GenZine Issue 5: 2020

COMPOSITION BOOK Issue 5: 2020 100 SHEETS

200 PAGES

9.3/4 x 7.1/2 IN. 24.7 x 19cm

WIDE RULED

Dear GenZine Community, This past January, I began work on “2020,” the fifth issue of Generation Zine. The start of a new decade felt momentous and I wanted to capture the spirit of the time: reflecting on the past, examining the present, & imagining the future.

GenZine’s first four issues came together naturally every few months. So, expecting things to continue “as usual,” I was planning to publish the fifth issue around March or April. But then came COVID...

With everything turned upside down, I pushed the publication date, waiting to see how our generation would react & adapt, how a catastrophe might become a catalyst.

Schools shut down; jobs were lost or went remote. Our nations problems became amplified.

All the while, our president’s lunacy only seemed to grow, with advice like “inject yourself with bleach” instead of simply “wear a mask.” Staying safe became politicized.

But, with virtual graduations, 7 o’clock cheers for healthcare workers, and zoom gatherings, we found ways to celebrate and connect during these challengingly isolated times. Some have even dubbed Generation Z “Zoomers.” Many took their quarantines to delve into new obsessions, baking bread, 3000 piece puzzles. But others felt aimless and lost.

Then, just as we started to get used to our new reality, waves of brutal and unjust police conduct struck.

Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Toyin Salau. People have taken to the streets and used their social media platforms to spread awareness and resources about current events and injustices.

The Black Lives Matter Movement, as well as other movements for liberation and abolition, have gained traction over the past few months. However, so too came the insidious façades of performative allyship.

In July came utter chaos in the city of Portland, further threats of fascist-like military intervention, and bursts of new COVID cases across the country.

Now, a high-stakes election season looms, there’s no real end of Coronavirus in sight, and... We’re fucked. (or at least it feels that way some days) There is so much. In our nation, in our world. No one remains unscathed. There is no going back to “normal.” 2020, wow.

When I think back to January, my expectations for the year and for GenZine feel so rigid and shortsighted. How could I possibly fit a year into an issue? And now, how could I fit THIS year into an issue?

I’d like to apologize to the contributors, who I promised that the next issue would be coming out “soon.”

Frankly, this year shellshocked me, and I’m only now able to view it with some perspective. As crazy as it’s been, this year is something we will all share, and, as cliché as this will sound, it is a defining time for our generation and our world.

Will we look back on this moment and romanticize it? Is it “history textbook worthy” or does it just feel that way right now? How do we know that something bigger isn’t on its way?

But here it is. Issue 5 of GenZine. It's unfinished, still titled "2020," but only capturing the year up until this point (Monday, August 3rd). As much as it scares me to share something that isn’t “final work,” I am more afraid of the insurmountable nature of 2020, which seems to only grow (as if it weren’t enough already).

I am more than proud to be able to share with you the creations of some incredible (!!) individuals in the following pages. I hope you enjoy this issue as well as take time to reflect on the work featured.

Pensively, Victoria Brooks Creator, GenZine

Art by Damaris Contreras

GenerationZine.com

This Issue’s Contents - Dear GenZine Community, A letter from the creator - Articles, Essays, Features & Interviews

- When I first began to be Brazilian by Maria Grabowsky - Meet Liv Solomon, Artist & Tattooist - Peintre, Vidéaste ou les Deux? par Yoann BAC; translated by Victoria Brooks - A Conversation with LJ Pacheco Foreward & Interview by Furqan Mohamed - Angelina Zaphyria - Notes on Fast Fashion, Thrifting/Resellers & Ethical Consumption - In Poor Taste by Moira Hibbard - Seen This Sticker? An Interview with Street Artist Dirty Little Bastard - GenZ Musicians to Follow on Instagram: Annalise & Nyota Parker - The Travels of Tolo Bickford

- COVID Chronicles

- Notes by Maxine Bell - Comfort by Olivia Bokesch - Self Portrait by Shae Campbell - Sunday, March 14th by Thania Garcia - Illustrations by Burcu Köleli - The Distance Between by Eda Yu - Capturing A Pandemic by Damaris Contreras

- Black Lives Matter

- Being Black in Amerikkka by Jerett Benjamin - This is Selfish by Maxine Bell - The Right Side of History by Abby Dillingham

Issue 5 August 2020

Contributors

- Damaris Contreras - Maria Grabowsky - Liv Solomon - Yoann BAC - Furqan Mohamed - LJ Pacheco - Angelina Zaphyria - Moira Hibbard - Saskia Lethin - Dirty Little Bastard - Annalise - Nyota Parker - Elise Korfonta

- Tolo Bickford - Maxine Bell - Olivia Bokesch - Leander Capuzzo - Madeleine Miller - Shae Campbell - Thania Garcia - Nina Davis - Burcu Kรถleli - Eda Yu - Amber Hyacinth - Jerett Benjamin - Abby Dillingham

Created by Victoria Brooks

GenZine

@Generation_Zine

GenZine FOLLOW

When I first began to be Brazilian - Maria Grabowsky Brazil for me was hypocrisy and ignorance. It was shallowness and prejudice.

It was hearing racist, homophobic, and sexist jokes but never finding a voice inside of me to speak up - feeling voiceless. It was fear, it was constantly looking behind you, it was having bulletproof cars, it was being surrounded by guards but still hearing the same stories over and over again. It was never feeling free. It was a reminder of everything I did not want to be. It was a reminder of the place I once belonged to, but that I now felt relieved about not belonging.

It was a different story at school. To my friends, Brazil was my home. It was nostalgia, memories, happiness, and pride. It was beaches, sunshine, and warmth. It was what I claimed to miss, what I claimed to love, and what I claimed to be my home. It was who I was, what made me special, and what made me different.

It was false. Going back to Brazil meant feeling misplaced, lost, and uncomfortable. It was feeling annoyed. It was feeling restless. It was seeing people I did not want to see. It was feeling vulnerable. It was disagreeing with everything and trying to speak up but being shut down. It was regretting who I once was. It was being haunted by the thought of who I would have become if I stayed. It was feeling grateful for living somewhere else.

But I hated feeling that way. I wished I felt comfortable. I wished that when I called myself Brazilian I was being truthful but knew that I preferred being a New Yorker. I wished I acted more Brazilian; I wished I was more outgoing and charismatic, but not ignorant and prejudiced. I wished I belonged but never knew how it could be possible for me to belong. Parts of me wanted to think of Brazil as my home and parts of me wanted to distance myself completely from where I was born.

But, I did not know what Brazil was. For me, Brazil was my old school, our family friends, and the culture that revolved around me. It was the privileged upper class unaware of issues that did not affect them. It was never enacting change. It was everyone striving to be the same.

But Brazil was not just that. There was a place that I could belong to. There were Brazilians who cared and who respected others. There were people who thought like me and I found a place where I could feel at home. As I changed my vision of Brazil, I began to confidently call myself a Brazilian and began a new relationship with Brazil.

Art by Alicja Sobieraj

Meet Liv Solomon Artist and Tattooist, Age 18 LA native, currently based in NYC

GenZine: What drew you to tattooing? / How and when did you start?

Liv Solomon: I started tattooing when I was probably 16, doing stick and pokes for my friends when they wanted something little done. Since I was 15, my family and friends have been pushing me to do tattoos professionally. I always knew that I wanted to pursue tattooing more seriously, but I knew I couldn’t while I was under-age. I’ve always been drawn to people and personal expression and the gateway that tattoos form to understanding a person, or how they choose to project themselves to the outside world. When I turned 18, I knew it was time to sit down and really educate myself on the medium as an artform, but also as a practice that must be heavily studied for safety measures. I took all of the classes required to receive your tattoo license, and I finally felt like I was ready to get a gun and all of the necessary supplies to start practicing on my own. I was also really lucky to have become friends with a few of the artists who have done my tattoos - one of whom was fully self taught - and they really helped educate me on all of the necessary supplies and processes.

GZ: What’s your favorite tattoo you’ve ever done?

LS: That’s definitely a tough question. I have a few favorites for a few different reasons. I think a lot of my favorite tattoos come from the general experience, not just the final result. I love the tattoos I’ve done on my brother, because he has always instilled so much trust in me and has really allowed for me to experiment with him. The three faces I did on his chest are definitely one of my favorites. Another one was a witch on a broomstick for my friend Ari. This one stands out for me because, again, it was one of my first big tattoos that I had designed myself, and Ari really trusted me with it. It’s so hard to pick my favorites!

GZ: Do you have any tattoos?

LS: Yes! I have (I think) 13. My first few were super small, but I have a few large pieces on my arms.

GZ: How does it feel knowing that your work will be on someone forever, that it’s permanent?

LS: I could make a painting, and sell it, and it could sit in someone’s house for 10 years, and then they could put it up in the attic and never see it again. But with my tattoos, there are people that will be walking around for the rest of their lives with my art on their body. It’s surreal, and a little freaky too. I think the longer I’ve been tattooing, I’ve become less afraid of permanence. I think accepting permanence puts a lot of stress at ease. But I definitely think it’s different for everyone.

I think it’s actually more dangerous to put weight on tattoos because of their permanence, because you’ll never truly know what you’re gonna love and what you’re gonna hate in 10 years. All of that being said, getting a permanent tattoo is a big decision and one that you have to be comfortable making on your own. That’s the awesome thing about tattoos, that you’re in full control!

GZ: Do you ever get worried about the dangers of tattooing, infections, etc? How do you protect yourself and the people you’re tattooing?

LS: I think if I was constantly getting worried, that would be concerning. If I was never worried at all, that would be concerning as well. I am incredibly cautious with my process, the products I use, and my instructions for aftercare. Especially because I am an independent artist, I know how important it is to be self-aware. Every single thing that I use is disposable, except for the actual tattoo gun (which is completely covered in a disposable wrap). I have taken every class that is regulated for New York State tattoo artists, and there’s also just a lot I learned when I started practicing, as well as from other friends that work professionally in the field. I’m not worried while I’m working because every step in the process of setting up, giving, and concealing a tattoo is completely sanitary, but I can get worried if I feel as if someone is not/will not perform proper aftercare (as that’s out of my control).

GZ: What/who inspires your tattooing?

LS: There are so many tattoo artists that are crucial to my growth and education in the field, who have exposed me to numerous different styles of tattooing and forms of the art. I think my friends, and those around me with awesome tattoos help me gain an understanding of the kind of art that I want to make, as well as my exposure to so many different incredible artists that have exposed me to different styles and techniques. Here are a few Instagram handles of my favorites:

@mommysissue

@tatumalluratattoo

@die_solum

@sicksadnasty

@tranquil_top @ritalagh @claygibson @mick_hee GZ: Do you hope to pursue this professionally? If so/not, what are you planning for your future?

LS: Totally. I think working from home holds a lot of benefits (personal experiences, more comfortable, feels less technical) but I think it has a lot of setbacks too. If things continue to go in the way they’re going, I’d love to eventually open up a studio that emulates the comfort of being in someone’s home, and holds the same sense of personalization, while maintaining a level of professionalism.

However, I think there’s a long way to go until then, I gotta finish college first!

Peintre, Vidéaste, ou les Deux ?

Par Yoann BAC

Translated by Victoria Brooks

Yoann BAC; 21 ans; Artiste peintre, vidéaste et étudiant en design graphique à l’école Duperré à Paris.

Yoann BAC; 21 years old; painter, filmmaker, and student of graphic design at the Duperré School of Applied Arts in Paris, France.

Comme beaucoup, quand j’étais petit j’adorais dessiner. En primaire je dessinais des voitures avec des flammes et des personnages de dessins animés comme Sangoku (j’adorais Dragon Ball Z). Je me souviens avoir été fasciné par un surveillant au centre aéré qui avait écrit mon prénom en graffiti sur un bout de papier. Ça valait de l’or pour moi, je trouvais ça trop beau. De fil en aiguilles, à l’âge de 14 ans, j’ai commencé à remplir des carnets de graffitis puis avec des amis j’ai commencé à peindre à la bombe sous le blaze « PO2SE ». C’est à partir de mes 16 ans que j’ai réellement commencé à me passionner pour l’histoire de l’art et que j’ai développé une fascination pour des artistes comme Picasso, van Gogh, Basquiat. C’est aussi à cette période que j’ai appris le dessin académique et la peinture dans l’atelier de l’artiste Julian Tauland.

Depuis mon entrée à l’école Duperré en 2017, je fais évoluer ma pratique de la peinture et je prends plaisir à expérimenter d’autres médiums comme la vidéo ou la simulation 3D plus récemment.

Like many kids, when I was young I loved to draw. In elementary school, I drew flaming cars and cartoon characters like Sangoku (I loved Dragon Ball Z). I remember being fascinated by a guy at the rec center who wrote my name like graffiti on a piece of paper. It became my most prized possession.

One thing led to another and by the time I was fourteen years old, I was filling up notebooks with designs, and then I started tagging with friends using the name “PO2SE.” When I was sixteen years old, I became really passionate about art history and was fascinated with artists like Picasso, van Gogh, Basquiat. It was also at this time that I learned how to draw and paint academically under the instruction of the artist Julian Tauland. Since my entrance at Duperré Art School in 2017, my painting style has certainly evolved, and I’ve enjoyed experimenting in other mediums like video and, most recently, 3D simulation.

Le plus important pour moi dans la peinture ou dans l’art, c’est de raconter quelque chose. J’aime raconter des histoires, créer de la narration et de la poésie dans chacun de mes projets. Si ma peinture ou ma vidéo ne touche pas les gens, c’est qu’elle ne transmet rien et qu’elle est tout simplement ratée.

What’s most important for me, in painting or art in general, is saying something. I love telling stories--creating narrative and poetry in each one of my projects. If a painting or video doesn’t touch people, I consider it a complete failure.

au dessus à gauche / bottom left - concert, flash (201 au milieu à droite / middle right - rencontre québécoise (2019) au dessus à droite / bottom right - métro Oberkampf (2018)

Ces toiles font partie d’une série de peintures que j’ai appelées les « night memories ». Cette série se fonde sur l’interprétation de la mémoire (perceptive, procédurale et sémantique) ainsi que sur des souvenirs photographiques. Mon but était de rendre visible, ou du moins d’exprimer mes souvenirs et de montrer la perception que j’avais le lendemain d’une soirée, ou bien des mois après. C’est donc à travers un travail sur la mémoire et sur le souvenir d’événement que j’ai personnellement vécu que je conçois mes peintures. Une sorte d’exercice que beaucoup ont déjà pratiqué le lendemain de soirée arrosée. J’introduis donc dans ma peinture la notion de flash-back, de mémoire visuelle, de sensations liées aux souvenirs et d’expérience passée, le tout dans une composition énergique, vivante et insouciante, pour moi caractéristique de la nuit.

Chaque peinture raconte ainsi une soirée, une aventure, une rencontre… Anecdotiques et uniques, elles représentent toutes le déroulement d’une histoire passée la nuit.

These canvases are a part of a series of paintings that I call “night memories.” They’re founded on the interpretation of memory (perceptive, procedural, and semantic) as well as on photographic memory. My goal was to make visible, or at least express my how I perceive a night out the morning after, or even months later. The series therefore a study on memory in general through the depiction of a specific event. ... I introduce in my paintings the notion of flashback, of visual memory, of the sensations connected to memory and past experience, all in an energetic composition, vibrant and carefree, which for me is characteristic of the night.

Each painting tells the story of a night as well as an adventure, a meeting…

Anecdotal and unique, they represent the night’s unraveling.

Cela a été l’occasion de m’attacher à un nouveau projet que je développe encore beaucoup à l’heure actuelle, le « green screen project ».

Connue pour être principalement utilisée dans le domaine du cinéma ou de la télé, la couleur verte est un médium utilisé pour la technique de l’incrustation. Cette technique me permet de lier d’une certaine manière la vidéo à la peinture et vice-versa, afin de créer un rendu inattendu et nouveau.

This summer was when I got involved in the project that I’m developing right now, called the “green screen project.” Known for its use in movies or TV, the color green is used for inlay (putting one video inside another). This technique would allow me to link a certain type of video to a painting and vice-versa, all in all to create an unexpected and new rendering.

Quand j’ai exposé ce travail dans la galerie du CROUS à Paris, ce fut l’occasion d’expérimenter une installation mettant en scène mes peintures accrochées sur un mur et un écran installé devant qui par la technique du Chroma Key remplaçait le vert par la vidéo du tableau.

When I exhibited this work in the CROUS* gallery in Paris, I experimented with installation by putting my paintings on a wall with a screen installed in front using the Chroma Key (green screen) technique to replace the green with the video of the painting.

À l’avenir, j’aimerais beaucoup développer la manière de montrer mon travail à travers des installations toujours plus immersives et imposantes de mes « green screen paintings ». Je suis actuellement en train de développer une application mobile. Elle permettrait, en temps réel, de percevoir la vidéo qui se cache sur le fond vert, puisque de nos jours, les gens passent leur temps à prendre en photo les oeuvres dans les musées ou galeries, avec leurs smartphones, sans réellement les contempler et les analyser.

In the future, I would really like to develop the manner in which I show my work, using even more immersive and imposing installations of my “green screen paintings.” I am currently in the middle of developing an app, which would allow, in real time, to see the real video that the green screen cloaks. It would be a commentary on how people now go through museums: taking photos of the art without any true contemplation or analysis.

Yoann_BAC

* CROUS roughly translates to Regional Center of University/School Works

Art by LJ Pacheco

A Conversation With LJ Pacheco

Foreword and Interview by Furqan Mohamed

LJ Pacheco and I met in the blurry, mess of naiveté and chaos that is 9th grade Art Class. I’m still not entirely sure how and why we gravitated towards each other, but we did, and for that I am glad.

Though we spent our high school years moving in different friend groups, we have always held a mutual admiration for each other. I was the writer, she the artist. We both loved poetry and colours that complement yellow. We reunited in Writer’s Craft in the 12th grade, cheered each other to be the creatives we wanted to be, and continue to do so to this day.

With this issue’s theme being 2020, I thought through ideas of past, present, and future, and I knew I wanted to hear LJ’s thoughts on her identity, and the art she creates, many times in honour of that identity. As young creatives, we find ourselves not only leaning on each other for encouragement, but also on our heritage and backgrounds to inform our work. I hope you learn as much as I did.

What kind of artist are you? (What do you create?)

I guess I would call myself a visual artist. I don’t want to limit myself to just one category since I do pretty much any type of art; I guess I’m just an artist who loves to create.

What drew you to the art form(s) you use?

As a child, I started with crayons and markers and a piece of paper. I think it all began when my mother handed me a lined-paper blank canvas and those off-brand crayons back home that drew me close to creating lines and shapes, to doodles, to sketches and, now, to portraits and landscapes.

Is there a medium you prefer?

From drawing traditionally, I began branching out into other art forms, such as digital art, photography and film/cinematography. Personally, I would prefer good old traditional art like drawing and sketching with oil pastels/charcoal or painting with watercolour/acrylic, for it is the most accessible and to be frank, the most comfortable medium to work with. Although, quite recently, I have fallen in and out of love for film and editing.

Where are you from? (What culture do you belong to? Religion?)

I was born and raised in the urban capital of the Philippines, which makes me a Filipina at heart. The Philippines was colonized by the Spanish with other influences from America and other parts of Asia, so our culture and traditions have diverse roots. We Filipinos are often religious with an appreciation for art, fashion, music and especially, food. Most of us are Christians and Catholics when it comes to religious beliefs, but upon moving to Toronto, I have yet to find my own spirituality.

Does your family history and/or culture influence the art you create?

Definitely! Creating art, or creating in general, has become part of my own identity and since has been blending with my own culture through the canvas. There are times I would call back to our traditions, like in a poem I wrote for school. And even now, I’m in the process of writing a script for a short film and I chose to keep it in Filipino.

Are there stories about your identity that you ever feel uncomfortable sharing? Or ones you’re proud of?

There are absolutely many things about my culture I feel ashamed of, to the point that I am embarrassed to share it through art, but I’ve realized that these things are a part of my culture. It’s the good, the bad and the ugly; no culture is perfect. Although it is difficult for me to take pride in those flaws, recognizing them makes it easier for me to speak up with my other fellow Filipinos, both to make them see and be more open to change. But what I love about my culture is that we are loud, passionate, loving, family-oriented people. Positivity and love run in our blood, and it makes me proud to be a Filipina.

How do you honour your roots in your art?

I think for me it’s not a responsibility, but something that comes out of me every time. Whenever I plan a new project, my culture and identity pop out of nowhere. Perhaps, it’s a natural instinct since everything is translated through art, whether it be a trauma, a false memory, my childhood, or my lingering Filipino roots.

What challenges do you think first-generation artists face?

I think one of the biggest challenges any first-generation artist would encounter is the language/cultural barrier and the forever homesickness. Upon arriving in a new country, to a new culture, I have never felt so isolated and different my whole life. And while adjusting to a new environment for me in terms of language skills, was easier than the “making myself at home” aspect of it, it took a toll on my identity. Sooner or later, I was having an identity crisis, all the while yearning to go back home. It’s the very barrier that makes us feel misplaced, feel disconnected towards our culture, that makes us feel included and related.

Do you feel that there are advantages to being an artist as a child of immigrants?

Art by LJ Pacheco

Yes, there are many. I think when it comes to storytelling and experience, there is a lot to share and talk about out there. As I see it, there is more diversity, colour, and uniqueness when you are a child of immigrants. There is more to say, more to express and all the more to create with such experiences, stories and culture at hand.

Is there any advice you can give to young artists and creators who are first-generation/ of the immigrant experience?

One piece of advice is to not lose touch with your culture that is intertwined with your new identity.

Please, don’t ever be ashamed of your accent, since it is the grittiness that made it the only one of its kind. I used to hate the way I spoke, yet it took me long to realize that I already lost it before I can speak it again. We must first feel the discomfort of homesickness, in order to feel comfortable for our new home. We must first feel lost, to feel like we finally belong. However, don’t ever feel like you must let go of what made you, you in the first place.

You can find LJ’s work on Instagram, @eljay_art

Angelina Zaphyria, 17 from Queens, New York If you had to describe yourself/your style in three words or phrases, what would they be?

1) “She comes in color everywhere” - The Rolling Stones I’m always wearing a million different colors.

2) Talkative

If you ask me about music or movies. I won’t shut up.

3) Saturated

I try to stay happy and positive, so saturated just adds an extra bit of color!

When did you start your Depop shop? And what prompted it?

I started my Depop shop in the summer of 2018. I think I was just obsessed with thrifting vintage clothing. I kept finding more and more, so I decided to start selling stuff.

Fast Fashion notes by Victoria Brooks

The fashion industry currently produces 10% of annual global carbon emissions, which will surge to more than 50% by 2030 if it continues at this rate. Garment production also uses 93 billion cubic meters of water each year, which is enough to meet the needs of five million people.

In 2000, 50 billion new garments were made, and 20 years later, that figure just about doubled.

And, it is estimated that every year around 500 billion dollars in value are lost due to clothing that is barely worn and ends up in a landfill.

A quick note on

fast fash io thriftin n,

g/resell ers, a n d ethical

consum ption

Fast fashion is the current model for clothing production and sale. These stores have low prices and new styles each week, which means faster production at a lower cost, meaning rushed production, cheaper materials, and exploited factory workers (bad working conditions and unlivable wages).

When you see an unbelievably low price, ask yourself, what had to happen to make make that price possible?

Some popular fast fashion brands include: H&M, Forever 21, Zara, Shein, Zaful, Nike, Mango, and more...

F In ollow @Angel Za st & che agram for mo p on re ck and D out her shop fit pics o epop @ ShopAn n Instagram gelZap

So, how do we escape this?

- Buy slow fashion (ex: Reformation, Everlane), but it tends to be expensive - Thrift/buy second-hand, but with thrifting’s rise in popularity (see: Thrift Hauls on YouTube) and with the rise of Depop/reselling, thrift store prices are increasing dramatically and people who used to shop there out of necessity can’t afford to anymore.

- Stop buying clothing, but it can be fun to browse or treat yourself to new things, and sometimes you need to replace old stuff Essentially, there is no golden solution...

So, it’s just important to be mindful of all this, maintain a balance (extremes are never the way to go), and try to be an ethical consumer.

In Poor Taste

by Moira Hibbard

Growing up in severe poverty, I wasn’t able to afford fresh produce or nutritional foods. My family found ourselves committed to brands we’d find in a local Dollar Tree or Cermak.

My mother worked at Jewel Osco where her employee discount barely kept us afloat. As I find ways of survival in what is now considered late stage capitalism, I still find myself bound to certain brands and products that once barely kept me from starving, as well as a solidarity among a class of people I can never be separated from. In my series titled In Poor Taste, I explore topics such as mental health, addiction, and distress through satirical redesign of popular and nostalgic brands and products you can find at your local grocer or corner store.

Photo by Saskia Lethin

Seen this sticker?

An Interview with Street Artist Dirty Little Bastard

GenZine: How did you choose the name Dirty Little Bastard?

How do you feel it represents/influences the work you create?

Dirty Little Bastard: Simple. I feel like it represents us. We are the bastards of society, growing up with social media, a cell in our hands, new technologies and instant discoveries. Our world has never been so small. And so big. None of which happened to previous generations. This bastard mindset pushes me to create art that involves tech and graphic visuals, to show the impact we have as a generation.

GZ: You write: “Protest through art and design. We are the generation of change.” in your Instagram bio. What does “protest” mean to you; what are you fighting against/for in your art?

DLB: I truly believe Gen-Z will, and has been, the generation of change. As I said, we’ve grown up with the ease of technology, which is mostly seen as a negative to many. This gives us an advantage in many aspects, especially with protest. Anyone can protest via social media today. Yet, most of us don’t realize it. The simple act of posting something that mocks our dear orange man in the White House is protest.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t march in the streets anymore, quite the contrary. People are even more informed and street protests have more and more attendants.

What am I fighting for? I’m fighting against nothing and everything: Stupidity, sexists, extremists, racists, authoritarian bullshit…

But I fight for avocados. And sriracha.

GZ: What does being a member of Generation Z mean to you?

We are Generation Zine… so feel free to elaborate on this :) DLB: To be a member of Generation Z is to be for change.

To be a member of Generation Z is to be a Bastard.

We are the first generation that was born and grew up with tools to expand our voice and share with the world. No one before us had this. Social media gives us that power. Obviously there are brainless Gen-Zs who I just can’t stand. Like those idiots who went on spring break during the current coronavirus pandemic. Those are the types of people (real stupid fucksters) I cannot help but hate.

Some others, though, are part of a new era. LGBTQ members are more accepted, people of different backgrounds come together and the art world continues to expand. Gen-Z is the generation of change.

Maybe even of acceptance. Why not?

GZ: How did you get into this medium? What opportunities does it allow that others don’t?

DLB: Like any true bastard, I have no official filiation. I use everything and anything - different materials, mediums, like videos, canvases, stickers, posters, cut-outs. Whatever. I want to be able to create something new every time.

GZ: How has where you live influenced you? [DLB is currently based in New York City and grew up in Paris] DLB: Paris is the city of taste. You’re surrounded with beautiful things. Things with history, like with a big H. Old stuff. And new things also. But not as new and loud as New York. New York is the city of experimentation and edge. You can be who you want to be here. No one’s judging. I’ve met so many people who are ambitious. Who want to get things done. And grow. And succeed.

Energy. NYC has helped me build my identity as an artist.

GZ: Who are your biggest artistic and personal inspirations?

DLB: Banksy and Yves Klein. Both of these artists have done things to shock the public, to protest.

Banksy by shredding his artwork live during its auction. Yves Klein by getting Parisian socialites to piss blue - that was his masterpiece. They inspire me to make art that’s memorable. That has a point of view. Shocking with a purpose. So come to my future art shows. No blue piss, promise.

GZ: What do you hope your work grows into? Do you hope to continue in the future?

DLB: I hope my art grows to matter for people.

Gets them to think. Maybe feel something.

This is my future. This is my passion.

I am currently working on a couple projects.

Sneak peek: it’s going to be BIG.

See more of DLB’s work in the rest of this issue & follow them on Instagram @DirtyLittleBastard

GenZ Musicians to Follow on Instagram Annalise

@AnnaliseMakesMusic 17 years old - Brooklyn, New York, USA “I’ve challenged myself to write and record a song every day. Songs From a Pandemic is a project I started during this time where we are all in quarantine. In my solitude, I started a creative endeavor to make sense of the world that is our reality right now. This project has brought me joy and routine during this time of uncertainty. It’s important that during this time we have art to document these times. Enjoy!”

The series is now over, but there are almost 100 clips posted on Instagram and full length videos on YouTube :)

Nyota Parker @NyotaParker

20 years old -- Capetown, South Africa Nyota is a rapper, vocalist and songwriter with Congolese and Irish heritage.

Her music draws influences from Rap/Hip Hop, Jazz, Trap, Soul and more into a fusion she calls "Trazz."

Nyota’s lyrics and voice have caught the ears and hearts of many, speaking about breaking society's boundaries and not conforming to what restrictive systems have to offer.

Photo by Elise Korfonta

The Travels of Tolo Bickford

Last November, I left my home in New York City because I wanted to get lost. I longed to discover things about myself which had once concealed themselves. I wanted to go somewhere strange and distant - a place about which I had no preconceptions or expectations. I chose Southeast Asia because of the overwhelming abundance of culture, music, dance, and food. But above all, I flew across the world to find myself in others.

Everything I thought I knew was wrong; every written note and piece of advice saved in my notebook were nullified when I stepped off the plane. My nostalgic dreams of using paper maps and asking for directions, like my father during his gap year, were quickly stomped out by the all-consuming iPhone. I used it for everything: maps, GPS, music, notes, and more.

After a strange and trance-like first week in Bangkok, Thailand, I felt washed up and caught in a routine. Confronted with the fact that I was following the same path as my drunk Australian hostel-mates, I got out of the city. Before I knew it I was barreling north to Chiang Mai in a sleeper train. With my forehead pressed against the glass, I watched as wooden homes on stilts raced by. I saw Rice paddies filled with farmers going about their daily rounds. The more I observed the methodical practice of rice-planting, the more I saw the dance in it, this pure and unrefined beauty in the ancestral patterns of thousands of years of farming.

In Chiang Mai I was given temporary shelter by an older couple by the names of Guy and Maria Scandlen. My grandfather introduced me to them, old colleagues when he was working for UNICEF. I spent five days there recuperating from a pesky stomach bug before moving on.

During this time I also was introduced to Steve Epstein, an American who had been living in Thailand for decades learning & teaching about Buddhism. Leaving them was hard but that sadness proved to be anything but unique. I left people all the time. One aspect of being on the road which is hard to get used to is accepting that people will come in and out of your life, and you have no control over it. Over the next few weeks, I explored the northern countryside of Thailand, passing through Fang, Chiang Dao, and Chiang Rai, where I celebrated my 19th birthday, getting drunk and singing You’ve Got a Friend in Me with Trekking in Chian g Dao twenty other travellers.

If I’d been on schedule, I should have been in Laos by now. But I scrapped my itinerary and decided I liked Thailand too much to leave yet. So I took a 16 hour night bus to Khon Kaen, a place I’d read about online. This tiny little town in Southeastern Thailand didn’t attract me with its food or music, but rather its boulders.

At Khon Kaen Zoo, I rented a campsite tent, mattress, pillow, and blanket all for 200 baht ($6.15) per day. The employees were thrilled to see a foreigner in their zoo, and were wildly curious about what it was I was doing in their forest. Apparently, very few people came there to climb. I was welcomed with the utmost kindness. One employee named “Boi” became a good friend of mine after a night with bootleg whisky and an out-of-tune guitar. If there’s one thing I learned about communication skills in Southeast Asia, it’s that few things can open a person up more than alcohol and music.

For ten days I was wild; free in the forest. I didn’t shower. I didn’t watch TV or worry about the daily news back home. After I let it all go, I discovered that my greatest opponent was myself. It was surprisingly difficult to separate myself from the news I felt was constantly chasing me - begging me to read incessant updates and be consumed by the clamor. During those ten days, I worked on bettering myself through raw connection with the rock. After accomplishing each climb, I felt new emotions Mother Nature was granting me that were only accessible after spending time loving her. To really cherish her body, respect the rocks and trees that are her eternally-shifting limbs. I found beauty in everything. And yet in those moments when I bled and cried, there was no one to love me. I had to face my eternal fear of being alone, and being okay with that. Easier said than done!

After this chapter met its natural closing, I moved on to Vietnam.

On December 22nd my dad flew to meet me in Hanoi, and we spent eight days together. It was a much-needed respite from the weeks which had preceded it. My dad decided to treat me to lavish Christmas Day & New Years dinners, as well as a short cruise in Halong Bay. We laughed over the stark contrast between my rustic, almost disgusting living of the prior six weeks and the hot showers and western holiday food… my father to the rescue! After he left, I felt so grateful, overcome with a sense of privilege that my dad could fly out to meet me for a week, but that many of the people I saw on my travels weren’t necessarily even able to explore their own country. It is easy to see imbalance in a reality in which you were not raised.

A week later, my brother flew into Hanoi to continue my journey with me. Our goal was to climb as much as possible without spending much money. The next morning, we caught a six hour sleeper bus north to Sa Pa, home to the tallest mountains in all of mainland Southeast Asia.

And, after checking into our hostel, we decided that we’d attempt a hike up the tallest mountain around, Mt. Fansipan. I read online that you could do the hike by yourself, but what I seemed to have missed was that you’re not allowed to.

Early the next morning my brother and I were met at the trailhead by a guard who essentially told us, “no guide, no Fansipan.’’ Upon being asked how much it would be to hire a guide, he gave us an estimate, ~ $400 USD, so we backtracked 300 feet down the road, and bushwacked through damp and treacherous uphill jungle to reach the actual trail up Mt. Fansipan. Long story short, we illegally trekked up the tallest mountain in mainland Southeast Asia, but, ironically, the top was full of tourists who had just stepped off a cablecar.

We looked ridiculous up there, my brother and I all dirty and tired, but we soon found out that hardly anyone dared to hike. We felt like we’d conquered the world.

My brother and I spent the next two weeks hitchhiking around northern Vietnam with a sign that read “No money. Please driveus to _______.

Thank you!” in Vietnamese. Everywhere we went we

met people who wanted to help us in some way. Since hitchhiking is uncommon in Vietnam, most people assumed we were looking for taxis, but once they understood, they went out of their way toget us where we needed to go. One night we were stranded in a small town called Vinh Yen. With no more trucks passing through for the night, and no hotel in sight, after dinner, we nervously asked restaurant owners if we could sleep on their floor. All we needed was a roof, but we got something much greater than that - they made us a makeshift home for the night out of benches in their karaoke room. Once we were comfortable, our host took the opportunity to sing with his new American friends. We spent all night singing Justin Bieber songs and laughing.

After hitchhiking west toward the coast of Vietnam, we camped in the forest of Cat Ba Island in Halong Bay. Each day we climbed as many routes as we could then returned to our campsite to cook dinner. We enjoyed living off the grid and away from the worries of the world.

This paradise welcomed us gladly. The vendors at the food market were utterly shocked to see two “farangs” (Southeast Asian slang for “foreigners”) shopping for food like any other resident.

With what little resources we had, we cooked bizzare and creative meals every night. Breakfast, on the other hand, was rarely ever more exciting than a cup of hot oatmeal. But then again, as my brother says, “food is always better in the forest.” One night I was woken up by the shrill cry of a monkey in the tree next to my hammock. I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I embraced the voices of our forest.

If anything stayed with me after we left Cat Ba, it was the senses I encountered daily. The sound of the waves crashing in and out of a cove. The way the sun warmed my neck on chilly motorcycle rides. The joy of submerging myself in water and coming back up for air feeling like a new man. The sound of no one, and the thunderous presence of a great mountain. The taste of Bun Cha after a long day. The exhilaration of hitchhiking without a seatbelt. Every day I chose to venture out into a strange world I was met with new and exciting senses, building my desire for adventure.

Sadly, soon after my brother headed back home to Beirut, my trip was cut short by circumstances far greater than I could imagine. A new and frightening disease called “COVID-19” had begun in China, a country which Vietnam shares an open border with. It wasn’t long until every single person I saw had a mask on. Walking down a busy street in Hanoi where everyone was masked was daunting. I decided to come home a month early, out of fear. My journey home took three planes and nearly 40 hours. When I arrived home, I was met by my mother’s open arms and crying eyes. I was home.

And yet, I had felt at home the whole time. On my entire trip, I felt comfortable with living out of my backpack and relying on myself for everything. Life on the road can be challenging, and there were many moments in which I wanted an escape button to whisk me back home. The lesson for me was to accept solitude and to embrace the challenges which came my way. But Southeast Asia gave me a look into what life could be when I truly lived my dreams, and I decided it would be the first of many backpacking trips I will have in my life.

- Tolo Bickford

Tolo’s Traveling Tunes:

on lo’s playlist o T d n fi n a You c Spotify!

GenZine’s

COVID Chronicles

by Maxine Bell

@absolutelyolivia

Comfort

Olivia Bokesch There was a day a few weeks ago when I sat in my room and wondered: What is it that truly brings me comfort? A random question, but considering I’ve been on this Earth for almost 17 years and have never felt less sure of where the world is headed, the existentialism was warranted. I’ve always been a sucker for comfort items and odd ones at that—a blue kazoo from a stranger in Houston, a tiny rubber hand, an unnecessarily (and unfortunately) large jar of cocoa butter Vaseline. However, in the past few weeks, two comforts have been constant. The first a raggedy, questionably yellow, duck-shaped blanket I’ve had since birth, and the other a little more abstract and a lot less tangible: fashion.

It’s a simple, and some might say shallow, thing to find comfort in, but, hear me out. Everyone has their favorite item of clothing that they’ve had for so long that they know they shouldn’t wear it anymore, but they do anyways, because it just feel so known.

I do the same thing… but it’s my whole closet. Ever since I can remember, my morning routine has been 1) wake up, 2) make my bed, and 3) head to my closet to pick out an outfit. I spend 10-15 minutes, sometimes even more, crafting something unique.

I love wearing different pieces from what I wore the the day before. The best are the details, adjusting everything until it just feels right. From my beloved pink corduroys to my prized sequin top, styling is an adventure, a small love story. It starts with a glance and ends with leisurely gazes up-and-down as the day progresses.

This has been true for every season of my life, regardless of event or emotion. And right now, as I’m a year and a half away from college, finishing my junior year from home because of Coronavirus, watching the news shift from a high stakes pandemic, pessimism and the future go hand-in-hand. What’s keeping me sane is my morning

Self Portraits

by Olivia Bokesch

routine of styling an outfit. The outside world may be out of my control, but the clothes I wear are not, and the clothes you wear aren’t either. There’s comfort in this control and there’s solace in knowing that my love of fashion and style are constant. One day, when the world does end, just know I’ll be going out in style, literally.

Photos by Leander Capuozzo

Self Portrait by Shae Campbell

@hayy.shae (personal) @shaemerart (art)

It’s Sunday, March 14 of 2020 and today, Jacob and I drove down to Topanga Beach despite the weather siding against us, like it has been most of this week. There were a couple surfers huddled up against the tides but no one else in sight.

The roads and streets of Los Angeles seem bigger and cleaner now and I’m not sure why.

Maybe that's because I haven’t gotten used to not seeing the narrow cobblestone streets of Florence... or maybe it's because the streets in LA are without people now.

Laying in the sand we gazed endlessly into the ocean waves and openly questioned our nows and our thens, trying to make sense of both. After, we laid in silence and I began thinking back to all the dystopian novels we were forced to read in English class, it's like they were preparing us for something…

Still in my heart I know that we can go back to when the days were warmer and the skies turned maroon at night. Not like now where the sky is nothing but swirls of grey with small openings shaped like O’s filled with blinding white light.

My winter started in November in Italy where the skies would cry every night and the sun seemed to be bullied by dark clouds. It felt so still yet so feral all at once, it feels like that now too.

I want to experience the capabilities of my single reality...meaning what will happen next in our dystopian novel? I wish to pretend it’s never happened so we can feel like how we felt before November.

This has all tragically limited me.

- Thania Garcia @tyewrite

Photo by Nina Davis

Illustrations by Burcu Kรถleli

Photo by Elise Korfonta

the distance between you still take up space, even if it feels like it’s collapsing around you. like you’re losing the part that’s your own. as if the distance between where you are and where you want to be feels immense. a friend told me the other day: it’s okay to lament the loss of sunshine and freedom and fun. of being outside without worry, missing your first spring in a new city— the small things. i try to remember her words, even as the end feels far and the news weighs heavy. many days, i struggle to remember we are doing enough. even when the words feel empty and the world seems far, remember, when we make it out of this: we will shatter the space between where we are and where we want to be. and all this distance won’t be as strong as it seems.

by Eda Yu

Photo by Olivia Bokesch

My goal for this series was to capture images that I feel like best portray the here and now. From places being empty, to people enjoying or simply not minding quarantine, to those who must work to survive while putting their life at risk. This pandemic is happening to everybody, and I wanted to document how differently it is affecting everyone.

See more of Damaris’s photos on the following pages -

Damaris Contreras Inspired by Daniel Arnold, a New York City street and fashion photographer, I decided to take a drive from Penitas, TX to Mission, TX and document what I saw from my car window. I discovered Daniel Arnold on Instagram and was blown away by some of his images. In an interview he talked about how he will often shoot videos while walking down the street and then he’ll go back and screenshot the best stills.

Because of my disability, it’s difficult for me to pull out my phone fast enough when something I like appears in front of me, so taking videos is something I do often. Recently, with everything that’s been going on, I decided to take videos of how empty the streets were. I took pictures of places that are often full of life, like a little restaurant and a park near my home. I also took pictures of passing cars because I noticed people are driving more slowly, and, even though there’s a pandemic going on, they seemed relaxed. The man pictured with his hand out the window was listening to music out loud and singing along; he seemed happy, so I decided to capture that. I also took a picture of a Jack in Box employee and a guy working at H-E-B because they’re just some of the many employees that are still required to work and must put their life and health in danger.

Damaris Contreras

by Amber Hyacinth

Black .

Lives .

Matter .

Being Black in Amerikkka

by Jerett Benjamin

On May 25, 2020, George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis by Derek Chauvin, with officers Tou Thao, J. Alexander Kueng, and Thomas K. Lane watching as it took place. Before him was Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and countless others. After him was Regis Korchinski-Paquet, Tony McDade, David McAtee. How many more lives need to be lost at the hands of those in blue? How much screaming and crying must we do before justice is rightfully served?

The injustices that my people have undergone for over centuries has been too much to bear and it is no surprise that we have chosen to fight back and demand our voices to be heard. It is, however, upsetting to see that police officers would rather use brute force against us, tear gassing and beating us senseless than to stand with us and work to defeat the stereotype that ACAB. How can you say all lives matter when officers are actively covering their body cameras and covering their badge numbers with tape? They have the intent to brutalize black people and it shows. These cops chose to be one. I didn’t choose to be black and to be born into a society where I’m seen as less than and have to work 1000x harder to be held at the same standard as a white person. These police officers can take off their uniforms but I can’t take off my skin. If you don’t think ACAB, how does that leather taste?

To all the white people who have chosen to stay “neutral” and be silent during this time, your silence is deafening and you have chosen to side with the oppressor. Your action, or your lack thereof, is sickening. Stop trying to say that not all cops are bad because you have a family member who is good and also a cop. They are a part of a corrupt system that profits off of the unjust killing and incarceration of people of color. To not see color is not the goal. By not seeing color you are invalidating my blackness. The goal is to see and hear me, despite you being in a place of privilege and to work towards educating yourself and fighting against the racism I face on a daily basis. You say that you want no violence but where was this same energy when you were out rioting because of your sports teams winning? “You’re judging symptoms and you’re missing the illness.” - Chris Cuomo. It is time for you to put your money and your bodies where your mouths are. Go out to the protests (if you’re allowed) and use your white privilege to protect black protestors. Sign the petitions. Donate money. Share on your Instagram stories. If you want to be educated, stop using me as a search engine. Research for yourself and ask questions to be clarified. Stop glamorizing protests as a way to show that you’re “woke” just to get clout and show off your not so cute outfits. You’re worried about if Brandy Melville will have those trendy new pants in stock and if you’ll have your summer vacation to Aruba. I’m worried about whether I’ll make it home alive or not.

It’s funny to see how the same white people who are so “down” with black culture, getting cornrows in their hair, or calling us their “best friends” have somehow disappeared off the face of the earth now that it’s time to actually show out and fight for the rights of my people. You want to be so “hip” and “fresh” when it’s convenient for you, but you don’t want the struggle. You want to date a black man to have mixed children but can’t deal when your baby comes out with nappy hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Sorry Mackayleigh but this isn’t Build-A-Baby.

It’s also time to stop fetishizing my black features. I am not my voluminous lips. I am not my gorgeous melanated skin. I am not my perky bottom. I am NOT a body. I am a person with feelings that deserve to be heard and respected. Instead of being fetishized my features need to be appreciated. POC who don’t fit conventional beauty standards deserve to be seen and loved too. Just because I don’t have white skin with light hair and light eyes and toned abs doesn’t mean I should receive any less recognition.

Let’s talk about riots. If you’re going to destroy things, go for big businesses that are known to be racist or government property. What we’re not going to do is loot and attack small businesses and places that serve as the main source of income for many black people as well as the only access point for them to receive basic necessities.

Going to impoverished neighborhoods and destroying things like Link NYC machines that many homeless people use to contact family members isn’t helping anyone. Go to places like Wall Street if you’re so intent on causing destruction. What you can do is stop the undercover cops from inciting riots and trying to make the cops justified in beating us. You have to understand that black people are not fighting with violence. We are trying to peacefully protest and police officers will always have the resources and power to take advantage of us, but who’s showing that in the media? Nobody was against violence when the Boston Tea party (which was a riot) happened. Nobody was against violence when the American Revolution was going on which textbooks love to romanticize. Let’s not forget that protesting was the only way to create change during the Civil War, the Stonewall Riots, the Suffrage Movement. Guess who was at the head as some of the main supporters during those times. BLACK. PEOPLE.

Not being racist should be the standard, not something to be begged for. People need to understand that this fight isn’t a political issue. It’s a human rights issue. Just because slavery and segregation “ended” doesn’t mean it hasn’t been presenting itself in different ways. It’s no surprise that the areas of segregation are now the most impoverished but culturally diverse parts of cities. I wonder why those are the areas that are also the most policed by white officers. Police have killed AT LEAST 104 unarmed black people in 2015. 36% of unarmed people killed by police in 2015 were black, despite black people being 13% of the population. Interesting.

In the end, when black lives matter, all lives will matter. Until I can go jogging (#AhmaudArbery), ask a cop a question (#Randy Evans), take out my wallet (#AmadouDiallo), or even breathe (#EricGarner) without fearing for my life, I will not have trust in a system that profits off of targeting me and viewing me as a threat. Say their names. No justice. No peace. No racist police.

by Aviance Darrell

We’re defenseless. It doesn’t help that that same system and its supporters contain people in positions of power that will eventually make the final decision as to if change actually happens.

Number 45 is not on our side. His repulsive use of words like “When the looting starts, the shooting starts” and his declaration of martial law just goes to show that he would rather show off the power that he doesn’t deserve than to try to implement change that would benefit his country. White people have benefitted off of the oppression of black people for centuries and it’s clear they don’t plan on changing that any time soon. It’s truly saddening that racist ideals are constantly being passed down and this generation will be the next ones in the police force, causing this vicious cycle that has to be cut short.

This is Selfish by Maxine Bell

by Dirty Little Bastard

The Right Side of History You have to understand George Floyd is just one name.

The past few weeks, his name has come to represent black people living in America who feel like George Floyd felt when a cop knelt on his neck until he died.

Black people feel the weight of oppression constantly.

Consistently.

When their cries for help are ignored how else can they be heard? If anything, looting and burning down property has worked. The world is now paying attention. Or at least is starting to.

We are not educated enough about systemic racism in school. We weren’t taught that the US has NEVER recovered from the aftermath of slavery and Jim Crow.

So quick to shut down our years of history?

Why? Because you haven’t examined history close enough.

You will not understand, but you can listen and try to learn.

You must educate yourself about the prison system: yet another industry in America’s uncontrolled consumerist machine.

You will find out that huge, well-known companies like Walmart and McDonald’s use prison labor for half the price. That private prisons make money off of this system. That it’s a money-making mechanism and a continued form of slave labor as is explicitly stated in the 13th Amendment of the US Constitution.

Fuck Walmart and the exploitation it enables.

So many people leave prison without the right to vote, work certain jobs, etc etc.

How can they survive in society without these fundamental rights? It’s much more likely they’ll end up back in prison because they never got a fair shot once they left.

Don’t close your eyes to the world around you!

See the layers of racism in this country and around the world.

Validate the way black people feel and come up with ways YOU personally can make it better.

Fuck “All Lives Matter.”

As many have said, “all lives don’t matter until Black Lives Matter.”

Open Your Eyes Find the strength to go against everything you’ve been taught because you’ve realized it wasn’t all accurate.

Open your eyes and join this fight.

Nothing else should matter when there have been generations of trauma just because of skin color.

See how skin color places you into the American caste system, inescapable for centuries.

In America, materialism is valued above human life.

Do Something Stand up for the black people who are too exhausted to explain why all cops are bad.

Educate the white community.

It’s our fight. All of us. Move past your pride and focus all of your energy on this.

Fuck your selfies.

Share resources, petitions, funds, support.

Fuck your outfits and summer homes and memes.

Fight the fight that black people have been fighting for centuries.

You simply must.

- Abby Dillingham

Photos by Leander Capuozzo

by Damaris Contreras

GenerationZine.com