Abby Slyter
Bio
Small-town writer who loves reading and writing words that make people feel. Continually surrounded by books, Broadway, and my dogs. Spreading love through poetry and short memoirs, glimpses into the array of moments in my life.
Stories (6/0)
Things I Want to Tell My Daughter
In all of my high school experience, I don't remember a single day passing in which I didn't feel challenged over being heard or acknowledged. I don't remember a single week going by where I felt treated the same as the boys in my class. The way that girls are referred to as a "bitch" but men never are. The way that I held back on my opinions because I knew that my voice would be treated differently than that of the boy sitting next to me. That no matter what I said or how well I backed up and proved my point, it wouldn't matter to the boy classmate who always thought he was right.
By Abby Slyter6 years ago in Viva
Marginalization of Women in the Media
When I was younger, my mom didn’t allow me to watch certain shows: Twilight, Bratz, and Barbie movies. Twilight features a female lead who ultimately succumbs to the charm of a man, and in essence, becomes his follower. Bratz shows preteen girls getting praised for being cruel and pretty. Barbie sets unrealistic body image and expectations to possess an array of talents. My mom got it. She understood that if I were to watch these shows when I was younger, I could have grown up with a completely different perception of myself and what it means to be a girl. Media is one of the most significant influences on society today, especially on children.
By Abby Slyter6 years ago in Viva
Explaining Your Eyes to a Room of the Blind
It's the color you feel when you see loss. It’s Michael Jackson singing, “They told me, ‘You should sing a song of happy,’ I’ve been singing for so very long, tell me what should I do?” It’s the suitcase you take onto the plane that brings you into a new horizon. When you picture heaven, it’s the same shade of the sky. It’s the waves that crash against the sides of your boat and the smile on your face after you jump in. It’s the ballgown Cinderella wears when she finds her new life. It’s the smell of rain and fresh snow. It’s smooth jazz and the first chord you learn on your first guitar. It’s the curtains you hand so you feel at home and the soap you use when you need a fresh start. It’s the ocean at it’s deepest point, and the color reflected at the surface. It’s your first breakup and your last love. It’s the cleanliness of home, the color of your first pickup, and the way your heart swells when you look up at the stars at night. It’s him saying, “You look beautiful,” and the cheerleading outfit your parents bought you when you were little. It’s realizing you’re standing on the shoreline of a beach you’ll never see again. It’s the air in your favorite place. It’s the cover of the book you’ve read a thousand times, and the song you hear years from now, but you still know all the words. It’s the last hug you give to someone you love, and the tear that falls from your eye as you watch them go. It’s the color of the ink you write all your love poems in, and the hottest point on a flame. It’s impossibly beautiful and increasingly unforgettable. It’s the color burned in the back of my brain when I think of your eyes.
By Abby Slyter6 years ago in Poets
