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CONTRIBUTORS
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Ashley Tanha, Writer
Dulce Galvez, Writer
Eric Ceja Ruiz, Writer
Jason Green, Writer
Jude Sampson, Writer
Karen Lopez, Writer
Diego Lievanos, Photographer & Writer
Ariadne Avila, Artist
Izzy Ringman Flores, Artist
Leyna Nguyen, Artist
Makayla Haynes, Artist
Mark Guevara, Artist
Moonie Vergara, Artist
Tina Hung, Artist
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the white picket fence
As a child, I was enamored by Americana. You read that right. Not America, but Americana.
Americana refers to images of American culture. Things like apple pie, a bald eagle, and a roadside diner often come to mind. As a kid, my mom introduced me to many films that I later came to realize were Americana; in that, they embraced American iconography while attempting to make sense of the country’s national identity.
Films that many people consider classics, such as “Jaws,” “Rocky,” “Fargo,” “Heathers,” “Psycho,” “Almost Famous,” and “Ghost World” come to mind for me. These films all try to make sense of the American dream– centering outcasts and smalltown heroes at the heart of their stories. These films have stood the test of time as critiques of American culture, but as a child, I couldn’t differentiate critique from idolization.
I wanted so badly to live the lives of John Hughes’ characters. I wanted to be Ferris Bueller, taking off on a highway somewhere as I left my troubles in the dust. I wanted to live in the neighborhood from “The Sandlot,” running out of my house on the Fourth of July to watch fireworks on the baseball diamond. To me, these images embodied “The American Dream.” This idea that with just a little hard work, I would be eating cherry pie behind my white picket fence in no time. If only life were that simple.
I’m graduating from college in one month. I don’t anticipate having the life I saw on the big screen as a child. I was born and raised in California, and with the state of the economy, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to afford a home here. I’m still living with my parents. Most people I know are still living with their parents. I won’t do the “adult” things expected of me for a long time, and living in this timeline is not making this fact any easier to swallow. If I can speak frankly, the version of adulthood this country sold us has never been further out of reach.
In 1985, my mom finally moved out, paying $200 a month and living with three of her friends. It was a three-bedroom apartment, and had, as she put it, “the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen.” I had to refrain
from letting my eye twitch with jealousy as she recounted her cost of living. The future she saw after college will never be my own. Now, people are donating their plasma to be able to afford groceries. You see people online boasting about working three, sometimes even four jobs to pay their rent. People beg you to buy cheap clothes on TikTok Shop so that they can afford baby formula for their newborn. This is not the same America that our parents grew up in. Frankly, it may never be that way again.
I came to this realization long before now. It was during the beginning of the pandemic, early 2020, when I started to truly grapple with the world I would be inhabiting as an adult. It was scary and unforgiving, so I elected to get lost in my little movies until everything blew over.
But things did not blow over. In fact, it feels like everything got blown away. In a tornado. And the
“The version of adulthood this country sold us has never been further out of reach.”
tornado was on fire. And we all died and this is hell. Which is basically the plot of “The Wizard of Oz.” See, classic Americana is always at the scene of the crime.
Much like “The Wizard of Oz,” I try my best to believe that the moment where things turn from black and white to technicolor is achievable. It’s easy for me to wrap myself up in my blanket of doom and gloom, but doing the easy thing has never gotten anyone anywhere. Often, it feels hard to walk a fine line of staying informed and engaged, while also not allowing myself to fall into a pit of despair. We cannot take even the smallest moments of joy for granted, because without them we would have nothing to fight for.
It’s the little things, like going to bed in a set of clean sheets. Coming home from a long day at
work or school knowing you have some good food to eat. Maybe a new episode of your favorite show came out. Maybe you have plans to get drinks with a friend, or to go see a movie with your partner. Maybe your saving grace is your pet greeting you once you walk through the door. Maybe it’s your family greeting you. If you have neither, maybe you find comfort in the plants that fill your living room or the stray cat that frequents your neighborhood. I find these little comforts everywhere, like most people, and I’ve come to notice that my life, and my future, feel so much less empty after I acknowledge the beauty in them.
It’s true that I will never have the same future my parents had, but reframing the way I view my life and my immediate future has led me to a place of peace. I live with my parents, and I’ll be living with them for a while. Just like anyone in life, they can sometimes work my nerves, but I love them regardless, and getting to spend this much time with them is something I know I will cherish so dearly in the future. I get to live with my sister, who is my best friend in the entire world. I think once one of us moves out we’ll go crazy without the other.
I get to see myself grow in the room I’ve lived in since I was a kid, which can sometimes be a trip. I’m transgender, and it’s hard to be a member of my community right now. I’ve had to learn to fight that feeling of dread, the one that creeps up and whispers the worst possible outcomes for all of the anti-trans legislation and hatred that is permeating society right now. I can fight it because I know who I am, and if I’m certain about one thing, I know that in the future I’m gonna be trans. Always and forever. If they say it isn’t so, tell them I’ve always been this way.
I get to look in the mirror every day and see some guy staring back at me. I’d be remiss to call that experience anything less than a miracle. I never thought that this would be my future. I never thought that I could feel this happy or complete. I never thought that anyone
“Diagnosed at the age of 23” is not my identity, but a daily reminder that anxiety is formed in many shapes and situations one can’t define.
addition, another professor was a caring mentor of my accommodations, facilitating advice about anxiety before class began and time away from class to decompress during lectures. Furthermore, the supportive relationships I received from my department helped my ability to manage my anxiety and succeed in my classes.
By sharing my journey as a transfer student and emphasizing the crucial support BMAC provides, I aim to encourage students to seek the help they need and promote a more inclusive campus environment. Generalized anxiety disorder makes me human. “Diagnosed at the age of 23” is not my identity, but a daily reminder that anxiety is formed in many shapes and situations one can’t define. Anxiety disorders are mental health conditions where fear holds a daily struggle, but at the end of the tunnel, we are humans with a light path to hope and community. In the end, not only did I find a place in the LIFE Project and community at BMAC, but telling friends about my disorder feels uplifting and reassures me that the worries that seemed huge to me were just a blip in time. An image or description to define anxiety does not determine one’s identity, masking mental health disorders affects millions worldwide. Mental health is an invisible disability, unseen by society, that needs greater recognition and awareness worldwide.
WRITTEN BY DULCE GALVEZ
ILLUSTRATION
BY
MARK GUEVARA
Automating Disabled People Out of Society
WRITTEN BY JASON GREEN ILLUSTRATION BY MAKAYLA HAYNES
Isat with my friends enjoying our favorite conveyor belt sushi restaurant. We ordered the food on a tablet and received some of our items via a delivery robot. We grabbed our water off its tray and one of my friends jested to the machine, “Thank you, our overlord.”
Overlord. That is not an exaggeration. As technology improves and becomes more innovative, it will become more ingrained in society.
Artificial intelligence, mostly known as AI, has made its way to the forefront of a global conversation in recent years. AI is so prominent that even saying artificial intelligence is redundant.
The AI industry will not plateau anytime soon and is expected to reach, UN News states, almost $4.8 trillion in the global market by 2030.
AI has already controversially made its way into several job industries with many professionals frightened about being replaced; however, “lower” jobs are likely to be most affected, charging a blow to the disabled population.
There are over 6 million disabled workers in the United States, according to the Department of Labor.
The typically perceived as “lower” jobs in society are ones in the food service and retail industry, which are prone to becoming automated (AI processing work without the assistance of people) due to their occupational repetition.
These two industries hold a significant population of disabled workers, reported by Center For Research on Disability, where the usual pay is at or slightly above minimum wage, so living on that is hard enough.
For disabled people, it might be the only opportunity for them to work. This is true for people who have more severe disabilities that commonly interfere with cognition.
For disabled people who depend on family or services to live, having a job can afford them independence. The “lower” job could be a dream job. Having a job can feel rewarding as it can be a way
to contribute to society even if it is “small.”
Amidst being historically “othered” and discriminated against, positive interactions with customers, co-workers, and executives can destigmatize and normalize disabled individuals.
Employing automation eliminates the opportunity for such humanistic interactions occurring, which is morally worrisome and economically concerning to employees. One cannot understand disability if it is not seen.
Disabled workers can provide creative and strong skills in the workplace like their non-disabled co-workers, but accommodations may need to be implemented to support them. Accommo-
“For disabled people who depend on family or services to live, having a job can afford them independence.”
dations may look like utilizing assistive technology and allowing for an accessible environment and flexible schedules. In a team, every member will have to collaborate with various skill sets, so there is no excuse to treat disabled employees as pariahs. Employers are used to adaptation.
AI is a great tool for disabled workers, making the job more accessible for all; but the issue is not its inherent presence, but rather the threat of replacement. Convenience is not worth more than allowing others the opportunity to have a fulfilling life.
A company’s values do indeed affect performance, and it would be enriching for both workers and customers to feel valued. Integration should not mean replacement.
To note, what is not being proposed here is that employers should hire employees with disabilities
because of their conditions. Pitying the disabled is a form of mockery. Leave that in the past; it doesn’t belong in the future.
Many disabled individuals want to work and improve themselves. They are driven. These qualities are not as often seen in non-disabled employees who can sometimes be pessimistic about their jobs.
Beyond minimum wage jobs, AI will strike cerebral jobs. The art community has deemed AI as soulless, claiming that it lacks “human touch” even though the images may appear spectacular. This has caused AI art to be debated in the field of graphic design.
Graphic design is a relatively accessible occupation for physically disabled workers, but experts in the field have sounded the alarm as AI encroaches on the occupation. The field’s prospective viability is uncertain.
AI may also cause a decline in disabled workers in STEM fields. While AI has ushered in a new wave of STEM-oriented jobs, disabled workers are underrepresented, constituting 3% of the field, per the U.S. National Science Foundation.
What is worse is that the world of STEM is outrageously competitive and rigorous. It is so competitive that the market acts as a strainer and the work environment further trickles employees away. From the way STEM is structured, it is a miracle that the 3% exist at all. Even non-disabled professionals are having increased difficulties finding employment.
Laborious jobs are an alternative industry that, in this current state, counter complete automation, but those with physical disabilities would likely find this field also inaccessible. In any case, pivoting to a new industry is hard and having a disability can further dampen the process, even limiting the chance of changing careers.
Advancements in AI may place many disabled people in an unemployed limbo. Do not forget about disabled individuals in the future.
