Paper Cloud Fall 2018

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FALL EDITION 2018 presented by the pride center

It is a moment of profound joy, to be seen. Whether we are seeing ourselves, or at last are being seen by others as we are. It is a moment like sun peering through clouds or the breaking of a wave against the coast. Visibility is not a privilege many in our community are afforded, and so it is my personal delight that we can begin, through the transformative process of creating and sharing art, to be seen. It is my hope that in this, and every edition of Paper Cloud, you can find a piece of yourself among the pages. Or if not, be galvanized to share your own art. We are profoundly grateful for the privilege of holding space for you. You are seen.

Wren Alman, Editor-in-Chief & Paper Cloud Committee Members


Contents Ceph


Dungeons & Drag Queens

Jayashree Black-Lazo



Ty Han


The Child

Jayashree Black-Lazo


Jodie in Yellow




Wren Alman


You in a Fight You Lost

Jayashree Black-Lazo


Knowing What You Need is Strength + Power



Prefer Not to Answer

Shoshanna McClarence


Noetic Quality

Shoshanna McClarence



Nyk M. Steger


Walking With

Shoshanna McClarence



Christine Hoang


Colors of Her World



Generation Gap (1989)

Violet Caroline Rue


Defining Myself

Hannah Wayman



Rue Dickey


Love Gives You Wings

Ty Han



Morgan M. O’Rourke-Liggett


Open Letter to My Chest

Hannah Wayman



Hannah Wayman


Cinnamon Scorch


Artist Biographies Ceph

Dungeons & Drag Queens, Prefer Not to Answer, Generation Gap (1989)


Ceph is a Fine Arts Studio major, minoring in Art History and Creative Writing, focusing on work on queerness, nature, chronic illness, and disability. Focusing on intersections of these identities, their art is meant as a way to reach out and bring awareness to these issues.

Brownlicious is exploring her pansexuality. Raised in a catholic upbringing, and POC culture, being Queer has been out of the question. Until now. This was my first time writing about my identity. I hope you enjoy.

Jayashree Black-Lazo

You in a Fight You Lost

Self-Kinda, Jodie in Yellow, Knowing What You Need is Strength + Power For the most part I use art to express emotions, though my favorite thing to do is make clothing, I also enjoy painting. This is what drives me to enjoy life.

Ty Han

The Child, albatross Ty Han is a nonbinary lesbian artist and writer who has been working with art and literary journals for more than 6 years. They write poetry in their spare time, mostly about topics relating to their LGBT and Vietnamese identity.



Wren Alman

Wren is a deaf, chronically ill, nonbinary and intersex lesbian. They write majority Southern Gothic reflections.

Shoshanna McClarence

Gender Dysphoria, Noetic Quality, Ineffability Shoshana is a graduate student in the Masters of Interdisciplinary Studies program, studying mysticism through the lens of philosophy, history and environmental arts and humanities. When they are not studying and working as the GTA to the Trans Taskforce, Sho spends their time working as an abstract painter and amateur sculptor.

Violet Caroline Rue Defining Myself

Nyk M. Steger Walking With

Nyk Steger is a Cherokee Two-Spirit student, artist, writer and poet who graduated with a B.S. in Anthropology from Oregon State University in 2017 and currently resides in Corvallis, Oregon. He is presently completing an M.A. in Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies/ Queer Studies minor at Oregon State University with a graduate teaching assistantship appointment. Nyk’s poetry and art depicting the queer indigenous experience was highlighted in the recently published collection, “Locusts: A Post-Queer Nation Zine”.

Christine Hoang

Colors of Her World As a kid, Christine enjoyed drawing people and dreaming of worlds they can experience beyond the everyday realities of the education system, intergenerational trauma, and marginalization. Through art and storytelling, they recognize that our process of sharing vulnerability is also a means of sharing access to ourselves and each other. Channeling their emotions, which move them away and towards a sense of home, they hope to reclaim their creative agency to let themself be seen and create mirrors of art for people to feel and be.

Violet Rue is a trans woman from Canby, Oregon, and has dedicated herself to social justice outreach. She is currently majoring in anthropology to pursue social work and take her social justice outreach to the next level.

Hannah Wayman

Vacation, Cozy, Cinnamon Scorch I am a lesbian artist currently working on a couple of graphic novels, and I do a lot of art and writing work in my free time! I am fueled by tea and memes.

Rue Dickey

Love Gives You Wings Rue is a Welsh-Rromani transmasc artist who enjoys working with digital media. They enjoy portraying queer relationships in more diverse lenses than the mainstream, featuring disabled, plus size, and Black and Brown queer people.

Morgan M. O’RourkeLiggett Open Letter to My Chest

Morgan/Maggie is an asexual nonbinary transmasculine member of the OSU and Corvallis communities. They often write spoken word pieces regarding their experiences within the LGBTQIA+ community and about their identity journies.

Content warning for next page: alcohol


Dungeons & Drag Queens Ceph

6/22/17 This is it; my opportunity. I rolled a 20 for my charisma -My wood elf bard, will be a drag queen. The flirtatious, Mistress Lewy. She shall save your soul, and be freely her. -Information is easy to obtain, with The Mysterious Flirt from the Southern Forest, wandering, taking her claim. Courting those beauties, gathering quests. Leaving the heteros questioning their aim. Lewyn of the Southern Forest, an outcast from his clan. He was never the greatest, or the best, always tried to go by his plan. It was never enough for them, the rest. Lewy can be as flirtatious as she wishes, Lewyn can be as much himself as he pleases. For this is not for the fishes. Nor, is it to ease any creases. It is to be Mistress Lewy the Garish-ish -Not tacky. stylish? No, uh, Mistress Lewy the... Her title will be decided later. It was an adventure, something new Lewy never had to hide who he... or -- she, was. Much to her party’s dismay; it got them into trouble more than intended. But they all felt like family, maybe even more. And yet still, even after defeating the great Lich. Something... still felt amiss. Not with the world, except for the usual itch, (undead hordes) Yet still, something didn’t sit right with Lewy. 6

The town had been saved, they were all heroes, and treated as such. There was great joy, a celebration raved. Far too much alcohol, and several bad decisions later. The night raged on. Lewy woke up in Lewyn’s clothing, but not sure if she wanted to be in them. Maybe it was just the hangover that felt wrong. Or maybe it was that the clothes didn’t feel wrong that day. And they left, travelling to that new quest. Something still felt amiss. Was she not wearing enough make-up? Or was she wearing too much? Was her hair done right, or wrong? Was she who he thought she was? At some point, on a quiet night -Lewy stopped being a drag queen; it was a quiet decision. One that she did not console with her party. It was something decided not in dream, but, in wake; she thought, “What if I’m just me.” And it was there the process began, by the whisper of the willows. In the dim moonlight. Lewyn decided who they were. And it was not some epic quest, There were no dragons to be fought. At least none that could be seen. It may never be something so monumental. No, but -- it was enough for Lewy. No mistress needed.


Self-Kinda Jayashree Black-Lazo 8

The Child Ty Han

Like all of her kind, she was born from the scattered remnants of her parents, their sundered bodies spinning in the void until they collided and connected and formed her. She never knew them, but they provided her with everything she needed to blossom to life. She was a ball of fire, lashing and flaring with a rage that required distance. She shone and shone and shone, for a long time unknowing of anything but her own fires. Sometimes she glanced beyond and saw the shapes of others, so far away, isolated by unmeasurable time and distance. She was sad to be alone. It took her a long, long time to realize that it was not her place to know others. She was no longer the tiny glimmer of her youth, each eon growing bigger and bigger until she was a conflagration, many times her previous mass. At this time she peered out again, and through the yellow haze saw a ring of tiny planets, huddling from the fury of her, but close nonetheless. Close enough to feel her heat and dance in her orbit, wheeling through the dark like the tiniest constellations. She made them by accident, when she didn’t know. She was so used to isolation that she had forgotten its sting, only its memory dampening her reflexive rage. She didn’t destroy the little rocks like she ought to, and they basked in her. Her radiation no longer shot and spun out into nothingness, entropy wasted. Instead, she provided light and warmth to billions of little plants and animals clustered within her solar system. For the first time in her existence, joy blossomed in her, and even the knowledge that she would inevitably burn out could not dim her. She knew, then, that when her rage finally calmed, and her fire went out – her core would be full of love.


Jodie in Yellow Jayashree Black-Lazo 10

Untitled brownlicious

I look in the mirror As I’ve done a million times Pero no me reconozco It may be my brown skin with the chocolate eyes Or the way my nose is wide I question myself as I’ve done before Could it really be that you like both and more? I am attracted to her, him, and them But I hide it again The world can’t question me If I don’t question myself But is that true? I I I I

look in the mirror start to see clear know the truth know the truth

I love me and you

Content warning for next page: blood


You in a Fight You Lost Wren Alman

Alligators have been known To approach the waterline In suburban creaks throughout Louisiana People feed them Leftovers and trash They get brave And swim closer As children we were warned that you cannot see the alligator in the murk But it can see you They know what we are But we did not know the body of the beast Our drawings were more teeth than scale Larger than life and frightening My body has been called ‘All wrong’ I was cut to bleed the right shade of pink My back is a broad and open wound You do not know the beast that is my body Or do not want to know But I am not alone And I see you for what you are You see the scales that brace our Unwieldy bodies You did not see the teeth We are bolder now Glutted on your leftovers Hungry for better And you are standing At the waterline


Knowing What You Need is Strength + Power Jayashree Black-Lazo

Content warning for next page: transphobia


Prefer Not to Answer Ceph

6/17/18 When someone asks me how I Identify, What pronouns I Prefer. Like, I cannot be, I can only choose A, or B on the multiple choice test — the grade, “Passing.” So I have to out myself to yet, another person. My transess coming into question, because, well, I still chose wrong. Like, OMG you’re agender! I have one too. If you want to like, put it in Those Terms — ok, my gender is Don’t Fuck with Me. I Bite Back. Why did you think that’d be a good intro? Are you just trying ta’ get to know Me? I’m not your inclusivity card, I’m not your queer friend. Hell, I’m not even your queer acquaintance. I just don’t like you. My first and foremost job is to exist, and that’s already hard enough with your Mediocre Language. I am used to being misgendered, just cause my beard can’t be femme. I become mister, man, sir for temporary people in my life. and guess where you fit in, I’ve heard you talk behind my back. I’ve heard you say “it doesn’t matter,” I’ve heard you center the problem around yourself — 14

Like it’s not me you’re talking about. So, guess who doesn’t matter now? What, I’m taking this too seriously — Wow, shocker, it’s just literally My Life. I’m not your real life intro to Queer theory, hun. I’m a real life bonafide non-binary person; but you just tell me, I don’t have the look. Well, what the Fuck is the look? I’m genuinely curious, what you think that is; Cause obviously, I ain’t it. If you haven’t picked up by now, I’m still not a dude, and I’ve told you that — so why do you think I look like one? Is your idea of gender so drenched in cisnormativity, that you can’t think outside of such a basic box. I have had to fill out so many boxes just like you with expectations just like yours. So I check “prefer not to answer” when asked what my Gender is. I’m still disabled, still queer, still going to be mistaken one way or the other, so I give them my truth. I am the furthest fucking thing from being a Man, and that does not make me any goddamn closer to being a Woman. I’m sorry you’re having issues grasping that concept. And, I’m really sorry you’re trying to make it my problem; but, I already answered your question. A, B...or C — None of the Above.


Noetic Quality Shoshana McClarence 16

Ineffability Shoshana McClarence Content warning for next page: blood, ableism


Walking With Nyk M. Steger

Have you tried walking? Without a leg At six-hundred pounds With swollen joints Blood leaking from your wounds and able-bodied folks hiss and huff about your speed As black brown femme queer trans Have you tried walking? With panic attacks asthma attacks a limp Without your toes Metal knees and bones As Jewish Muslim Undocumented Disabled Medicated It’ll make ya feel better Just take off a little weight It is so good for you It gets better as you go I do it everyday Great stress reliever Helps pain Helps ME ME YOU Have you tried walking?


Consumption Shoshana McClarence 19


Colors of Her World Christine Hoang Content warning for next page: death, homophobia, racism


Generation Gap (1989) Ceph

7/2/18 I am a skewed statistic, part of the queerest generation to date. A forefront of identity and its politics -1989 The US invades Panama, The Exxon Valdez runs aground, causing the largest oil spill in US history, 100,000 people died of AIDS related Complications. 100,000: queer people, trans people, devastating communities of color, those that didn’t speak english could not access information. It’s almost like they were targeted, It’s almost like I celebrate Ronald Reagan’s Death like a Holiday. TV personalities just make the best Presidents, especially when they’re conservative... There’s a joke there somewhere; It’s mostly that they knew each other. ACT UP a coalition of queer artists, worked to educate the public through art, and bring information to the disenfranchised Latinx community of New York. Keith Haring after gaining international fame, created a foundation to study what would not be funded, to help those in need of aid. And then I remember, they’re mostly Dead.


Thanks Republicans, Fence-sitters, Thanks complacent straight people. You always speak up when it won’t hurt you. Cause this would never hurt you. Cause they could never hurt you. Until they do. Until it turns out straight people can get AIDS too. Until it stops being a gay-coded horror movie, Until the director points his finger at you too. And the tape cuts. -The AIDS Crisis was a targeted removal of queer people of color. Like there aren’t enough targets on their backs Already. I am a skewed statistic, because they were too. There is an entire generation of queer people, That are dead. That is a fact.


Defining Myself Violet Caroline Rue

Here’s to the tomorrow that may never come, the feelings we regret, and the fights we could have won. The people we wish we could love have passed us by, Merely a fraction of our total experience can leave us hopeless, with a future seemingly both a blank canvas and an impossibility. I live for beauty because I was taught I had little, lifetimes worth of internalized bigotry and wrongdoings riddle me with holes, but when I look to nature I stare at the ridges along the bark of those wiser than I, and for a second, it’s a reflection. The world is impossibly big, mother nature’s hills offer a familiar embrace, possibilities should be abounding, yet the world itself seems to hold his cards close to his chest. In our walls of iron, in the nooks we’ve carved out for ourselves in opposition to those who wish to see us drown, we find comradery, others burrowing into the stone-cold structure of society, we recognize the cavernous openings and try to use our already burdened bodies to shield those who have yet to know our suffering. The concept of emotional wounds torments my mind, while their existence disturbs my body’s natural absorption of oxygen. Something that feels so real yet leaves an impression on the psyche even when the physical wounds have faded. I wish to spread my wings beyond my trauma, to leave the cold iron behind and live amongst the wise ones who remind me of myself. At that point, I’m trading safety for the possibility of tranquility. Can we please carve out our dwellings in a prettier location?


Vacation Hannah Wayman


Love Gives You Wings Rue Dickey


albatross Ty Han

three months into my journey – aching pain down every hollow bone, thirst’s scratch clawing the inside of my narrow beak – the incessant blue of the sea beneath me beckoning relieved rest that won’t come, i see another. she has flown longer than i, nameless, as beasts are, but her eye flashes mute acknowledgment of me. we do not speak, but we say, “stay with me.” not daring to flap once for the loss of energy, sharing the wind, we stay. five months into our journey – the sky and the sea are one void, our tiny forms drifting uncertainly in the vastness, ready to fall at any moment – we see it at the same time. a craggy savior out of the deep, the island that will save our lives. even as my breath fails and my vision shutters with shadow, my feathers trembling and weak, i lift my voice and cry joy into the huge sky.

Content warning for next page: mention of self-harm, mention of surgery, suicide, body negativity, dysphoria, blood


Open Letter to My Chest Morgan M. O’Rourke-Liggett

Dear chest, I really feel the need to introduce myself to you, since you’ve been a part of me for the last 22 years. I honestly don’t remember much of our relationship pre-middle school; Other than remembering how much I didn’t think about your existence for several years until middle school. Then you became an annoyance that I thought I was eventually going to grow into. Just like I thought I would eventually grow into being a woman, and we both know how well that turned out. Once I learned about the term dysphoria, it was like breaching a dam after years of torrential rain. Dysphoria demons would torture me with derogatory monologues, and selfdestructive temptations. Sometimes spiraling into periods of distress at the thought of having to take my binder off. On days, I couldn’t bind or when my eight hours were up, the phantom suffocation would become so intense anytime I wanted to die because of what I would see. Or take the largest kitchen knife and slice you off myself. My ribs sublexing underneath you every time I breathe, laugh, cough, sleep, or stretch haven’t helped either. Despite all that, I don’t hate you. For a bit, I did. Every time I felt you move during sports exercises, I was filled with disgust. I shut you off from the world; compressed and bound in the dark. I’m sorry I actively avoided looking at you in the mirror and never loved you the way other people with breasts love their chests. I’m sorry about smothering you with layers and sometime pushing us to the brink of heat exhaustion in the summer. I’m sorry our relationship ends with anesthesia and an IV.


After listening to others and spending time with my emotions, I realized I don’t hate you. I’m grateful for you being healthy. Thank you for being a shelf for my cats to rest on. Thank you for teaching me how to stand my ground and push for what I need. Thank you for sticking with me through this journey of Double D-pressed to Flat Chest. After December 18 th, you will look different. Bloody, bruised, scarred. Flat. I can’t wait for all the things we get to experience after recovery: kickboxing, getting a fitted suit, walking around and sleeping shirtless, giving tighter bear hugs, swimming, and so much more. I can’t wait to walk with my shoulders back and chest out in pride. I can’t wait to share the real us with the world. And no matter what happens or who is in charge, you can’t be taken away from me; we won’t be erased. After December, when I look down at you or see you in the mirror, I won’t see surgery scars. I’ll see battle scars that will remind me of how strong I am, and how much I overcame to get here. I can’t wait to welcome the new you to the world. Much love, Me


Cozy Hannah Wayman


Cinnamon Scorch Hannah Wayman


Artist Statements

Knowing What You Need is Strength + Power, Pg. 13

Gender Dysphoria, Cover

Prefer Not to Answer, Pg. 14

Shoshanna McClarence

This work looks at the intense feelings behind experiencing gender dysphoria and the many facets of gender past the binary of pink and blue.

Dungeons & Drag Queens, Pg. 6 Ceph

A playful story about a genderfluid elf from a D&D campaign, focusing on the development of their character inside the overarching campaign.

The Child, Pg. 9 Ty Han

I wrote this short prose piece as an analysis on womanhood, growing up, and my experience as a neurodivergent person with low empathy. I’ve always thought that stars must be very lonely, separated from each other by thousands of lightyears.

Jodie in Yellow, Pg. 10 Jayashree Black-Lazo

Denim and cortory shirt. Yellow cotton tube top. And celebration of light. Looking upward.

You in a Fight You Lost, Pg. 12 Wren Alman

My relationship to my body, as a disabled intersex person, is complicated. This piece is a reflection on that relationship and the love and strength I have found in my body.


Jayashree Black-Lazo

Often, I think we believe that our needs are unimportant or that they burden others. This is a reminder to you & myself that self-awareness is valuable.


I get mistaken for a man a lot, and that frustration culminates over time and makes things more frustrating as time continues, and that drove me to write this.

Noetic Quality, Pg. 16 Shoshanna McClarence

This work explores the ideas behind a mystical experience and the new knowledge associated with that moment.

Ineffability, Pg. 17

Shoshanna McClarence This work explores the ideas behind a mystical experience and the unexplainable notion of experience leaving it impossible to speak about in words.

Walking With, Pg. 18 Nyk M. Steger

This poem was born out of the anger and hurt felt navigating the world as a queer, trans, disabled person. I wanted to highlight that simply walking around in this world without hindrance is a privilege. So easy is it to offer walking as a cure for depression, pain, etc without thinking about the implications of the question “have you tried walking”.

Consumption, Pg. 19 Shoshanna McClarence

This work stems from an exploration of consumption as a religious ideology, exploring intersectionality of ideas.

Colors of Her World, Pg. 20

Love Gives You Wings, Pg. 26

Handcrafted by paper quilling, this artwork illustrates the flow of imagination and creativity that dwells inside us. They are the source of our art and stories that we use to make meaning, transform hurt into healing, reestablish agency, resist oppressive systems, envision possibilities, and empower emotions. Whenever we imagine possibilities beyond what exists, we are engaging our creative agency to bridge our current realities to alternate realities that have yet come into existence. Just as there are worlds around us, there are worlds within us. Our being means an ongoing process of relearning to love ourselves and each other, cultivating spaces of vast possibility from the margins to let ourselves feel wholeness.

Inspired by the photoshoot of queer couples being uplifted by their love.

Christine Hoang

Generation Gap (1989), Pg. 22 Ceph

Generation Gap, is a recounting of the history of the AIDS crisis, specifically in New York and the impact it has had on modern day Queer culture.

Defining Myself, Pg. 24 Violet Caroline Rue

This piece is an abstract take on the spaces the LGBTQIA+ community chooses to set up residence and practice activism in. In my mind the divide between urban environments and nature-centered environments is also the divide between both anxiety and self care. Self care also seems to run in direct opposition to a sense of safety or obligations and the struggle between balancing the two.

Vacation, Pg. 25 Hannah Wayman

These are the main characters from one of my graphic novels in progress! This graphic novel and these characters mean so much to me and I’ve been working for quite a while to make sure it’ll happen. From left to right it’s Aimée, Florent, Ulysse, and Gaspard! (and for merit of this zine specifically, Ulysse and Gaspard are boyfriends, and their strong bond plays a large part in a lot of pieces of the story)

Rue Dickey

albatross, Pg. 27 Ty Han

I wrote this poem based on a late 1800s Japanese painting by an unknown artist. This poem analyzes the feelings I associate with meeting other queer folks in a hostile antiqueer space. I also like to think of this poem as a love story.

Open Letter to My Chest, Pg. 28 Morgan M. O’Rourke-Liggett

Morgan wrote this piece as part of their preparation for their top surgery, which occurred in December 2018. It delves into their internal monologue and experiences with dysphoria and thoughts around surgery.

Cozy, Pg. 30

Hannah Wayman This is one of my favorite recent pieces of Ulysse and Gaspard (characters for upcoming graphic novel), I think my most prominent same-sex relationship in my upcoming work so far. My goal with this piece was to make it as warm as possible.

Cinnamon Scorch, Pg. 31 Hannah Wayman

This is my character Alec, who is from one of the graphic novels I’m writing! He is asexual and has a celebrity alter-ego (which is the form he’s in above!) that also happens to be the form in which he fights for justice as a magical warrior with fire powers!


Thank you to our wonderful committee members, contributors, and staff members for all your hard work this term. Look out for the next edition coming soon!

Editorial Team

Matronly Mentor / Assistant Director / Cindy Konrad Design Demon / Creative Director / Ty Sokalski King of Communications / Editor-in-Chief / Wren Alman

Staff Committee

Artistic Afficionado / Design Consultant / Juniper Alliston Literary Legend / Literary Editor / Cori Elam Strategic Strongarm / Literary Editor / Rue Dickey Brainstorming Babe / Committee / Hope Trautman Brainstorming Babe / Committee / Aleysa Garcia Rivas

Volunteer Committee

Visionary Virtuoso / Editing Consultant / Christine Hoang Brainstorming Babe / Committee / Jeran Coffey

Visit Us

Facebook: Twitter: @pridecenter Instagram: @osupridecenter Phone: 541-737-9161 Email: Location: 1553 SW A Ave., Corvallis, OR 97333 For a digital version of the zine, extended content, and to submit to the next issue, visit our Facebook page!



PAPER CLOUD 2019 To submit, check out our Facebook page @OSUPrideCenter for a link to the form! The early submission deadline is January 25, 2019.