Apocalyptic Pussy Manifesto

They called us tarts, trollops, jezebels, and floozies.
They whispered tramp behind our backs and screamed hussy when we wouldn’t stay small.
They meant it as shame.
We made it a brand.

We are the women they tried to break, burn, silence, erase.
We survived. And then we got louder.
We turned slurs into slogans, trauma into texture, and fallout into fuel.

We are not respectable.
We are not quiet.
We are not sorry.

We glow. We rage. We reclaim.
This isn’t just skincare. This isn’t just merch.
This is survival, dressed to kill.