Spring/Summer 2017

deaf

communiTy

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premier

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magazine

M A G A Z I N E SPRING/SUMMER 2017

The

MAGAZINE

We are thrilled to announce that our debut issue will be interactive with the help of augmented reality. By downloading the Layar app, you can explore and find hidden interactive content throughout the pages! Follow the instructions below to enjoy the full experience.

How to Use

Download the free Layar app on your smartphone

Open the app and scan any content marked with a Layar logo

Discover and enjoy interactive content

With Layar, we are able to embed links, videos, photos, and more onto the pages of our issue. Feel free to explore and find all the interactive components of our magazine!

Table of FOLLOW US!

conTenTs

feelthemagazine feelmagazine

Letter from the Editor

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feelthemagazine 6 feelmagazine Meet the Team

NIKOLYA

SEREDA

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23

Believe in Yourself: An Interview with a Rising Star

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

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42

EDITOR IN CHIEF

Steal This Look

Modern Maia: A Fashion Editorial

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“Feel” is a word that gets thrown around a lot, particularly when describing abstract concepts such as love, sadness, home, and art. “Feel” can mean a lot of different things, especially when interpreted by various minds. However, for the D/deaf community, “feel” is a word that holds weight.

Often times, people wonder how deaf people can do certain things. We often get asked if we can drive or if we can write.

In reality, many of us are very skilled at the same things hearing people are. In substitution of hearing, we feel. The rumble of our cars starting, taps on each other’s shoulders, the vibration of our alarm clocks or our phones. In addition to physically feeling the motions that make the world turn, deaf people are also very in tune emotionally.

With our keen eyes, we can spot tension in an audience, happiness in someone’s hands, or the underlying sarcasm in a smirk.

From leading our own civil rights movement to constantly proving naysayers otherwise, the Deaf community is not a community known for its silence, pun intended. FEEL Magazine was founded not only to celebrate the unique - art that the Deaf community has to offer, but also to create an outlet for artists and writers to publish their work.

We pride ourselves on allowing aspiring as well as experienced artists to sound their voice.

A community of passion and pride, we are people who feel.

Welcome to our world.

NIKOLYA

SEREDA

EDITOR IN CHIEF

MAGAZINE

TEAM

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Brian was born and raised in Burbank, California.

He is currently studying for his Masters in public administration at Gallaudet. Afterwards, he hopes to pursue a career in finance. He became deaf at birth due to Waardenburg Syndrome. He plays sports to keep himself busy and is an ambidextrous hitter in baseball.

Brian is a college football fan and roots for Notre Dame.

BRIAN

GANNON

DIRECTOR OF

FINANCES

Coming all the way from Viet Nam, Long is majoring in art and graphic design. He is the only person in his family that is deaf. He is uncertain about plans after Gallaudet though has an interest in designing clothes someday. Long is a fan of reading manga, traveling, sightseeing, gaming, and likes to draw.

LONG

NGUYEN

GRAPHIC DESIGNER

William is a fourth generation deaf member of his family from Maryland. William is majoring in ASL and Theater at Gallaudet University. He wants to become an actor or an ASL teacher. He has acted in Cloud 9, Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Julius Caesar, and an independent film. He is also in Theatre Honor Society’s Alpha Psi Omega. In his spare time, he likes all kinds of video games, graphic novels, and is a fan of shoes.

WILLIAM MILLIOS

COPY EDITOR

Emily is a senior majoring in Communication Studies with a minor in dance at Gallaudet University.

She is from Boston, Massachusetts and has a hard-ofhearing sibling. She is still undecided about her plans after graduation. Emily is passionate about dance, and is a member of the Gallaudet Dance Company. She is also involved with coordinating ASL Queer Night in Washington DC.

EMILY

CATALFAMO

DIRECTOR OF

PUBLIC RELATIONS

A Communication Studies major and a minor in Psychology, Jenilee is from Farmington, Connecticut.

She plans on attending graduate school in the future.

While being a student at Gallaudet University, she wants to try all the hidden gems and experiences Washington DC has. She also is a bit of an adrenaline junkie, she likes doing activities such as skydiving and dirt-biking.

JENILEE MARQUES

DIRECTOR OF

SALES

Maryah is an undeclared second year student at Gallaudet University from Boston, Massachusetts. She is the only deaf person in her family. She loves shopping and is a huge fan of shoes, owning more than a hundred pairs. Her dream is to become a fashion buyer, who goes searching for certain materials or products for a company or a client.

MARYAH ARZOLA

DIRECTOR OF

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STYLE FASHION

Mengqian is a transfer student at Gallaudet University from China, majoring in Photography. She is the only deaf person in her family. Mengqian enjoys traveling, socializing with friends, and taking pictures.

She hopes to set up her own photography business someday. Mengqian also enjoys pageantry. She was involved in the 2008 Olympics for dance and in 2014, she won second place in the World Deaf Women Pageant in England.

MENGQIAN LUAN

DIRECTOR OF

PHOTOGRAPHY

Sofia is from upstate New York. She is currently a senior at Gallaudet University majoring in English with a minor in Digital Media. In her whole family, only she and an older sister are deaf. Sofia enjoys reading, writing, gaming, and watching films. She is considering graduate programs and is uncertain about her future, as she has many potential paths.

SOFIA

SYED

WRITER/ JOURNALIST

Aylah was born in Oregon but moved to Kansas when she was twelve, where she attended and graduated from a deaf institute. Aylah is the only deaf person of her family. She is currently a freshman at Gallaudet Univeristy with a goal to major in Government and preLaw, International Studies, and a minor in Theatre. After graduation, she wants to join the Peace Corps before attending law school.

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AYLAH

CADWELL

ASSISTANT EDITOR IN CHIEF

SERVICES OFFERED:

- BANNER PRINTING - LAMINATION -

STUDENT

ORGANIZATION EVENTS -LEADERSHIP

TRAINING/PROGRAMS - BALLOONS

- CAMPING RENTALS

- AND SO MUCH MORE!

Lexine Schumm Model: Lucie Mulligan Photographer: Christopher Selleck Canvas, copper wire, hearing aid batteries

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Rosalyn Watson Top: Pencil, ink on paper Bottom: Oil on canvas

Artist: Rosalyn Watson Charcoal on paper

Artist: Olivia Hunter Oil on canvas

Cleaning the Attic

Zachary Abbott

I have an hour, perhaps a little less, To sit here on the porch and read, Poems left in this old shoebox, Some written from canoes; Others, dressed in flapper skirts.

When I read them they blush and confess That they are much older than me That my reading them must only be in jest They profess that in their time they knew men of esteem

Men unlike me: ad men, bank men, Military men, architects, and engineers Mannered men with audacity and temerity Like John, the journalist, who wrote to Alice On a stolen sheet of blank newsprint how he, An orphan, got a job at the Chicago Tribune Before the war; before boys became toy soldiers Wrapped in newspapers Buried in shoeboxes.

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County Lines She was giving me that sign Hello It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Two years later in A white wooden church in April There it was again.

A focus that could stop a train A softness on her face Like the bed we laid in that night Knowing the love we had made had just made life But you know D.C. in January The somber sullied streets Weren’t the best place to raise a child So we stowed the city away; Bought pointed boots and Levi jeans and switched the scene to a hillside shack with a gravel road out front and a porch above a pond just around the back.

Zachary Abbott

Photographer: Bobby Moakley

BOYFUL

Zachary Abbott

Show me the courageous seed, Of the greatest sequoia tree, That trusts the sweet dirt to feed his dreams; Then, I will know patience and peace.

Artist: Gabriela Levesque Color pencil, chalk, pencil

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WAR

Hannah Fisher

I am just me Quiet and observant A face full of smiles..

A mind full of anger..

The emotions I hide The epitome of vulnerability when..

Hearts in my eyes

I look at you with

I see your soul I see your happiness I see your

Your personality..

emotions

Photographer: Kah Weethee

the way your smile forms when you see me The soft look in your eyes.. when you stare for a while Your touch so gentle.. the way you drag your finger across my thigh

touching every mark of my

destruction Every gentle motion full of desire

It felt like my mind.. had a shortage A blown fuse.. a jolt rushes through my body Love is a tough game but handing over my heart..

Are you ready?

a ticking time bomb Ready for this war?

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Photographer: Kah Weethee

11 15 13

Photographer: Bobby Moakley

RUN

It all began when I started running. At first, I ran from a few schoolyard fights as a kid.

Then, it was from my frail joke of a marriage.

Today however, I was running from something much bigger than a school fight or a barbaric

Mikail Baptiste

spat between me and the missus. Some might tell you I was running from fate. Others may say I was running from myself. However today, I’m here to tell you I was here to tell you I was running from the end of the world.

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You know, THEY tell you the sun won’t expand for millions of years from now, species will continue to evolve long after you are gone, people will grow to eliminate hate from their hearts, and that mankind is at the top of the food chain. These people also tell you that THEY are to be trusted. THEY tell you THEY are your friends, your coworkers, and your wives….but THEY are liars.

I used to trust them wholeheartedly before the event arrived. I would say hello to them on the street, I would tell them good afternoon in a cool air conditioned room, I’d even tell them good night in the bed that we would share every night for the next ten years. I never would have guessed this kind of thing would happen to me. Had it gone any differently, I wouldn’t have wanted to continue living with the memory of the horror I had faced.

I lived in a small town known as Yin, Washington with my wife. We had both been born there, so when we finally got married it made sense to stay somewhere familiar. Yin, Washington was a place like no other. The trees grew faster than flowers and nature held the buildings hostage. You couldn’t walk anyway in town without stepping on a tree root, although there were some roads that were bare of tree life outside the town square, but it was rarely populated. Tourists would often say the space of the population was invaded by the green life, but no one made a fuss. It was almost a stable ecosystem too, but the trees always found some way to go about messing things up…

Anyway, the morning after the event, Jules, who usually went by Mrs. Flynn Wallace in the bedroom, had taken me aside to apologize.

I however, didn’t want to hear it. What had been done was far too unforgivable. I tried to make my way towards the frosted flakes box on the dining room table instead of engaging with her, but she decided to block my path with her entire

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body as a counter attack in its place.

“Dude…” She began.

My wife has been famously known around town for calling me dude when she’s upset, and she clearly didn’t take kindly to my rejection of her apology the night before. She was about five foot six without heels, and was currently wearing a jogging bra and yoga sweatpants from the jog she had just finished taking. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail away from her giant lime green eyes. It was often too obvious, she was out of my league, but she had somehow come to the decision that I should be her husband and I wasn’t one to argue. However, at this moment it didn’t matter how she looked or why she married me, she was in the way of Tony the Tiger and I, and one can only promise you I wasn’t having it.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY, YOU VILLAIN!” I shouted, hoping I was loud enough so the neighbors could hear.

My wife wasn’t a big fan of attention from the outside. Back when she was a child she went missing in the woods for two months before the cops finally found her, newspapers plastered her face on everything for a decade. Everyone knew her story and I knew she wasn’t going back down that road again. I reached behind her for the box of cereal, but I didn’t get far because her knee made a rude introduction towards my family jewels and I collapsed almost as quickly as the economy under Bush’s reign. It was clear that her past didn’t matter at the moment and she had overcome her fair of public attention.

“Can you just calm down?” She pleaded, as she made an advance towards my fetal positioned corpse.

“NO.” I cried, as I scooted across the newly vacuumed heart-shaped dining room carpet.

“UGHHHHH!!! You are impossible!!” She shouted completely enraged with anger now.

Her ponytail has gotten undone after her kickboxing flaunt with my marbles, and her face was covering her eyes and making me the least safe person in the room.

“Let me have my breakfast, pleaseee” I begged, finally gaining enough strength to get back on my knees, I put hands together as if I was in praying and bowed my head in shame waiting for her next blow.

“I’ll let you have it, once you accept my apology.” She bargained.

I looked up to see her arms were crossed and it was clear she was ready to stand her ground for the coming winters if I didn’t just accept her request for forgiveness. Now, I’m usually a reasonable guy, but when someone as stubborn as my wife sets up a compromise there is no choice but to accept it. That morning alas, was the morning I decided to be a warrior and stand up for myself. I stood up and said this next line to prove who the dumbest person in the relationship was.

“No.” And I quickly turned from her and bolted for the front door.

I thought about taking the car, but it felt like she would find me anyway so I ran down the streets of Yin, Washington and headed for work. As I made it down the fifteen blocks to my workplace, I realized two things, I was late and I was going the wrong direction. Just as I was about to turn back around I was thrown in the air by what I can only assume was a car. It made the same sounds as a car, once I hit the ground I could hear it perfectly.

Vroom Vroom VOOMP! Of all the different kinds of cars, this one sounded like a dying one. The sound went away and just like that I passed out in the middle of Luther Ave. As I begin to lose consciousness, at the corner of my right eye I could have sworn I saw a tree branch wave at me.

And just like that everything went black. ***

“Wake up, Flynn…”

This voice…

“Wake. Up. Flynn” It can’t be.

“FLYNN WAKE UP” there standing above me was Satan herself dressed in her jogging gear as I had left her earlier that day. I would have jumped, but I’ve learned that if she’s not holding anything sharp she’s not there to kill me, so I found myself relaxing around her.

“Uhhh.” I was trying to speak, but my throat felt like it had been waiting out in the sun for me to find use for it again, I needed water, but this she-demon probably wasn’t going to give it to me.

“Would you like some water?” She asked with a smile that I could only assume was fake.

There was no way she was going to be kind to me after I said no to her and bolted. I stayed silent.

“Flynn, blink once for yes, twice for no, if you’d like some water. “ She beckoned, but I stood strong, not giving even a wink, though my eyes were dry as well.

I suddenly realized I wasn’t at home with her, I was in a hospital and there was a man staring at us in a bed across from mine observing as I demonstrated what the worst husband on the planet looked like. I had to break character, because of this intruder’s death grip glare was shaking away the little confidence I had to defend myself against my wife. Before I could say anything, Jules said something that shocked me.

“I didn’t realize, me forgetting your birthday would drive you to do something like this.”

And just like that the event was brought up for discussion again.

I began to speak, but I could see a tree branch sticking into the hospital window. It was odd because I had recognized the window was closed when I first took a gander around the

18

room and now it was open, which could only mean the branch had forced the window up, but I of course was too slow to react.

Immediately after she spoke, the sound of glass shattering awoke me from my daze and before me I could see an oak tree branch poking out of my wife’s chest, like a Fourth of July shish kabob. She was dead just like that, there was no scream and no sign that she had felt it go through.

The branch had gone in quickly and just as it had entered it left in a blink of an eye, leaving drips of what I knew to be my wife’s blood.

I was far too shocked to do say anything.

My wife was dead and I couldn’t have done anything to stop it from happening in time. The man who observing us was dead as well and to come to think of it I hadn’t heard a nurse or doctor outside my door since my wife had finished her last sentence. Something was wrong and I had to do something fast. I looked down at Jules’ lifeless body and the hole that I knew I saw that had been in her chest was no longer present. So naturally I began to panic.

“He-hello?”

“Um, is there anybody out there? My wife is dead.”

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME?” “HELLO!!!!!!!!”

I screamed until my voice ached, but no one was coming. It seemed as if everyone in the hospital was dead. I eventually hopped out of my bed with my sprained ankle and broken wrist, and knew I was beyond lucky to be alive.

But why was I left alive? I needed to find more people, but I feared I’d be the only one left. As I made my way outside the hospital, I heard a voice.

“Do not panic.”

“This is what was supposed to happen” “You are now alone, but have many friends” “Come and see me, King Flynn.”

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The voice was old and weak, but it seemed to have answers that I needed.

“Who are you?” I asked the voice and without missing beat I got my answer “Your tree.” I had no idea what that meant, but I had clue of what it could mean.

I made my way to the center of the town.

The oldest tree stood there strong and proud, as I moved closer it began to lean towards me.

I felt a closeness I’d never felt towards it before and so I placed my palm at the trunk, everything about the tree and why everyone was dead was now clear to me.

“You are the chosen one.”

“You will lead this whole planet into battle against The Hilts.”

“Everyone in this town is dead, I’d never help you. You killed my wife!” I screamed at the tree “No one is dead, they are undead.”

“What?”

“No one is dead, they are undead.”

Hearing the answer again didn’t help at all, what did however help was seeing a group of people standing behind me with eyes as black as tar. I could see Jules making her way to the front of the crowd. Once she was inches away from my face she began to speak, but it wasn’t just her voice I heard, it was the voice of a hive of people.

“ALL HAIL FLYNN, KING OF THE ZOMBIES” And just like that I began to run again and I’ve never looked back.

Artist: Olivia Hunter Ink, paper

“Katarina, the Sinister Blade�

Artist: Chaz Seremeth Adobe Illustrator

Photographer: Bobby Moakley

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Aarron Believe In Yourself

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Loggins

Aarron Loggins’ motto is “Believe in yourself”. When he gives you his business card, you will see a specific date underneath the motto, 1985. This is not just a random year. It has meaning. The number 1 stands for his birth month, January. The 9 is his birthdate, and lastly, altogether 1985 is his birth year.

As a hard-of-hearing person from Illinois, he learned ASL while attending Gallaudet University. He graduated in 2008 with a B.A. in Theatre Arts. Loggins noticed there was not much recognition between the deaf community and the music world.

His ASL videos cover many different types of music including R&B and Gospel music. His goal is to interpret songs for a deaf audience based on tones, speed of the song, and the feeling it expresses.

Loggins is on his way to become a wellknown artist because he has many talents. In addition to performing music, he is explored acting and pagentry. In 2014, he joined the Mister Deaf International pageant. These contests were not to compete for beauty but to show that you can be a strong leader or an advocate. He won as the United States representative, becoming the first AfricanAmerican winner in the pageant’s history.

Afterwards, he had the honor to visit his alma mater and gave a speech to the young students. “I said believe in yourself because that’s always important. Travel when you can because you will never know what will leave an impact on your life.” The students had the opportunity to meet a young Black deaf male who is successful in his field, potentially inspiring many.

Loggins is part of the cast of “In Good Hands”, a film written and directed by Dora Dee Hunter, which released in April 2017.

According to Loggins, the story is about a relationship between a man and a woman, and their struggle to fit within a Deaf identity.

It is not the only film experience Loggins has, however. Through an ASL Slam event, HBO documentary channel Vice News offered Loggins a role in a segment for “Deaf Culture.”

The video can be found on YouTube.

Loggins can be found currently on TV One true crime television show called “For My Woman”, which premiered in late April.

- Sofia Syed

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GiveEveryMan Thy Ear but Few

ThyVoice

As artists in a modern day society, we draw influences from the classics. Shakespeare is known for his multifaceted, complex plays and sonnets, inspiring playwrights, actors, writers, and the like.

We seeked out deaf artists who were impacted

by Shakespeare’s work. Jennifer Nelson is an English professor and Ethan Sinnott is a Theatre Arts professor at Gallaudet University. They were kind enough to share some of their work and their experiences with Shakespeare.

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By Sofia Syed

Ethan

Sinnott

Jennifer Nelson

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What is your favorite movie, and why?

NELSON: I like the world-making dimension of the Harry Potter movies. To me, imagining parallel or alternate universes is a fascinating subject. I like how the Harry Potter movies and books exist alongside the ‘real world,’ different and yet not really different in the end.

SINNOTT: Dead Poets’ Society. I grew up occupying that weird identity limbo between Deaf and hearing worlds, each with their conventions and mores, and the first time I saw it, I was a teenager then, I found its core idea resonant, which was this: conformity was/is not necessarily something to be cheered, and there was/is no shame in going against the flow. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”

What is one crazy thing you’ve done in your life?

NELSON: Crazy thing? Only one? Well, one crazy thing I did was pack up to go to graduate school at University of California, Berkeley sight unseen. I didn’t visit the campus, program, or people; I just knew I had to do it, so I packed up and went, and while crazy, it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Another crazy thing I used to do was high board diving (I had an athletic scholarship in college) and some platform diving. That’s like jumping off something three stories high with a few flips and twists in there somewhere, while also making sure you go in relatively straight with the hands properly clasped to break a hole in the water so you don’t break your neck. I’m still here, fortunately.

SINNOTT: When we visited Vietnam five years ago, my wife and I rode an overnight sleeper bus from Hanoi to Hue, which took 10-12 hours. The roads were mostly unpaved, guardrails along crude bridges spanning small rivers were virtually nonexistent, and our driver liked to step on the gas.

The length of our bus was lined end-to-end with bunk beds along the left, middle, and right, punctuated by a single soupy squat (no seat, no flush) toilet stall in the rear—you can imagine it belching and violently sloshing around every time the bus made a sharp turn, hit a bump, or a pothole.

Going to the bathroom was an adventure in itself.

What is one thing you cannot live without?

SINNOTT: The four cardinal elements and Chianti (Italian wine).

What is your greatest accomplishment in terms of creating your art?

NELSON: Making art is a tough thing! Just doing it is a great accomplishment. I think overcoming the fear and mental blocks to doing art is key in achieving art, that and finding the time to do it.

SINNOTT: While I cannot point to one single creative work among many, one which sticks out would have to be the abstract clean white multilevel set I designed for Faction of Fools’ production of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus back in 2014: not only did it have to evoke in Rome a sterile, passionless civilization, that set had to be splattered with stage blood per performance, starting with the occasional spatter or spurt, progressively escalating until a literal bloodbath in the final scene. Then all that blood had to be cleaned off the set none the worse for wear for it in the end.

The logistics posed by such a set design require advance prep, testing, and game-planning—in this case, it was the testing of stage blood on a variety of whiteboard surfaces as well as waterproof white basement paints, seeing how they interact, and how easily the blood would come off without leaving behind traces of staining—are the kind of unconventional challenges I gravitate to, and they demand a willingness to play and think outside the box.

Do you have any goals that you want to achieve before the end of the year?

NELSON: I want to complete the Deaf Portrait Series I began at the Anderson Center last June, where I had an artist residency for one month with 4 other Deaf creative types.

I also hope to exhibit this series sometime soon. Throwing the five of us together in a beautiful old house with time to create was a wonderful experience. And it was a fully Deaf experience. We spent nights talking about language, linguistics, art, and writing.

SINNOTT: At this time, I will settle for making it through the end with my wits intact, and my grey hairs at a minimum.

NELSON: Good food. I love fine, diverse dining experiences with friends.

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Layers of Intersectionality

Jessica Leung

You walk in the world of reality where hearing world is overtaken. Hearing sound, high to low to speaking speech, tone, context, accent, timing, culture, habits, tradition, customs and location is crucial to gain information and access information.

You walk near anywhere to access public service, institutions, shopping malls , home, transit, family, friends, strangers that verbally speak so called hearies that requires to gain access to and from.

You speak English because you were grown to speak and live in a land that occupies English as a dominant language.

esteem, becomingness, intersections, wavering.

Second language. Collectivism.

My first layer of intersectionality.

You seek still with human connection.

Seek with time that is in essence.

Communication. Trust.

You rethinking thought with a thought.

You ought with another intersection: Person of Colour (PoC).

Minority. Acquire. First Language.

“P o C?”

You speak English because you had to survive and want to be independant.

“Am I one?”

Truth. Awareness. Courage.

You speak English because that was the only language you were told to learn since birth.

Acceptance. Alternative. Open mind.

You speak English because everyone praise that you speak so well for a Deaf PoC. Mindful. Oppression. Audism.

You speak English because you had no choice.

Options. Alternatives. Empowerment.

“Yes, you are PoC!” “Ok.” The land you live is brought with the top two race of people: White, Asian.

The white majority. The white supremacy. The white privilege.

Minority. Oppression. Racism.

You don’t often think about this. You clearly thought one identity, that was it.

You walk and not notice the majority of white ask you countless of racism-rude to soft. Invisible to Visible.

You speak English seeking human connections.

This land you live often silence to whisper about racism in public.

Communications. Trust.

My second layer of intersectionality.

You learn, relearn and unlearn deriving the process of who you are internally.

You walk to another world that you felt impact since growing around your teens. This world already seen boy to girl as youth, woman to man as adult.

You walk in another world that you never thought or sought or brought in your attention that alarms you with dangerous, consequences, vulnerability and shunned. You witness a video that causes scene of fire that a Deaf person was caught on fire while asleep and was not aware hits you from head to toe, skin to muscles, muscles to organ internally then to your soul.

You questioned yourself: “What if?” “What will happen?” “How do I prevent that?” “Is that me?”

You learn: Deaf. You also learn American Sign Language and currently still working in progress.

You thought one identity. Culture, transition, self

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You wanted to play hockey. You witness a round group of boys and their skates. You felt lost. You have few complexities. You were fragile in bones.

You look like a girl. You look hearing if speaking.

Uncertainties. Lost. Did not fit in.

You try to fit in places- the wrong people. The folks that people see as boys. The folks that people see as girly girls. The folks that already has their best friend and you cannot gain their trust and be part of it. You were misguided. You were pre/judged. You were invisible.

My third layer of intersectionality.

Time progress, Time flow fast to slow pace.

Artist: Olivia Hunter You often walk to this white room in your lunch hour, and finally stopped talking to any of those folks.

Bounding to places.

Venture to education, wisdom and courage.

You often wish time goes faster so you can be an adult.

Adult with responsibility, find a lover, find the appropriate people. Find yourself.

You walk into another world that question your attraction, sexuality and gender expression.

You went to few Queer events. You are in process of questioning self.

You have been flourish with photography, drawing, poetry and other activities to distract yourself.

You question: “What is Queer?”

You have a wonderful mom. Opportunities.

Protection.

You had a severely ill father in bed.

Maturity. Gift.

You lost a father.

You did not cry.

Stand strong.

You often wish to take back the hate you given to him.

You persist and you hoped to vanished.

That story did not ends me here.

With open wide eyes in my lens. My vision appear more and so.

To fight back with activism, compassion, use correct tools: non-violent communication, and cultural humility to make a bridge for all folks in these worlds.

You seek more to human connection.

“How do people perceive Queer?”

They said: “Don’t think about other people. Think about yourself first. What is Queer to you?”

You repeat the question: “What is Queer?”

You ponder.

You are still waiting for this answer.

That is okay.

You will learn in time.

I am Jessica, gender neutral Deaf PoC- asian taiwanese and chinese. I speak english/read and sign ASL. I am proud.

K.O. mic drop.

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Photographer: Olivia Hunter

Voices She could smell the dampness from the night’s rain through her window. A small breeze would carry it in every once in awhile. With every breeze it seemed to draw in small rays of light as it began to creep its way into her room. While in her mind, dark thoughts were creeping their way in with voices speaking without warning, you’re stupid. She remembers how in the winter months the cold would creep its way around her until she felt frozen and numb. You baby, really.

Just the thought of the cold made her pull the blankets up over her face making her invisible to the world. You are invisible, said another voice, don’t you forget it.

It was a Saturday morning, so she was in no hurry to get up. As she was drifting back into

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Dena Seiss

a slumber hoping to fall into a world she was wanted and felt normal, she began to smell something wonderful. The sun wasn’t the only thing trying to creep into her room, so was the smell of her mom’s cooking. The smell of bacon sizzling on the stove with its salty smell was floating in the air and there was the smell of something sweet too. Mom’s cinnamon-sugar waffles! Her lips began to curl into a sheepish grin at the thought of consuming such wonderful food. Ah, no food for you! You’re too fat. Don’t you see it, we noticed. Trying to ignore the booming voice she all of a sudden noticed how hungry she was. The stomach lies. Shhh hush stomach.

Her stomach was growling and tumbling, but that wasn’t all, she was so hungry that she was having hunger pain. That’s called being full.

** The night before she had gotten home from school and locked herself in her room. She was too tired and upset from the week. So she just laid on her bed staring up at the ceiling until darkness washed over the room before closing her eyelids and drifting into a much-needed sleep. ** With the smell getting stronger in the room she threw her yellow and green plaid patterned blanket off of her and swung her feet off to the side of the bed. Oh you think you’re a big girl? Trying to get up out of bed. Cute. She waited a moment, feet dangling over the side, hands pressed on either side of her body on the mattress, back hunched and head down looking at the floor; as if deciding whether or not getting out of bed was going to make her self-destruct or melt into the rug below. Slowly, she let her feet and butt slide down off the bed, using her hands as a guide to steady her body, until they hit the rug. Wiggling her toes into the rough, scratchy, red/ brown colored rug. She took in a deep breath, she willed her feet to move off the scratchy rug onto the cold wooden floor that sent chills up her spine. Feel your soul. Trying to ignore the sensation from the cold floor, she staggered onward out of her room and into the kitchen. Not looking forward to the unwanted pair eyes, but the smell of food put her into some sort of trance like state and she didn’t care.

Once in the kitchen she froze, she tried to continue ignoring the voices. You can’t ignore us, we’re stuck in here with you. Knock knock haha, said one. Who is it? said another. The other one answered, the big bad wolf, and then there was a party of laughter going on.

Her mother briefly looked up from preparing the food and knew all too well what

was happening. She could see the turmoil in the daughter’s contorted face from to the sea of voices. Do you hear us? We can’t be ignored.

What about this, can you feel this. The girl’s chest began to tighten up. She was having a difficulty breathing, sadly not the first it’s happened.

That’s for ignoring us. We’re all you’ve got.

You have no friends. You’re a failure and such a disappointment. The voices inside her head were escalating and she could hardly stand it.

There was an elephant now sitting on her chest, and her eyes began to burn. A tear trickled down her face and then another one. Suddenly she screamed, silencing the voices for a few seconds, but that startled her mother into almost dropping the food she was carrying to the table.

Her mother, placing the food down, rushed over and put her arms around her, “You’ve ok. Is it happening again? Did you take your meds or practice your breathing techniques?”

She shook her head no in response to her mom’s question and tried to drift into the untouched parts of her mind. Her mother sat her on a kitchen chair at the table. Returning a few minutes later with her medicine and some of her favorite foods. The girl washed the meds down with water before she took a bite of her breakfast. The more bites she took the quieter the voices got, so she thought, but the chest pains did subside. Sitting across from her was her mom smiling away, pleased with the new prescription recently filled. The girl smiled back to please her mother… that a girl, we’re here to stay; but better luck next time.

30

The Little Match Girl On a misty night in December Your Christmas gift to me Nutcrackers and mice and dancing snowflake humans twirling before my eyes-

Go ahead.

Twist that knife again, right between my ribs. Trace the jellyfish scar on my belly.

Slide it into my gut.

My first match blows out.

Yes, it still hurts...but I won't get so angry like I did before.

New Years Eve for everyone else But us? Always our "Christmas Eve".

An empty jar and a promise to fill it with only our happiest moments this year(You stopped filling it six months later...)

My second match blows out.

Our third “Christmas Eve�: a new and empty apartment waiting.

A promise of happier memories yet to come(Just wait for it, doom only six months later...)

And the third match blows out.

Overhead, this rain should be clean, white snow.

Instead it is just pain coming down in buckets.

What anger? What memories?

Dust. All of it.

It has been years already since our life together fell out the second floor window, to seek refuge in a sodden corner of the curb, Sidling up next to those alley cats out back.

No one wants them, they are just rodent control kinda sorta useful to have around kinda sorta worthless disposable unloved You said, through crocodile tears, "I didn't want it to be over."

It was my last match.

-Anonymous

Photographer: Bobby Moakley

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Photographer: Lorian Jones

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Danielle Seiss

Can You Hear Me Now Silas Beasley Far right: Feminist Joan Joel Adobe Photoshop

Danielle Seiss

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Teena Fannin Bicycle tire, clock, saw blades, gears

Amethyst Jamilee Hoglind Adobe Illustrator

Leticia Arellano Denim, wool Far left: Rebecca Witzofsky Prismacolor color pencil on paper

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Kel wearing a Forever 21 crop top and a vintage brocade and velvet jacket.

Modern Maia a fashion editorial

Styling: Maryah Arzola Photography: Mengqian Luan Illustration: Marilee Williams Graphics: Long Nguyen

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Gianna wearing a Forever 21 dress and Steve Madden shoes

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Ashley wearing a Forever 21 crop top and a Francesca’s lace maxi skirt.

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Ashley wearing an H&M dress and vintage high heels.

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Kel wearing a Zara shirt, vintage trousers, and vintage jewelry.

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Gianna wearing a vintage dress.

L A STE s i h t K O LO 42

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9.

1. $32.90 Floral embroidered camisole dress FOREVER21, 2. $99 Asymmetric tunic ZARA, 3. $98 Popstar embellished heels ASOS, 4. $9.95 White strappy bralet top with cut out back YOINS, 5. $76 Lavish Alice tailored Pants in Satin ASOS, 6. $48 Longline blazer with metallic fastener YOINS, 7. $24.99 Light shape bodysuit HM, 8. $29.99 Long denim shorts HM, 9. $50 White slip-on VANS.

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NIKOLYA

SEREDA

EDITOR IN CHIEF

10. $99 Asymmetric tunic ZARA, 11. $49.90 Contrast poplin top ZARA, 12. $8.99 High-waist stretch knit pants FOREVER21, 13. $38 Love triangle lace crop top with floral embroidery Co-ord, 14. $38 Love triangle lace maxi skirt with floral embroidery Co-ord, 15. $42 Miss selfridge stripe tie Kimono dress JOHNLEWIS, 16. $79.95 Irenee STEVE MADDEN.

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Sculptor: Leeza Williams

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