The Brown Lady | Volume 9

Vol. 9 • 2021

The Brown Lady

2021

Published by: Honors College Student Association Poets, Inc. Printed by the Wm. A. Krueger School of Graphic Communications

In memory of Professor Amin Rudaina Khalil, a gentle man who sought to make the world a more beautiful place…and succeeded.

The Legend of "The Brown Lady" Any university campus that’s been around for this long—Chowan University was founded in 1848—really ought to have its own myths, and so Chowan does in the legend of “The Brown Lady.” More than a hundred years ago, she was described in the school’s yearbook as the daughter of a wealthy family from the region who honored her parents’ wishes by attending Chowan, putting off marriage to her fiancé, but tragically dying during her sophomore year. A different version of her legend has her jumping to her death from the top floor of the school’s famous Columns Building after her husband (or fiancé) dies during the Civil War. But the main detail that remains the same in every version is her preference for wearing a brown gown made of taffeta, one that would rustle as she walked that has earned her the name of “The Brown Lady.”

Legend also consistently figures her as a silent ghost, only recognizable by the rustling of her dress in the hall or on the breeze. But her legend continues to speak at Chowan, now honored through an annual quiz bowl tournament pitting teams from different departments against each other (The Brown Lady Academic Bowl) and the magazine that you’re now reading.

Welcome Treasured readers, I welcome you all to the 9th edition of The Brown Lady, Chowan University’s magazine that features the most creative and academically impressive work submitted by students over the past year.

Despite the overwhelming stress of an unprecedented year, we are incredibly proud to feature an issue filled with some of the most impressive, profound work these nine editions have seen.

Gracing this year’s cover is Kyra Cauthen’s stunningly evocative piece “Sight” depicting humankind and our beautiful planet Earth. Ginger Jordan starts our issue with “A Surprise of Color” in her characteristically vibrant style. Ginger’s piece is followed by Kyra’s “Sight” and “Views”, the latter portraying nature’s effortless beauty through a picture of a secluded mountainous landscape. Nick Adams concludes this first section, making his first of three appearances with his impressive painting entitled “Bolt”. In our first writing segment, Otis Hunter, Jr.’s profoundly moving poem “Why Do We Riot?” captures the urgency and sincerity embedded in this past summer’s mantra that demanded justice for George Floyd and equality for People of Color and underrepresented minority groups. Following that is a chapter from Ginger Jordan’s urban fantasy novel Death.

Skadi Kylander’s “Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers” is an academic triumph compiled with scientific precision and thoughtfulness. Glenn Jordan displays impressive technique with his intricately structured poem entitled “Darius, Brave Prince Darius”, which is followed by Michael Futrell’s chilling short story “Screaming Faces''. Two more poems follow, my “The People on the Pedestals” and Otis Hunter, Jr.’s “Universe”, a modern take on the complexities of love and heartbreak.

Nick Adams’s award-winning painting, “Emotional Blindness”, spans our two center pages, followed by Alyssia Parker’s stunning graphite piece “The Black Holocaust”, which symbolically depicts the horrors of the Eugenics movement. Launching our second section of writing is Kayla Gates’s piece “The Evolution of the Word Justice”, which explores the development of a word that has deepened in significance over the course of 2020.

Next is Ryan Martin’s “The Fourth Crusade'', a historical analysis that describes the harrowing event’s effect on the relationship between Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox Churches. Michael Futrell appears again with a more personal piece entitled “An Autistic Point of View'' where he frankly details his experiences and dispels incorrect assumptions as someone conquering life with high-functioning Autism. Nick Adams’s final piece, “Vintage”, is a serenely steely photograph of a car on a Murfreesboro corner. Alyssia Parker’s scratchboard piece “X” and graphite work “Frustration and Consumption” rawly depict the effects of worry and anxiety on a person’s well-being. Destiny Vaughan’s lifelike graphite bust entitled “Serious” strongly rounds out this issue’s exceptional artwork. We conclude this remarkable 9th edition with Ginger Jordan’s “Why Women Don’t Belong in the Marine Corps”, a contemplative short story based on real-life events, and Crystal Bibbins’s lighthearted, relatable piece on the affliction of writer’s block entitled “The Thrill of the Hunt”.

On behalf of this year’s editorial board and our featured talent, I welcome you to dive into the fruits of our labor in the coming weeks, months, and years. As this publication’s first student editor-in-chief, I cannot express enough my unending gratitude for the opportunity to work with such gifted individuals. The journey from poring through countless submissions to cherishing these glossy pages has been an honor and a privilege.

Congratulations to this year’s contributors, and happy reading!

Grace Arredondo Editor-in-Chief

Editorial Board Grace Arredondo Editor-in-Chief English

Alyssia Parker Studio Art Honors College Student Association

Timothy Hayes Faculty Editor Associate Professor of English

David Ballew Associate Professor of History

Crystal Bibbins Assistant to the Editor Integrative Studies Michael Futrell Psychology Honors College Student Association Otis Hunter, Jr. Creative Writing Poets, Inc. Glenn Jordan Creative Writing

Bo Dame Professor of Biology and Physical Sciences Jennifer Groves Newton Assistant Professor of Graphic Communications Danny B. Moore Professor of History R. Lauren Rodil Assistant Director of Printing Production Catherine Vickers Instructor of English

Table of Contents A Surprise of Color

Ginger Jordan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Sight

Kyra Cauthen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Views

Kyra Cauthen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Bolt

Nick Adams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Why Do We Riot?

Otis Hunter, Jr.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Death, Chapter One

Ginger Jordan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers: Aspects of the Breeding Biology of Prothonotary Warblers from 2018-19 in Northeastern North Carolina

Skadi Kylander. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

Darius, Brave Prince Darius

Glenn Jordan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Screaming Faces

Michael Futrell. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

The People on the Pedestals

Grace Arredondo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

Universe

Otis Hunter, Jr.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Emotional Blindness

Nick Adams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32

The Black Holocaust

Alyssia Parker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

The Evolution of the Word Justice

Kayla Gates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

The Fourth Crusade and Its Effect on the Roman Catholic and the Greek Orthodox Relationship

Ryan Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Table of Contents continued An Autistic Point of View

Michael Futrell. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Vintage

Nick Adams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

X

Alyssia Parker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

Frustration and Consumption

Alyssia Parker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52

Serious

Destiny Vaughan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

"Why Women Don't Belong in the Marine Corps"

Ginger Jordan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

The Thrill of the Hunt

Crystal Bibbins. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

A Surprise of Color Ginger Jordan Graphite

8

Sight Kyra Cauthen Photography

9

Views Kyra Cauthen Photography

10

Bolt Nick Adams Oil on Canvas

11

Why Do We Riot?

Otis Hunter, Jr.

Why do we riot?

Because a riot is the language of the unheard; Peaceful protests breed violence, But they are gibberish to the ignorant; We march and we are garnished with pepper spray and mustard gas, We are seen as dirty animals and we are hosed down as proof, We raise our fists and they are studded with handcuffs, But burning a cross is peaceful, Starting a race war and sending the killer to Burger King is peaceful, Kneeling at a football game matters more than kneeling on a man’s neck; But they have the nerve to ask us why we riot?

The government thinks a riot is a magnet for chaos; But for the oppressed, For the broken, For the hopeless, They are answered prayers for damned people; The smoke clears the smoke screen of injustices; If you don’t work, you don’t eat, So how can you give us empty plates when we starve for change?

We riot against the criminals who walk like saints, We riot for the brothers and sisters who can’t from the grave, We riot because our ancestors built this country anyway, So, if we tear it down, you will realize what it’s like to have nothing; Anger does not permit property damage or stealing, But, when merchandise matters more than merchants dying, we have a problem.

People of color in America are atoms compared to gods; We are Adams and Eves compared to God after the fall; We are all Cains never able to become Abel without canes; If we held the reins, If we had control, If we could break down the barriers this country stands on, we wouldn’t have to riot; All lives can never matter if one life...

If my life…

Never did.

12

Death, Chapter One Ginger Jordan

Dash Pearson wasn’t lucky in life, and, according to his grandma, he never would be. His death would only serve to prove this. According to his grandma, his lack of luck was all thanks to the family curse. The shadowy being had haunted the youngest member of the family line for generations, a position Dash currently had the “honor” of holding.

For his whole life, he saw the curse that haunted his home as well as the ghosts that wandered the streets of southern Louisiana. Due to this sight, he lost many hours of sleep and all but one friend. As a young child, he often spoke about the curse, worrying his mother and repelling the other kids at school.

No one wanted to be friends with the weird kid that saw ghosts. The only adult that didn’t treat him like a pariah was his grandma, who always told him tales of the supernatural.

She claimed that a member of their family stole from a voodoo queen many generations ago, and, in return, she cursed the family. Throughout the generations, the curse brought the family nothing but misfortune, and the youngest member always fared the worst. Many Pearsons of the past were said to have gone mad or died from mysterious or tragic deaths, and this included his sister. His immediate family felt the burden of the curse. His parents were consistently laid off from work, and unhappy accidents were commonplace in their home. The curse was confined to their house and it couldn’t touch him, but Dash knew it was only a matter of time before it found a way to end him, too.

Most days, he tried to avoid thinking about such matters, but, on this particular day, the subject of ghosts and hauntings was all the rave. It was Dash’s least favorite day of the year: Halloween. In the past years, he spent this day at his best friend’s house nestled comfortably on the couch watching cartoons, but this year was different. This year, he was stuck at school helping with the trunk-or-treat. It was the price he paid for his track scholarship.

His parents were thrilled when they read the letter inviting him to attend Laveau Private School, a prestigious private high school near his home. Only the richest, smartest, or most talented kids were accepted here, and he somehow made it without asking. At first, he wasn’t going to accept the scholarship, since that would mean leaving his only friend at the time, Walter, behind.

Knowing that Dash was going to refuse the scholarship on his account, Walter uncharacteristically studied hard and was accepted on an academic scholarship. No one in their eighth grade class believed it until he paraded the acceptance letter around. Walter’s acceptance sealed the deal, and they were both officially enrolled.

While Dash did make one friend from the track team, he hated the school. It was impossible to shake the feeling of being an outsider. The school was kept in immaculate condition and boasted Queen Anne Architecture. While Dash and Walter walked, the other students arrived in shiny new cars wearing their crisp, freshly pressed uniforms. Dash and Walter had purchased their uniforms from a secondhand store, 13

Death, Chapter One Ginger Jordan

and his family didn’t even own an iron. No one said anything to them about their disheveled appearance, but he caught their derogatory glances and whispers. It was obvious he didn’t belong.

“I think I actually did okay on the test,” Walter said, as they shuffled their way through the lunch line.

This was good news, because the stress of keeping his grades high enough to qualify for the academic scholarship next year was making him pull his hair out. “Did you get ‘B’ for question four?” Walter asked, and Dash nodded absently in reply, prompting a sigh from his friend. “Halloween happens every year; you may as well get used to it,” he informed as he plopped onto a chair.

All the students, aside from Dash, were taking the opportunity to ditch their uniforms and wear costumes as authorized by the school. Attending school that day was nearly futile, since everyone was too excited about their evening plans to pay attention in class. Adding on to this excitement was the fact they were getting a half day so students participating in the trunk-or-treat could get ready.

Walter, who was dressed as a pirate, complete with a beard, eye patch, and parrot, removed his beard and began devouring his meal. Ryan, their only other friend, soon joined them. Like Dash, he was there on a track scholarship, so they had more in common economically than with the other students. Dash was enjoying the friendship while it lasted. It was only a matter of time until he let slip his dreaded ability to see ghosts or the family curse. Either way, once that information was out there, Ryan would drift away as numerous other potential friends had.

Dash looked up to see Ryan dressed as a zombie, and he quickly decided to focus on the cleanliness of the cafeteria instead. Ryan’s makeup was done too well for his liking. His skin appeared deathly pale, a visage he had seen too many times before, and the fake blood on Ryan's head and clothes made him uneasy.

“So, what are you going as for the trunk-or-treat?” Ryan asked Dash as he started on his meal.

“Just myself,” he informed, wishing he could end the conversation there but knowing that wasn’t going to happen. Every year, he was pestered by at least Walter about celebrating the holiday. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t even be there, but the members of the sport teams were required to help.

He and Ryan would be manning the track team’s candy booth, and Walter volunteered to help make beignets. Walter didn’t have the foggiest idea how to make beignets, but, according to him, he was eager to learn. Dash was sure his interest wasn’t so much sparked by the desire to master the dish as to flirt with a girl named Luna that he had been crushing on for weeks. She was working the beignet stand, too.

Just as Dash predicted, Ryan protested his lack of a costume, and, with Walter’s help, they barraged him with a list of last-minute costume ideas.

“The kids will love it,” Ryan said.

“Don’t be boring,” Walter pleaded.

All the while, Dash fought the urge to run home and curl up with his dog, Spot. The spooky scenery, the excited students, the frantic teachers, and the fear of demons and ghosts roaming freely in the night made his chest tight.

14

Death, Chapter One Ginger Jordan

It was easy for others to find the holiday fun; they didn’t have to see what he saw. They didn’t know of the dangers he did. Since he was a child, his grandma warned him about Halloween. It was the most dangerous time of year, when demons could masquerade as human spirits. Running into a demon could mean death or the consumption of his soul, a fate worse than death. Dash didn’t dare take such a risk, so he took a practical approach. Since there was no way to tell which specters were demons and which were wandering lost souls, he didn’t take any chances with the supernatural−demons, ghosts, or otherwise.

Noticing Dash’s distress, Walter knew he had reached his limit on teasing and smoothly changed the subject. Seemingly in an instant, the conversation turned from Dash’s lack of Halloween spirit to which pizza joint in town was the best. Dash wished he possessed Walter’s social finesse. He couldn’t command, let alone steer, a conversation if he took a sledgehammer to it. Walter, however, could manipulate a discussion with the lightest touch.

As Ryan and Walter debated whether grease on a pizza was a pro or con, the bell tolled, signaling the end of the half day.

“It’s time to set up,” Ryan said with a broad grin, and the three cleared their trays. Walter headed to the front of the building to set up the food truck, and Ryan and Dash entered the gym.

They were immediately greeted by another student named Valerie. She shoved a schedule into their hands with a bright smile. “Don’t forget to follow this!”

Dash stiffly nodded and forced an awkward smile back. His heart pounded in his chest as he made a beeline for the track team’s booth. Ryan was beside him, taking in the scenery around them. “It really does look great in here,” he commented. “Valerie did a great job.”

Dash agreed as he stole a glance back to her. She was currently chatting with more students who had entered the gym as she handed them a schedule, and he took a moment to admire her costume.

She was dressed as a fairy, complete with a sparkly skirt that emphasized her long, muscular legs. Her black hair was pleated, reaching the small of her back, and the electric blue ends of her hair matched her outfit. Everywhere she walked, she left a small trail of glitter behind her. She looked magical, and he had to rip his eyes away from her.

Despite not being part of a sports team, Valerie volunteered to help with decorating the gym for the event, and, even though she was a freshman like Dash, her enthusiasm for the event got her placed in charge. Dash wasn’t the least bit surprised by her appointment. She always wore a smile and had enthusiasm for all of life’s activities. They had several classes together, and her cheerfulness was always a relief to be around. He never wanted to leave her presence.

She and the sport teams stayed late the day before decorating, but she kicked everyone out to complete the final touches on her own. Even Dash had to admit that the decorations were beyond expectations. The gym was a Halloween wonderland, and, to Dash’s relief, it was kid friendly. Dash was sure that their guests from the local elementary school would enjoy the festivities.

The several hours that passed were busy, and Dash found that his constant movement distracted him

15

Death, Chapter One Ginger Jordan

from his Halloween dread. After several runs to refill their booth on candy, he didn’t mind the fake blood staining Ryan’s clothes or the look of death on his visage.

At 8:30, the trunk-or-treat booths closed, and Ryan and Dash made their way to the front of the school, where the food trucks were still open. Their feet were tired and achy, so they took their time walking. Most of the children and their parents were now gone, leaving their trash strewn over the usually clean lawn.

Only a few stragglers remained. These people were buying beignets, caramel apples, and cotton candy or lounging on the school’s fountain, examining their candy hoards. Some of the teachers and parents walked with a noticeable stagger and sloshing plastic cups, signaling that they may have had too much fun at the school event.

Ryan and Dash found their place at the back of the beignet line. Walter and Luna were working at full speed taking and making orders, but this didn’t stop them from noticeably flirting. Dash wished he could be as at ease when socializing as his friend.

“What are you doing after this?” Ryan asked Dash.

“Just going home,” he replied with a forced yawn to signal that he was tired.

“Oh, well, if you feel like it, some of us from the track team are going to a haunted house nearby. It’s supposed to be good.”

“Maybe,” Dash replied, knowing full well that he had no intention of joining them.

As the line inched forward, erratic movement from the corner of Dash’s eye caught his attention.

He turned in time to see a man dressed as a grim reaper stumbling toward them. The heavy hood and downcast gaze clouded the man’s expression, but something about his posture didn’t seem right. He moved aimlessly and stumbled toward the middle of the line with no sign of stopping. When he was an arm’s length from Dash, he asked the stranger hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

The man froze before his face shot up. His wide, sunken eyes bore straight into Dash’s, appearing almost frantic.

“You-You can see me?” the man, clutching a well-made scythe tightly, exclaimed in relief as he looked Dash up and down. Dash winced at the smell of his booze-soaked breath.

Before Dash could reply, the man began frantically digging in the inside pocket of his robe. “Are you okay?” Dash repeated. Ryan, who had been talking to a friend behind them, glanced over at Dash to see who he was talking to.

Before anyone could move or speak, the man removed a pistol from within his robes. Dash froze before the man’s weighty scythe was shoved into his hands.

“Thank you!” the man shouted ecstatically before pointing the gun at Dash’s chest and firing twice.

White-hot pain exploded in his chest as he was propelled backward and slammed into the grass. He was only aware of faint screams before the world whirled out of sight.

16

Death, Chapter One Ginger Jordan

Author’s Note Above is the first chapter in my urban fantasy novel Death. It is the first book in a planned series of novels. Don’t worry, Dash doesn’t die—well, not exactly. He becomes a junior death manager, a.k.a. a soul reaper in training. He’s assigned as a member of Team 42, and together they reap souls while also fighting occasional demons and necromancers.

17

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Aspects of the Breeding Biology of Prothonotary Warblers from 2018-2019 in Northeastern North Carolina Skadi Kylander

ABSTRACT

Every summer, southern swamps east of the Mississippi River host the only cavity-nesting species of warbler to breed in eastern North America. Prothonotary Warblers (Protonotaria citrea) rely on oldgrowth swamps in this area for breeding and to raise their young. Population declines in recent decades have sparked interest in understanding Prothonotary Warbler breeding biology. In 2018 and 2019, nest box occupancy, nest success, nestling growth rate, types of prey brought to nestlings, and standard measurements of adults were recorded in two eastern North Carolina habitats: the Chowan University Meherrin River Field Site (MRFS) with riparian and bottomland hardwood swamps, and a maritime forest containing depressional wetlands in the Kitty Hawk Woods Coastal Reserve (KHW). Six nest boxes were installed at each site for the 2018 breeding season. This was increased to 19 boxes at MRFS and 18 boxes at KHW for the 2019 season. Observations from the two breeding seasons yielded a total of 15 occupied nest boxes (11 at MRFS; 4 at KHW). While the percent of boxes occupied at MRFS (44%) appeared significantly higher (p = 0.04) than at KHW (17%), nest success at MRFS was significantly lower than at KHW (50% and 96% respectively, p = 0.0001). Likewise, comparison of mean nestling growth rates (MRFS = 0.9 g/ nestling/day; KHW = 1.2 g/nestling/day) approached significance (p = 0.06), with MRFS growth rates appearing lower. Preliminary analysis of nest provisioning suggests prey types and sizes differed between the two sites. Data was collected for a total of 14 adults between the two breeding seasons.

INTRODUCTION

Every summer, North America’s southern swamps east of the Mississippi River play host to the only cavity-nesting species of warbler to visit that part of the continent. These unique visitors are Prothonotary Warblers (Protonotaria citrea). Prothonotary Warblers are Nearctic-Neotropical songbirds (Petit, 1999) that winter in Central and South America (Tonra et al., 2019). They travel to North America for the duration of their breeding season, arriving in the spring and settling into old-growth swamps to breed and to raise their young. In recent decades, Prothonotary Warbler populations have declined, prompting their placement on several watch lists (Rosenberg et al., 2016; USFWS, 2008) and increasing interest in understanding their life cycles to develop better conservation efforts. Gaining an understanding of an organism’s full life cycle has been shown to aid in effective conservation (Marra et al., 2015). Though these birds spend a significant portion of the year in Central and South America (Tonra et al., 2019), northeastern North Carolina has been shown to contain one of the highest breeding densities of Prothonotary Warblers in North America (Petit, 1999), making it a promising area to use to study the breeding portion of their life cycle.

A pilot study on Prothonotary Warblers nesting in northeastern North Carolina was started by Dr. Heather McGuire and Dr. James Dame from the Department of Biology at Chowan University in Murfreesboro, NC in 2018. As of 2019, the purpose of this study is to document and compare differences 18

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

in breeding biology of these birds in two different habitats. These sites were chosen based on where Drs. McGuire and Dame had heard the sweet-sweet-sweet song of Prothonotary Warblers during prior field seasons. This project was expanded for the 2019 breeding season. I became involved with this project around this time.

METHODS

For the 2018 and 2019 seasons, two sites were selected: Chowan University’s Meherrin River Field Site in Hertford County, NC (MRFS) and the Kitty Hawk Woods Coastal Reserve in Dare County, NC (KHW).

MRFS contains bottomland hardwood and riparian wetlands, where an abundance of Water Gum (Nyssa aquatica), Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum), Sycamore (Platanus occidentalis), Sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua), and other trees grow, as well as numerous species of herbaceous vegetation. KHW is a maritime forest with depressional wetlands that is home to a similar variety of trees but has a different community herbaceous vegetation. Though there are similarities when looking at the vegetation, personal observations and preliminary data collected from in situ water level loggers suggest each site experiences distinctly different hydroperiods (H. McGuire and J. Dame, personal communication, 2019), or differences in how water is present at each site.

Pine nest boxes were installed at each study site. These boxes were constructed from 1” x 4” pine lumber according to a plan from Audubon Louisiana with 1¼’’ holes to allow access for the birds. The inner dimensions of the boxes are approximately 7.25” x 4” x 2”. These nest boxes have a side door, held shut with a nail, to allow access inside the box.

To install the boxes at the sites, lengths of metal conduit were driven into the ground in areas either over water or on land adjacent to water. The boxes were attached to the conduit with bolts. Under the boxes, PVC predator guards were also attached with bolts (Figure 1). If the box was installed over land, the box was turned such that the hole faced the water, and, if the box was installed over water, the box was turned such that the hole faced land, as recommended by The Cornell Lab of Ornithology (2020).

Figure 1: A nest box installed at KHW

Prior to the 2018 breeding season, six boxes were installed at each site. Prior to the 2019 breeding season, an additional 13 boxes were installed at MRFS and an additional 12 boxes were installed at KHW. After the boxes were installed, they were left alone until observations began in early May of both years.

Observations of Prothonotary Warbler nests followed protocols established by Bulluck et al. (2016).

Because the sample sizes each year were small, we combined our data for the two breeding seasons for statistical analyses.

19

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

The number of nest boxes occupied, eggs laid, nestlings hatched, and nestlings fledged at each occupied nest box were recorded. In our calculations, an occupied nest box was defined as a nest box with both nesting material and eggs. Nest box occupancy was then calculated as the number of occupied nest boxes divided by the total number of nest boxes available. Calculations on success were based on success being defined as the number of eggs laid that produced fledglings capable of flight. Two-tailed Z-tests were used to determine the significance of the difference in nest occupancy and of the difference in nest success between MRFS and KHW (H0: MRFS = KHW, α = 0.05).

When possible, nestlings were weighed twice during the nestling phase to estimate an average growth rate (calculated as g/nestling/day). Our nestlings were weighed once when they were 3-5 days old and again when they were 7-9 days old. Nestling growth rate is approximately linear at this age (Podlesak & Blem, 2002), which allows us to make an estimation of the average growth rate. A two-tailed t-test was used to determine if the difference in average growth rates between the two sites was significant (H0: MRFS = KHW, α = 0.05).

Nest boxes were also observed while nestlings were present to record the frequency of adult visits and the amount and types of food items delivered to nestlings by adults. Video was taken during the majority of these provisioning observations using a Panasonic Lumix DMC-ZS20, a Panasonic Lumix DC-ZS70K, or a Canon EOS Rebel T5 Digital SLR camera equipped with an EF 75-300mm telephoto zoom lens.

Adults at active nests were captured with either a hand net or with a mist net, when possible. Captured adults were banded (USFWS aluminum band; banding permit held by H. McGuire) or had their band numbers recorded, if they were already banded. Standard measurements were also recorded. These included age; sex; length of the tarsus, culmen, wing chord, and tail; degree of cloacal protuberance and brood patch presence; and weight.

RESULTS

Nest boxes were occupied during both breeding seasons (Table 1). The two breeding seasons combined yielded 44% nest box occupancy by Prothonotary Warblers at MRFS and 17% at KHW. This difference is significant (Z = 2.0753, p = 0.04), with a greater number of nest boxes being occupied at MRFS (11 of the possible 25 boxes) than at KHW (4 of the possible 24 boxes).

Table 1: Nest boxes installed and occupied (2018; 2019) Site

Boxes installed

Boxes occupied

MRFS

6; 19

2; 9

KHW

6; 18

2; 2

In 2019, 11% of the installed boxes at MRFS were occupied by wasps, while 67% of the boxes at KHW were occupied by wasps. Wasp occupancy was low at both sites during the 2018 breeding season. We 20

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

noted three nest boxes being occupied by Carolina Chickadees (Poecile carolinensis), one at MRFS in 2018 and one at each site in 2019. Nest parasitism by Brown-headed Cowbirds (Molothrus ater) was rare. We only recorded nest parasitism at one nest at MRFS, and it occurred after the access door of the box had fallen open. This nest was abandoned shortly after the parasitism occurred.

Of the boxes installed at MRFS during the 2018 and 2019 breeding seasons, 69% of the eggs laid hatched (25 of 36), and 50% (18 of 36) of the eggs laid produced fledglings capable of flight. At KHW, 96% (24 of 25) of the eggs laid hatched, and 96% (24 of 25) of eggs laid produced fledglings between the two breeding seasons (Table 2). A two-tailed Z-test suggests this difference was highly significant (Z = 3.8154, p = 0.0001), with nests at KHW having greater success than those at MRFS. Table 2: Eggs laid, hatched, and producing fledglings (2018; 2019) Site

Eggs laid

Hatched

Fledged

MRFS

36

25

18

KHW

25

24

24

The two breeding seasons yielded a total of seven nests where nestlings were able to be weighed twice to determine their growth rates. At MRFS, nestlings had a mean growth rate of 0.9 g/nestling/day (SD = 0.23). At KHW, nestlings had a mean growth rate of 1.2 g/nestling/day (SD = 0.06). This difference approached significance (t(5) = 2.389, p = 0.06).

Nest provisioning observations, or observations made to attempt to identify the prey brought to nestlings by the adults, were completed during both breeding seasons. Field observations and preliminary review of video recordings suggest the majority of prey delivered to nestlings at the MRFS was fairly large, while prey at KHW was generally smaller (Figure 2).

Data was recorded for a total of 14 adults between the two breeding seasons (8 at MRFS; 6 at KHW). This data has not yet been analyzed, however.

DISCUSSION

Figure 2: Examples of prey brought to nestlings in 2019 (1. MRFS, 2. KHW, 3. MRFS, 4. MRFS)

The nest box occupancy we observed is similar to those reported in other studies (Blem & Blem, 1991; Siverly, 2015). Additionally, when the occupancy rates from our two sites are combined (giving a combined occupancy rate of 31% (15 of 49) between the two seasons), the rate is similar to those observed in larger studies (e.g., Blem & Blem, 1991). One of the major reasons we suspect occupancy was lower at KHW was the presence of wasps in the nest boxes. Of the 18 available nest boxes at KHW in 2019, 67% (12 of 18) of 21

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

the boxes were occupied by wasps, compared with 11% (2 of 19) at MRFS. Blem and Blem (1991) found approximately 34% of their nest boxes were occupied by wasps and concluded that their presence deterred Prothonotary Warblers from nesting in those boxes. We believe wasps may have had a similar effect on our boxes. Though wasp nests were removed when discovered, all but one of our nest boxes that were occupied by wasps were not occupied by Prothonotary Warblers.

Nest success at MRFS is comparable to that reported by others (Podlesak & Blem, 2001; Siverly, 2015).

Success at KHW appears much higher than what has been observed in other locations. However, our small sample sizes make us unsure if the differences we have observed between MRFS and KHW are due to these small samples, to seasonal variability (as appears to have been the case with Slevin et al. (2018)), to some inherent characteristic of the sites, or to other factors.

We believe flooding and predation may have affected nest success at MRFS. Nest failure has been connected with flooding in other studies, with inundation being the major direct cause of that failure (Siverly, 2015). Though our boxes were not covered with water, the fluctuations in water level in the Meherrin River led to the partial submergence of many of the predator guards of boxes installed over water, which may have left those nests vulnerable to predation. Other studies have found nests predated by mice (Peromyscus gossypinus and P. leucopus) and raccoons (Procyon lotor), among others (Blem & Blem, 1991).

Though we did not directly observe any predation, potential predators, such as raccoons, have been noted as being present in the area.

The difference between nestling growth rates between our two sites was not significant, but it did approach significance (p = 0.06), with nestlings in KHW tending to have higher growth rates than those at MRFS. The growth rates we observed at KHW are similar to those reported by Dodson et al. (2016), who found significant differences in growth rates at two sites where nestlings had different diets. They observed higher growth rates in nestlings fed aquatic prey, while those fed terrestrial prey tended to have lower growth rates. At our two study sites, nestling provisioning seemed to differ in the size of prey and number of prey items delivered at one time rather than if prey was aquatic or terrestrial. Though our observations appear to differ from those of Dodson et al. (2016), it does raise the question as to the potential effects of prey on nestling growth.

We have not yet had an opportunity to analyze the adult data. However, banding data shows 2 of the 9 adults banded in 2018 were recaptured in 2018 (1 female from MRFS and 1 male from KHW). These adults selected nesting boxes in relatively the same area in 2019 as they had used in 2018 (i.e., they either nested in the same box or a nearby box), suggesting adults may return to the same breeding area each year (also noted in Petit, 1999). An additional 5 adults were captured in the 2019 breeding season, for a total of 14 adults between the two breeding seasons.

CONCLUSION

Our preliminary data suggest there may be a difference in the success of Prothonotary Warblers in

22

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

these two different habitats. Nest box occupancy at MRFS appeared higher than at KHW. This may have been influenced by the high presence of wasps in nest boxes at KHW. Despite the higher occupancy, nest success was significantly lower at MRFS, which may be due to the greater variability of the hydroperiod potentially making nest boxes more vulnerable to predation. It also appeared that there may be a difference in nestling growth rates between these two sites, with higher growth rates observed in KHW. This difference may be related to prey availability. Additionally, though the majority of the adult data has not yet been analyzed, banding data revealed that 2 of our adult birds in 2019 had been present in this area in 2018, suggesting these birds may have nesting areas to which they return year after year.

Future plans include installing additional nest boxes, with the hope of increasing our sample size. We plan to continue documenting nestling provisioning, attempt a systematic documentation of what prey is available at each study site, and begin placing wildlife cameras at active boxes to try to identify potential reasons for nest failure.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A very special thank you to Drs. McGuire and Dame for inviting me to be a part of this project, and for all of their remarkable guidance and support. Thank you, as well, to the Town of Murfreesboro and the North Carolina Coastal Reserve System for allowing us access to the Meherrin River Field Site and Kitty Hawk Woods for this research, and to the Chowan University Ecology Field Camp students for their assistance with nest box installation and preliminary observations. Financial support that helped me work on this project in the 2019 breeding season came from an undergraduate research stipend awarded by the North Carolina Independent Colleges and Universities (NCICU) and from a research grant awarded by the Carolina Bird Club, Inc.

REFERENCES

Blem, C. R. & Blem, L. B. (1991). Nest-box selection by Prothonotary Warblers. Journal of Field Ornithology, 62(3), 229-307. Retrieved from https://sora.unm.edu/sites/default/files/journals/jfo/v062n03/ p0299-p0307.pdf Bulluck, L., Viverette, C., & Tucker, A. (2016). Prothonotary Warbler field protocol. [PDF file]. Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond, VA. Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2020). All about birdhouses: Prothonotary Warbler nest box plans and information.

Retrieved from https://nestwatch.org/learn/all-about-birdhouses/birds/prothonotary-warbler/ Dodson, J. C., Moy, N. J., & Bulluck, L. P. (2016). Prothonotary Warbler nestling growth and condition in response to variation in aquatic and terrestrial prey availability. Ecology and Evolution, 6(20), 7462-7474. doi: 10.1002/ece3.2400 23

Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers Skadi Kylander

Kylander, S. (2019, November). Breeding and nesting habits of Prothonotary Warblers in Hertford County and Dare County, North Carolina. State of North Carolina Undergraduate Research and Creativity Symposium.

Presentation conducted at Duke University, Durham, NC. Marra P. P., Cohen E. B., Loss S. R., Rutter J. E., & Tonra C. M. (2015). A call for full annual cycle research in animal ecology. Biology Letters. 11: 20150552. http://dx.doi.org/10.1098/rsbl.2015.0552 Petit, L. J. (1999). Prothonotary Warbler (Protonotaria citrea). In The Birds of North America Online (A. Poole, Editor). Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Ithaca, NY, USA. http://bna.birds.cornell.edu. bnaproxy.birds.cornell. edu/bna/species/408 Podlesak, D. W. & Blem, C. R. (2001). Factors associated with growth of nestling Prothonotary Warblers.

Wilson Ornithological Society, 113(3): 263-272. Retrieved from https://login.proxy038.nclive.org/ login?url=https://search.proquest.com/docview/198728528?accountid=10098 Podlesak, D. W. & Blem, C. R. (2002). Determination of age of nestling Prothonotary Warblers. Journal of Field Ecology, 73(1), 33-37. Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org/stable/4131064 Rosenberg, K. V., Kennedy, J. A., Dettmers, R., Ford, R. P., Reynolds, D., Alexander, J. D., Beardmore, C. J., . . . Will, T. (2016). Partners in Flight landbird conservation plan: 2016 revision for Canada and continental United States. Partners in Flight Science Committee. [PDF file]. Retrieved from http://www.partnersinflight. org/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/pifcontinental-plan-final-spread-single.pdf Siverly, K. M. (2015). Nesting success and parental behavior of the Prothonotary Warbler (Protonotaria Citrea) in southwestern Missouri. [PDF file]. Retrieved from http://bearworks.missouristate.edu/theses/1351 Slevin, M. C., Matthews, A. E., & Boves, T. J. (2018). Prothonotary Warbler demography and nest site selection in natural and artificial cavities in bottomland forests of Arkansas, USA. Avian Conservation and Ecology, 13(2):5. https://doi.org/10.5751/ACE-01235-130205 Tonra, C. M., Hallworth, M. T., Boves, T. J., Reese, J., Bulluck, L. P., Johnson, M., Viverette, C., . . . Johnson, E. I. (2019). Concentration of a widespread breeding biology population in a few critically important nonbreeding areas: Migratory connectivity in the Prothonotary Warbler. The Condor: Ornithological Applications, XX, 1-15. doi:10.1093/condor/duz019 U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (2008). Birds of conservation concern. U.S. Department of Interior, Fish and Wildlife Service, Division of Migratory Bird Management, Arlington, VA, USA. [PDF File]. Retrieved from https://www.fws.gov/migratorybirds/pdf/grants/BirdsofConservationConcern2008.pdf

24

Darius, Brave Prince Darius

By Darius, Brave Bard Darius (No Relation) Glenn Jordan

From the harsh, frigid North hailed handsome Darius–Brave Prince Darius.

He was the most beloved prince in all the land.

In matters of martial might, there was none who could compare.

Though second born, and undestined for the throne, far and wide as a hero he’d be known.

Enter now. Come, most fateful day. First, by fair maiden Vanessa he’d be challenged by blade, And, with his swift victory, he had no cause for dismay.

Hark! Sweet irony! A cause to dismay?

‘Gainst Wolf-skinned assassins to arms flew Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

Silver steel flashed as he struck with his blade.

Down fell foul plots that poisoned the land.

Home’s most hated enemies, of a momentary weakness they’d known.

For on that day, the guards were away. The eldest prince took part in a ceremony of import without compare.

Fearful retaliation! Such fright without compare!

A quest to the far North? The warriors knew naught but dismay.

Without expected aid, Darius—Brave Prince Darius volunteered—let it be known.

“I will go!” shouted Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

“To the frigid North! I shall tame again this land.

Now, come, brave warriors, with me and pledge your blades!”

Ambush! And Capture! In death-games sang his blade!

Assailed from all sides, wracked by pain with no compare!

Taken and beaten, he escaped the wolfmen’s land.

25

Darius, Brave Prince Darius Glenn Jordan

Now, kept by only small company, he would smile without dismay, “Keep heart, my friends, a dark truth revealed, these wolves have a master. There is a witch to slay.” So sayeth Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

From dark, dreary winter, to sweet summer’s day, the frigid north would soon be freed and joy again known.

Traveling ever Northward, a lost tribe became known.

Home of fair maiden Francesca, who in Fate’s twist, pledged him her blade.

“This foul land must be saved, and I will do what I must,” sayeth Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

The lands of the Witch were dangerous, a danger to which a wolf could not compare.

If not for his bravery, they would dismay.

Each step resolved Darius—Brave Prince Darius to heal this sick land.

At long last, he faced the witch, the plague upon the land.

Of Brave Prince Darius’s might the Witch would now know.

The song of his blade healed the land from dismay.

With life-risked strike, he used the Witch-cursed blade.

The screams of the Witch, most foul, caused a chill so cold that not even frost could compare, Cursed lands and Wolfmen cured by Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

A Hero’s welcome he would ignore. To leave and protect the Witch-cursed Blade, Into the wilderness he went, but that is a story less exciting by compare.

Thus goes the first story of Darius—Brave Prince Darius.

26

Screaming Faces Michael Futrell

It has been years since my last episode; the medicine worked wonders. I no longer hear voices or see things that aren't there. But now, ever since I was let go from my job as a butcher, my medicine is no longer covered under my health insurance. Now, I am forced to ration my meds to the point where, from time to time, I will have small episodes, such as hearing whispers and seeing figures out of the corner of my eye.

I know these figures are not real, but they seem so real, so very real. Every day, the episodes grow worse.

Due to rationing my pills, the whispering has now turned into shouting. I fear I will soon begin to see things.

This morning, as I took my daily walk through the woods near my house, I heard my name being called, "Frank, Frank." I looked around, startled. The voice was one I could not recognize—one I had never heard before. As I looked around, I spotted a stray dog. I glanced at the dog, and it began to talk to me, calling my name.

"Frank, you can finally hear me! I notice you on your walks all the time, and you pet me and rub me as you walk by. I was wondering, could I live with you?"

Ignore the dog; just ignore it. I knew it was not real; yes, I knew it was physically there. I saw the dog every morning on my walks, and I indeed rubbed it and played with it, but there was no way it could actually talk.

Still, the dog followed me throughout my walk, as he usually did. This time, he was talking instead of barking. It was eerie and unnatural. It annoyed me, because I knew it was not real. There was no way it could possibly be, but, as I continued to walk, the dog continued to talk.

"Frank, why are you ignoring me, Frank? I know you can hear me this time; I can see it in your eyes, Frank. It's cold out here, Frank. Can I stay with you, please?"

Even on my way back home, the dog still talked. It started to irritate me to no end. I knew the talking was a hallucination, even though I saw his lips move with each passing word.

I finally snapped as I neared my house. I began to yell at the dog, reminding him he was not really talking to me, that he was some regular old mutt, and that I was just hearing things because I do not have my meds. His feeble attempts gave me a good chuckle, though. I don't know what I expected out of yelling at the dog. I guess I was hoping that, if the dog knew that I knew it was a hallucination, then it would stop.

Or maybe I was trying to keep myself from believing that the dog was talking.

Nonetheless, the dog responded, "Oh Frank, you can be so cruel. I walk with you every morning. I 27

Screaming Faces Michael Futrell

protect you every time on our walks from wild squirrels and pesky rabbits, and you give me love and sweet belly rubs. Why would I ever lie to you, Frank? I love you."

I began shouting "Shut up!" repeatedly while putting my hands on my ears. "There is no way I can believe this! No way it can be real!"

"Oh, but it is, Frank. Do you not realize how special you are? You can hear us, Frank; you can hear me and other things talk now. You have always been able to. You were just lied to by those nasty doctors and fed pills to suppress your gift due to their fear."

"What do you mean, us?" I responded angrily to the dog.

"I mean, you can talk to everything now: the trees, the animals, and even yourself."

I have to admit that the dog was rather convincing, but all my doubts were squashed the next morning.

I awoke to the sound of muffled screaming. I thought it was the dog, whom I let sleep at the foot of my bed, but, glancing at the dog, I noticed he was still asleep. Then I felt squirming and thrashing in my mouth. I ran to the bathroom to look at my mouth, and, when I opened it, all I saw were dozens of white faces screaming to be freed. My teeth were yelling to be freed. They wanted to run and be let loose; I nearly fainted at the sight of them all fighting and crashing into one another to break free from my mouth.

I ignored their screams as I set about brushing my teeth; they hated that. They began swearing and thrashing even harder, but still I ignored them. Throughout the day, my teeth refused to be quiet, demanding freedom. Every time I tried to open my mouth to eat, my teeth would push the food away, and, at night, they kept me up with their demands and cries. The dog could hear them, too.

"Frank, why don't you let them go, huh? Let them be free like us, Frank."

"I am not letting them free. They are just hallucinations like you and your words," I responded in anger to the dog. "Now, Frank, if you really believed we were just hallucinations, then why did you let me come live with you when you never did before?"

I was stunned at this. The dog was right; I did believe him. Otherwise, I wouldn't have let him in to begin with. He was right. I was special. I have a gift, a gift to speak and see objects and their true selves and listen to their demands. I marched into the bathroom and opened my mouth to look at the helpless souls stuck in the gums of my mouth. It must be unfair to live a life stuck inside someone's mouth. No wonder they would want their freedom. I brought out a pair of pliers from my toolbox and raised them high. The teeth began to cheer as they saw them. They knew what was coming next: their freedom.

I put the pliers on one of my teeth, gripped it tightly, and began to pull. It hurt, but it needed to be done. The teeth cheered me on, empowering me as I tugged and tugged. I began to hear the popping 28

Screaming Faces Michael Futrell

and tearing of my gums and nerve endings as they were twisted into a bloody, stringy mess. The pain was excruciating, but I began to fall into a feverish rhythm.

Pull. Wiggle. Yank. Pull. Wiggle. Yank. Pull. Wiggle. Yank.

Hours passed before I was able to free every last one of my teeth. I gazed into the mirror, my mouth a bloody mess of exposed nerves and mutilated gums. The sink before me was filled with tissue floating in a bloody pond.

I was enjoying the sweet sound of silence before the screaming returned—sounding close by. I looked into the mirror and saw each pimple on my face screaming to be free. I laughed with tears of joy at the thought of having more friends to make free. I picked up my old butcher tools and began to cut.

29

The People on the Pedestals Grace Arredondo

The reigning dignified above were once the ones who strove among us and, marveling at their predecessors, embarked on a journey most strenuous.

So, when the sun starts to stir, the hopefuls start the climb to stand on their stools that tower in the sky.

But the ascension to the top is not an easy climb.

Many succumb to the pressure; others delay, “biding their time.”

The few who stand as victors, relishing their feat, only learn upon rejoicing that, once you’ve made it, you can never leave.

You can watch them if you want; it’s part of why they’re there.

The world says they are special, and that few can compare.

Notice the newcomers proud and strong, empowered by our praise.

Now see the burdened ones who wobble; when they fall, their weakness will be blamed.

The whole point of having goals is winning Earth’s biggest prize, to be promoted to the pillars that regulate our lives.

But to be this honored someone is life’s greatest lie.

There is no lasting satisfaction in standing in the sky.

30

So do not envy those who race to reach the top.

Once they have succeeded, their struggles never stop.

The people on the pedestals stand tall for you and me, working and knowing their fall from grace comes– inevitably.

Universe Otis Hunter, Jr.

Love is about sacrifice, But no gift is more valuable than time; So when our clocks held hands for you to see one of my shows, This is when you became the brightest star in my galaxy.

So I sent you a message: “Thanks for coming out even though you missed the slam lol.”

“But I had fun.”

Send.

Send.

She sent, verbatim: “You know you don’t have to text me everyday, right?”

10 words opened the floodgates, and tears waterfalled.

Most of the time, I want to know if you are alive; You work so much, your overtime has overtime.

It’s a 24 hour day and I only see you for 1 nanosecond; Is it wrong to tie your life into mine like shoelaces?

I asked you about your schedule, I wanted you to be a part of mine; I asked you about work, I wanted to work things out; I’m sorry that the game of life monopolizes misfortune; I gave you 12 cupcakes on Valentine’s Day, With a college budget that would give the homeless Thanksgiving; I figured each one was a Zodiac sign, Multifaceted gems that showcased how much I could shine; I figured each one was a tribe of Israel, But you robbed me like Jacob; You thought it was just a nice gesture, You thought that 12 cupcakes meant 12 cupcakes...

Was it stupid to think of it as anything else?

When I give hugs, I crush your ribs.

When I speak to you, I give you laryngitis.

When I pour my heart out, it spills on your clothes.

How can I give you space when you are my universe?

31

Emotional Blindness Nick Adams Paint

32

33

The Black Holocaust Alyssia Parker Graphite

34

The Evolution of the Word Justice Kayla Gates

The word “justice” has been a highly powerful and prevalent word for several centuries. Although this powerful word has kept roughly the same meaning for an extensive time in history, and it has kept its same denotation, it has grown into a drastically impactful word in modern times due to major historical events and several misfortunes in the African American community, Hispanic community, and others. Through the years, the magnitude and enforcement of justice has been questioned and demanded from many cultures and communities, which brings many people back to the simple meaning and origin of the word “justice.”

The etymology of the word “justice” is derived from the Anglo-Norman and Old French civilizations.

Originally, the word was written justis, jostise, justiz, or justyse. Many words that originated from the Anglo-Norman and Central French were introduced due to the Norman Conquest in the year 1066, which completely changed the whole course of the English language. Due to the invasion of England by the Normans, the Normans eventually lost their Scandinavian tongue, and French became the essential language in the civilization and eventually became the Norman French language (Baugh, Cable 104-105).

Because of the Norman conquest, words like “justice” became alive.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “justice” means the “administration of law or equity” with several secondary meanings. Some of these meanings include “maintenance of what is just or right by the exercise of authority or power; assignment of deserved reward or punishment,” “punishment of an offender or retribution deemed appropriate for a crime,” “a place of execution, a gallows,” and “the administration of law” (OED). Each denotation of the word “justice” is fairly similar, and it has been used substantially beginning in the year 1160 and even more in modern society, especially from the 1950s to the present day.

Although the word has been alive for several centuries, in the past decade, the word “justice” has become more prevalent in modern society. According to the Google Ngram Viewer, which is the online search engine that records words and phrases and how often they were used in a specific time period, justice has always been commonly used, but its use continues to increase yearly. On the Google Ngram Viewer, which only reaches back to the 1500s, there is a constant but gradual increase and decrease of the word; its usage often fluctuates through time. In the beginning of the 1500s, “justice” was used very seldom, but it shifted intensively until the year 1566. In that year, the usage of this word dramatically increased, and it is speculated that this was due to a surge of witch-hunts that took place in modern Europe and colonial America. The fear of witchcraft practices by women began in the mid-1400s, but the height of hysteria and skepticism reached its peak in the 1500s and eventually ended in the 1700s. The witch-hunts and witch trials led to 35,000 to 100,000 executions, and many were only executed for minor and petty reasons or because they simply appeared skeptical, but many were not even witches (“Early History of Punishment and the Development of Prisons in the United States”). The method by which many potential witches were executed was by being burned at the stake. It was believed that this form of execution would purify their soul and rid the person of the evil spirits that they were communicating with. Since this was forbidden during this time period, executing the potential witches was considered just in their eyes.

35

The Evolution of the Word Justice Kayla Gates

There were other minor fluctuations in the use of this word in the 1700s and early 1800s. It was used heavily in 1764, 1792, and 1812. There are several reasons throughout history why this word possibly increased in usage. One speculation is that there were important wars like the French and Indian War, the French Revolution, and the War of 1812. These major events could have caused the rise in its use.

For example, the War of 1812 was fought between Great Britain and the United States. The United States wanted to gain more territory, and the United States was dissatisfied with the restrictions on trade.

Therefore, they believed that it was just to take on Great Britain, which was known to be the greatest naval power (“War of 1812”). This same reasoning can be applied to the other wars that could have contributed to the Google Ngram showing a major increase in this word’s use.

There is not another major spike in the usage of the word “justice” until the period from the 1950s to the 1990s. This sudden increase is likely due to many cases of injustice toward African Americans. The injustice mostly included segregation and the constant fight and battle to be treated as equals. One of the major turning points was the death of Emmett Till and the lack of justice for him or his family. In the Google Ngram, it is obvious that the use of the word “justice” increased drastically due to the era of segregation, inequality, and injustice. It possibly grew due to the constant protest and rebuttal of upset African Americans yearning for peace and justice. Although the Google Ngram stops at the year 2008, the rise of the word was increasing considerably and has most likely increased even more due to the Black Lives Matter movement as well as the police brutality cases. The word has merely changed its connotation; before, the word “injustice” was more used regarding court and an offender getting the correct, justified punishment.

On the contrary, in present times, it has become more negative and used more regarding topics on race and culture.

Furthermore, the use of the word “justice” may have also increased due to many people, in particular Mexican immigrants, coming to America. In the 1950s and 1960s, many Mexicans began to come to the United States for better opportunities than there were in Mexico, but, in 1996, President Clinton signed the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA). The IIRIRA allowed immigrants to come into America with a green card allowing them to work. This was an extremely controversial law, and many Americans believed that it was unjust, wrong, and unfair for some immigrants to come and work. This led to a lot of hatred, resentment, mistreatment, and wrongful stereotypes for many Hispanics and other immigrants in America. This action still has backlash currently and has been a reason for several injustices, including the major mass shooting in El Paso geared mostly towards Hispanics. Like African Americans and other groups, many people are eager for justice, which is why the word has evolved and changed to a word completely dark and negative today.

The connotation of the word “justice” varies from person to person, and it varies in different cultures and races. For some, justice simply means rightfulness or lawfulness, but, for others, it carries a greater weight. People and groups who have continuously been treated unjustly or wrongly define justice in an elevated magnitude. For those groups, that is what they desire, but, for others, it is simply a word. Specific words have an increased meaning in different cultures, races, and groups of people, and the denotation of a specific word is powerful, and throughout history, the view of this word has altered.

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The Evolution of the Word Justice Kayla Gates

Works Cited Baugh, Albert Croll, and Thomas Cable. A History of the English Language. Routledge, 2013.

Early History of Punishment and the Development of Prisons in the United States. SAGE Publications, 2020, www.sagepub.com/sites/default/files/upm-binaries/97948_Chapter_1_Early_History_of_Punishment_ and_the_Development_of_Prisons_in_the_United_States.pdf.

“Google Ngram Viewer.” Google Books, Google, books.google.com/ngrams.

“Justice, n.” Justice, n. : Oxford English Dictionary, www.oed.com/view/Entry/102198.

“War of 1812.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 21 Aug. 2018, www.history.com/topics/war-of1812#:~:text=In%20the%20War%20of%201812,in%20the%20world%2C%20Great%20Britain.

37

The Fourth Crusade and Its Effect on the Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox Relationship Ryan Martin

“How shall I begin to tell of the deeds wrought by these nefarious men! Alas, the images, which ought to have been adored, were trodden under foot! Alas, the relics of the holy martyrs were thrown into unclean places! Then was seen what one shudders to hear, namely, the divine body and blood of Christ was spilled upon the ground or thrown about.”1 Nicetas Choniates, a Byzantine historian, begins his tale of the Crusaders’ sack of Constantinople by describing the destruction brought by the Knights Templar. Although these warriors fought for a religious cause, they justified desecrating sacred Muslim sites and marring the Christian faith’s reputation in Vatican City to seek recompense of four years of unpaid military service. The Fourth Crusade and the downfall of Constantinople signaled the beginning of centuries of tension and discord between the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. These events caused the tensions between the Christian sects to escalate by sowing seeds of doubt and distrust between the two organizations, which developed into greater problems evident even in modern society.

In the twelfth century, the Roman Catholic Church issued a call to arms. With the rapidly growing Muslim empire sweeping its way through the Middle East, the Church felt the need to defend its Holy Land, Jerusalem. The Church inherited the laws of warfare from the Old and New Testament, as well as those created by the Roman Empire. In this sense, the Catholic Church viewed violence as a means to an end.

According to historian Jonathan Riley-Smith, the Church considered violence to be “validated to a greater or lesser degree by the state of mind of those responsible, the ends sought, and the competence of the individual or body which authorized the act.”2 Here, Riley-Smith explains that the Church viewed violence as negative only if the end result was not in line with the goals of the Church. So when the Pope authorized an attack on the Holy Land in 1203 AD to reclaim it from the Muslims as Christian land, the violent approach was deemed appropriate.

Tensions began between the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church with the Great Schism of 1054. Due to ecclesiastical and theological differences, the two sects parted ways but maintained a somewhat amicable relationship. The sack of Constantinople, however, created an “insurmountable barrier of hatred between Greeks and Latins.”3 The Byzantine Greeks felt the goal of the Crusades was not in line with the Christian mission and that instead, the Holy War was an excuse for the Roman Catholic Church to extend and extort their power.

War is never peaceful or rational; it is wholly brutal and destructive. The Crusaders were no different from other savage soldiers, even though they claimed to fight in the name of Christianity. It was a natural effect of war for the population of a city to suffer when the city was conquered. The same happened with Constantinople. The local Christians were treated as prisoners; no one was safe. The Eastern Christians held 1 Choniates, The Sack of Constantinople (1204). Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

2 Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Oxford History of the Crusades, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 18.

3 Andrea, Alfred J. "Pope Innocent III as Crusader and Canonist: His Relations with the Greeks of Constantinople, 1198-1216." Church History 39, no.

1 (1970): 133-34.

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no advantage, and, in many instances, it was even a change for the worse. Their former conquerors had been more tolerant than Christians of the West and had allowed the Orthodox to continue their Church life as they had lived it prior to the invasion. The Crusaders tried to convert the Orthodox to Latin Christianity, even going so far as to confiscate their Church buildings, imprisoning their clergy and treating them as though they professed a wholly alien religion.4 Prior to the sacking of Constantinople, the dissension between the Eastern and Western sects of Christianity was confined primarily to the prelates of the church; the majority of Eastern Christians still saw themselves as brothers and sisters in Christ with those in the West. The atrocious acts caused the mass of Eastern Christians to cut ties with the Latin population of Christians. For the next two centuries, the two sects struggled for cohabitation and dominance.5 Prior to the Fourth Crusade, the Roman Catholic Church began planning to launch the ships necessary to take the knights to the Middle East. The Fourth Crusade, called forth by Pope Innocent III, focused on capturing the largest Muslim Empire at the time, Egypt. The most logical way for the crusading knights to reach the area was by crossing the Mediterranean Sea. Unfortunately, there were not enough ships to accommodate the 33,500 Crusader knights traveling to fight. It was at this point that the Pope made a deal with the Venetians to acquire more ships.6 The relationship between the Venetians and the Roman Catholic Church began in 1202. The Crusaders struck an agreement with the Venetians to aid in transport across the sea. But the price set by the Venetians exceeded the affordability of an organization already a century into war debt. To pay off the rest of the debt, the Crusaders agreed to sack the nearby city of Zara, which was a constant source of turmoil between the Venetians and the neighboring nations of Croatia and Hungary. This marked the first time the Crusaders attacked a Catholic-run city.7 In fact, Pope Innocent III issued a proclamation that strictly forbade the Crusader knights from attacking their fellow Christians. Not bothering to read the Pope’s letter, the Crusaders attacked the city. After the Crusaders defeated the soldiers in Zara, the area came under Venetian control.8 Upon hearing of the attack and the subsequent pillaging, the Pope excommunicated the knights from the Church. Upon further review and the realization that the knights were essentially forced by the Venetians to make the siege, the Pope revoked the excommunication and instructed the knights to continue to the Holy Land.9 The Crusader knights continued their quest to the Holy Land. But, rather than proceed along their path directly, they arranged for another stop on their journey. The Byzantine Empire, specifically the city of Constantinople, had been going through tumultuous times. The citizens deposed their emperor, Isaac II Angelos. Due to his incompetence in recent battles, usurpers captured him, blinded him, and placed him in 4 Yuri Koszarycz, “The 11th to the 13th Centuries: Innocent III and The Great Schism,” http://mahan.wonkwang.ac.kr/link/med/christianity/history/ mod5.htm.

5 Ibid.

6 Donald E. Queller and Gerald W. Day, "Some Arguments in Defense of the Venetians on the Fourth Crusade," The American Historical Review 81, no. 4 (1976): 717-37.

7 Geoffrey de Villehardouin, Chronicle of The Fourth Crusade and The Conquest of Constantinople, Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

8 Thomas F. Madden, "The Venetian Version of the Fourth Crusade: Memory and the Conquest of Constantinople in Medieval Venice," Speculum 87, no. 2 (2012): 311-313.

9 Ibid.

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the palace dungeon. His son, Alexios IV Angelos, reached out to the Venetians as well as the Crusaders with a plea to restore his father to the throne.10 Knowing the position of both parties, Alexios promised silver, ships, and soldiers if the group would come to his aid. With little else to give them hope in the success of the Crusade, the Venetians and the Crusader knights set sail for Constantinople in 1203.11 The Crusaders’ lack of hope stemmed from their lack of funds and the dwindling number of knights willing to join the cause. Alexios’ promise solved the problems that had temporarily seized the Crusaders’ hope and morale.

In considering the main goal of the knights when taking up the cross, one can find a few issues with the redirection of the Crusader fleet to Constantinople. First and foremost, they again were attacking a fellow Christian city. As with the siege of Zara, the Crusader knights were going against their original mission of returning Jerusalem to Christian control. They had been bribed with the lure of ships and silver to intervene in domestic politics. Some may argue the Crusaders had to redirect to Constantinople due to the lack of resources. The fact remains, however, that the knights were going directly against their Christian vows.

The Crusaders were not able to march directly into Constantinople and take the city. In order to gain access, the knights had to cross the Bosphorus Strait. Using galleys and horse transports, the group crossed the strait to meet the awaiting Byzantine Army. The knights immediately charged, resulting in the Byzantine Army fleeing to the Tower of Galata. From there, the Crusaders laid siege, effectively outlasting the soldiers and killing many of them. The Tower of Galata fell, and the Crusader knights, along with the Venetian fleet, had access to the Golden Horn, allowing them to sail along the coast to the city of Constantinople.12 Starting in July of 1203, the Crusaders began the fight for the city of Constantinople. Initially, the odds of winning were not in the Crusaders’ favor. The knights were severely outnumbered. A fire broke out, damaging many of their resources, and Alexios IV Angelos fearfully fled, abandoning the Crusaders. Their apparent bad luck continued when a faction within Constantinople’s city walls captured Alexios IV Angelos and killed him.13 Alexios was the one who promised the payment to the Venetians and the Crusader knights. With him gone, the Crusaders worried their reward was no longer going to come to fruition.14 Thus, a new fire was lit within the besieging army, and the sack of Constantinople began.

At first, the conditions were not favorable. Roaring thunder, lightning, and wind caused the Crusaders as well as the Venetians to lose ground. Eventually, the tides turned, and the Venetian ships located the harbor and used the wind to get closer to the city walls. The knights, with renewed fervor, broke holes in the walls surrounding the city. Using the weaknesses they had found, the knights entered Constantinople, and the siege began.

With renewed focus and energy, the Crusader knights launched a new attack on Constantinople.

Crusade historian Jonathan Phillips describes the Crusader attack as a group of men with a “lack of 10 Warren T. Treadgold, A History of the Byzantine State and Society, (Stanford, CA: Stanford Univ. Press, 2000), 650-654.

11 Ibid.

12 David M. Perry, Sacred Plunder: Venice and the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade, (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2015), 199-205.

13 Ibid.

14 Ibid.

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humanity, of ‘madmen raging against the sacred,’ of murderous men who…anticipated ungodly deeds.”15 With such savagery, it should be no surprise that Pope Innocent III sent another letter to the Crusaders forbidding them from continuing the attack. Again, the clergy kept the information from the crusading knights, fearing it would cause them to abandon the cause to save the Holy Land. Without the knowledge of their potential excommunication, the knights continued with their plan of taking the city.

Upon entering the city, the Crusaders wounded and killed the men, raped the women, burned the buildings, and stole valuable items. Phillips describes the atrocities committed as “the merciless slaughter of Christians of all ages, men and women alike, staining with blood Christian swords that should have been used on pagans.”16 The Christians described the Crusaders as savage and ruthless with nothing to lose.

In many ways, this attack evokes a similar slaughter campaign employed by the Vikings, who took over Northern Europe between 793 AD and 1093 AD. Christians watched as churches, palaces, and shops were “swallowed up in the inferno” and burned to the ground, leaving nothing.17 Three days of looting followed, with the knights taking all the valuable items they could carry back to Europe.

After the looting, the Crusaders, Venetians, and Byzantine Greeks wrote a treaty called Partitio Romaniae, which split the entire Byzantine Empire between the Venetians and their allies. The Venetians took three-eighths of the Byzantine Empire, including the Ionian Islands, Andros, Crete, Euboea, and Naxos.

With these territories, they were able to control all trade through the Mediterranean Sea.18 The Latin Empire received the majority of the land, controlling the Aegean Sea, the Dardanelles Strait, and access to the Black Sea through the city of Constantinople.19 This initial attempt to repair the severed relationships caused by the Crusaders’ unauthorized raid could not smooth out the lingering tensions between the religious groups.

Not only did the sack of Constantinople divide the Empire; it also delivered the crushing blow that destroyed the relations between the Western Catholics and the Eastern Orthodox Church. When Pope Innocent III heard of the atrocities committed in the name of Christianity, he sent a letter to the Cardinal Priest condemning the acts. In the letter, he wrote: How, indeed, is the Greek church to be brought back into ecclesiastical union and to a devotion for the Apostolic See when she has been beset with so many afflictions and persecutions that she sees in the Latins only an example of perdition and the works of darkness, so that she now, and with reason, detests the Latins more than dogs? As for those who were supposed to be seeking the ends of Jesus Christ, not their own ends, whose swords, which they were supposed to use against the pagans, are now dripping with Christian blood they have spared neither age nor sex. . . . Not satisfied with breaking open the imperial treasury and plundering the goods of princes and lesser men, they also 15 16 17 18 19

Jonathan Phillips, The Fourth Crusade and the Sack of Constantinople, (USA: The Penguin Group, 2004), xiii.

Ibid, 302.

Ibid, 305.

Ibid, 305.

Ibid, 305.

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laid their hands on the treasures of the churches and, what is more serious, on their very possessions. They have even ripped silver plates from the altars and have hacked them to pieces among themselves. They violated the holy places and have carried off crosses and relics.20 Even the Pope publicly acknowledged that the actions of the knights had weakened the relationship between the two Christian denominations. Despite the Crusaders’ misguided efforts to reestablish Christianity, the Muslim empire continued to grow. As the Muslims expanded their empire throughout Africa and Europe, Constantinople and other land controlled by the Eastern Orthodox Church was under a constant threat of domination. A peaceful people with little to nothing in the way of an army, the prelates of the Eastern Orthodox Church sought to repair ties with the Roman Catholic Church in an effort to gain an ally in the struggle against the Muslims. From 1274 through 1439, the bishops of both sects managed to reconcile; unfortunately, the reconciliation achieved nothing due to the stubbornness of the middle class and peasants.21 This action continued to repeat itself. No matter the actions of the prelates to attempt to resolve the dispute, the outcome was always a failure.

There have been numerous reconciliation efforts throughout the centuries. The most recent occurred in 2016 between Patriarch Kirill of Russia and Pope Francis when they signed an agreement in an effort to resolve the thousand-year rift between the two sides.

The Fourth Crusade and the downfall of Constantinople sparked the beginning of centuries of tension and discord between the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. The Crusaders’ selfish decision to invade Constantinople against the Pope’s demands caused the tensions between the Christian sects to escalate into a painful rift, radiating problems even into the twenty-first century. In short, the Sack of Constantinople solidified the divide created by the Great Schism. The reunification efforts of the prelates over the centuries accomplished little. And the indignation caused by the treatment of the Orthodox people during the Sack of Constantinople created a lasting legacy of bitterness not soon forgotten.

20 Pope Innocent III. “The Reprimand of the Legate.” Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

21 Jacoby David, "The Encounter of Two Societies: Western Conquerors and Byzantines in the Peloponnesus after the Fourth Crusade," The American Historical Review 78, no. 4 (1973): 875.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Fordham University Archive Choniates, The Sack of Constantinople (1204) . Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

Pope Innocent III. “The Reprimand of the Legate.” Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

Villehardouin, Geoffrey de. Chronicle of The Fourth Crusade and The Conquest of Constantinople. Fordham University. Internet History Sourcebook.

Secondary Sources Andrea, Alfred J. "Pope Innocent III as Crusader and Canonist: His Relations with the Greeks of Constantinople, 1198-1216." Church History 39, no. 1 (1970): 133-34.

Angelov, Dimiter, and Judith Herrin. "The Christian Imperial Tradition–Greek and Latin." Universal Empire: A Comparative Approach to Imperial Culture and Representation in Eurasian History (2012): 149-74.

Asbridge, Thomas S. The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land. Sydney, N.S.W.: ReadHowYouWant, 2014.

Brand, Charles M. "A Byzantine Plan for the Fourth Crusade." Speculum 43, no. 3 (1968): 462-75.

Cossen, William S. Joint Catholic-Orthodox Declaration. The Association of Religion Data Archive, 1998.

David, Jacoby. "The Encounter of Two Societies: Western Conquerors and Byzantines in the Peloponnesus after the Fourth Crusade." The American Historical Review 78, no. 4 (1973): 873-906.

Eastmond, Antony. “‘Local’ Saints, Art, and Regional Identity in the Orthodox World after the Fourth Crusade.”

Speculum 2003 78:3: 707-749.

Evans, James Allan Stewart. The Emperor Justinian and the Byzantine Empire. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 2005.

Fairbairn, Donald. Eastern Orthodoxy through Western Eyes. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002.

Firth, John B. Constantine the Great; the Reorganisation of the Empire and the Triumph of the Church. New York: G.P. Putnams Sons, 1905.

Madden, Thomas F. "The Venetian Version of the Fourth Crusade: Memory and the Conquest of Constantinople in Medieval Venice." Speculum 87, no. 2 (2012): 311-44.

Mavrogordatos, George Th. "Church-State Relations in the Greek Orthodox Case." Church and State in Europe ECPR Joint Sessions (2000): 14-19.

Perry, David M. Sacred Plunder: Venice and the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2015 .

Phillips, Jonathan. The Fourth Crusade and the Sack of Constantinople. USA: The Penguin Group, 2004.

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Queller, Donald E., and Gerald W. Day. "Some Arguments in Defense of the Venetians on the Fourth Crusade."

The American Historical Review 81, no. 4 (1976): 717-37.

Queller, Donald E., Thomas K. Compton, and Donald A. Campbell. "The Fourth Crusade: The Neglected Majority."

Speculum 49, no. 3 (1974): 441-65.

Riley-Smith, Jonathan. The Oxford History of the Crusades. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Roudometof, Victor. “The Glocalizations of Eastern Orthodox Christianity.” European Journal of Social Theory 16, no. 2 (May 2013): 226–45.

Treadgold, Warren T. A History of the Byzantine State and Society. Stanford, CA: Stanford Univ. Press, 2000.

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An Autistic Point of View Michael Futrell

Not all people who have autism are the same; autism has a wide variety of intensities. Those who have high-functioning autism, who seem “normal” to everyday people, are known as “Aspies” (meaning Asperger Syndrome or Asperger’s); they have autism and can do everything a “normal” person can do. Note, they still struggle with autism and understanding their autism, and they still have to fight their autistic urges every single day. High functioning Asperger’s does NOT mean EASY or any less challenging.

Autism is something a lot of people either do not understand or see as something to fear that their children will develop, and I cannot blame them for their fear. I believe autism should be respected and feared, as it can take away many experiences and drive many people away. I believe, through fear and respect, autism may find its way as a cured disability rather soon, due to these fears.

Common characteristics of autism include a high pain tolerance; those with autism may not know their own strength. People with autism have heightened and sensitive taste buds. For example, some may find a food a little spicy while those with autism may find it unbearably spicy, to the point of pain. Those with autism often hate loud noises because they sound louder to them than others; for example, a balloon popping will sound like a gunshot to them.

When under extreme stress or overstimulation, people with autism will shut down, meaning they will usually curl into a ball on the floor and not respond to anyone or anything. They will usually stay like this until they are calmed down by someone very close to them or the cause of the shutdown is gone. Causes of the shutdown could be for a number of reasons, such as overstimulation, stress, and loud noises.

Those with autism will sometimes have what’s called an “autistic meltdown,” which is very similar to a shutdown but doesn’t involve being unresponsive and stuck on the spot. Experiencing a meltdown will be more vocal, either through words or sounds, and will be extremely distressful, inducing a state of panic.

People with autism will get through this, the same way they get over a shutdown.

I can go on and on about autism, but, instead, I will tell you about my life with autism. Keep in mind that this is not for you to pity me or anyone with autism. I wish to shed light on autism and what it really is and what it’s really like. I find it difficult to share my story, but I believe that, if I do, it will help others, which is the only reason I am telling my story.

Waking up I did not really exist until I was about seven years old. Yes, I was physically born an infant, but what I mean is that my mind and soul did not fully start to be present until I was around seven. I say this because I hardly remember anything from years prior to that age. I am well aware that most people cannot remember 45

An Autistic Point of View Michael Futrell

details of their life from younger years, but they still remember a decent array of memories or fun events that made a lasting effect on them. I remember nothing of those years before I was seven, except for a very few things. I recall riding in big trucks with my dad when he was a truck driver and being bullied by kids day in and day out.

I also say I did not exist until then because, sometime when I was seven, I just remember waking up. I can hardly describe the feeling I felt at that time, other than coming out of a long, deep sleep where the dreams you had were fuzzy and hard to put together. I remember for the first time feeling real, if that makes any sense at all. I was also able to feel more complex emotions and tolerate more stimuli than I was able to before.

Waking up felt good and invigorating but also horrifying. I remember crying when I woke up and actually felt truly alive and comprehended what that emotion was in full, and that was also overwhelming.

I think this may be the way being born feels like; it’s the only thing I can think of to describe how it felt.

Little did I know that this feeling would come to me multiple times throughout my life, each time letting me understand life and the world more; over time, I grew to love it when it happened, because that’s when I understood that it was my mind developing and beginning to understand itself and the world around me.

Waking up was an expansion of my mind and was something to be happy about. I knew this because, every time I thought of something, or visited somewhere, or even watched an event that would have overwhelmed me before, I found that, after waking up, I was able to tolerate more and more and even enjoy things that overwhelmed me, bringing me joy.

I have never told anyone about these waking up moments before, because I did not know how to describe them and feared I would seem crazy; now that I fully understand them, I am happy to share them to the best of my ability, because I know it’s linked to autism somehow. And, if this description can help others better understand autism, then I am more than happy to share.

Childhood During my childhood, my mother Amber Futrell and my great-grandmother Dorothy Evans were the only ones who truly, truly believed that I would make something of myself; everyone else had their doubts or fully rejected the idea of me being anything other than a waste.

My childhood was great, from the fuzzy details I can remember. Yes, it was filled with challenges, but it was also filled with fun, like riding with my dad in big trucks and playing with my cousins.

My childhood was also filled with trauma. Grade school was horrible! During late elementary school, I was bullied, not only by the teachers but by my fellow students as well. I remember one teacher making fun of me because I could not ride a bike due to my weak motor skills (due to autism). Her comments hurt badly.

I remember her saying, “Maybe this year you’ll learn to ride a bike” out loud in class, causing everyone to laugh. That teacher was not the only one who made fun of or belittled me.

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An Autistic Point of View Michael Futrell

I remember in 8th grade there was a sub that was filling in for my regular teacher; that day, we had to take a test. My IEP plan stated I couldn’t fill out bubble sheets due to my autism and dysgraphia. I explained this to the sub, and the sub stated to me in front of the whole class that it was nothing but an excuse.

At one time, my mom pulled me out of the public school to go to a better school. The school stated they had a spot for me; after the tour of the school and the class I would be in, my mom mentioned I had autism.

All of a sudden, the school changed their mind, stating that they were full and a mistake had been made.

Due to my autism, I was bullied horribly. I had no friends and was made fun of because I was overly emotional. Due to being overstimulated by both physical violence and verbal assault, I began walking with my head to the ground, watching my feet as I walked to avoid looking at anyone in fear of what they would do or say if I even glanced at them. I kept this up until college. Thanks to support, I no longer look down when I walk out of fear; now, I look around normally and do not fear getting hurt.

Emotions and understanding When I was a child, I had a horrible time understanding emotions. I experienced them, but I did not know when and where to express them. I learned what emotions I should express, and what they meant, by watching how others reacted; over time, that helped me understand the emotions I felt and how to properly show them. I remember that, every time I would feel an emotion, such as finding something funny in a movie, even though I knew I should laugh, I would wait for someone else to laugh, just to reassure me that the emotion I was feeling and expression was correct. This was, and still is, why I stay quiet around everyone. I’m studying the situation and learning how to react normally. Sometimes, watching people to learn how to handle social situations resulted in kids hating me, because they thought I was weird or wanted to fight them; I didn’t have many friends.

Friends Since I had no friends, I was awfully lonely and sad. I would cry all the time at home by myself because of this; I knew no one liked me, which made me hate myself. To cope with my loneliness, I collected tons and tons of stuffed animals, pretending they were my friends so I would not be so lonely. They sort of made me feel safe and loved, but, deep down, I knew they were not real; it helped me for a time to at least pretend I had friends. I grew out of that years later.

I did have someone in elementary school who treated me as a friend. We would hang out during school, have friendly talks and understand one another, and stand up for one another; I came to find out it was an act. One day, after years of friendship, he invited me to his house for a sleepover; it was my very first sleepover, and I finally felt like a normal kid with an actual friend. Everything was so fun and normal during the day, but, when it was time to call it a night, instead of wearing pajamas, he wore nothing but boxers.

I thought it was weird but ignored it because, after all, it was my first sleepover. I didn’t know the social 47

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norms, so I thought it was normal until he tried to make me have sex with him. When I refused, even after he started begging me, he got very angry and left his room to sleep somewhere else.

For years, I thought I was touched in my sleep by him, because I would not put it past him to try something like that with how upset he was. I was scared and embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to know about what he said to me or what he tried to get me to do. I knew, if I told anyone, then it would get out around the school somehow, and, even though I did nothing, the bullying would just end up being worse.

After that day, I avoided him like the plague and never talked to him again. He didn’t talk to me, either, which further proved to me he never was my friend. Because of this experience, I have had a hard time trusting anyone. Every time I see anyone else’s bed or bedroom, it brings back those memories and makes me scared. Years later, when I was able to talk about it, I asked his other friends if anything like that happened to them or if he tried anything; they all said that he did, and they all distanced themselves from him.

College, my life-changing love I was scared freshman year in college; I remember all the negative comments my past teachers and peers said: I was too stupid and autistic to amount to anything, I would always be dumb and a waste of time and energy, and many more. After the first day of college, I was so overstimulated that, when I got home, I went into an autistic shutdown. I picked myself up and pushed on, mainly out of spite, and, to my surprise, I was actually good at college. I was able to join the Honors College and a lot of honor societies, including Alpha Chi. College makes me happy, like I have never felt before. I feel as though I have a purpose and am good at something. The students and faculty at Chowan University treat me with respect and do not look down on me because of my disabilities.

I firmly believe that I would have never made it this far in college if my mother and my professors, especially the Psychology Department and Professor Vickers, who I now claim as a member of my family, hadn’t been there for me. Because of Professor Vickers, I pushed through my first year in college; she would always talk to me after class and make sure I was okay. She never talked down to me, even when she knew I had autism, and she would never push me to do things I was uncomfortable with in class. It is because of her that I have made it this far. I love her with all my heart.

The ultimate shutdown Ever since I was little, I was depressed to the point of wanting to die all the time, but I was too much of a coward to kill myself. I tried, but I was still too frightened to make anything fatal. I was so depressed and hated myself, because others hated me. I questioned what was wrong with me. I was always so very lonely, to the point to where it hurt. I would also be in pain all the time because of my cerebral palsy. One day, I decided, since I was such a coward and could not kill myself, that I was just born to be hurt, and I deserved 48

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all the pain. I would not take any medicine because I felt I deserved to feel all of it.

Because of all the amazing people I met in college and my mother, who is my biggest supporter, I overcame my sadness and realized my purpose was not to hurt and to shut down and die. I am here to help people with autism like myself; to help them overcome and understand it; to help them to not allow autism to take away their childhood and important moments in life, like it did mine. Because of this, I owe my life to Chowan University and my mother. I will forever be in their debt.

A bright path forward, thanks, and understanding Thanks to everyone at Chowan, and my mother, I was able to overcome my autism through great effort.

If not for my supporters, that effort would have been impossible.

If asked if I would want to “cure” my autism, I would say no; as much as it hurt me, it also made me the person I am now.

Thank you to my mother and father, Amber Futrell and Michael Futrell, and my college supporters and professors: Dr. Moore, Dr. Place, Dr. Parker, Dr. Doane, Dr. Alt, Professor Vickers, and Professor Todd.

And a special thanks to my three closest friends, Ginger and Glenn Jordan and Otis Hunter, Jr. Without all of you, I would be nothing, nor would I have such hope for the future.

To the doubters and bullies To those of you who talked down to me, insulted me and abused me, and told me I would never be anything, I have proven you wrong. Not only have I beat my odds, but I beat the odds you put against me with your mistreatment. You were wrong.

I have great accomplishments that I never thought possible.

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Vintage Nick Adams Photography

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X Alyssia Parker Scratchboard

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Frustration and Consumption Alyssia Parker Graphite

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Serious Destiny Vaughan Graphite

53

"Why Women Don't Belong in the Marine Corps" Based on a True Story Ginger Jordan

“A little yellow birdie with a little yellow bill,” the cadence rang out, and the members of the battalion repeated the lines.

Sgt Johnson sang along mechanically. This was another day for him and his squad. Every morning at 0530, they held morning physical training. The only difference in today was the considerably slower pace, thanks to the rest of the battalion being there. In one week, they would be in Iraq, hence the celebratory formation run. This is what they trained for, and he was ready.

Combat wasn’t new to him, but he did have several newbies in his squad whom he personally trained.

The pride and joy of the battalion belonged to his squad, LCpl Smith. He watched as LCpl Smith, carrying the battalion flag, proudly led the formation with the SgtMaj. Smith was on the fast track to promotion, and this deployment would solidify that. There was nothing quite like combat to separate the real Marines from the pretenders. Smith was first in all their physical training by leagues over the others, and his enthusiasm for all tasks was unparalleled. It was his reliability that got him put in charge of the squad’s ammo. Only he could be relied upon to sprint with the heavy containers of ammo under the deadly pressure of a firefight.

“Get back in formation!” The angry shouts broke Sgt Johnson from his thoughts, and he glanced back to the source of the screaming. Of course, a female Marine was falling out of formation, and a red-faced Sgt was attempting to get her to keep up.

“There’s a shock,” muttered Cpl Taylor, another member of his squad who ran beside him.

The female in question was LCpl Henderson. Smith didn’t know her personally, but the ground side females were famous by default in the battalion, since they weren’t common. She worked in motor T, which was considered a noncombat job. They fixed and drove vehicles around base or while on deployment.

“And I hear she’s coming with us,” Taylor added with a curled lip. Johnson copied the gesture before turning his focus back on the run.

“I hate female Marines.”

* Bullets ricocheted, kicking up the dusty sand of Iraq. Taylor fired his weapon, keeping the enemy down as Johnson sprinted from his cover to the next closest cover. He slammed into the hard earth as he landed prone with his rifle firmly gripped in his hands.

More enemy bullets sprayed their way, so he returned the gesture, suppressing the enemy’s fire. As Taylor sprinted to join him, Johnson heard his weapon make a dreaded thunk. He was out of bullets.

He quickly unloaded the magazine and reached for another, but they were all in his dump pouch,

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"Why Women Don't Belong in the Marine Corps" Ginger Jordan

empty. He looked at Taylor as he landed next to him. “I’m out of ammo! I need a magazine!”

Taylor looked to his magazine pouches and shook his head as the enemy’s fire picked up.

“Ammo!” Johnson shouted, glancing back, and his heart stopped at the sight. Smith, who had their ammo cans, was far behind them, hunkered down. His buddy was ahead of him, laying down suppressing fire for Smith to join him, but Smith refused to move.

“Smith!” Johnson shouted, getting his attention. “Ammo!”

Smith only shook his head as his eyes watered.

All around them, bullets sprayed, and he remained helpless. Taylor shot his rounds slowly, but he was running out. Without bullets, they were defenseless. They were as good as dead.

He shouted again for Smith, but he still refused to budge.

Further behind, a Humvee followed them, but it didn’t dare get closer to the firefight. It was full of provisions, MREs, and ammo, but it would be easier to reach Smith than the Humvee. Either way, leaving cover was a sure way to get shot in the back and lose ground. Then something strange happened.

From out of the Humvee ran a small Marine. It took Johnson a moment to comprehend what he saw, but the black bun sticking out from below the Marine’s helmet was unmistakable. Leaving her rifle behind and carrying one ammo can in each hand was Henderson. She sprinted from one source of cover to another as bullets flew until she landed beside Taylor and Johnson. "Here!" was all she said, before dropping the ammo cans and sprinting back to the Humvee.

55

The Thrill of the Hunt Crystal Bibbins

There are a million ways I could be spending my Saturday morning. I could be trying a new recipe, or finishing the Afghan I started crocheting last week. Heck, I could even be cleaning my room! A million ways to spend my Saturday morning, and literally all of them would be better than sitting at my desk with a blank slate of a mind. Instead, I glare at my computer screen, gripping the mouse tightly in my hand.

WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT? I cannot, for the LIFE of me, figure out a story to make. Writer’s block is bad enough when you’re just doing it for fun, but it is a complete pain when you have an assignment to finish.

There’s something about a crisp autumn night that just seems so peaceful. Normally, I would spend a night like this on my front porch, gazing at the stars with a hot drink in hand. But there was a poetry slam going on at my favorite coffee shop, and I’m even more of a sucker for poetry than I am for a starry sky.

That’s it. That’s all I have. Three sentences, and my creative well has run dry. I’ve never understood how creativity works, and perhaps I never will. It just doesn’t make sense to me how inspiration can be found anywhere, but sometimes it seems like looking into a void. Mankind has always been on the hunt for the ever-elusive muse, a beautiful, wispy spirit that brings life to the arts. Sometimes, they’re plentiful and can be found anywhere you look, but sometimes they can get pretty creative with their hiding places. I remember once taking inspiration from my closet because the doors were open in such a way that seemed to be shutting out the world while secretly inviting its company.

After a deep breath and a long stretch, I decide to get up and go on a hunt for this mischievous muse.

It isn’t under the bed, lurking behind my pile of worn sneakers, nor is it streaming through my window and onto the carpet. I put on some music to try to lure it out before heading to the kitchen. Perhaps it’s hiding in the way the fruit bowl is perched ever so carefully in the center of the table. A few grapes are spilling off the side, so I grab them, savoring the juicy sweetness that bursts over my tongue when I bite down.

I need to do something else, this is boring, I think with a sigh. Maybe going outside will help things along. That seems like a good idea; what better place for inspiration than nature? Especially now, with all the leaves being painted bright yellows and rich shades of red. It’s not supposed to be too chilly today, so I grab a light jacket before heading out to my backyard.

“Ava! How are you?”

I turn my head towards the rather shrill voice and see my older neighbor, Kathy Thompson. Her dog, Bella, trots around her feet.

“Hi, Mrs. Thompson.” I go over and give her a warm hug, the scent of cinnamon apples wafting over 56

The Thrill of the Hunt Crystal Bibbins

me. Her soft, light grey hair cushions my chin as she pulls me in closer. Bella wedges herself in between us, not wanting to be left out. I pick her up to give her some attention. She squirms with delight as my fingers comb through her dark fur.

“Aww, baby Bella,” I coo softly. “I know you miss me. I rarely get to see you guys anymore.”

“I’ll say,” Mrs. Thompson gripes. “College must be working you to the bone, huh? It’s been way too quiet at my place. A bit messy, too,” she admits sheepishly.

“I’d love to go back to helping around your house again, but unfortunately you’re right about college,” I say, setting down Bella. “In fact, I’m taking a break from a writing assignment right now.”

“Let me guess, writer’s block? Well, if there’s one thing I’d have to tell you–BELLA! BRING YOUR FUZZY BUTT BACK HERE!” Bella must have spotted a squirrel, because she took off, heading straight towards the woods. We head after her, following the sounds of her frantic yapping. It isn’t long before Mrs. Thompson has to pause and catch her breath. “I am not about to blow my knee out again chasing after her,” she grumbles.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Thompson,” I reassure her. "You go ahead to the house, in case she comes back.”

“Okay, but she’s in a world of trouble when I see her again.”

I look around for a bit before moving forward, dead leaves and twigs crunching loudly under my feet.

“Bella! It’s time to come home now!” I call out. But I don’t even hear her barking anymore. I continue walking, making sure to check any suspicious leaf piles.

By the time I stop to take a break, the sun towers high overhead, and all I’ve managed to find are abandoned bird nests and a few puddles from yesterday’s rain. I decide to touch up my climbing skills and pick out a sturdy tree with branches lower to the ground. It’s not too long before I settle down in the crook of a branch. Looking up at the sun filtering through the fall leaves, the budding worry about Bella’s safety ebbs into a calm.

We’ll find her, I reassure myself. It’s only a matter of time. A soft breeze stirs the forest, quelling any remaining doubts and showering me with leaves. After lingering a few minutes longer, I climb back down, making sure to minimize scrapes from the rough bark.

A deep rumbling in my stomach disrupts the peace. I look around to search for something edible and notice rotted pecan shells surrounding the tree I had climbed. With a jump and a shimmy, I’m back up the tree and surprised by an abundance of ripe pecans. The shells are firm but can be crushed if placed in the crook of the branch and hit with the heel of my shoe. It’s not long before my belly is content and the rays of sun warm my face. A wave of drowsiness washes over me, so I climb back down.

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A quick nap should be fine. I yawn and settle down against the trunk, a small pile of leaves providing some cushion. Just a few minutes, and then I’ll head back.

Well, things don’t always go as planned. A few minutes turn into an hour, which turn into a few, and, when I open my eyes, the sun is falling behind the trees. A good stretch loosens me up before I head back home. Hopefully, Mrs. Thompson isn’t too worried about me.

When I get back, she’s sitting on her back porch with a glass in her hand and Bella in her lap.

“Little heifer came back as soon as I went back inside,” she grumbled.

“Well, at least she’s safe.”

“Yep, safe and under house arrest.”

Bella looks up suddenly and licks Mrs. Thompson’s chin before lying back down.

“You know, she’s a good dog, overall; I guess I can’t be too mad at her.” She strokes Bella softly. “So, how was your little adventure? Bella wasn’t out there, but I’m sure you found something just as important.”

“I think I did, Mrs. Thompson,” I answer with a smile. With a hug and a warm goodnight, I go inside.

It doesn’t take very long to get settled in for the night, so I sit down at my laptop to see what happens.

What starts off as hesitant taps on the keyboard turns into a flurry and, by the time I stop, there’s about three pages of double-spaced inspiration. A grin lights up my face as I hit submit, for the search is finally over.

At least for now...

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Contributors Nicholas Adams, Graphic Design (’20): “Emotional Blindness”: This piece represents the countless emotions one faces, and how those emotions can be overwhelming.

Grace Arredondo, English (’21): As an English major and Psychology minor set to graduate this May, I am so excited and grateful to be included in this year’s Brown Lady publication. “The People on the Pedestals” is a simple, contemplative poem that reflects on the double-edged sword of success and fame by illuminating the irony in society’s incessant urges for every human to rise to the challenge of being extraordinary. The fine print of life reveals that those who acquire notoriety are doomed to spend the remainder of their lives avoiding mediocrity and mistakes, all while under the unforgiving scrutiny of others. This poem serves as a reminder that life’s fulfillment is not solely found in furthering one’s self and as a challenge to be more than a sad, disenchanted Sisyphus.

Crystal Bibbins, Integrative Studies (’22) Kyra Cauthen, Graphic Design (’21): Kyra Cauthen is a third-year student who will graduate in December with a major in Graphic Design and a minor in Fine Arts. Her artistic interests started at an early age, and she is most excited about art that tells a story. She’s focusing her current energies on subjects that speak to the viewer without words.

In “Sight” (aka “Mother Nature”), we can feel the emotion and the inspiration that Kyra feels, and her piece leaves us wanting to hear more! In her second piece, Kyra takes a step outside her focus to reflect on the impact of the environment on her attitude. The calming, reflective attributes of open space help her focus. Kyra can’t wait to begin her professional career as a Graphic Designer.

Michael Dylan Futrell, Psychology (’21): For “Screaming Faces,” I made it a message as to how medicine is very expensive and how jobs are faster to let those with mental problems go that could be helped via the medicine if it was not so expensive. The whole message of this story is that the main character could have been saved if anyone really cared about the medical system and how many people die due to lack of medicine due to the price.

For “An Autistic Point of View,” I wrote this paper due to there being very little information about those sharing their journey with autism and how it really is and feels. I also wrote it as a farewell and thank you message to Chowan for all their help and understanding with my autism.

Kayla Gates, English (’21): My name is Kayla Gates, and I am senior English major from Chesapeake, Virginia. I chose to write about justice because I wanted to dive deeper than just the denotation of this word. Justice is often used in court regarding lawfulness, but it is also referenced in times of inequality or lack of rightfulness, especially in the modern era.

This inspired me to research the history and usage of the word thoroughly to really understand the true, deep meaning of the word justice.

Otis Hunter, Jr., Creative Writing and Religion (’21): I am Otis Hunter, Jr., and my poetry name is Heavenly Redeemer. I am a Creative Writing and Religion double major from Baltimore, Maryland. Poetry has made a major impact on my life, and expressing truth to the masses is not only a privilege but a necessity. This is what God has intended for the rest of my life.

“Why Do We Riot?”: This piece was created after the killing of George Floyd and the riots that followed afterwards. This piece was written from a perspective that rioting is a last resort for black people when peaceful protest is not an option.

Although I do not condone rioting, when a message is needed to be heard and people refuse to hear it, rioting usually gets the job done. However, it just plays into the stereotypes of violent and animalistic behavior that we have been labeled by for centuries.

“Universe”: “Universe” was a love piece about a close friend of mine from Chowan. I held a connection to her due to

her having similar circumstances as my other: being diagnosed as bipolar disorder. With both of us being plagued by mental illness, the title “Universe” represents what I saw her as while at the same time representing the space between us and the gap I had to fill for us to be together.

Ginger Jordan, Creative Writing (Minor: Psychology) (’20): My name is Ginger Jordan. I was a Creative Writing major at Chowan University and graduated in December 2020. Before coming to Chowan, I spent seven years serving in the Marine Corps, which was a lot of work but also a lot of fun. I have twin daughters, who certainly keep me busy. I spend my free time immersed in the arts, often with my kids joining me. Since graduating, I have started grad school at Southern New Hampshire University, where I’m continuing my creative writing and professional writing studies.

“Death, Chapter 1”: This work is an excerpt from a book I wrote. It’s the first book in a young adult series, and I’m hoping to one day see it on a bookshelf. I’ve always been a lover of books, the supernatural, and magic, so it only makes sense that my first book would have those elements.

“Why Women Don’t Belong in the Marine Corps”: This short story is actually based on a true story I heard during Sergeant’s Course, a type of training for Sergeants in the Marine Corps. The man that told the story was another student, and he was an infantryman. He used to hate female Marines, but the event depicted in this story completely changed his view. I loved this story and how a single moment could transform a mindset that was molded over years or even a lifetime. “This is why women don’t belong in the Marine Corps” are words I’ve heard far too many times, so the title of this work is a play on that statement.

“A Surprise of Color”: This work was a fun change for me. I draw a lot of portrait commissions, and they’re usually in black and white. I love color, but I don’t typically have time or customers who order them. This work was a departure from my realistic style, and I got to play around with color. It was made for my sister, whose only request was that it be colorful.

Glenn Jordan, Creative Writing (’22) Skadi Kylander, Biology (’21): My name is Skadi Kylander, and I am a senior biology major minoring in chemistry (I expect my final semester at Chowan will be Fall 2021). “Summers with Golden Swamp Warblers” is a revised version of an article I submitted to the 2020 Alpha Chi National Scholarship competition, for which I was selected as a recipient of an Alfred H. Nolle Scholarship. Being involved in every facet of the work that has gone into the project discussed in this article, from building and installing the nest boxes to interacting with the birds, has given me some of my most enjoyable and incredible memories from my time at Chowan.

Ryan Martin, Business (’21): My Major is Business with a concentration in Information Systems with a minor in History and Economics. I was in HIST 210: Introduction to Historical Investigation with Dr. Taylor, and we had to write a historical paper for the class. I wanted to challenge myself and, with heading over to the Holy Land a few months later, I thought it was perfect.

Alyssia Parker, Studio Art (’21): My years at Chowan have been short, but this school and the people in it have really made a lasting impression that I will never forget. With the times we are facing, we have become even more aware of mental health and its effects on us. Furthermore, as an artist who has had troubles with mental health, I was strongly compelled to represent some of my personal struggles. I never realized how relieved and hurt I would feel after creating these, but it was a much needed therapy session. “Frustration and Consumption” and “X ” were both created at a time when I was still confused, overwhelmed with everything around me, and not knowing what my next step should be when it came to life. I thought that I was literally going to worry myself to death because I was always tired, bad migraines would occur, I felt like I was crying even after I stopped, and sometimes I just couldn’t handle my anxiety. I’m at a much better point this year, and I hope that others will continue to find the help they need in order to get through.

My third art piece, “The Black Holocaust,” came about when I took my Drawing III course. We had to create a series of

artworks related to each other, and I came across the Eugenics movement. This art piece was a challenge, forcing me to be fully involved, which is something I desperately needed as an artist. The influences of the Eugenics movement were not limited to African American women, but they still were widely targeted by this cause. Being someone who extremely values her God-given right to procreate is why I decided to use this subject matter. At first glance, you might not get the message, but I am trying to depict a woman that is helpless, distant, scorned, and oppressed by something she is not fully aware of. The bruises on her body, her being restrained and violated by my personal rendition of the eugenics tree, and having this blotch of red over her face establishes that message. She is being victimized by an action that she is unaware of. Many women who were sterilized were either coerced or forced, not knowing that this happened to them.

Doctors involved with this movement went as far as sterilizing women after giving birth to their first child or having it done in the midst of another operation, without telling them what happened. Just think about these women finding out years, even decades later, that their ability to create life had been violently snatched away from them.

Destiny Vaughan, Graphic Design (’23): My name is Destiny Vaughan, and I am a Sophomore, majoring in Graphic Design and minoring in Graphic Communications. “Serious” is a charcoal drawing of a statue that I drew during the fall semester in my freshman year at Chowan. This is one of my favorite pieces because of the reality and the details I incorporated throughout the drawing. This piece was an eye-opener that, whatever I set my mind to, I can do it!

See the Brown Lady online: www.chowan.edu/BrownLady Cover: “Sight” by Kyra Cauthen