VOLUME THREE
ART OF ME
Publication for Teens & their stories
what is my place? "WHERE I'M FROM" BY DAIRUE MARTIN
EDUCATE.CREATE.CHANGE
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03 05
Note from the Founders an editorial note from the Art of Me co-Founders, Stephanie and Cecilia
"Untitled" a poem on being yourself.
09
'Where I'm From"
10
"Headphones"
a poem on an experience growing up.
a short story about the dangers of wearing headphones in the city
A NOTE FROM OUR FOUNDERS
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Stephanie Wahome-Lassiter
Cecilia R. Mejia
Executive Director
Creative Director
Many times in our careers, we’ve been told to hold back so as to not disrupt the narrative. It is through art and education that we found our voice and our strength. We are challenged every single day, all of us, to remain positive despite what is going on around us. We believe that storytelling and expression is a way to connect us with each other and to build on our humanity. We believe in giving back, what we can in whatever way we can. We have been lucky enough to have had the experiences we had as professionals in education, media and in social justice work. We want to bring these experiences to our communities and to the students who seeking these opportunities to be seen, heard, and understood for the beautiful young people they are. This publication was created in the hopes of giving youth a positive platform to identify issues and collectively create solutions to encourage mental, emotional, physical health and safety. They should be able to decide what their place is in all of this. They should be able to contribute to the narrative, in whatever way they choose to. We strive to work in collaboration with artists, teachers, families, school districts, local community leaders and national experts to provide feedback and opportunities for all students. For this first issue, we selected strong entries that spoke to love, the future, and visibility. We had the honor of working with each of these students. These are their stories, in their words, unfiltered....
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About the publication The What: The Art of Me publication is a creative platform for young people to express themselves, unfiltered, and to constructively reflect on issues affecting them. The How: We support young people in identifying their voice through various forms of art (storytelling, filmmaking, photography, music, etc‌). The Changemakers: Follow us as this platform marks the beginning of our journey as we collaboratively identify resources to find the space and place to create positive social change. To find out more about our work, programs, and film competition please visit www.artofme.org. To contact us about the publication please email us info@artofme.og
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"Untitled" by Tywuan Lewis
ART OF ME • 6 There was a small part of Stella that wished time would slow down. That she could do everything over again. But that wouldn’t be fair now would it? Stella ran her fingers through her hair, tears threatening to escape. She didn't let them. Instead, she whispered to Astrid that she loved her. A delicate kiss placed on her cheek before she slipped out of the bed where death awaited her. *** A Few Hours Later
"If Only" By Rebekkah Ruffin Stella was certain about a lot of things, her death being one of them. It was strange to say the least, knowing exactly how and when you were going to die. For some reason, the cold isolation of knowing this wasn’t the reason Stella felt so alone. Stella was faced with a decision. A decision that, whether she liked it or not would leave her in a state of turmoil or the one that she loved. Astrid was her name. She looked over to see her lover on the other side of the bed, her peaceful sleep taunting Stella, almost like it was laughing at her. Stella turned over and stared at the clock. The numbers illuminating the dark room. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the 12:00am appeared on the clock and a defeated sigh escaped her lips. The black mark on her skin saying ‘12 hours’ pulsed. It glowed. It burned. She knew this would happen. She knew this was coming.
Saying that Stella leaving her girlfriend without saying goodbye was crappy would be the understatement of the year. The girl moved quietly in the silence refusing to let herself take anything of sentimental value. She couldn’t grow attached. Attached meant that she would want to stay behind. Staying behind meant that Astrid would be put into danger. Stella didn’t put much in her bag, all of her contents consisted of some snacks and her communicator. She paced around for a few seconds, hoping that she could just snap herself out of this. As if it was a horrific dream, a cruel joke that somebody could be playing on her. But that would be foolish. Foolish is what got her into this mess in the first place. “Hey.” A voice said, startling Stella. “Astrid,” Stella scrambled and pushed the bag behind her. She stood, creating an awkward pose as she tried to hide the bag. “I didn’t realize you were up.” “Yeah, I was going to make breakfast,” Astrid gazed over to see what Stella was hiding. Stella quickly shuffled to block her view, which only made the girl more suspicious. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, of course why wouldn’t it be?” Stella said a little too quickly. “What are you hiding?”
"If Only" continued...
ART OF ME • 7 “You think this was easy for me?” “You should have told me.”
“Nothing.” “Stella…”“It’s nothing!”
“I couldn’t even look myself in the mirror and tell myself I was dying. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
But Astrid didn’t buy it. She instead walked closer and tried to grab the bag. Stella tried to stop her but to no avail as Astrid was able to snag the bag causing Stella to almost lose her balance.
“Get real, Stella, you weren’t going to tell me at all. You were going to let me worry, wondering where the hell my girlfriend was just for me to get a call telling me to come pick up your corpse!”
“What the hell is this?” Astrid held up the bag, she shook it as her hands trembled. “What the hell is this?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I-I’m.” “Are you seriously leaving? You were just going to run off, not even a goodbye?” “I can’t. I wanted to-. It-” Stella said softly. “Wow,” Astrid scoffed. “Nothing to say. ”Stella couldn’t. The words were stuck in her throat. She begged herself to say a sentence, a word, a phrase, something. The words didn’t dare to leave her mouth. She was stuck so she raised her hands to her head, completely forgetting about the cursed number that laid on her skin. “What is that?” Stella refused to answer. Instead she held out her arm. Astrid walked closer, horrified as to what was happening. “How long have you known?” “A while.” “Define a while.” “A year. Possibly longer, I don’t know I’ve lost track.” “And you didn’t tell me?” Astrid said, tears forming in her eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t. But you’ve made it clear that you don’t want me to.” Astrid threw the bag down, with force, the floorboard creaking in response. “Leave then.” Stella’s lips quivered. “You wanted to leave so bad so go!” Astrid pointed at the door. “Don’t ever come back!” Stella pleaded. “Astrid, I-.”But Astrid didn’t let her finish, she instead reached into her pocket, pulled out a small box and forced it into Stella’s hand. “And take that while you’re at it.” She turned away, tears staining her face as she retreated back into her bedroom. Stella bit her lip and blinked hardly as she heard the door slam. She slowly opened the box to see a nice ring staring back at her. Laughing at her. Stella closed it and slid it into her pocket. She grabbed the bag, her hands feeling heavy as she opened the front door. She turned to the side, letting out a small hope that Astrid would come back. But that was foolish and foolish is what got Stella here in the first place. *** Stella felt numb. She couldn’t go far. She could carry herself down the block to a restaurant, where she slid into the booth. The waitress poured some water into the glass but Stella paid it no mind. She sat there, watching the one hour on her arm pulse away. It burned and she winced. This was really happening. She would die at any moment.
"If Only" continued...
ART OF ME • 8 “Hey, hey it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Stella said softly. Astrid whimpered. “Stella.”
“No Astrid today?” The waitress said, setting down a basket of bread. Stella shook her head. “Bad fight?” She nodded. “It’s okay sugar, you both are young. Y’all got plenty of time, you’ll be back together hugging and kissing in no time.” “Yeah,” Stella mumbled. “Plenty of time.” The word stung. Stella sipped the water, her mind beginning to race as she finally let the tears stroll down her face. She sobbed to herself, hoping that in some miraculous way, everything would be able to work out.
Stella lifted Astrid in her arms. Police and ambulances were now on the scene. An ambulance official screamed at people to help the ones who were wounded. Stella looked at Astrid, her eyes full of fear. She turned back to the ambulance. And Stella ran. She went as fast as she could, even picking up speed. She would do this right. If this was the way she went out then, so be it. She made it to the official helping the ambulance workers place Astrid on the gurney. Before one of the workers could even get a chance to ask Stella if she was alright, another loud gun shot rang out. Stella felt something. Something pulsed through her skin. She looked down to see a bright red spot slowly forming on her shirt. Another bang. Another red spot. Stella fell down, struggling to breathe, her mind seemed to stop racing. This was it.
“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Someone asked.
This was it.
Stella turned around and stared out the window. Cars were swarming down the block. They seemed to be heading towards a building. Stella’s heart froze. They were stopping at Astrid’s building. A man got out and started firing down the block making people scatter. Another man could be seen running into the building. A third guy started shooting at the restaurant, causing the people to scatter.Stella raced out of the booth, leaving everything behind, she pushed people out of the way who were trying to see the commotion. She ran, her body telling her to go back but it only caused her to run faster. She didn’t know how but she was dodging the bullets and the dead bodies that were swarming the streets. Then she felt it. Her. Astrid. She was on the ground and Stella almost lost her breath.
Stella could feel herself floating, her soul it was coming out of her body. She could see the workers trying to get Astrid back into the vehicle. There was no point in Astrid coming to her aid. Her body was nothing but an empty vessel. Stella soared into the sky, she should have felt settled but she was only left with guilt. She attempted to scream, to plead, but nothing would work. She was truly alone. Stella hugged her knees, watching the land she once knew disappear.
“Astrid!” She yelled. The world seemed to stop. Astrid held her hand to her stomach where a huge cut was shown. Stella leaned down.
Meanwhile on earth, Astrid scrambled to Stella’s body. The ambulance workers trying to fight her but she didn't care. She shook Stella, pleading for her to awake. And then she felt it. The small box was still with Stella. Astrid didn’t know what to do. She just gripped the box and held the hand of her lover. If only, life wasn’t so cruel. If only, Stella said something to her. If only Astrid listened. But the damage had already been done.
"Where I'm From"
By Dairue Martin
I’m from a place where you have to come in Before the night A place where if you walking alone you have To hold your pockets tight A place you will only earn respect If you know how to fight Living check-to-check Never having your dreams in sight 11-year-old boys asking you for a light Despair The might of the pen Our words will never Take flight I’m from a place where the liquor store was better Attendance than the schoolhouse A place where snitching is shunned and you have To watch your mouth A place where no one cares about getting good grades They only care about getting paid and girls Wanting their hair slayed
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"Headphones" By Anette Smith
People should not wear loud headphones because they can be very dangerous. Loud headphones are dangerous because they can prevent you from knowing your surroundings. They are popular in the younger society; headphones like Beats, SkullCandy, iPhone and other loud headphones are worn by young teens. Headphones can cause death at a young age. The loud music can prevent you from hearing car horns and people shouting while crossing the street. A young teen can be shot and killed from walking through war zone neighborhoods. A child can be kidnapped while walking home from school by having both headphones on sky high. The reason why people love headphones so much is because the music can change the mood. For example, a person could be listening to a happy song while walking through a dangerous neighborhood. The person is in a totally different world because of the music and are oblivious to their surroundings; then the next thing you know that person is shot, robbed or kidnapped and becomes a victim in a blink of an eye. In becoming a victim, the person goes through a range of emotions and questions about how and why this could have happened to them. From my personal experience, I could've lost my life from having Beats headphones on. There was a shootout right in front of my school. I was sitting at the bus stop, enjoying my music not knowing what's going on. Then, a stranger tapped me on my shoulder and told me there was a shoot out and that I should run! Thank god for that man, or I may have become a victim. I still see people wearing both headphones in their cars and it bothers me. I am always concerned with if they are going to become victims of robbery, or worse. Though I still listen to my music through my headphones, I now leave one earbud out so that I can be aware of my surroundings.
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"Another Stereotype" By Glen Davis
Another stereotype is something I can't be, nowadays school ain't interesting so most of us dedicated to the streets, tears running down yo face cause you found out yo homie deceased, man ... that's how it is in them cold streets. We should be in school everyday where they educate but the district neglect us so most youngins out here tryna get cake. Money first, school last that's the mindset that we got but at the end education is everything but a young black man got. You think you flexing cause you trappin on the block but a college man with a degree really be having that knot. You at the top, you got it all keep yo circle tight cause the ones you call "bro" be the ones that be waiting on you to fall. Success is the key so don't give nobody a spare, for this generation I am truly scared.
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“Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity.” - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, author
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