Genzine Issue No.3

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT LETTER FROM THE EDITORS MOMENTS OF UNCLARITY JENA OAKFORD WHERE IS MY FREEDOM? FRANCIS TRIGG WEAR THIS DRESS LILY NGUYEN SCHOOL FOOTY AUSTIN LANCASTER

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TRIQUETRA CHANDRA ALTOFF FACE, UNCURATED THE POWER OF SHAME LOU SOLOMONIDES CO-EXIST FLEETING LANDSCAPES PARMINDER KAUR SO WHY EMILY BARTUSH TECHNICOLOUR CHARLIESE ALLEN

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF COUNTRY

The GenZine Collective would like to acknowledge that this zine was created on the lands of the Wurundjeri and Boon Wurrung Peoples. We would like to pay our respects to the elders of the Kulin nation - past, present and emerging. We want to acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded, that this land was stolen and no acknowledgement will give it back or right past wrongs.

We would also like to recognise that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples, especially women or gender diverse people in Australia, continue to face social and economic disadvantage. We recognise the pain of genocide, assimilation practices, hate speech and structural disadvantage.

We recognise the negative and misleading portrayals of Aboriginal Peoples, as well as the omission of their voices, that has been prevalent in mainstream media publications.

We urge you to be aware of the ground you stand on, the air you breathe and the nuances of the world you engage with. You are standing on Aboriginal land.

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L ET T E R F RO M T H E E D I TO RS Our warmest welcome to anyone who’s stumbled across GenZine Issue 3: QUESTIONING. GenZine is a Melbourne-based zine exploring gender equity through art and conversation. We believe that living self-reflective lives means examining the structures and ideas that we inherit, including ideas around gender and sexuality.

GenZine delves into the struggles, joys and questions stirred up living in a gendered world. We believe that young creatives taking an imaginative & honest approach to these issues can open up new ways of being and connecting to each other in divided times.

Huge thanks to Brimbank City Council, whose grant has made this issue possible. GenZine runs under the auspices of Victoria University, so our deep gratitude to them and to Ali and Chris in particular, for helping us navigate all the nooks and crannies! Much love also to Ashleigh Morris

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from St Albans Community Centre, to our endlessly patient graphic designer Aleisha Earp (@aleisha.earp), and a special mention to our fur-babies Chan, Boris, Stella & Xiaohu.

But most of all, to our contributors who make all of this possible – Jena, Francis, Evie, Lily, Austin, Chandra, Lou, Emily, Parminder and Charliese – thank you for showing us your questionings at a time when there is much pressure to be certain.

Your skill as artists is astounding, your openness thought-provoking and your curiosity gives us hope.

We cannot thank you enough.

Yours in resistance, community and love,

JENA OAKFORD

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Moments of Unclarity Jena Oakford (she/her) @OakyJoaky My artwork related to the theme by depicting an individual questioning their own gender via experimenting with different hairstyles/use of makeup.

Gender equity also includes people who identify outside of the binary genders, and I think it is important to illustrate this shift in our society.

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FRANCIS TRIGG

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Where is my Freedom?

Francis Trigg (he/him) Growing up in a Christian culture, there was this idea that if you prayed hard enough and did all the right things, God would heal you of your diseases. As I came to realise that my sexuality was something other than straight, I turned to God for healing. After praying, fasting, and turning my gaze from ‘temptation’, my healing never came. Feeling trapped in a cage of despair and shame, wanting God to heal me from my sexuality, I wrote this piece asking God, “Where is my freedom?”

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Where is my freedom?

I still hear the verses No one listens to my cries The step of faith gave me nothing I still sit and suffer I thought whoever the son sets free is free indeed Well, where is my freedom?

I spoke the words long ago I read the book ‘The truth will set you free’, right?

I spoke the truth The judgement of the world fell on me My freedom will not be found here I am still bound to the very things I was promised release from My heart still suffers and cries But you still torment me - why?

Where is my freedom?

e/her)

pe (sh

a Evie P

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LILY NGUYEN

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Wear This Dress Lily Nguyen (she/her) @ comicsbylily Garments and clothes have been socially categorised to fit gender norms. From my upbringing, dress wearing is specifically made for only young ladies. However, in this modern century, young people often challenge the notion of dresses being for everyone who wants to be comfortable and stylish at the same time.

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AUSTIN LANCASTER

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School Footy

In primary school, the teacher I loved most was my fourth-grade teacher, Mr. VL, the only male teacher on staff. I can remember he sometimes would sing with the class, giving out sheets with the music on them. The song I recall is “The Green Door”, an old rock and roll standard.

None of the other boys in my class were particularly musical, and it wasn’t common for me to see a man sing, other than my father.

One day we were taken out for a mixed football match on the oval. I wasn’t skilled at football compared to the other boys. I could tackle pretty well though, which required strength and a willingness to throw yourself at someone else, rather than finesse. Though my father was a star local player in his heyday (I had seen his old trophies), my mother had barred me from playing, from fear that I would injure my pianist hands.

I didn’t see much of the ball, but an opportunity to get involved came near the end of the match.

The largest boy in the class, Johnny, had gotten hold of the ball. A few other kids tried to grab him, but he shrugged them off. I was standing

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“I never played football in the

local league, though most of the other boys did - this was a country town. I often wished I did, and sometimes would have dreams where I was playing in a match.

between him and the goalpost. I don’t think I managed to get a good grip on him, but I got hold of his shirt and roughly swung him around, slowing his advance. Mr VL blew the whistle and awarded Johnny a free kick. I felt confused and embarrassed; I thought I was doing the right thing.

I was envious of the camaraderie the others had, though they also seemed to pick on each other a lot, which I hadn’t yet learned was banter. You got a nickname on the football team.

One of the avuncular older boys decided one day he would make me one. The name was ‘Bolt’, but it didn’t end up sticking.

Austin Lancaster (he/him)

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CHANDRA ALTOFF

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Triquetra Chandra Altoff (they/them) @darlingsparks Considering Questioning and how my body and being fits in the balance of masculine and feminine. How do I be both, when both bring me euphoria?

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LOU SOLOMONIDES

The Power of Shame “Wow, you’re so hairy for a girl!”

Disclaimer: In this article, I refer to my childhood as a person who was socialised female with gendered terms such as “girl”. I cracked my trans egg a few years ago, so applying these terms to my current life is inappropriate, however, I have used gendered language here as that is how I identified at the time, and misogyny was a major contributor to these experiences.

I used to get this a lot. I’m Greek/Turk/Cypriot, my skin is gold and my hair is one shade browner than black. My arms are covered in it, my legs are covered in it, I have a snail trail, a moustache, sideburns. My armpits look like grownout white girl armpits after I’ve trimmed them. The 3cm band of hair around my head of ‘hair-eyebrow-eyebrowhair’ has no gaps.

So, of course people noticed.

The other girls at school noticed. I could see the boys noticing. My cousins (also Greeks, go figure*) would loudly notice how hairy I am. *Of course, by “go figure”, I mean “our western-centric colonial culture of Traits Of Whiteness = Supreme Beauty is so prevalent and brainwashed into our young people that racist sexism not only comes from white people onto POC, it comes from POC to POC, too. #InternalisedIt”

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Being young, impressionable, ashamed of my body and desperate to stop being bullied, I shaved. No longer were my legs “hairy ape legs”, no longer were my armpits “so gross wtf??”, no longer would boys kindly offer to show me how to shave my moustache. I was slick as a prepubescent babe.

As I grew into sexual maturity, I shaved my entire pubic mound, too - a craze I can only see now as super creepy. A pube-free mound is child-like. How is (or was) a vulva completely free of its surrounding forest seen to be the height of sexual appeal?

I give young Lou a pass for what they did to survive back then; kids are mean, and shame is a powerful tool.

Growing older, and out of high school, I began to question the shame. “Not having pubes feels weird and creepy,” I finally realised. “My legs are constantly red and bumpy because my follicles are so irritated, maybe I’ll take a break from shaving every day and see how I go.”

I wouldn’t let too many days go by, however; just enough to keep my follicles happy, without letting it get to my looking like a failed woman.

I’d bought myself hundreds of dollars’ worth of laser hair removal clinic credit – non-refundable, of course – and used it all. I had less resistance (none) to this than I had to considering gender affirmation surgery, years later. Nobody asked, “but aren’t you worried it’ll be

irreversible?” regarding burning, with intent to irreparably damage, my skin.

(Hindsight: the laser didn’t work, anyway. They told me I’d only need 8 sessions to be mostly rid of my hair, but barely a difference was made. I expressed this to the beautician at my last appointment and she said “oh, you’ll need lots more, I’m not sure why they told you 8!”)

At age 20, my white boyfriend at the time pointed to my bare armpits and declared “you should grow those out!

Liberate yourself!”

How is it liberation if it’s just another Someone Else telling me what to do?

I wonder if he’d have been as encouraging had I decided to stop shaving my moustache, or plucking the hairs that join my hairline to my eyebrows, and my eyebrows in the middle. He didn’t point to my face and demand I grow it out; it was a very clear locational instruction. The illusion of “liberate yourself!” but without the liberation; simply a new style to opt into that provides a celebrated nonconformance to some (but not all) white feminine beauty standards.

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And the problem here for me, you see, is that I’m not white. I’m always going to be too hairy, not “porcelain” enough (that’s a whole other conversation. Anyone remember ‘skin whitening’ products around the home? #JustMigrantThings), just a little bit wrong in every way. Even when I tried to do all the white- ahem, *right things.

About a year ago, I stopped curating the hair on my face. At first, I hated it - the shame of being hairy took its time retreating. But as my unibrow returned, scraggly chin hairs emerged and moustache grew, I slowly began to recognise my more authentic self in the mirror.

A couple of months ago, after a series of bad haircuts, I shaved all my headhair off. Never had my facial hair been so unobscured as when my bare* skull led observing eyes directly to it. My internalised biases became everything I saw in any reflective surface; I was facing them head-on, you could say. (*I say bare, but even after a wet-shave, you could still see my clear hairline, because my hair is so dark. Wish I’d known true baldness was only something offered to those whose hair colour somewhat closely resembles their skin tone)

As it has grown out and I constantly figure and re-figure out how to sculpt my head-hair into shapes stylistically true to my aesthetic, I re-evaluate my face-hair: Where does the pressure to conform to white beauty standards begin, and my own personal style end?

Do I leave my moustache where it is, in continuation of the rejection of White Beauty, even though it makes me look like a semi-pubescent cis boy?

If I return to shaving it, have I given up my pursuit of freedom from WB’s shackles? Or have I acknowledged that the 12yo-shadow-stache just isn’t My Look?

Sculpting my eyebrows used to be important to me; if I break out the tweezers again now, have I caved to WB or does my style just appreciate tidiness? It certainly does with my clothing, so why am I treating my face differently?

How do I balance protest with delicacy?

What is me, and what is the rejection of that which has oppressed me?

It’ll take time.

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The Power of Shame Lou Solomonides (they/them) linktr.ee/lou.solomonides My works are about my experience as a young femme of colour being told that my body hair was bad and should be removed; growing older and rejecting that message; and trying to find where is the line between rejection of that which has oppressed me, and my personal style.

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PARMINDER KAUR

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Fleeting landscapes Fleeting landscapes Ephemeral feelings My heart swelling for the uncertainty Trying to survive the rupture Show me my ancestors before they burned I’m finding my family But mostly finding them dead becoming undone every day The demarcations of my body turning to dust Complete erasure of the soul imprinting myself onto the leaves of trees Blowing away with the meek whispers of the wind I leave quietly With grace and beauty Absolving myself of all past sins Having known I had nurtured And loved with as much courage

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co-exist my Skin sloughing, hair shedding and nails being nervously chewed on my body is in a constant state of erosion and renewal as I step into the world I can’t help but leave a trace an impression a mark… with each exhale I house bacteria that predates humanity, carrying ancient love, grief, and rage at a cellular level the world that looms up in my mind Is lethal and unknowable Like desire itself The way to love someone is to tenderly run your finger over that person’s soul until you find an opening to gently pour love into

Fleeting Landscape Co-Exist Parminder Kaur (she/her) @1parminder1 The two poems ‘ Co- exist’ and ‘Fleeting Landscapes’ were written during a period of self-examination. I was questioning my relationships and also the soil I plant my feet into.

Looking both inward and outward. As a person who’s always surrounded herself with strong women, I felt compelled to write this piece to pay homage to this fact.

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EMILY BARTUSH

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So Why Emily Bartush (she/they) @_unsurechaos Ever since I can remember I’ve questioned my body. Every dint, blemish, scratch, hair, curve (or lack thereof), freckle, fold, the way things fell and how they moved over the years; things that just don’t make any sense to actually take mind of.

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“

my skin sloughing, hair shedding and nails being nervously chewed on

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my body is in a constant state of erosion and renewal

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– Parminder Kaur

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CHARLIESE ALLEN

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Technicolour Charliese Allen (she/her) @charlieseeuphemiaart The story behind it is that being able to stay true to yourself means to question yourself, to challenge yourself and all you believe in, to find who you truly are.

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If you’re even slightly curious about what it might be like to contribute to a zine, please consider sending something in for GenZine’s next issue! We love hearing from people who are new to this whole gender/art/zine thing and would be happy to chat should you have any questions. Keep up with all things GenZine on the socials:

@gen_zine_

genzineteam@gmail.com

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