KNOCK KNOCK

A soft knock on the front door.
I opened the door.
It was a man I had never seen before.

What can I do you for, I said

He said, I need someone to talk to.  I need help.
Well no one is here right now, I said.
I really need someone to talk to, he said

I said, Well come on in. You don’t look like you’re feeling too well.

Would you like a glass of water?

Do you have a beer?

I got a beer from the refrigerator.
We sat down at my kitchen table

Well, come on, I said, I don’t have all day.
What do you want to talk about?

I did have all day but sometimes a man has to feel important.
What do you have to do that’s so important, he asked?
Never mind, I said.
Long story short, he said, I’m afraid of my girlfriend’s husband.
She told him we’re having an affair and he wants to kill me.

Why would she do something so crazy, I said.
Because she loves to be spanked on the ass, he said.

She loves me and wants to marry me.
Why don’t you marry her?

Because I’m married, he said.
Someone knocked an angry knock on the front door, again and again and again.

Mars, an angry man yelled from my front porch, I ’m going to kill you. I know You’re in there.

Whoever you are, I yelled, go away or I’ll call the police.
I looked out the window, saw a guy in flip-flops walk across my lawn into the house next door without knocking.

You’re having an affair with a woman who lives next door to you? I asked

Do you have any weed, he asked?
Are you in love with this woman?

No, he said, but she’s so damn hot.
Does your wife know about this affair?
Why should I tell her? That would be damn stupid and just cause trouble.

 Knowing her, she would just tell all the neighbors.

What’s your plan, pendejo?
I moved to Kansas City but she telephoned me every night, begging me to come back.  I told her I was dating a new girlfriend, an intelligent, compassionate women that doesn’t appeal to me like you do because you are the best lover I’ve ever had.

Have you had many lovers? she asked
Do you mean lovers I was in love with?

Yes, she said.
That memory has been wiped away, I said, laughing into my iPhone.
It was a joke.
She didn’t think it was funny.      

Do you like fish? she asked.
Yes, I said, I do.

Well take a perch, she said.
I never want to talk to you again.
She hung up.

I moved back home to Tulsa,
Moved back in with my wife, next door to my former lover.
Her husband and I have become damn good friends.
He chugged his beer, turned his baseball cap backwards,
Got up from the table, shook my hand, said,
Thanks old man.
I couldn’t have ended this affair without your advice.
You’re the best neighbor I’ve ever had.

TAMARISK TREE

The tamarisk tree wears a green diaphanous gown &
    needs a shave

A ladder of stars beneath an arroyo feeds her children

The tamarisk tree traces her genealogy to angels &
     the eternal pilgrimage of fish

The tamarisk tree near La Joya, near a cemetery where
     I hear a baby rabbit cry itself to death

The tamarisk tree is not Christian, has never read the
    Bible

She loves to chant Buddhist mantras

Jesus Christ was once her secret lover

She loves hawks, psychedelic mushrooms, Wittgenstein,
    Gertrude Stein, Buffy St.-Maria, Patti Smith, Pablo
        Picasso and the old Bob Dylan

Dear dear tamarisk tree

Tiny glaciers slide beneath her holy bark

Blue porcelain dolphins frolic in her white gloved hands

She is surrounded by the shadow of Einstein

The tamarisk tree plays tungsten horn in her spare time

She has eyes for Little Orphan Annie

She is terrified surrounded by America’s fear and greed

She remembers when and where music became transparency
    solidified

Blind fish swim in her iridescent roots

A lather of clouds in her hair of ocean foam

Tiny winged beings in her superluminal womb

She is a breathing grave

Dances for the sun

Loves the moon

Is bi-sexual and horny

Sunlight glides over her skin like the soft mouth of
    a dream lover

The drum in her leaves skips a beat

Poor tree

She has never seen the transcendental light of
    Taos

She has never seen a cubist painting or Marx Brother’s
    movie

Georgia O’Keefe forgot to paint the tamarisk tree

The tamarisk tree understands

Dear dear tamarisk tree

Peace 

Speaking for food

Bombs are coming in my left

Bombs are coming in my right

The smell of a coffee becomes a dream

People are targeted

Suffering

Starvation

Hypocrisy the cry for freedom

Governments they are counting their money

Over the bodies of dead children

Do you want this life

How much Human you feel today

We are all victims in the mind of narcissist

men with power

Peace

Unknown word

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

Greece

THE MOTHER SUPERIOR 

(An Ode to Most Kind Mother Earth) 

When supports of the world fail, 

And I feel lonely 

And helpless, 

I fall upon my Lord

To whom I address my woes

He dresses my wounds 

And I go to sleep contented.

But it is not always so.

Quite often, 

When gods fail to address my issues

When pain keeps dripping like blood 

And when gods are silent 

And his men too 

I know still I have some one to go.

In the world a son who fails 

Rushes into the lap of his mother

And cries his grief out 

Has the mother ever asked him

Wait, let me think a bit?

Never. 

A mother never disappoints.

But a mother is a timed entity

Cannot be with you 

Always to succour your woes 

But pains, hurts and insults 

Are the staple diet 

On which we humans have to survive 

In this desperate situation 

When neither God is around 

Nor mother 

And you feel 

Enough is enough

There is a Mother Superior 

Who opens her unquestioning arms for us.

(*Mother superior is the Earth that receives all back ….without any questions)

….

HOPE IS THE THING WITH PETALS

Nothing blossoms here except these sunflowers.
Not the hibiscus our mother planted by the orchard,
or these lilies we buried with a prayer.
Only these golden heads, standing with outstretched arms
embracing sunlight.

I plucked one yesterday,
rubbed its velvet against my cheek,
and wondered if yellow can teach me something
about staying alive.
I plucked another before your voice broke out.
When it cracked open, you sounded like
a drum calling back its own silence.
We both turned our faces to the window
and hoped answers would someday fall in with the light.

Today, at dawn,
we laughed like oiled doors on rusted hinges,
swinging open and shut stories of childhood foolishness.
We swore we would sink our fears beneath Agbami—
that river where frogs sang falsetto
as boys drowned things without dying.

At noon, the sun’s heat made you bow to the sand
where you dragged a stick & spelled nothing,
etching lines like someone trying to draw
an escape route without a map.

At dusk, you smeared olive oil on your wrists again,
said it keeps the ghosts from tightening their ropes at midnight.
You looked like a man holding himself by a thread—
fear had teeth, and you were offering your neck.

I didn’t ask questions.
But I’m still here, plucking petals again,
asking if you still believe.

Peace Ogunjemilua is a writer whose works explore nature and narratives rooted in cultural depth. He has contributed articles to magazines and was featured in the Nigerian Student Poetry Prize. He is a Sprinng Writing Alumnus, and he also interns as an architectural writer at Rethinking the Future (RTF). Peace runs a blog called ThinkGreen, focused on sustainable design, and with a background in architecture, he brings a unique perspective to his writing. Aside from reading, he loves graphic art and music.

Dad, I miss you so much…

I was a baby, I was still a cave,

I didn’t know you were gone.

I used to wonder why you left

But I couldn’t find the answer.

Your sweet words, “Daughter,”

Still ring in my ears.

It’s a pity you’re not with me anymore,

The moments I spent with you are in my heart.

The memories I remember,

Sometimes my heart feels bad.

It passed like a sweet dream, it went away,

You will always live in my heart.

Chorshanbiyeva Gulnoza Mirzo is a 3rd year student at the National University of Uzbekistan named after Ulugbek.

Soviet Modernization and the Profound Changes in Uzbek Women’s Lives

ANNOTATION; This article examines the significant transformations in the lives of Uzbek women between 1920 and 1980, during the period of Soviet modernization. It analyzes how Soviet policies—despite their ideological, political, and cultural agendas—played a major role in shaping women’s identities, social roles, and life experiences. The research highlights the ideological contradictions, the impact of forced modernization, and the clash between tradition and the new Soviet worldview. It explores the path of struggle, adaptation, and active participation of Uzbek women within this historic context.

KEYWORDS: Soviet modernization, Uzbek women, social transformation, gender policy, traditional society, emancipation, ideological control

The Soviet period introduced profound and often contradictory changes to the social life of Central Asia, especially in Uzbekistan. Among the most affected groups were women, whose roles in society, family, and public life underwent radical transformations under the guise of liberation and modernization. The aim of this article is to evaluate the effects of Soviet modernization on Uzbek women between 1920 and 1980, based on historical facts, documents, and research1

From the 1920s, Soviet ideology launched an intensive campaign of social engineering. Uzbek women were expected to discard traditional garments like the paranja and chachvan, symbols of modesty in Muslim society, and join public life as workers, teachers, and activists. The infamous “Hujum” campaign (1927) symbolized this movement, where unveiling was both a political and cultural tool. While promoted as emancipation, this campaign often led to violence, social ostracism, and even death for many women at the hands of their own communities.

Despite such challenges, a generation of educated and politically active women emerged during this period. Names like Uyg‘unoy Abdullayeva and Tojixon Shodieva, among many others, became symbols of transformation. These women were trained in the newly established institutions such as the Women’s Departments [Zhenotdel] and pedagogical institutes, gaining access to education, legal rights, and employment opportunities that had been previously unavailable.

Nevertheless, the transformation was not entirely emancipatory. Soviet modernization was not a neutral, benevolent process but rather one that was tightly controlled, ideologically driven, and often repressive. Women were used as instruments of the state agenda: their visibility in the workforce was both a propaganda tool and an economic necessity. Yet many women continued to experience double burdens—working full-time jobs while still being expected to fulfill traditional roles at home.

In rural areas, modernization occurred more slowly and often encountered stronger resistance. While urban women were able to access state-sponsored opportunities, women in villages faced continued patriarchal pressure. Still, over time, even these regions witnessed significant shifts, particularly through literacy campaigns, compulsory education, and the rise of medical institutions that increasingly involved female professionals1

By the 1960s and 70s, the presence of Uzbek women in social, cultural, and academic life had become normalized. They worked as doctors, engineers, educators, and artists. However, it is important to recognize that these developments were not entirely organic but orchestrated through state pressure, quotas, and ideological control. Women’s organizations were heavily monitored by the Communist Party, and any deviation from Soviet ideals was quickly suppressed.

Despite these limitations, the Soviet era undeniably laid the groundwork for today’s gender dynamics in Uzbekistan. Women’s access to education, employment, and public roles—even if imposed—planted the seeds of long-term change. The Soviet modernization of women’s roles, although controversial, is a key part of understanding contemporary Uzbek society.

In conclusion, the Soviet modernization process brought irreversible changes to the lives of Uzbek women. Despite its many contradictions, pressures, and ideological rigidity, it opened previously inaccessible paths in education, employment, and public life. This transformation was not merely a shift in attire or workplace presence, but a deeper social and psychological reorientation. It disrupted centuries-old traditions while simultaneously creating new forms of dependence on the state. Uzbek women, therefore, were not passive recipients of change but active participants in negotiating their identities and futures within a highly politicized system. Understanding this complex process is essential for evaluating both the costs and gains of modernization in a colonial and ideological context.

REFERENCES

1.Kamp, M. (2006). The New Woman in Uzbekistan: Islam, Modernity, and Unveiling under Communism. University of Washington Press.

2.Northrop, D. (2004). Veiled Empire: Gender and Power in Stalinist Central Asia. Cornell University Press.

3.Edgar, A. L. (2004). Tribal Nation: The Making of Soviet Turkmenistan. Princeton University Press.

4.Bobojonov, H. (2005). “Oʻzbek ayolining faoliyati tarix zarurati sifatida”. Tarix va Hamdo‘stlik, №2.

5.Jo‘rayev, A. (2011). “Oʻzbek ayollari tarixidagi burilishlar”. Ijtimoiy fanlar, №1.

6.Tursunova, G. (2020). “Sovet davri ayollari: islohotlar va oqibatlar”. Yangi O‘zbekiston, №3.

7.Islomova, Z. (2019). “Oʻzbek ayolining ijtimoiy faolligi: tarix va zamonaviylik”. Fan va turmush. N6Sevara Olimova, [7/27/2025 6:25 PM]

Olimova Sevara, from Kashkadarya region. Born in Mirishkor district , 4th year student at the Faculty of History of Karshi State University