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Bittersweet Volume 2 | Issue 2 | Winter 2021 by Shifter Magazine — Shifter Media LLC Underlying text, images, and works are contained within works. Author(s) and Contributor(s) media include photography, artwork, and writings, contributors own rights to their work. Copyright © 2021 Shifter Media LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the publisher. Exceptions for usage — brief quotations in a book review or other non-commercial methods within copyright law. Cover Image by Meredith O’Donnell Cover Edit by Victor Martinez-Rivera Issue Design and Production by Victor Martinez-Rivera & Eri Orengo on Adobe InDesign Digital & Print Edition — December 2021. Publisher: Shifter Media LLC. Contact: hello@shiftermag.com

MEET THE TEAM Editor-in-Chief

Deputy Editor

Victor Martinez-Rivera

Paola Peralta

ART CREATIVE DIRECTORS: Eri Orengo, Meredith O’Donnell DESIGNERS: Victor Martinez-Rivera, Eri Orengo ILLUSTRATORS: Federica Merante

EDITORIAL EDITORS: Alina Alvarez, Camila Colon, Camile Ruiz Mangual, Samantha Olson WRITERS: Brianna Bradley, Brianna C. Fairman, Emma Lingo, Valerie Galarza, Erin Jones COLUMNISTS: Alina Alvarez, Catherine Le

MARKETING Eri Orengo, Samantha Olson, Victor Martinez-Rivera

PHOTOGRAPHY CREATIVE DIRECTORS: Spencer Hall, Meredith O’Donnell, Eri Orengo PHOTOGRAPHER: Victor Martinez-Rivera, Meredith O’Donnell, Eri Orengo

SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATORS: Meredith O’Donnell, Ysatis Rios-Sabat

c re a tive d i rec to r' s l ett e r

bit·ter·sweet /ˈbidərˌswēt/

Sweet with a bitter aftertaste; arousing pleasure tinged with sadness or pain; plummeting pain followed by a silver lining. The concept of Bittersweet follows the entanglement of emotions within ourselves, the sensation that we can’t be both happy and sad at the same time; however, we can be winners and losers simultaneously. Think of Bittersweet as a flip of a coin and it landing on its border.

Volume II Issue II of Shifter Magazine tackles the human experience touching on a wide range of topics that the reader can learn from, if not directly relate to. If there is anything we hope the reader can take away from this issue, it’s that the human experience in and of itself, is Bittersweet. It’s the idea that life is a mixture of so many differing experiences, trials, and tribulations, that we each can learn from and curate our own outlook on how we go about life. It’s about who and what we are passionate for but also about what we must endure. Join us in this issue as we navigate the complexities of life and what it means to feel Bittersweet.

Eri Orengo & Meredith O’Donnell

editor’s letter I don’t quite recall my first bittersweet encounter, but I do fixate on my last from time to time. It’s a sour cloy we don’t see coming — but can’t help wonder how it’ll disturb our lives. Ever since 2018, I’ve had a hyper-fixation with bittersweet moments. Because, you see, these silver linings are meant as reminders. Reminders that we are human, reminders that we make mistakes and reminders that we can survive them. Of that nature, we make mistakes, sacrifices, gambles, and decisions. And whatever the outcome, we’re always winners and losers — simultaneously. Join us as we explore the many definitions of bittersweet. No matter your take on life, there will be something here waiting to help you reflect. As we wrap 2021 with our fifth issue, the entire Shifter Team offers its gratitude toward every reader, follower and supporter. We can’t wait to show you our bitter and our sweet in 2022!

Ví Martínez-Rivera

founder, editor-in-chief

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEAR YOUNGER ME 10

16 22 26 28 32 34

SILVER LINING

PRUNING 22

ANXIETY MANIFESTED

MUSA NATURA

MIND, BODY, SOUL

THE CONSTANT 34

MY OWN EXISTENCE

M/OURNING

TENERTE

FLOWER OF HATE

THE LELONEK SISTERS

EARLY GREEN

ETHE(REAL)

RAGS TO RICHES

42 44 46 50 58 60

dear younger me, Spencer Hall

do you remember sitting on the swings and imagining becoming a pilot so that we could taste the cotton candy clouds? do you remember that feeling we got after finishing a movie in the theatre and we felt invincible? what about when we would play with our toys and make up these scenarios that we thought we could only do when we were “big and strong?” i miss letting our imagination run wild and thinking that we could do absolutely anything we wanted when we got older. don’t get me wrong, we still succeed in what we put our minds to, but our options aren’t as limitless as television made them seem. our freedom to dream has turned into our freedom of independence. we still do all these great things, but it has not been an easy journey in the slightest. do you remember thinking “when i grow up, i want to be…” and that goal would change every week? do you remember looking in our pantry with too many veggies and not enough candy, vowing to never let this happen when we had a place of our own? what about when we thought that a 20 dollar bill instantly made us rich? i’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but fast forward 13 years later and we still are not completely sure of what we want to be when we grow up. oh, and our pantry tends to be more bare than anything else, so we can’t check that off our list. to be completely transparent, we were foolish to think that 20 bucks held much weight in our world, considering that is about how much we spend at the laundromat alone.

i know, i know, i make the thought of growing up sound terrible and anxiety-inducing; you’ll understand when you get older. though we don’t really get the opportunity to look at the world through our once-whimsical lens, growing up has been a fun ride. there’s always going to be some bumps here and there, but that’s the road that we call life right? let’s go down the list and check off some of our goals, shall we? do we have a wife yet? no, but that’s the answer we always wanted! we are finally comfortable enough with our sexuality to say that! are we rich? not yet — maybe one day. did we get out of our hometown? yes! we live in the city that yearns for us to be whoever we want to be! are we happy? not quite, but we are completely content with where we are! here’s what you need to know: we’re comfortable, but we miss standing in the outfield in little league and chasing the butterflies. we miss looking up at the sky and dreaming of eating the moon (we always thought it was secretly a ball of cheese), but now we look up and see towering buildings and a view fit for royalty. i will leave you with this: cherish your imagination, nurture it. it’s not always tea parties and rainbows anymore, so keep that near to our ever-gentle heart. keep it on a tight leash and never let it go. with a big hug and everlasting love, me.

Photos by Meredith O’Donnell Model: Giulianna Tornillo

A silver lining is the prospect of hope through a gloomy or dire situation.

It is the ability to see good in even the worst case of scenarios. The philosophy that one can gain something from anything.

This visual photo story, shot on film, captures four individuals of trans experience, and encapsulates direct quotes of theirs while discussing their own instances of gender, both in euphoria and dysphoria.

F e Angel Danilo Tyler Vane

a t u

n g

Dulcio Gonzalez-Castano Aurora Salas

by Bailey Williams

PRUNING Hope, ambition, fervor All that were once fruits of my tree Growing out of what was once the most fertile of soils Have now withered and shriveled into prunes Prunes of doubt, prunes of pessimism, prunes of regret All hanging low from my tree Rooted deeply in confusion Not sure how to grow or what to grow or if it should even do anything And what good is a tree that cannot serve its purpose? The very purpose that was in mind while it was being tended to The tree is good for nothing other than to be cut down and chopped up Used for whatever the world feels it should be used for Furniture for the carpenter Warmth for the hiker Food for the termites Until it’s gone

A thunderous applause erupted among the crowd of patrons as Aja stepped away from the microphone. The emcee walked back up to the stage giving Aja a nod that all but said “Well done.” He took his place behind the tall

The band is gonna keep the music

mic stand and extended a hand

rollin’, but don’t forget to come

toward her. “Y’all, give it up one

back and see us for Open Mic

more time for my girl Aja. It was

Night next Thursday at 9:30 p.m.

for Cynthia accidentally finding

her first time performing tonight,”

Other than that, feel free to grab

Aja’s

he said as the applause reignited

a drink, kick back and enjoy the

months ago and encouraging her

twice as loudly as before.

rest of your night.”

to do something with it ever since,

old

poetry

book

three

The band at the back of

Aja probably would’ve continued

From the back of the stage,

the stage began playing while

keeping it locked away. Cynthia

Aja gave a bashful wave to the

Aja headed back to her table

finally pulled away from the hug

crowd. But on the inside, she

where her best friend, Cynthia,

but her smile never faded.

was beyond proud of herself for

was waiting for her with an

“So how do you feel?” she asked

finally getting her art back out

expression that beamed with the

as her brown eyes continued to

there. And then to hear how much

joy of a proud mom. “Aja, man,

twinkle under the dim lighting.

everyone loved it was that much

that was dope,” she said, pulling

“Honestly, I feel amazing. It’s like

more gratifying. “That was our

her in for a bear hug.

a huge weight was lifted off of my

last performer of the night, so I

Aja couldn’t lie, it did feel

shoulders.” ... “See? I keep telling

wanna thank you all for coming

good to finally let others hear

you Cyn knows best,” Cynthia

out to kick it with ya boy Will Knox

what she had kept hidden for so

boasted. “Seriously, you’re an

and check out some local talent.

long. Truthfully, if it hadn’t been

artist, girl!”

You can’t keep all that material locked away in your notebook forever.

Sometimes

it’s

therapeutic to let that out. For you and the audience, ya know?” Aja sat down with Cynthia to finish the food they had ordered before

she

went

onstage.

Meanwhile, fellow guests took turns stopping by their table to compliment Aja on her poem telling her how much it resonated with them, requesting her social media and asking that she please come

back

perform

often. The whole time Cynthia proudly looked on letting her friend soak in all of the glory she always wanted her to reclaim. Once their bellies were full and their cocktails were finished,

Aja checked her phone. When she

“Okay Cyn, you can stop right

noticed that it was past midnight

there because I’m not in the mood

her face was instantly overtaken

to hear this now. I’m getting tired

with panic.

of this tug-of-war between you and Duke. If you don’t want a ride

“Shit, I gotta get up early for

from us just say that and let that

work!” she blurted out as she

be the end of it.”

hurriedly opened up her phone and began typing. “Duke has

Cynthias shrugged, deciding not

been having meetings out the

to prolong the matter any further.

ass lately. I can’t be dozing off in

Aja was more than aware of how

the middle of the day.” ... “Okay,

she felt about her husband and it’s

so let’s just order an Uber back.”

been a constant issue ever since

“He’s already on his way. I just

Duke’s company started taking off

texted him, but we can drop you

about five years ago. For all of the

off at home if you want.”

connections Aja made for him,

Cynthia gave Aja a look

the investors she locked down

that showed how ridiculous she

and the all nighters she pulled

thought that offer was. ...“Thanks

trying to think of ways to take his

but I would rather take an Uber,

business to the next level, Cynthia

sis,” she replied before finishing

thought her friend deserved more

off the last sips of her mojito. “By

than to just be his secretary. And

the way, where is Duke? Why

Aja thought maybe she did too

wasn’t he here to support you?”

but with everything on her plate,

“Because I didn’t tell him I was

she couldn’t afford to think about

doing this, I just told him I was

that now.

hanging out with you. Like I said he’s been crazy busy and I

Aja received a text from

didn’t wanna bother him with it.”

Duke letting her know that he

“Bother him with something his

was outside and at that same

wife is passionate about?

time Cynthia was notified that her ride would be arriving within

You didn’t have a problem dropping your shit to help him get that sports management company off the ground. I mean, the least he could do is-”

a few minutes. When the two walked out of the restaurant, Aja automatically recognized Duke’s black Hellcat parked next to the curb glistening like always. His window was rolled down so that Aja could see him, but his face was anything but a happy one. Cynthia walked Aja over to the car and they embraced before she got inside. ... “Drive safe, Duke,” Cynthia said before she closed the passenger door. “Ight,” he

laconically

replied

without

even bothering to look her way.

She just rolled her eyes as she walked away from the

puts pen to paper and lets her mind take over.

humming vehicle. “Text me when you get home!” Aja

“It’s just that, like you said, everything is so hectic

called out after her.

with work and I don’t know if I’ll have time,” he

Cynthia raised a hand to acknowledge that she

complained. “I’m really trying to take this thing to

had heard her request and started heading over to her

the top and frankly, I can’t afford too many off-

Uber. Duke began speeding down the road with the

days. To be honest, I don’t think you can either. I

Hellcat roaring past other bystanders who were also

need you focused by my side, you know?”

preparing to call it a night. During the ride home, the

In that moment, Aja felt like the cloud she

awkward silence between them was practically killing Aja

had been riding on all night had evaporated from

as she wondered whether or not she should apologize or

underneath her, and the joyous emotions that

keep quiet to prevent a possible confrontation. She looked

had visited her briefly were quickly replaced with

over at Duke to see that he had one hand on the steering

disappointment and annoyance.

wheel while his other arm was propped up against the

You didn’t have a problem dropping your shit to

window. His knuckles were pressed firmly against his lips

help him get that sports management company off

as he stared with brooding eyes at the road that was still

the ground.

bustling with nightlife.

As much as she hated Duke and Cynthia’s

“Um…I read a poem today at Knox,” Aja said, hoping to

incessant feud over Aja’s position in his life, Aja had

offer a lighter topic of conversation to help alleviate the

to admit that Cynthia was right about that. She had

tension in the air. “I wasn’t going to at first but I’m glad I

tabled her entire career to help him pursue his, but

did. Everybody loved it.”

he couldn’t support her endeavors for one night?

Duke continued to brood a few moments more

“Look, I’m not saying never,” he tried to reassure

to the point where Aja wasn’t sure if he planned to reply

her. “I just want us both to get some rest, see this

at all. ... “I thought you stopped all that,” he finally said.

expansion through and then we can revisit all of this

“Stopped all what?”

at a later date, okay? I promise.”

“Writing. Your poetry and stuff.”

As Duke pulled into their garage, all Aja

“Oh…no, I never really stopped. I guess I just stopped

could think of was the late nights they had spent

talking about it because everything got so crazy with the

in his dorm room talking about their dreams and

company, but I have a lot of stuff written and now I think I

how huge they were going to be in their fields.

wanna start putting it out there again,” Aja gushed as she

She remembered the first time Duke had read

became filled with the same excitement for her craft that

her work and encouraged her to get one of her

she once had back in college. “I might actually go back to

poems published in the university’s paper. She

Knox next week to perform again and I was wondering if

did, and when she came over again a few weeks

you would come see me in action. Could be a nice date,

later she saw that he had cut out the section of

too.”

the paper where her poem had been printed and Duke knotted his eyebrows together as he ran a

pinned it over his desk. She had been so sure that

hand through his short locs pushing them away from his

he believed in her then, so at what point did he

forehead. Aja sat next to him waiting for a response and

stop? And at what point did she start prioritizing

hoping it was the one she wanted. Tonight had been such

his dreams over hers? Then Aja switched the focus

a triumphant moment for her, but Cynthia made a good

of her disappointment to herself for getting in too

point — Duke should’ve been there and she wanted to

deep with his desires that she had lost sight of her

give him that opportunity now.

own, for becoming so insecure in the one thing she

“Baby, I would love to be there to support you,” Duke

had always known she could do well. And just as

finally replied.

quickly as she had nourished her spirit with the fruits

A smile tugged at Aja’s cheeks at the idea of Duke

of hope, ambition and fervor she once had, she

hearing how much she had grown as a writer since the

was again left with prunes of doubt, pessimism and

last time he heard her work years ago. Then she started

regret.

thinking of which piece she should perform next week.

“Forget it,” Aja dryly responded as she unbuckled

In fact, she wondered if she should even perform some

her seatbelt. “Let’s just get some sleep. Busy day

of her old material or create something new entirely.

tomorrow.”

Something that reflects the liberation she feels when she

Anxiety Manifested

Do you ever just feel like the worst of the worst might happen? Sometimes you’re walking down the road and sometimes a car crushes you into a pole But it’s all in your mind it doesn’t really happen As long as you come back to that’s all that really matters

I mean... right?

By Tiana Antonio

Photos by Joseph Rivera Alejandrino Model: Nellys Pimentel 30

mind, body, soul.

by Spencer Hall

i did everything right. sure, it might’ve been a little later than it should have been, but i did it. so then why does it still hurt? why do i still have this locked vault in my heart with your name on it? maybe it’s because my relationship with you caused me to really grasp my self-worth; and in a way, i thank you for that. maybe it’s because i devoted so much time and energy that i’m still learning how to live without that overexertion. why did i keep turning a blind eye? why was my default just “forgive and forget?” why did i have to reach for whatever i could grab to justify your actions to just about everyone, especially myself? i spent so much time pouring my quintessence into a black hole that eventually, i ran out. still, i can’t help but having one of my shattered pieces contain love for you. i guess i’ll make my peace with it, but the tethers on my soul will grow weaker and my open wounds will collect callouses where my vessels used to pour. the realization that i felt painfully guilty for your actions is consuming. there was a constant war raging inside me between mind, body, soul; a three-way knockout round that i begged to whoever was listening to stop. with time, i realized it did. somehow all sides won. i escaped. i was freed. i am free.

*content warning: eating disorder

by Wren Honey

marilyn and jean are laid to rest good-hearted girl twisted sick, twisted into opal nose studs and ruby woo and l’oréal quick blue twisted into diet coke and grenadine twisted into purges with a fiona apple soundtrack and i didn’t mean to make it so dramatic, i was just trying to survive, and survival is something something i haven’t gotten a grasp on yet. if survival means changing, then i have; if it means moving forward, well i’m still trapped in the same high school cycles, the greased roller rink floor the wash and dry with the broken belt that clicks and clicks and clicks in march i swore i could see a single rib under my hand and then it was gone sucked right back into the rotten mess of me and at least i can say i’ve gotten better between my teeth— chew back the rest of the lie and spit it at myself later.

Kila Lambertt

The Constant Sometimes, I think of you. And, when I do: I only want more.

IRONIAS DE LA VIDA Krizia Koral

Estar arriba me marea Pero estar abajo me aburre Correr me cansa Pero nadar me gasta Comer me hace engordar Hacer ayuno me mata de hambre La vida es una ironia cuando estar cansa Y apartarse duele

Madrugar me da sueño Pero en las noches no puedo dormir El frio me deja inmóvil Pero el calor me hace sudar La lluvia te hace resguardarte El sol te quema la piel La vida es una ironia, cuando tu me calmas, Pero eres la causa del caos dentro de mi.

MY OWN EXISTENCE

story by Eri Orengo photos by Vi Martinez

Transness for me is stepping into my existence, My experience in its own right is bittersweet,

Trans joy, Trans hate, Trans love, Trans pain. It’s not the concept of if I was always a girl or not, rather that before i realized that fact, I was nothing.

There was nothing to me.

There was nothing there.

I try to think back on my childhood and nothing ever really comes to mind. I remember what other people told me, but I, myself, was never really present in the memory. Now that I exist, I can be, now that I exist, I can love, Now that I exist, I can hate, I can hate myself. Now that I exist, I can love myself. I’m on a journey to discovering myself and God, is it exhausting to just now become my own person. I am terrified I am joyful I am sad For the world, of myself, and for what I must let go. I have just now learned to feel. How to embrace parts I never could. Limitless is my end.

Through my transness, I have just now stepped into my own existence.

m/ourning by Ví Martinez

I’ve mourned so many friendships and versions of myself in the span of my lifetime. these deaths didn’t come from singular battles fought but from bigger, silent wars present. wars that have shaped and taken from me too much and too little. I’ve mourned myself every time I’ve dyed my hair, every color representing something oppressed within me. being both the oppressor and the oppressed, I don’t know if I have any room left for growth. I’ve mourned strangers on the street for inexplainable things. for their beauty. for their worries. for their scars and wounds. for their vulnerability. for their peace and their pieces. for the thought of never seeing them or their pain again. for their glory. I’ve mourned my friends / their silent cries. I’ve mourned my brother / his regrets. I’ve mourned my mother / her worries. I’ve mourned the end of the world.

by Ashley Kramer

Should we revel in this weather, dipping just below boiling, though it’s probably only the announcing of an arriving storm. The leaves will soon know a stranger beauty in death, and the daylight will seem a little more golden. This season just reminds me of when we first met. The nervous laughter and the fleeting glances and being scared to ask to hold your hand. Now we kiss on my front porch, the keys hanging unturned in the lock. The scent of bonfire smoke will cling to our hair and I’ll tuck these daydreams into the corner of my new notebook.

tenerte by feli l’pez

tenerte es un trago amargo que al tocar mis labios me da una leve sensación de dulzura tenerte me equilibra aunque a la vez siento perder el balance al aceptar cosas que van en contra de mi moral tenerte me da paz aunque al pensarte se crea un tumulto de sensaciones dentro de mí que no logro poner en palabras tenerte y querer dejarte ir tenerte y querer ser solo de mí tenerte y querer soltarte y que te olvides por siempre de mí sí, te quiero pero amarte es algo que no puedo prometerte estoy en conflicto con mis sentimientos hacia ti por los que estuvieron antes de ti sí, sé que comparar no es lo correcto pero cuando el corazón aún siente por aquellos que en un pasado fueron y dieron tanto no me queda de otra más que añorar aquellos cuerpos tenerte y querer deshacerme de ti tenerte y al final termino por dejarte ir

IT’S CALLED ‘BALANCE’ CARA WALKER

It’s the horror, the trauma, the existential dread Of knowing that you really were very nearly dead

It’s the terror induced at the idea of sneezing It’s the norco that can’t even stop you from feeling

It’s the physical scars that won’t go away And the everyday memories that won’t fucking stay

It’s the lost opportunities, and time disappeared, Unsolicited opinions and attempts to interfere

It’s persistent guilt at the need for support And the sense of not being the same ‘you’ anymore

It’s being told that what matters above all else Is some theoretical guarantee of ongoing health

But the thing that is most important, at least to my mind Is how delicious it is to tell someone you’ve just met that you almost died

The title of this piece sounds very sad: Flower of Hate. It’s the description of myself, which is a flower that grew from hatred. A beautiful and withstanding flower, but one that grew from small seeds watered by hatred and racism. I think it is very easy to just say that it was a joke. That they were kids. That these horrible words that I have heard for upwards of 12 years are not that big of a deal. But it is a big deal. The racism that was ingrained in these kids and the carelessness of causing people of color trauma is absolutely horrible. The way these kids grew up to be working members of society without any repercussion or correction to their way of thinking, attitude, and actions is abhorrent. These were just kids, who are now politicians, nurses, friends, and members of our society who continue to contribute to the narrative of hatred that was given to them by their parents. So, please don’t ever tell me it’s just a joke and they’re just kids. It’s not just a joke. It’s the root of my racial trauma. Chink. A terrible slur that absolutely reduces my identity to only being an Asian person with no other role in society other than as a joke for others. You can see the handwriting of those who had no clue what they did, or maybe they did know what they were doing and just didn’t care. The way they pit kids of color against each other to compete and step on each other to see who could make themselves a bigger form of entertainment to these white kids. As I went through all of this, it really made me sad. All of these writings were written on keepsakes. Things that I held in a box because I had deemed it an important memory and part of my background. The term “chink” and Asian jokes have been immortalized in my precious memories. It has been etched in yearbooks, birthday cards, and more. The extent of the damage is not even just things said to me, but things that I have to be reminded of every time I decide to take a walk down memory lane. I mean — really — can anyone sit here and say that it was just a joke? That the way these things were absolutely disregarded by adults and any form of authority is okay? That these kids who are not adults probably still think that it was just a joke and that it never meant anything? But to me, it was everything. This was my childhood. These were my teen years. These were my years at college spent unpacking and healing and rebuilding my identity from the trauma and hatred that I experienced. These people get to walk away with not even a single thought of maybe they had caused serious damage to someone.

They get to enjoy their lives and apply for jobs and get married,

with not even a single dent to their conscience. How could I not be sad?

How could anyone who experiences anything remotely similar to this not be sad? To look back at the years that were supposed to be the most carefree and filled with teen experiences and see that they were actually filled with a lot of racism and sadness for the girl I used to be — it makes me sad to think that I had to go through that. That younger me had to trudge from day to day in dread of going to school where the environment was not one of teaching, but one of a battlefield. Everyday was a battle. I doubt that anyone really noticed, as I didn’t even know myself that I had gone through all that until I was an adult. Regardless, it makes me sad that I had to spend so much time healing from the fact that these experiences made me run away from my identity as a first generation VietnameseAmerican woman for a really long time. That I denied who I was and hated being Asian. I spent years crying and drinking and doing anything I could to just leave the past behind and forget the damages done. I have to spend this time working on myself, while they get to spend this time getting engaged and traveling. While I can say that something like that should never happen to a young Asian girl, I can say that it made me the person I am today. Had I never faced adversity, I would have never become the amazing person I am today. Today I am a beautiful, hard working leader who strives to give to her community everything she wished she had access to when she was younger. Today, I am someone who is a good listener who can understand others and provide an ear when they are struggling. Today, I am someone who has a big heart and a lot to give. Today, I am someone who loves to travel, eat food, and enjoy being in her own presence. Today, I am someone that younger me would have looked up to. I have become proud of who I am and everything I went to. I think that younger me would have been proud of the woman I have become. So this is for her.

...endless and though that time will come, for now you must relish in the opportunities that are seemingly, beautifully, and practically placed in front of you. and though that time will come, for now, you must protect your peace, embrace your defeat, and create a stream of possibilities that will curate your needs. and though that time will come, for now, you, and only you, can bask in the odds that are against you and summon a world that is no longer in your mind, but rather, right in front of you. because today may start with a single yawn and groggy eyes, but the possibilities tomorrow may bring are...

THE LELONEK SISTERS Yasha and I started out our interview with a warm conversation about the current events of our lives and our general college experiences. Lesean and Yasha introduced themselves and everyone quickly settled as we all grew comfortable with one another. I truly looked forward to this interview and am thrilled to be the one to share the story of the Lelonek Sisters and the passion held between them. The two sisters were based in two different locations across the country. Twentyone year old Yasha Lelonek lived in New York and graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts just a few months ago. While her younger sister, fourteen year old Lesean Lelonek, was in her bedroom in Atlanta, GA and is currently attending high school. The relationship between the Lelonek Sisters intrigued me and so I went into the interview hoping to further understand how their identities and this bond shaped them to be who they are today. As the two of them shared with me their experiences growing as young, Black, Queer sisters, Yasha explained that she knew from a young age that she identified on the Queer spectrum. She went on to say that it made her very happy when she soon realized that she wasn’t alone in her experience.

“I remember when Lesean was born, I was six years old... and by the time she was like three, four years old, she was already talking about how she wanted to get girls, how she wanted to put on the charm, you know?” Yasha said of her younger sibling. “I did feel a little bit of responsibility as her older sister to figure out my own comfortability, so that I could possibly serve as a guide if and when she ever needed that for herself.” Following this, Lesean went on to mention that Yasha was indeed that influence for her and often got that feeling of “I want to be like you.” towards her sister. She elaborated, stating that “I got all my influence from her. So it was like I was feeding off of her.” And this feeling of inspiration was not a feeling she shared alone, as Yasha goes on to mention that she takes her own inspiration from Lesean’s

“Take

Leave

it”

demeanor when owning her truth and taking up space. I touched up on the world’s view of “what sisterhood is” from a cisheteronormative lense, as often times the world’s perception on family and family dynamics exclude the queer experience.

The Lelonek Sisters have a mutual understanding of each other’s Queer experience and have showcased their sisterhood to be much more than that, including with how they’ve supported and shaped each other within their own right. “Growing up with my sister, she has shaped me just as much as I have shaped her, and I feel like that’s even worth talking about in and of itself,” Yasha said. “We did not recognize each other as sisters at first, because that was not the narrative that we were given.” Yasha Lelonek, as a woman of trans experience, elaborates on her journey, stating how she has always been feminine, yet on the flipside Lesean Lelonek (who identifies as a Stud), has always been masculine.

“We occupied two sides of the same coin in that regard relative to our gender expression,” Yasha said, cracking a smile. “When we first starting growing up together, it kind of looked like we didn’t have that much in common, but it ended up being a really beautiful journey of us growing up together and being able to learn from each other and our own experiences within the defined conventional expectations of the binary.”

For a lot of Trans and Queer people, especially those of Black and POC communities, oftentimes gender nonconforming kids are not allowed to effectively express themselves. Furthering this conversation, I asked if the two sisters felt supported by any parental figures or by the community that they were brought up in. And while the sisters explained that their parents were supportive and responding in how they were loved, Lesean answered how Yasha was different in her reaction to the coming out. “She was so excited. So when she was excited, I was excited! And it really inspired me to, you know, get to learn more of myself and get to learn more within the Queer community,” Lesean shared. Lesean explained how she had a thing for a girl when she was very young and how although the other girl didn’t feel the same, it acted as momentum for her, it made her want to go further within her exploration of her identity: altering her appearance, her body gestures, the way she talks, and so forth. “I just really started changing myself. Yasha also helped me because I would always ask her for her advice. I would always ask her to do my hair, I always wanted to look the best,” Lesean said. “And then, coming into high school was like the 2.0 version of myself from what I was in elementary school and stuff, it’s my journey.”

Yasha chimed in, sharing what that experience was like on her end. “I was very excited for her that, at such a young age, she had decided to choose herself, because I know from firsthand experience [that]... to be a young Black woman in the south... and also Queer, choosing yourself is not always easy to do,” Yasha explained..

And so, [in reference to Lesean owning her Queerness] I was just like, I was like, YES! yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Yasha elaborated that felt like the two came into each other at around the same time, that all in all they used each other’s existence to grow and evolve as Black, Queer youth, living in the south. Yasha came out to her parents at the age of 13 and, although they were accepting of her, the family still lived in a suburban, rural area in Georgia at the time. There was no larger Queer community to tap into, making Yasha the only one to really take her younger sister’s Queerness seriously. “They’re like, ‘she’s young, she doesn’t really know what she’s talking about,’ whatever, whatever, but I clocked it!” she started. “I saw myself in her, and that in turn allowed me to be open about myself. Which I hope later on inspired her to pursue this girl that

she just talked about- whom I did not know about, in elementary school.” Their experience with their parents was that they were to be raised on how to be a “kind, supportive, self-sufficient, and resourceful person... given the expectations for the life that [they] could live.” So, in Yasha’s words, their parents allowed them the access to grow in their own right. For each other however, it was never entirely about having to “come out” to each other as Queer, Gay, Lesbian, Trans, or any of that, rather it was about “oh really?! We can do it together,” as Lesean put. I thought to myself that this bond could be seen as an inspiration for younger generations of queer youth, with Yasha taking it a step further, stating that, “The key to that [inspiration] would just be to further normalize our existence... We are both each other’s community, but also are each other’s access to further community. And I feel like for other youth recognizing that in each other is more important than recognizing us as [an inspiration] or as role models.” Each of them reflected on their bittersweet moments - from being together at Pride, to Yasha taking Lesean to play basketball, to moments where Yasha went on to follow her dreams, enrolling at NYU and the two seeing

each other less often. “Every time I see my sister, she gets a little bit older, a little bit wiser, a little bit more... in the mix,” Yasha said. “It was definitely bitter when I had to leave to continue with my life and my education, because like on one hand I really still wanted to be- like to be physically there for my sister and to continue, you know, being who I was in an effort to be a role model for her.” Yasha continued, “Whenever we reconnect, I’m always so proud of her, because she shows me time and time again, that the affirmant that we did for each other when we were growing up has carried forward into her being her own person. Who now has her own autonomy, her own point of view and her own definition of what it means to live her life in a fulfilling way. I don’t have a concern for her that she is repressed in any way. And that makes me very proud as an older sister. Cause I feel like I did a good job.” Lesean explained that, while Yasha’s moving away was definitely something that saddened her, it also brought her immense joy to see her sister’s dreams come into fruition. “When we were younger, I would always tell Yasha, I’d be like, ’You’re going to be in a Penthouse! You’re going to be famous!’” Lesean started.

“She’s actually chasing her dreams, it’s really touching to me. And it makes me want to touch my dreams as well. Cause I know if she can do it, then I can [too].” Yasha then motioned for Lesean to share what that dream is. “So... tell the what you want audience to do!” Lesean’s dreams are to become a professional basketball player, and also shared that the two Lelonek Sisters have started doing music together (we all laughed as Yasha reminded Lesean that all of this is indeed on the record so... look out for a Lelonek mix y’all). As tribute to their bond, the two sisters reconvened to their roots in Atlanta, GA. The imagery featured in this article, represents a reunion of the two sisters in their shared community of Atlanta, GA. Directed by Yasha herself, it represents their monumental bond that existed across their formative years.

“It was to immortalize the way that we have affirmed each other throughout our entire lives.”

With the aesthetics of the images framed around portraying Lesean authentically, describing “the choice to be styled in menswear exclusively for the both of us and to have it be very bare and black and white, with both of our hair in plaits.”

“As Black Queer people who are not creatives ourselves, we rarely feel as if we’re reflected adequately in imagery,” Yasha

explained. “So, it makes me really happy to hear that Leah felt comfortable on set, comfortable in the pictures, and that she actually sees herself in the pictures. ’Cause that was what I wanted.”

Their relationship helps them to grow into one another, and evolve into the people that they are today as well as tomorrow. They continuously are evolving within their Queerness and are always learning more about themselves. The story of the Lelonek Sisters is about immortalizing Black, Queer, Sisterhood. About owning their truth and taking up space within themselves and one another.

“...I’m not done sprouting. I’m still in- I’m still loading. I’m not complete yet. And I really feel like... I have a lot left to learn ‘cause I’m still a kid, you know? So, my journey is only now.” “What’s so beautiful about Queer existence is that, we never stand still. We’re always figuring it out and we’re always growing and coming into the realest version of ourselves, which is the version that exists before you. And that may change tomorrow. And that’s okay. “I’ll always look back and be like, dang Yasha, we were... we were baddies. Like, we ate that. Left no crumbs.” “And make no mistake. We will always be the bad bitch duo, but we’re always going to be growing.”

Article by Erí Orengo Directed by Yasha Lelonek Photographed by Kaylin James Styled by Stephen Harper Style Assist Nyah Grier Designers - SisterCalvin Klein, Ivy Park x Adidas, Laurence and Chico, Rombaut, Louis Vuitton

by Kila Lambertt

Early Green Scorching foam fills up my stomach Begging for freedom out this nose Drowning nimble butterflies Whom deny their demise Glistening members, Soaked in their own doubt The turning of the dial Never seemed to begin Upwards strained By unmapped throe Shaken From the plunging anguish Ones’ kingdom come surcease Yet Seems to be a sunrise away

Jester by Tiana Antonio

I’m an invisible man yet I dance I’m a deaf man yet I listen I’m a mute man yet I scream, shout and sing I’m a blind man yet I see the absence of you caring about me, seeing me, understanding me In the end I am just a man And barely that.

ethe(real)

by Ví Martinez

there’s something about breaking down, up, under, over/ that seems to draw me to an afterlife or some sort of ethereal spotlight deemed onto me onto so many versions of myself. the thing about breaking is that it’s infinite there’s no saying how many pieces you’ll have or will lose or give away. when i think of breaking/ i think of you, of us, of a tomorrow we’ll never see. breaking became a new trend followed by the masses, breaking to receive a warm embrace/ quickly taken over by someone else’s misery. i sometimes daydream of breaking into different shapes/ even fractals, but not with the expectation of being seen. but of being felt.

by Ashley Kramer

Things I don’t think I realized this time last year One of the first things I said to you when I realized we had started getting close was that you made me feel safe. This time last year, I was starting to buy into the bullshit Tumblr narrative that “you’ll meet the right person when you’re healed enough,” or, better yet, “you won’t really be loved until you love yourself.” I’ve always had love inside me; I know my heart is capable. It just so desperately can’t stay in the confines of my skin. Always looking for elsewhere to plant its roots. This time this year, I’ve come to accept that I am not healed nor do I really love myself yet. Despite this, you carry me up flights of stairs, cook my safe choice for dinner, and kiss my rotten head and that’s when I’m hopeful that perhaps something will sprout inside again. The flowers you got me are starting to wilt and mirror my poor posture. Yet, they still dance in the small bit of sunlight filtering through the blinds.

rags to riches by spencer hall

here lies the life that i thought was the best i could get. i’ll miss you, but not enough to pull you from perdition. frankly, i’m so relieved to be able to send you down the river on a bed of daffodils and move on. i’m ready for your vice grip to become a mere hand on the shoulder that connects us. we may have the same name, same family, same body, but we are not synonymous. you are a branched reality from me that i hope to god i never have to experience again. it wasn’t your fault that the cycle kept continuing, that the hamster wheel kept spinning and never let up. you did your best and you settled for less, but that’s not the path i intend to go down any longer. my self-worth is realized and my soul has risen to the occasion. i know what i deserve and i know what i will attain. i am better than the people that have stifled my growth, my self-esteem. i am exceptional, no matter the word of man. here lies the life that i thought was the best i could get. i’ll miss you, but it’s time to rest.

special thanks to: *all of the artists & writers who submitted. *all the members in the Shifter team. *and every single one of you who purchased and shared our issue