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This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck

by Janne Robinson

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About the book

This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck is a poetry collection of Robinson’s heart. Her work is a diverse assortment of gut-wrenching stories, powerful anecdotes, whimsical observations, and overall joyful expressions. She relinquishes social constructs with command and grace. Her rare eloquence is mesmerizing and inclusive to all readers. This collection takes you to extraordinary places and doesn’t return you quite the same.

She relinquishes social constructs with command and grace. Her rare eloquence is mesmerizing and inclusive to all readers. This collection takes you to extraordinary places and doesn’t return you quite the same.

She writes about the conversations she has with her gynecologist while his head is between her thighs. She writes about what having an abortion alone felt like because her boyfriend wouldn’t sell his guitar to buy a plane ticket. She writes about the purple flesh of her nipple and pleasure so loud that the world must sigh and shut its blinds—for it cannot taste the desire it has not lived. She writes when grief takes her down to the white tile floor of her kitchen and keeps her there all night. She writes how the brown of an espresso smells in white sheets brought by an Italian who played her legs like a harp all night. She writes her disdain for the commercialization of spiritualism and in the same breath demands that people heed their gut before their guru. She writes how the numbness of grief feels the Monday morning after a suicide. She writes of surfing naked in broad daylight—what freedom tastes like, what dust feels like hitting the back of her legs in the muggy heat of May as she tears through the jungle with the teeth of her heart. She writes about the yellow of fireflies, the bitterness of kicking horse coffee in a blue tin cup, and the taste of air cleaned by hemlocks. She writes of Austin, where cowboys walk in boots that echo on sidewalks stained with love. She writes about her disdain for marriage, politics, pensions, the military, and university—she questions everything and writes the truths we are too afraid to tell ourselves. She doesn’t find her radical vulnerability brave, she finds it common sense—like breathing.

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Meet The Author

Janne Robinson

Janne Robinson is a 21st-century feminist beat poet and author of the poetry collection “This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give a Fuck.”

Read a sample of This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck

A sample of This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck

This is for the women who don’t give a fuck — pages 26–27

The women who are first to get naked, howl at the moon and jump into the sea.

The women who drink too much whisky, stay up too late and have sex like they mean it.

The women who know they aren’t sluts because they enjoy sex, but human beings with a healthy sexual appetite.

The women who will ask you for what they need in bed.

This is for the women who seek relentless joy; the ones who know how to laugh with their whole souls.

The women who speak to strangers because they have no fear in their hearts.

The ones who wear "night makeup" in the morning or don’t own mascara.

The women who know their worth, plant their feet and roar in their brilliance.

The women who aren’t afraid to tell a man to get the fuck out of her heart if he doesn’t honor her worth.

This is for the women who rock combat boots with frilly skirts.

The women who swear like truck drivers.

The women who hold the people who wrong or harass them with fierce accountability.

The women who flip gender norms and false limitations the bird and live to run successful companies giving "the man" a run for his name.

The ones who don’t find their success a compliment just because they have a vagina.

Women like Gloria Steinem who, when she was told, "We want a writer, not a woman. Go home," kept writing anyway.

This is for the women who drink coffee at midnight and wine in the morning, and dare you to question it.

For the women who open doors for men and are confident enough to have doors opened for them.

Who use "no" to be in service for themselves.

Who don’t give a damn about pleasing the world, and do sweetly as they wish.

For the superheroes—the single moms who work three jobs to make it. I salute your resilient, cape-flapping, ambitious selves.

This is for the women who throw down what they love, and don’t waste time following society’s pressures to exist behind a white picket fence.

The women who create wildly, unbalanced, ferociously and in a blur at times.

The women who know love is not about gender and love who they wish.

The women who know how to be busy and know how to plant their feet in the earth and get grounded.

These are the women I want around me.

Page 159

Who says feminists hate men?
I love men
the only bashing of men I do is with my vagina.

Page 169

We aren’t afraid of heights; we are afraid of falling. We aren’t afraid of love, we’re afraid of being heartbroken—of anguish, of being alone. We aren’t afraid of intimacy—we’re afraid if we show our whole selves to this world the world won’t like it. That once we are open we may be left. We aren’t afraid of flying—we’re afraid of not having control if something goes wrong, we’re afraid of dying.

Darling, I hope you risk. I hope you fall so you can only see the jump wasn’t as big as you thought it was. I wish the ground to hit your feet and see your smile and your tears when you discover the space that was there all along.

Darling, I hope you love—love so hard you may grieve for years and not because you’re weak or you’re soft but because you opened your heart with ferocious might and once the salt of the tears has run from your blood I wish you to exhale and fall into the heart of someone new.

Risk—darling, risk.

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