VOLUME FOUR
ART OF ME
Publication for Teens & their stories
what is love? "SO(U)L" BY LEXINGTON RIVERA
EDUCATE.CREATE.CHANGE
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03
Note from the Founders
05
"Culure... Not a Costume"
an editorial note from the Art of Me co-Founders, Stephanie and Cecilia
a thought piece on the harmful effects of cultural appropration.
07
'SO(U)L"
11
"Black Lives Shatter"
a short story turned short film about a teen's unprecedented experience with love
a poem on the devastating emotional reality of violence against Black folks
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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"Culture...Not a Costume" By Dynasty Moorer Everybody wanna be a nigga, but don't nobody want to be a nigga. Black people have been sitting trends for centuries. People of different race have fallen in love with our features from our full lips, thighs and butts to our cornrows, dreadlocks and afros. Even our soul music and soul food have become very popular. People go to extremes to try and compare to our features and styles. From surgeries to injections and even putting brown makeup on their skin. People love everything about us except for when it's us. Cultural appropriation is the adoption or use of elements of one culture by members of another culture. People love to mimic us in every way except for when it comes to oppression. We endure police brutality and discrimination daily. Whether it's a hairstyler or clothing there is a difference between honoring a culture and just stealing from it. Recently there has been a lot of controversy about the boxer braid hairstyle. For starters, the style is not called boxer braids the style is called cornrows, but they are the same style. Cornrows have been around since the time of slavery so it's not something new.
Clothing, music and hairstyles are one thing, but to blatantly put brown makeup on your face for a costume is just plain ignorance. Many white people have participated in the actions of black face. Black face is the makeup used by a non-black person playing a black role, but when people do black face they usually do it to be comedic. Black face is extremely oppressive and ignorant to black people. Black people are the most imitated, envied and admired people on the Earth, honestly we are winning as a race.
"ME"
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By Janai Bryant
When times get though, I cry. When life gets better, life gives you wings to fly. It’s a black hole full of lies. When I look in the mirror I see smiling and pain, Who am I to be ashamed? Young women with mixed motions torn between love and hates, Who am I even to even date? Have a heart that no one can match is like being in the dark cold and alone with no one to hold. It seems to me, that love could be labeled poison and we’d still drink it. It’s sad knowing that I love others more than I love myself. I always try to make other people happy because I knowhow terrible it is to feel worthless & unwanted. I think about all that I’ve done and gone through that no one even knows about and I get sad thinking that no one will ever know about all these things that makes me, me, because no one will ever understand Me but Me…..
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SO(U)L
“The mass has ended, may we go in peace; in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen,” finally. My mother looks at me and nods toward the exit, she waits for my father's hand before she continues walking.
This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man. Genesis 2:22-2 At school I see my friends waiting for me in front of English. “Hey you never stayed for group yesterday, what happened?” questions Sarah. “Sorry, yeah I wasn't feeling good so my mom took us home,” I replied moving forward into the class. We sat at our freshly cleaned tables and took out our books. Sarah continued rambling about her crush from our group while I pretended to listen.
By Lexington Rivera The title of this story was inspired by how one’s love can be so rooted into them but also tied heavily into others ."Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of…..” I look around my church and see marriage. The topic of today's sermon is love, the power of God's love. The wooden bench imprinting swirls on my sweaty thighs with the air smelling like clean carpet and old books. I make eye contact with the pastor as he looks around the room. I shift in my seat as more sweat eats up the back of my dress, the fall weather waiting outside the chapel. Marriage follows my breath like a shadow. The pastor talks of loving both God and your husband in the same way, and that husbands should treat their wives like they do the church. The couple in front of me has been married all my life. I see the way she looks at him, like there is only him and God. My eyes drift toward his hand and see the pale grip of his knuckles on her tiny hand, like a bug in the palm of the beast.
“I mean isn't he just dreamy?” she sighed “Yes he practically floated from the heavens,” I mimicked angel wings fluttering by my face. She laughed and turned to the front of the room. As the teacher began roll call I started to doodle in my notebook. “Lillian Won-Hernandez?” “Present,” I said dully. “Alex Carter?” “Dreadfully,” she replied. I turn to look at her. I’d seen her around a couple of times, not enough to talk to or anything, just a glance here or there. She looked different today than most days, excited perhaps. “Who does she think she is? Talking to an adult like that!” whispered Sarah next to me.
"SO(U)L" continued... “ “Yeah….,” I scoff, eyes not leaving her hunched over figure. Who is she anyways? Like what’s her deal?” Sarah asked. “I’m not sure. She moved here right when school started. She doesn’t go to our church” “I’d doubt she goes to any church” Hearing this, I looked at Alex for the first time.. She’s wearing black jeans and a plain white t-shirt; her auburn hair falling wildly along her shoulders. She stops her movement and looks up directly at us and I pretend that I’m grabbing something from my bag. As the bell rings and I pack up to leave she stops me, tugging at my wrist. “Next time you decide to talk about me, at least let me in on it” she snaps. “Oh we weren't….” I trail off as her gaze grows stronger. And then she smiles at me, crooked and small. “Yeah I know. See you around?” She laughs. “Sure.” I reply. I’d never noticed how bright her eyes were before, she always has it covered in hair or a hoodie. But now I can’t seem to forget what they felt like, watching me, studying me. It’s like she knew I would lie, and she laughed. Why would she laugh? Whatever, I’m getting too caught up about this, just let it go. As I lay down staring at the moon I’m transfixed on the way the curtain is moved by the wind. Why? God, if you’re listening, why do I feel so lost? I’ve come to you for guidance but I’m not sure I can anymore. It’s like I’m floating and nothing is real, nothing matters. And today with Alex I couldn’t get her out of my head. Please God send me a sign that I’m not alone, that something is coming. I watched as the curtains halted for one, two, three seconds, before they continued flowing.
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“Today we are starting something new. You will be writing poetry, but you need to work with a partner. You cannot choose your friend. The assignment can be about any topic you choose, so be creative and try to really demonstrate complexity,” Mrs. Angel said. Without speaking I gathered my things and walked over to Alex’s desk, plopping down on the seat in front of hers. “I know you don’t know me and we have only talked but I want to be your partner for this,” I say placing my hands on her desk. I want her to know I’m serious, so I watch her and wait. She looks at me in shock at first before crossing her arms and leaning back dropping her pen.
“And what makes you think I want to work with you?” She questions. As I open my mouth to speak she smiles at me. It starts in her eyes, crinkling down to her cheeks before she is full on grinning. “Why do you do that!” I huff out. “It’s funny to watch your face…. sorry. Anyways since you like to be all big and bad what should our poem be about?” “Love?” I ask. “Lame” She responds. “ Sadness?” “Ehhh” She replies, as she shrugs. I tilt my head and blink at her. Don’t be so stubborn. Why did I choose to work with you, again? “I don’t know,” I reply “God?” She writes at the top of her paper in blue ink. I roll my eyes, before looking away. When I asked for a sign I didn’t mean like this.
“I mean we could just write about the teen angst that stinks up the halls like everyone else? And besides I happen to know that you are quite the church pet,” she says. “And I happen to know that you aren’t, what’s your point?”
"SO(U)L" continued... “Nothing really but I kind of like the idea of stepping out into new things. I’ve had my fair share with religion and the Holy Spirit.” “You? And God?” I stare blankly at her. “Woah, Woah not the big man himself but you get it….” she said, returning her eyes to her paper. “God it is then, I’m free to meet up in the park by school every day except Thursday and Sunday.” “Great, let’s get started” *** I see her walking toward me with a small bag in her hand. I can see the bounce in her step as she finally reaches me and holds it out. The sun shining in between her hair looks like stars hung from a string. “What’s this?” I ask, as I slowly reach out to grab it. “I know it's been like 3 weeks since we finished our project but I really liked talking to you, and I don't know, but I got you something.” She replied, dropping her hand back at her side. I held the bag in my hand and watched her fidget in front of me. It felt heavy in my palm as I undid the drawstrings. A small water Lily pendant slipped into my hand. “Thank you so much you didn't have to do this! I feel bad that I didn't get you anything,” I reply. “Consider it a late birthday present, okay?” She leans in to hug me. I put the charm around my neck as she clipped it. Her fingers danced over my neck and suddenly I couldn't breathe. There was fire climbing up my neck and shooting blades into my chest. My throat is consumed with thick, boiling blood as I stood completely rigid. Someone please help me, God help me! The tears poured down my face as I ran into the bathroom. Hunching over the toilet the smell of copper took my nose and my breaths became ragged. Something is wrong, what is this! My head bobbed up and down as my neck muscles strained against themselves.
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Lilly! Lilly? Are you ok?” Alex asked.
I couldn't answer as I gagged over the sharp object, letting it fall from my throat with a sludged pop. There in the water lay a rosebud, covered in blood. Coating the petals the blood weighed them down toward the water. What the fuck just happened to me? “Lily, did you just throw up? Are you ok?” she panicked. “I’m fine Alex, I'm sorry I ran. Just….. Please go” I whispered. “Oh, Ok.” She said. My body dropped onto the floor as I flushed the rose away.
God? Are you listening? I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to deserve this. Please make it stop. I don't know what to do, please. I clasped my hands so tightly around themselves that it began to ache. Is this because I've been with her? Avoiding you? Questioning? Is it faith you need? When I’ve wiped the last of blood from my mouth and I can stand I take myself home. My mother leans over a pot as I take my shoes off. The smell of soup fills my nose and I'm nauseated. The heat of the kitchen breathes on my neck as I walk over to my mom. “Mom, can we talk?” I ask as I sit by the window. The window fogged up all the colors as I traced a rose in the steam. “Sure. What’s up? Girl problems?” She replies, putting her rag down. Ha! I wish. “Something happened at school today, well I knew it was coming you know like one of those early stomach bugs where you feel it all over before it finally happens ,but when it does well man it’s just boom like right there…..” By the time I’m done I’m out of breath and she looks even more confused. Yeah I should probably tell her. “ I was in the bathroom and I threw up a…… flower?” I said picking at my nails in the dim light. To read the rest of this story please visit www.artofme.org
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"SO(U)L" Author's Reflection
Hello reader! My name is Lexington and I’m the author of SO(U)L. This was my first and only short story, I wrote it as an English assignment in my 11th grade class. The assignment had to be about love and solidarity and I was really excited to start but got really stuck for a long time. I guess I wanted to make something good rather than just writing to write.
During the writing process I thought about making characters that people saw everyday, people and communities that are more a part of everyday life. My life has always been here in New York which is why the the features placed like the parks, beach, and trains. Making my characters a part of the LGBTQ+ community as well as making them POC just felt right, they were like me and I was like them. We shared commonalities that I hadn’t even thought about until this year! And writing them made felt like writing about people I’d already loved. I hope you enjoy reading my story and come to love the characters as much as I do! *** Lexington's story was turned into a short film. The film follows Lillian Won-Hernandez, a religious high school student, working through her relationship to God and to her sexuality. As she partners with a classmate, Alex Carter, for a poetry project, the unlikely pair form a deep connection. The new feelings Lilly experiences results in a discovery regarding a hereditary health condition. Lilly must make a choice between love and life.
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"Black Lives Shatter" By Makayla Howard He shot my best friend 17 years old -- my true love Lying in his own blood On the pavement in a neighborhood Where no one looks twice at a black boy laying on the ground cold as ice I feared for him-- I feared for myself But what good is fear if I cannot help someone else? What will I do without you? Words I'll never speak and a diploma you will never seek. All because of the wrong crowd picking you out with no doubt that this is the man with whom I'll take my anger out. BLACK LIVES MATTER BLACK LIVES MATTER The crowd shouts, shots go off and people scatter My soul shatters, He was a piece of me. Not property, not a slave, not a prisoner Not lazy, three fifths of a person, or even a nigger. Whether a cousin, a brother, a homie, or a father, whether a sister, a mother, a wife, or a daughter Not even shootings make these titles less mild but the killings are completely wild and even for women, We used to be princesses and empresses and now we are often mistaken for the devils temptresses and called lowly names. We still hold our head held high. Our imaginary crowns never falling as we rant and rave for the justice of our men who were killed without reasonable sin.
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"Here"
By Chase
I want people to read a story where LGBTQ+ characters are normalized. CW: Suicide *** i watched Jay stare at the Manhattan skyline for what felt like an eternity. I heard the cars and trucks down below us passing through, we’re on the promenade. The white noise of it all coming together to make a calming hum, kind of like the one I hear from my apartment. I live in the Jacob Riis Housing Projects in the Lower East Side, I’m trying to spot my building from here but it’s more uptown than I think it is. My sister Noah is probably home with her girlfriend Elly, she’s always over at our place. “Jay, you good?” I asked. “I’m livin’ Andy, don’t worry,” They said. “Okay then, dramatic-ass. You were just staring for a while, didn’t know if you were plotting to kill someone or something.” Jay rubbed their hands together and said, “Bro how’d you know, I gotta move to a different state, dye my hair and change my name now.” They jumped back off the fence, laughing menacingly, and ran a few feet away and struck a dramatic pose .“I thought you already did some of that though!” “Oh so you got jokes now? Everyone give a round of applause to this dude right here.” Jay clapped and we both laughed. Jay continued to walk and vogue. We walked for a bit longer, I asked, “Where do you wanna go next, my friend?” “Hmmmm, how about Coney Island?” Jay responded. “What are we, the Warriors?” I asked sarcastically. “Nowhere to run nowhere to hide,” They sang. “We’re not safe until we get back to Coney, man.”
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"Here" continued....
“Aii. So we out to the Island of Coney. Hopefully nobody will cross us before then.” We walked to Jay Street and caught the F .I’m most comfortable with Jay, I think they feel the same way with me, but I’m not sure. They can be a really closed off person, which I respect, but sometimes it drives me insane. I tend to overthink everything and feel like I did something wrong or I hurt them. I just want them to express themselves more often, I’d never judge them. Whatever, I start to get irritated whenever I think about it. So anyway, we’re on our way to Coney Island. “I love being on the train,” I said relieved. “I know. You say that a lot homie.” Jay said. “I just find it so calm-” “Calming!” Jay shouted, they cut me off. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They laughed. It was kinda weird hearing that. Recently, Jay hasn’t really shown any type of affection towards me. And even though that wasn’t affectionate at all, that was more than anything I’ve gotten from them in a while. I looked out the window of the train, it was dark for a few seconds, we were just pulling out of the tunnel at Church Ave, halfway there. Other than the train sighing, Jay and I sat in silence. Jay is one of the only people that I am comfortable being silent with. Although I was usually the most comfortable when I was around Jay, that uncertain feeling started creeping in, and I did not like it. I was getting more anxious. The train screeched as we pulled into the Stillwell Ave. We stepped off the train, and Jay made their way up the stairs to the walkway that stands above the eight tracks. I kept at my own pace, staying back and watching Jay look around and do their thing. After I saw the waves of people crash through the platforms for a bit, I noticed that Jay was standing still, almost frozen, staring toward the faint Manhattan skyline, it wasn’t the first time. I saw them watching the moving trains and the traffic on the highways. Life was just going on. I got a little worried, Jay was looking for a long time. I walked closer and looked at their face. “Jay?” their eyes were a little watery. “Hm?” they sniffled, rubbing their face. “Oh,” They noticed I was onto them. “I think something went in my eye.” They were trying to cover it up, continuing to rub their eyes. It was pretty obvious that it wasn’t something that went in their eye. But I didn’t want to question it and make them uncomfortable. I learned that Jay will tell me things when they’re ready. “I-uh, I think I should go home now, I think my mom needed me to help her with something.” “Aight, no worries, I’m getting kinda hungry anyway, I’ll see if Noah is, too,” I responded, trying not to sound suspicious. I pulled my phone out just to check what time it was, I knew for a fact that Noah and Elly already ate something, they’re always eating.
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"Here"
continued....
When I got home, Noah and Elly were watching a show and laughing, yelling out lines. I could hear them through the apartment door while I made my way down the hall. I smiled and unlocked the door. They were tangled up on the couch, giggling. “Hey it’s Andy!” I saluted them, they continued to watch TV and laugh. I walked past them and into the kitchen to heat up food. My phone buzzed, thinking it was Jay, I quickly grabbed it off of the counter, but it was stupid spam. I was confused, usually Jay lets me know when they’re home, but they didn’t text anything today. Maybe they had to pick up something for their mom on the way home. I would’ve texted them but I didn’t want to bother them, I thought it was best to give them space. So I pushed myself to get off my phone so I wouldn’t obsess over it. I joined Noah and Elly on the couch and ate my food, they could tell I was feeling off. We watched the show for a few hours. I checked my phone every once in a while, and of course like I always do, started to overthink about what could’ve been going on with Jay. The whole weekend flew by and Jay still didn’t text or call. I was trying to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t overthink. I guess I’ll have to wait until I get to school to see them. I get to school, sit through classes I would rather not be in, deal with people I’d rather not deal with, and finally it was time to go to lunch, I shoot down the stairs to the cafeteria and I sit down at the end of our table, waiting. I keep rotating my phone on its sides and corners, bouncing my leg, I was getting antsy. I keep waiting for my phone to vibrate or make a sound, hoping it’s Jay calling or texting me saying that they got held up with a teacher or something, just anything confirming that they’re at school today. Just to know they’re okay. This continues. They missed two days of school in a row already, this is really not like them. I’m still waiting at our table and Jay never showed. I walk back up to class every time and wait for school to be over. Almost four days with no communication at all, wouldn’t that make any normal person worry? I started getting bad images in my mind and shutting and rubbing my eyes hard to stop them...Always thinking of the worst things, I freak myself out. I get home and even though I’m trying to focus on homework, I’m walking back and forth in my room. I’m in agony, I can’t be patient, I grab my phone and call them. “Hello? Jay?” “Ohh what’s up Andy? What’s crackalackin my G,” they started laughing really hard. Huh? “What’s so funny? I haven’t seen or heard from you in mad long. What’s going on? You good?” I felt lost. There were loud sounds in the background. “Ah yeah, man, yeah I’m fine. I’m fine, man, yeah don’t worry about me.” They kept laughing. “Yo, Jay...are you high?” “What-nah dude, I’m just-well-uh. Yeah, just-just a little bit.” I’m so confused, Jay never smokes or drinks. “Why? Why are you high?” I asked, starting to get frustrated. “Yo Andy did you see the game last night, pretty crazy, ya boy-”
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"Here"
continued....
“Nah shut up, quit playing and please just tell me what’s going on with you,” I demanded. I came off a bit harsher than I wanted to, but this was really bothering me. Jay snapped, “Damn, get off me, will you? You’re not my mom. I don’t have to explain myself to you. Peace.” They hung up. I was really irritated. I mean, I wasn’t that shitty to them. I just wanted to know how my friend was doing. But now I don’t even know what this means. I mean, what kind of shit was that? Jay never smokes or drinks. And they sure as hell never blow me off like that. Whatever, I’ll be here when they’re ready to talk. I threw my phone on the bed and I left it alone. I can’t even focus on homework anymore, forget it. A few days go by and Jay texts me, they asked how I was doing. I texted back “meh.” They were acting normal, as if nothing had ever happened, like they never ghosted me, like they never acted weird. I want them to actually tell me what’s going on instead of playing these games. A couple of hours had gone by, I checked our conversation and saw that Jay had opened my message and didn’t respond. Aight. I shrugged it off, trying to not let it bother me, I was too stressed. But me being me, of course, I had to text them again to check in, even if it was them who left me on read. “Good night, hope you’re good.” It felt weird to even write a text like that, even though we’re good friends. It felt risky and I don’t know why. I sent it anyway because it felt right. I guess I was afraid they would think I was being annoying.
After a couple days, I got a call from Jay’s mom, Iris. “Hello? Iris?” She cleared her throat, “Andy, good morning. I uh, I have something to tell you. Um...” Her voice broke and she started crying. She continued talking but all I heard was ringing in my ears. It was all mumbling, I couldn’t hear clearly. I just...didn’t know what to do, think, or say. Everything just stopped but at the same time everything was spinning. I think I dropped my phone, I blacked out, too. Everything in the world changed, everything seemed to be ending. The only friend I have killed themselves, and I didn’t know until it was too late. I didn’t get to do anything that could’ve stopped them, I don’t even remember the last time I said “I love you” to Jay. Holy shit, is it my fault? I was the one who gave them a hard time for not speaking to me, but I was also the one who cared so much and stuck by their side. I don’t know. I was the one who respected everything about them. I’ve been there for Jay. I don’t know. I thought I showed them that I’m here for them, well wait, now it’s "was”. Shit, it’s was now, everything is past tense now. It’s too late for anything now. Now is just terrible. A world without Jay. A world where everything reminds me of them. Oh fuck, for the rest of my life I’m going to be saying cringey shit like, “Oh, one of my old friends loved those,” and “Damn, my friend would’ve liked this,” And everybody is going look at me with pity, this is so stupid. I don’t even know what to think. I’m yelling at myself. I’m getting really angry and I don’t know why. I’m being so selfish right now. I should just be thinking about Jay and what happened. I should’ve stayed on the phone with Iris and consoled her. I shouldn't have been so mad at Jay. I need to get out of here. I just need to get out of here. I’m gonna be alone without them. To read the rest of this story please visit www.artofme.org
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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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