Welcome to The Revealed Story Press! It’s the revealed me with my first ever tattoo! (Courtesy of Not Occult Tattoo) July 15, 2026 Yesterday, I sat down and wrote out my blog for today’s Writer’s Wednesday post. After creating two yellow memo pages, front and back, I crumbled both sheets up, and tossed them into the blue recycling bin. Late this morning, I sat down again and wrote this piece out. I knew in my heart this draft would be the one. Sometimes, the first pass doesn’t achieve the goal in mind, and this is evident even in the world of feminism. In the 1920s, the United States experienced the first wave of feminism, where women were “given” the right to vote, a privilege by that time already granted to the majority of men (though efforts were made to withhold this right from male minorities despite the law of the land.) Though it was a landmark privilege facilitating other sociopolitical changes for women, it didn’t quite hit the mark; more work needed to be done. And then, along came two world wars, then the baby boom, and the concurrent mass shuffling of women back into the home. As the mid-century progressed and women succumbed to perennial homemaking and a few pills to help them along the way, it felt as though another wave was coming – this time stronger than the first. By the end of the 1960s, the issue of women’ s rights and their liberation was here to stay. This time, voting with their feet took on a new meaning, whether it was leaving the home, for work or to protest, or to simply enjoy the outer limits of their newfound independence. Future decades brought about other waves concerning women and their rights, but there will never again be anything like the feminist force that arose during the 60s and 70s. Fierce change initiated by fierce women was the reason so many of us now enjoy the “privileges” we have today. I understand how much blood, sweat and tears went into creating the reality we currently live in today, though it’s clear feminism has yet to be perfected. My hope is more women will see the work still needing to be accomplished. My hope is they will step forward, willing to share their talents and abilities in furthering women-focused causes. I hope their hard work will remind the world women are people and that the fish in our ocean still do not need bicycles. In today’s microfiction story, “Second Wave,” two women visit the seaside, choosing to display their commitment to one another through their words and actions. I hope you enjoy this story, and have a great week. ⚢ ******* SECOND WAVE She squeezed my hand as we walked towards the edge of the sea. Waves crashed on boulders protruding from the ocean. Seagulls landed for brief respite, taking flight again once the salt water reached their claws. Even the sea was too much for them. We both stared at the water, then looked into each other’s eyes. There was no turning back. No false sense of salvation to rescue us from our fate. And then, we plunged. *** The next day, I awoke, with an immediate awareness of the previous night. I shifted under the covers, causing my wife to drift out of sleep. I held her close, as her eyes opened and shut, her hair still wet from the night before. The midnight swim on the Atlantic Coast after the private ceremony confirmed what we knew all along. Even as we drifted, floating on the water, our impromptu game of Marco Polo kept us within range of each other. The crescent moon disappeared as clouds rolled in, casting dark shadows on the rippling waves among us. We had left our rings on the driftwood, next to some of our clothes. As we kissed under the brief moonlight I tasted the salt on her lips, a vivid memory I would not soon forget, if ever. “Good morning, sweetheart…” I brushed her hair back, cupping the side of her face. She opened her eyes again. Instantly, I saw the face of the woman I knew the night before. She smiled back at me. “We did it.” She reached for the top of her nightstand, then sat up, visibly disturbed. “I think we left our wedding rings by the sand.” I turned towards my nightstand, reaching for the jewels in question. She sighed, and laid back down. I took her left hand in mine, and slid the diamond ring onto her finger. “Will you marry me?” She laughed. “Yes, I will!” She took my band with the smaller diamond, and placed it on my ring finger. I kissed her, once again detecting the salt on her mouth. It was delicious and savory. Just like her. ⚢ YOU CAN CHECK OUT LAST WEEK’S STORY HERE! I hope you enjoy my creative content! Let me know what you think! Questions, comments, or requests? Please contact me at [email protected] Everyone is welcome here! Thank you for visiting! ****** The Revealed Story Press is a lesbian-owned publishing house. Its mission is to produce creative writing and promote causes that center women, women’s issues, radical feminism and lesbian visibility. While I stand in solidarity with the broader rainbow community, and support the rights of all marginalized people, the specific purpose here is to ensure the visibility and voices of women and lesbians are never erased.