How I Became A Feminist


Because she could not bear to waste a thing,

My mother always drank the coffee dregs

Straight from the pot, and dribbled on her chin,

Then wiped it up and called herself a pig.


She didn’t want to wash another cup

Or spend another minute at the sink —

Or so she said. I think she lapped it up

Bitter and cold to brace her for the work


Of putting all our needs before her own,

A woman’s lot when living on a farm.

And though she always said “pig” with a grin,

It pains me still.  I take mine good and warm,


And stay away from longings that conspire

To come between a woman and desire.


Artist Sarah Wash Raddison


How I Became a Feminist by KateLynn Hibbard won third place in Saint Paul Almanac’s Break Through Writing Contest in the category of poetry.

KateLynn Hibbard ’s books are Sleeping Upside Down, Sweet Weight, and Simples, winner of the 2018 Howling Bird Press Poetry Prize.  Editor of When We Become Weavers: Queer Female Poets on the Midwest Experience, she teaches at Minneapolis College and lives with many pets and her spouse Jan in Saint Paul. For more, visit,

Posted in: Poetry