misunderstood age group.
Speaking of commercials, they remind me a lot of doctors. How do they know what’s good for me? How does anybody know what’s good for me. It’s all a big conspiracy. Shampoos, soaps, body lotions, toothpastes, tampons, prescription medicine, fucking laundry detergents... am I just supposed to take the TV’s word for it? I’ve used this Neutrogena anti-dandruff shampoo for two fucking months and the only thing I managed to get out of my scalp is its natural moisturizer. As a result, my scalp is itchy as hell and fucking dandruff is still there.
All these products introduce more useless shit into your system (which will harm you on the long run) than protect it against “harmful” natural material. All these toothpastes and mouthwash and floss and toothbrushes do not fight gingivitis or whiten your teeth. It’s all a big fight against nature, and nature will have its way, like it or not. Your teeth will become yellow, your gums will hurt when you eat, and bleed when you brush, and your teeth will end up in a cup of water by the end of the day. And your hair will become white. The roots will show two days after you dye your hair.
To be completely free, we have to first give ourselves permission to feel free – with our body and for all its imperfections. Fat, white hairs and wrinkles are all elements which make us human. None of us are getting any younger, so I better start learning how to cook and knit like my grandmother.

Of Lice (By Dr. Hannah Joy)
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Beauty Comics (By Maha Ismael)
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Once Upon a Barbell (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Your Opinion
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Walking in the Desert for 40 Years Without a Mirror - Sista Manna (J. Sherri)
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No I’m not a yenta,
live and let live
sista. my kind hasn’t been
named yet, though maybe scorned woman
might come close.

wind dried tears.

I sit with homeless kids
and feed their dogs
I have jagged bit nails
and I’m very happy
with my worn, shorn, sappy
corny looking clogs and mismatching socks.

rainbow interlude..

I sit and drum I yowl at the moon
sometimes the sun
and sometimes a cloud
if the energy like sap rises.

breathing green.

I’m white on the outside and
black on the inside and side more
with the shvartzes you despise
and have no patience for.

no respect.

I smoke weed and carry a
walking stick stained with blood
of my hand tripping
on a jagged stone.

soothing hand.

I shift words
and worlds with my vision,
laugh rarely but when I do
it’s full blast like the rains
that fall in the Catskills.

must find shelter.

Birds are my brothers
Trees my sisters and mothers
and I’ve got One Father
in heaven who rules over my existence.

roots are deep.

I drink in manna and dew,
food is foraged, skirts
in tatters, hair under cover for no one to
see but me and the Shechinah.

bless me mama.

I listen to my own voice and get chills
and for double pleasure
listen to the silence that stalks
the night. and yes, it’s true that you
can hear the Hebrew letters forming.

world on fire.

Into universes through the trickling,
building in triangular realities of One
time, matter and space squeezing through
with light as their force and essence
and goal.

primal energy eternal.

Shape shifting tomorrow
and now in this moment
they will flow washing over me below
and I have no direction Home.

show me how.

Stumbling, walking in the desert 40 years
bringing up the end with the infirmed
the flocks of black sheep,
the sacrificial goats and the newborns.

we are chosen.

Represented by glances, dances
and clucking tongues, reflected
in copper mirrors
slow learners,
fire burners,
I’m just bringing your lost kids home.

on a prayer.

Riot Grrrl Corner (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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