the song of the lioness series by tamora pierce

Every now and then, though, I slipped up. Whenever I was at Saint Francis, my chest always went tight with fear, and I clenched my teeth until my jaws ached, reminding myself to always be careful. While all of this happened, I stayed quiet.

They lisped their words and waved around boneless wrists until it was clear that to be gay was also, in some mysterious but definite way, to be a grotesque parody of a woman. Worst of all were the times when my new classmates pretended to be gay. Fags, they said, the word making little tendrils of alarm uncurl along my spine. Their disgust became even more pronounced when they talked about gay men. Sluts, the boys called them, in an easy, matter-of-fact tone that made me flinch. Most of all, though, they liked to talk about the girls at our sister school. The boys around me complained about our biology homework, and speculated together over whether the Bills had a shot at the Super Bowl this year. It seemed better not to speak at all.īut this unnatural reserve didn’t last long: by mid-September, my homeroom buzzed with voices. It seemed better, that first morning, not to risk breaking any unspoken rules. No one knew what the social hierarchy was here, at this all-boys Catholic school where black-robed friars walked the halls and the upperclassmen towered over us, their voices deep enough to be our fathers’. On the morning of my first day of high school, everyone in my homeroom sat in silence - stiff-backed and rigid and afraid, sweating through the dress shirts our mothers had bought for us. This time, we asked : What book was your feminist awakening? Novel Gazing is Electric Literature’s personal essay series about the way reading shapes our lives. Sign up for our newsletter to get submission announcements and stay on top of our best work.

The song of the lioness series by tamora pierce