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Volume 2 | Issue 1 | Summer 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 Victor Martinez-Rivera Issue Design and Production by Marcelo Orrico and Victor Martinez-Rivera Digital edition — June 2021. Publisher: Shifter Media LLC. Contact: hello@shiftermag.com

MEET THE TEAM Editor-In-Chief

Deputy Editor

Victor Martinez-Rivera

Samantha Olson

ART CREATIVE DIRECTOR: Elisa Castillo DESIGNERS: Elisa Castillo, Federica Merante, Marcelo Orrico, Victor Martinez-Rivera ILLUSTRATORS: Federica Merante, Michael Anton

EDITORIAL EDITORS: Samantha Olson, Alina Alvarez, Erin Brocksmith, Paola Peralta WRITERS: Brianna Bradley, Brianna C. Fairman, Emma Lingo, Valerie Galarza COLUMNISTS: Alina Alvarez, Catherine Le, Erin Brocksmith

MARKETING Eri Orengo, Samantha Olson, Victor Martinez-Rivera

PHOTOGRAPHY CREATIVE DIRECTORS: Miguel Vargas, Samantha Olson, Victor Martinez-Rivera PHOTOGRAPHER: Victor Martinez-Rivera

SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR: Spencer Hall TEAM: Meredith O’Donnell, Ysatis Rios-Sabat

e di to r ' s l e t t e r

Everyone has a different meaning of redemption. A different scope and a different focus. To me, redemption stands for renewal. There are a lot of things I could list that I’m not proud of thinking, doing, saying. Every day is a new trial for redeeming myself and those around me. When this theme came up in a conversation, everyone looked at each other in awe and understanding. At that moment, we began redeeming ourselves. For Shifter, this is the attempt of redeeming itself — ourselves, as a publication, as artists and writers. This issue marks the completion of our first year in the market, in the shoes of writers and artists — but for the first time, in the hands of readers like you. If you were so kind to buy our first-ever printed issue, know that I offer all of my gratitude. Your support is truly helping us grow and shift, but overall — allowing us to continue our beautiful process of redemption. As you start reading our issue, please think inwards and prompt yourself a redemptive mindset. Thank you for your endless support!

Founder, CEO, Editor-in-Chief

TABLE OF CONTENTS THE LOVERS

15 RED SHOOT

by Mia Cousar

by Catherine Le

by Kila Lambertt

THE HIGH PRIESTESS

by Samantha Olson

THE SUN

LOVE WILL NEVER FADE

THE MOON

I AM MY PARENT’S FLOWER

by Samantha Olson

DID IT DRIVE YOU AWAY?

by Samantha Olson

WHEN SOMEONE LOVES YOU A LOT

by Alina Alvarez

by Victor MartinezRivera

VICTOR’S REDEMPTION

by Victor MartinezRivera

RIGHT OF REDEMPTION

by Samantha Olson

VISUAL CONCEPT

by Miguel Vargas

I SHOULD HAVE

by Brianna Bradley

FAZE APHAZIA

by Victor MartinezRivera

A LETTER TO THE FRECKLED-FOOL OF MY NIGHTMARES

by Kila Lambertt

VISUAL CONCEPT

by Samantha Olson

EMILY X MOON

by Samantha Olson

by Mia Cousar

r e w o l F s ’ t I Am My Paren

eL in r e th a Writt C en by

I think my parents and upbringing are often sore spots for me. How do you describe an upbringing that brought both trauma and success? How do you describe your relationship with your parents when they had you out of means of survival yet also gave you the opportunities they wanted for themselves? I think it is a very hard and complex topic to get into as they are every bit of who I am today. They are the reason I love the way I do and create relationships the way I do. They are also the reason that I have sleep paralysis and deep anxiety. I am the fruit of my parents’ labor and journey.

There is so much I want to say. There is so much I wish I said. There is so much I wish I had understood about them. About how they were just a bunch of kids trying to survive in a world that was inherently against them. About how all of their dreams were my inheritance. About how I am everything they had hoped they would be. But that is where it becomes difficult. Where do we draw the line between who I am and who they are? Am I just a product of my parents’ dreams and efforts with no other purpose? Do I not exist outside of all of that?

There are so many things unsaid. I mean, throughout the years, I don’t know how many incidents I have faced of people being downright discriminatory, rude and unempathetic. One example is my volleyball coaches’ negative comments about my parents picking me up late from practice because they had to run a nail salon to ensure that we had money and food on the table. Or even when my parents asked me to push our luggage at the airport and a rude attendant muttered under his breath about my father even daring to ask me to do such a thing. Discrimunation and judgment manifests in other peoples’ parents looking down on mine. It manifests in me rejecting my heritage and ethnicity for a very long time out of resentment and the inability to understand my parents until long after I went to college.

It is so unrealistic to expect an unknowing child to defend her parents and her family from cruel strangers who could never understand the idea of being in survival mode for their entire lives. Yet it is unrealistic to expect that child to grow up and not understand the reality of her upbringing and the intersectionality that exists within her identity. To pretend that her parents weren’t also victims of awful upbringings and that they themselves are unaware of the intergenerational trauma that exists so prominently in our bloodline.

There is so much I want to say. There is so much I wish I had said then. I can’t go back; I can only move forward. Everything I do is not only for myself, but for my parents. I am every bit myself and that is what my parents worked so hard for. They worked hard so that I could exist as I am. So I will say this much: To all those who tried so hard to stomp on the fruits of my parents’ labor, I am here and will be here for the rest of my life as testament to my parents’ journey. The flower that blooms in the face of adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all. I am my parents’ flower.

12 12

Love Will Never Fade Written b

il a K y

mb a L

ertt

Love will never Fade. She asked me to remember her in the sights and smells of the world The objects around me The living and the dead Never once did I understand why Why a person would want to be remembered by anything other than themselves. But, alas When the beginning of fall was visible and the colored leaves would fall I saw your eyes The fires of the summer time The heat that melted popsicles Released the memories of your passion The passionate subjects that rang on your tongue When you dreamed of only success. The smell of fresh clothes hanging out on the lines Hit my nose and my eyes When chills sent up my spine Just like the feeling of your lose hairs On the sheets and pillows Our stuck against my sweaty chest Skin bare or touching necks Toes talking as friends. The sight of a dead bee on the sidewalk Only reminded me of your tears When you would weep alone in the shower The fresh hot steam burning your skin Caused you to find your breathe once more The water kept me from hearing you Yet I always did. Books half read on the shelf Because you were afraid to see them end. The smell of baked goods Because you preferred sweet to salt. I now understood Why she wanted this To be remembered by the other things Because once the body is gone The flesh no longer working The other things You will find life in A life that never really left.

WHEN SOMEONE MEANS A LOT TO YOU, By Alina Alvarez

You see them in every decision you make. You see them in every sip you take, every joint you smoke, every scar on your body. They’re who you’re calling for in every scream for help. I’ve ruined myself a million different times for an ounce of your attention — an ounce of your forgiveness. Ironically, they’re with you in every good decision you make too. Every time you don’t pour the whiskey. Every time you refrain from isolating yourself. Every time you make a big decision that’s going to change your life for the better, you imagine they’re with you. Cheering you on, telling you it’ll be okay, treating you like you’re not a burden. I make my decisions with you in the back of my mind, wondering how you’d react and hoping you’d be proud of me.

I’VE DECIDED I’M NOT DOING THAT SHIT ANYMORE. For the longest time, I felt like the only love I would ever know was the kind of love that you gave me. That without you making me feel like I was worth something, I was essentially nothing. That in order for me to heal, I needed you to forgive me for things that I should’ve never even apologized for or already did. I felt like I needed to constantly pretend that I was okay just so you wouldn’t run away. Sounds a bit confusing for a relationship built on vulnerability, right?

Maybe you were scared of me. Or worried about me. Or just plain tired. I tried my best to understand where you were coming from and why you chose to leave me breadcrumbs in multiple different directions. But, then I couldn’t. And I got sad. And angry. Then, I was tired.

TO BE HONEST, I’M STILL TIRED BUT I’M WORKING ON IT.

I learned to drive without listening to your music. I learned how to love my body without having to imagine your touch on it. I learned to curb my mind from being cruel without having to reach out to you. I’ve realized that it’s not your forgiveness and love that I need, but my own. I’ve found myself, not necessarily content but, okay with the idea of you never being in my life again. I don’t need your forgiveness — nor do I really crave it anymore. Do I still long for you? Your friendship and your love? Yeah, always. But I don’t need you to redeem me anymore.

I KNOW HOW GOOD I AM WITHOUT YOUR VALIDATION. 19

did it drive you away? by victor martinez-rivera

I guess this goes out to one of the people who took part in the act of bringing me into reality, though you no longer possess the title of best dad in the world (don’t think you ever did.) I’ve had a lot of resentful feelings towards you. I can’t tell when they started, really, but for a long time it’s all I’ve known to feel toward you. you don’t come up in conversations anymore, nor thoughts, nor dreams. That’s not to say I don’t think of you, or your absence. Somehow through the trauma you left, and the issues, I learned to refocus the conversation. So while I don’t think of you, I think of the people I went to because of it. Because I don’t think of your absence, I think of the things I try and the people I used to try and fill it. It’s funny, now, looking and talking to 30 and 40 year olds, who resembled nothing of you, tell me more advice and life lessons as they push inside me. The parts of me you wish weren’t here or wish I wouldn’t embrace are still here. tell me — are they the reason you stopped calling? stopped calling me kid? stopped asking about me? You lied in that hospital bed for two weeks and not a single day alone. I sat there with you without a single word to share because I knew if you were conscious, you wouldn’t want me there. or you’d continued your long act of pretending to know what a father is, does, says. I never told you, you know. So when did you know? Was it before or after I did? Because I was eight when you left, and my realization came a decade after that. Did it push you away? Did my queerness push you away? I longed to know, I longed to punish myself forever because of it. Because of it, I thought I ruined my already broken (but together) family. I actually thought I was the source of all your problems – me and my queerness. Ironically I have traits of you. I have a temper that I can’t control sometimes. I desire things for a short period of time before moving onto others. I repress my feelings and wait for them to boil over everything I do and love.

Special shoutout to Elkin MacLeod (@elkinmua) for this incredible SFX make up!

Right of Redemption How 666chainz Shifted The Narrative Of His Journey

It was nearly 6 p.m. on a Friday when 24-year-old Kenny Wamser — publicly known as 666chainz — hopped on our Zoom call. It had at least been seven years since we were on some sort of video chat together with nearly a decade of friendship behind us. We had met on Twitter back in 2012, when we both owned fan accounts and bonded over our love of pop music. Fast forward to 2021: I write about pop culture for a living while he actually dips his toes as an artist in the underground music scene, having been a per former for Shifter Mag’s first volume of our initiative, Shifter Fest. He was perched up in a black and gray gaming chair, clothing racks lined up with streetwear behind him. Accessories from dog collars to Grommet belts hung along the rack while he faced toward the blue-lit screen of his iMac. Clear-framed glasses brimmed his nose as we caught up on what life has been like for the past few years. “It’s so weird, ‘cause I’m still not used to talking to people about this stuff,” he said, referring to his music career under the 666chainz moniker. He started experimenting with music in 2013 — the same time he gained traction on the now archived 6-second video app, Vine. He’d create musical remixes of popular videos on the app, including his own. If you ask any Zillennial about iconic Vines, odds are they’re going to reference Wamser ’s “So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties” clip. Till this day, the clip resur faces and gains traction online. “I still see my face everywhere. Like, no matter how hard I try to run away from that Vine, it’s always just lingering. I don’t know about your [ TikTok] For You Page, but I’ve seen so many videos reference it,” he said, opening up about the effect it’s had on him over the years. “It’s just crazy seeing my face known by all these people. But at the same time, I’m so quiet and not known by anyone, really.”

Ultimately, the experience gave him a confidence boost and inspired him to release original content on SoundCloud in 2015. Most of the tracks include samples, so they ’ve never been officially released on streaming platforms; yet it kickstarted an artistic journey for 666chainz. He’s gone on to officially release multiple projects, including 2019’s “Geeked Off My Gloom” EP and 2020’s “Me n My Pride” album.

“I just go with the flow always — that’s the gift about music. A person like me, who’s in love with every type of genre, the type of music I make goes with my current emotion and state of mind,” he said. “When I was first posting shit on SoundCloud, it was around the same time when [the late] Lil Peep wasn’t known, when Smokepurpp and everyone was so underground. So it’s crazy saying I grew up with these people — SoundCloud is so power ful and it kind of makes me sad that it’s dying.” On the sur face, one would think Wamser started making music because of his social media presence — a formula that TikTok stars like Addison Rae and Dixie D’Amelio have followed to kickstart their own music careers. According to him, it’s actually the opposite. He was interested in music long before his days on Vine, and his influences are emotionally driven from his day-to-day life. In 2019, his father was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and was told three separate times that he only had six months to live. This time, Wamser said he’s stronger and healthier than in the past. He opened up about how the experience has influenced him to work on and release a new project that he’s proud of. “Behind the scenes, lowkey, I’ve had so much going on. If it’s not family, it’s freakin’ mental health. I feel like those go into play, too,” he opened up about his creative process. “I don’t know, I make so many songs that I go through everything and see what describes my current situation the best. I’ll group the songs together and then drop it, that kind of thing.” He describes his music as experimental with an emphasis on pop and rap because of influences ranging from S Club 7, NSYNC and Sizzy Rocket. His biggest influences to date, however, are industry trailblazer Lady Gaga and queer pop musician Greyson Chance, who he hopes to support on the North American leg of his upcoming tour.

Although he steers more in the underground hip-hop realm, the pop influence is clear when it comes to references and lyrical contents. In the demo of 666chainz’s upcoming release, “Baby Ruth,” there’s a somber intro that runs for nearly 30 seconds before a bass and clap drum hits. “I didn’t come here to party, I came to get the work started / They told me six months, so I did something about it,” he flows over the beat, opening the song by letting listeners know that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. With a consistent message of persevering and making a name for himself, “Baby Ruth” is due this summer and ushers a new era of 666chainz where the focus is having fun and being proud of wherever his passion lies.

At first I kept telling myself it was just a “phase.” I kept reminding myself that this episode in my life of debilitating anxiety would one day be a faint memory of my past. But like most instances in my life, there passed a point where calling it a phase sounded like a safety blanket, like a slick, naive way to undermine what was really going on beneath the deeper layers of myself that I was too intimidated to dive deeper into.

As much as I would like to describe the state of mind I was in for those two years, I can really only describe the moments that transcended it. Those brief moments of euphoria, of pure enlightenment that are too allencompassing to deny. The most prominent of those moments would have to be my 21st birthday. If you know, you know. Where even in one’s deepest, most dark depressive episode, a specific moment becomes greater than yourself and gives you that drive to keep going, that there is something greater waiting for you on the

other side of internal suffering.

My day-to-day reality, however, was something that I mainly repressed from my memory all together. I just remember the constant, neverending feeling of zero inner peace. I went to therapy, worked out, ate healthy, spent time with friends, but nothing made me feel better. I felt like a robot who was constantly pretending to react to everything around me. Every laugh felt fake, every smile felt forced, every “how’ve you been?” would make my heart beat speed up with anxiety, followed by a very unconvincingly positive response.

Then, 2020 happened. The first half of 2020 felt like a total assassination of my character. As I was already going through what seemed to be a severe identity crisis, everything that I had to hold on to was stripped away from me. My freedom went from 100% to a mere 3% by living with my family for the first several months of quarantine. I had lost contact with my therapist and could not find the drive to search for a new one, so I went months without therapy which, for me, can be detrimental.

My father caught the COVID-19 virus in the summer and was nearly hospitalized. There was no real reason to experiment with my style, which was the only outlet that I felt made my life worth living. I could not see my best friends, who always provide the safest of all spaces for me. On top of all that, my anxiety was reaching a clinical level. Going downstairs in the morning to talk to my family would give me heart palpitations. I knew in my marrow that something serious was wrong with me, but I couldn’t find a way to vocalize it to anyone. Everyday while being home, I held on to the slightest glimmer of hope that there was something really exciting waiting for me. I didn’t know what it was, or how I would achieve it, but I knew something was there. The later half of 2020, the most imperative step towards bettering myself was taken: I moved back to Orlando for my final school year at UCF, and I had moved in with two of my closest friends. I finally had my freedom back. With several parameters because COVID was still in full swing, I could do and act as I pleased. With debilitating anxiety still in the back of my head at all times, I forced myself to try new things. I shaved my head for a second time to at least quiet down my gender dysphoria. I applied for and got accepted to write for Fashion Society’s first ever magazine issue. I worked tirelessly on applying to a fashion school in Paris. I started working out more regularly. I began seeing my friends more often. And yet, with all this going on, I felt just as empty as I did a year earlier. At the precipice of 2021, I may have been at one of my lowest points ever. My future had the potential of going in either one of two directions: Either I get accepted into Parsons Paris and live out an exhilarating, enriching life experience, or I don’t get accepted and move back home with my parents after I graduate and figure out what to do from there. The fact of those being my odds for my future would make me feel numb everyday. In mid January, I celebrated my 22nd birthday, which served as an eye-opener for me that I was still in a very serious funk. I received an abundance of love and well wishes from so many friends and family, yet I felt nothing at all. As redundant as I may sound, this feeling of unease and emptiness had followed me around for so long at that point that I had actually gotten used to it. I would forget at times what it truly felt to feel confident or at peace. The worst part is there was no answer. There was nothing to blame. I had everything I thought I wanted. I am fully financially supported by my family, I do not have a serious illness, I have a good amount of friends, a handful of supportive family members, and I could go on and on. This feeling that had been shoving me to the ground day after day was just as present as it was two years ago.

This is where the story takes a turn. In late January, sometime after my birthday, I had a really terrifying, vivid dream. I remember I was in some kind of hotel room with a group of people. I remember the specific outfit I was wearing, it was an oversized leather jacket, black tights, and a pair of black stripper heels. At this party at the hotel room, I remember feeling socially anxious and simply not wanting to be there. I left the party with a group of men at some point into the downtown of whatever city I was in, and the specifics here get hazy but I remember doing A LOT of illegal shit. I remember having taken a multitude of drugs, going to multiple bars/clubs, following these men into strange places where they were handling business, etc. Then, the vividness of the dream returns where I am dropped off back to the hotel by myself, randomly with a white bunny in my hands. I began having some sort of bad trip mixed with a panic attack, and somehow managed to arrive at a large bathroom of one of the presidential suites at the hotel. At the very peak of my mania, I begin crushing this white bunny with my bare hands. Steadily increasing my force until I just see red. Splatters of blood land all over my face and neck, as well as all over the marble floors and walls of the bathroom.

The sight of the blood heightens my anxiety to a clinical level where I struggle to get myself together and sloppily clean the bathroom and wipe the blood off of me. I toss the bunny in a trash can and go back to the party, where I then suddenly wake up in terror. In March of this year, I decided that enough was enough. I was driving home from picking up some food, and I just drove and drove and came to the realization that in a time span of two years, there was not a single moment where I had felt genuinely happy, confident, or content with myself. Not a single moment. And like I previously said, I couldn’t list any solid reason for my malcontent. I just simply was. I also couldn’t list a single thing that made me happy anymore. I was functioning like a literal robot, just trying to make each day pass by so that I could simply climb into bed and get my few hours of peace when I slept. With all this inner turmoil, I knew I deserved to be happy just like everyone else. I needed to make drastic decisions. I decided to finally receive professional help via psychiatry. I began taking a small dosage of an antidepressant mainly for my anxiety to

help me reach a more functional level.

I was having severe body dysmorphia so I decided instead of hating my body all day, I just need to eat healthy (mainly for my well-being, rather than for a goal weight) and exercise so I simply feel my best, regardless of size. In mid March, I got the best news of my life that I got accepted into Parsons, which I will be starting this coming Fall and moving to Paris. I started forcing myself to see my friends as regularly as possible. I got a new therapist and began being as raw and unfiltered during my therapy sessions. Yet the most enlightening discovery of all that has drastically redefined the trajectory of my life is that I came to terms with my trans identity. As difficult as navigating gender can be for any non-cisgender individual, this realization breathed new life back into my body. For the first time in years, I feel light again. I wake up in the mornings actually wanting to pursue things. I have reconnected with myself, my body, my confidence, my love of fashion & art, my friends, my future, my past, my dreams, my goals, and my intuition. I am so fucking proud to be trans.

I do, however, have a lot of significant days ahead of me, and a lot of decisions to make, but I actually feel capable of tackling them now. I am no longer intimidated by my truth. I am actually, dare I say, excited about life? For the first time in so, so long. To wrap up the story, as a former intern of Shifter, my beautiful sister Victor (the mf CEO & EIC of the publication) offered me the chance to creatively direct my own visual. As I sat in their room with our roommate (AND deputy editor of Shifter) Sam, we began brainstorming our ideas for our visuals. I had thought of several ideas, but there was something about the dead bunny dream I had that made me want to bring it up. I retold the entire dream to both Victor and Sam, and once I explained the part where I squeeze the bunny to death, I noticed through my peripheral that Victor began typing away on their computer, inquisitive of the dream’s meaning. I personally did not even want to bother googling what killing a bunny in a dream meant because I was simply scared of what the result might be. To my surprise, however, Victor turned his computer towards me and in a bold font, it clearly stated that killing a bunny in a dream signifies positive events are coming in the near future. And at that moment, I knew I had to bring this dream to fruition. So here

I wish I was making all this up, but perhaps dreams have a bit more power than we give them credit for. As eerie and random as it may have seemed at the time, I cannot deny that my life has made a dramatically positive shift in the course of

it is, my dream brought to life. It is up for

just the past few months. If you’re reading this and

interpretation and all yours to take in.

are struggling in any way right now, your moment is waiting for you. Maybe not this second, maybe not even tomorrow, but it’s there. Keep going. With so much love,

Miguel

I Should Have

WRITTEN BY BRIANNA BRADLEY

I should have told you that you were enough Reassure you that you don’t need makeup

Compliment you when you felt insecure I wish I had been a better listener

Teach you that you deserve better To never settle for less than love letters

Remind you that it’s okay to cry And tell you it gets easier to say goodbye

I’m sorry that I didn’t love you sooner I should have Your future self

34 34

A Letter to the Freckled-Fool of my Nightmares. By Kila Lambertt Hello, I hope this helps. Me, not you. I hope this somehow heals my sometimes frequent nightmares I have around what you did to me. You never hit me or laid an unwanted hand on my body but what you left with me makes me feel dirty and useless. What you did to my already chemically-imbalanced brain has never been solved. Somehow, I hope writing to you makes me feel easier about a future where I don't wonder if you will ever suffer. I hate that sometimes the anger I hold for you pops in and out of my brain. I imagine you sitting peacefully, never thinking of me or having the sharp thoughts like I get. How easily I have been erased from you without ever considering I am a human too. In a couple weeks, it will be a year since we ended and my rage has not decreased at all. Me screaming in your apartment complex as you sat at your gated pool laughing at my misery still feels as if it happened yesterday. Listening to your music as you wore my necklace I gave you; not because I gave it to you but because you liked how it looked. Begging for my stuff back because I didn't want you to have any more of me, being welcomed by the faces of your roommates I once knew as friends now looking at me like a criminal. “Fuck You” was the only words that could come to mind as I was blindly walking to my friends car due to the tears in my eyes. But I have had a lot of time during this year to organize my thoughts and feelings. Here are some things I want to say to you, and hope you feel something for how you made me feel. But most of all, to help me get over a past that will only continue to bring me down. You're a Liar. I don't believe you ever told me the truth. I don't think you know how to tell the truth because you have been lied to your whole life. I sadly convinced myself I would spend the rest of my life with you. I've always had issues with committing to a relationship more than the other person but you had no issue committing to me. Or, making me believe you were. You told me what you thought I wanted to hear but never what you actually felt. I attributed this to what you told me about your ex, a male.

During this time you were a cis female bisexual, now you’re a full-blown lesbian. I was the girl that was convenient. Cute enough to date long enough for you to come out to your family and friends. Good enough in their eyes and easy to be around for the time period that you needed me. Did you mean it when you thought I was beautiful? Or just easy on the eyes for you to look at every once in a while. I spent months thinking you loved me, that we might spend time together longer than the time we did. COVID grew, I went home, and during that time we texted and talked everyday, every second. Yet, I feel you spent the other time with her. I believed you were beautiful, the girl I thought of in my dreams when I was younger. The vivid face that came in bits and pieces that added up over time. Freckles, colored eyes, a nose that protruded yet felt so lovely when touching my skin. Soft lips that followed the teeth, so nice I felt compelled to smile back at you. Now that face is filled with sharp pains, smudged-colored eyeshadow, the tears that I believe you forced yourself to push from your trained tear ducts. I opened up about things I wasn’t even aware about myself, and you mentally noted all of these things. About my biological father, things I feared; what I wanted from my life. You took it all and kept it in a safe place for later as ammunition against me. Ready to shoot your words into me and kill what was left of this sad little girl. You’re a narcissist. You knew you were beautiful on the outside. You spent our days together complaining which was followed by the next day where you would spend your time changing outfits constantly and doing your makeup. Crazy lines and colors, shapes, butterfly wings, all of it always suited your porslin face. I admired your ability to be so beautiful in every situation but no amount of changes that you gave yourself will cover the ugly inside of you. What I once knew as your fear of your beauty is now considered the fear of what you knew you really were. The dark burning soul that rotted inside of you, creeping into mine without me noticing. The heart filled with self afflictions and pain you asked for because it was easier than attempting to have a life of fulfilment through failures.

You complained about being nothing while I spent my time giving you my energy in hopes you might use it. Hyping you up, sending you links and options to your interests, giving you what I thought you needed. But it was just something you wanted to hear. You took the life I had in me, my ambition, and my confidence and used it as a cheap energy source to get through your day. You would look at me sometimes, not saying anything and when I asked you why it seemed like you were thinking about how pathetic I was. You would kiss my forehead to blind my third eye and keep me your prisoner. I loved you, and when I said it I meant it. Yet, I always felt that I was forcing something that wouldn’t ever be but you would tell me that you can’t help the trauma. The tables ironically turned, you got to move on and feel safe yet I was left with the trauma of more abandonment. You never loved me. What you knew as love as I’ve gathered from the fiction you told me, was an mentally-abusive father followed by a boyfriend you didn’t even want. A boyfriend you dated because you had reached your senior year of highschool and hadn’t been in a relationship. So you settled for the first guy that found you attractive. Sounds similar, doesn’t it? A life you spent going for the easy way out and everytime it bit you in the ass. A life you purposely shattered yourself because you had these ideas that were placed by a man. I believed we had stuff in common, a life for a life too similar to be a coincidence. You told me of a PTSD that never followed description or understanding, only tears. You know love as to what you grew up on and I can’t blame you for that. What we are told as children follows, but how we are as adults are our own decisions. What we want from life are our own choices. Which road we pick and why. When you broke up with me, the air felt different that day. You came into my job, sat across from my friends and laughed with them. You got your mealed paid for by me, and followed with a faint goodbye and a text asking to talk later. I think you believe me to be stupid. Unluckily for you, I am not. You sat me down in my bed, the glossy eyes began before your words and I knew this was going to be the performance of a lifetime. You used excuses, not facts. Fiction over reality. You used mental illness as an excuse because you didn’t believe I deserved enough respect to be told the truth even if it hurt me. You told me you were going to in-paitent treatment, and our relationship was distracting your healing. As someone who hasn’t always been the best mentally, I understood. There needed to be a pause on what was considered us, possibly in the future something could occur. I stated this, you never denied it. If I was told then and there you didn’t truly love me, I wouldn’t have pursued it.

I actually tried to take a break from you. You would text and call, try to hang out, and we did. I thought you maybe wanted to work on us while you worked on you. Till I found out you were looking for someone new, someone who would be your version of your dream girl. You told me through text, that I was right. You say you were afraid of how I might react to you just being honest. But I think you were afraid of ever being a bad guy. Being just like your father or ex. But now, you’re just a villain. The world of social media looks up to you, admires you while I loathe every bit of your existence. Lately, I’ve been reading up on how revenge and the pain we feel toward others only brings us down. I’ve been trying to be better for myself but, when I close my eyes and see your face I wake up sweating. I wake up crying because you have become a voice in my head telling me I’m the issue. I’m the problem, I need to change. Like you once did in those texts you sent me. The abused become the abuser. But I will never become what you allowed them to turn you into. I will always be me, I will get over my hate. Even now, I realize I shouldn’t loathe you but pity you. For you have never gotten this close to peace like I have or will. Though you have given me unwanted things, you have given me things I never knew I needed till now. The ability to overcome the pain and see a brighter future without you and your dark clouds. I hope you can find some way to forgive your abusers like I have, you might be able to one day apologize to me for what you did to me. Goodbye forever, because what crumbs that are left of you in my mind will soon turn to ashes and be blown away by what I achieve with my already successful life. Some updates on me, though you don’t care. But maybe I want to think about how far I’ve come. I’ve achieved those things I hoped for, I’ve gotten those goals I thought I never would get to, and I’ve learned to love again and be loved by someone who truly loves me for what I am on the inside. Good luck, I hope you can one day be on my level. Sincerely,

Kila Motherfucking Lambertt “Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet.” Maya Angelou

Special thanks to: *All of the artists and writers who contributed content for REDEMPTION. *Alta Printing for helping us make this printed issue a reality. *All the members of the Shifter team. *Every single one of you who purchased and shared our issue!

Thank you for believing in Shifter and for all your love and support.

june contributors VOLUME 2 • ISSUE 1 • REDEMPTION

Victor Martinez-Rivera

Samantha N. Olson

Founder & Editor-in-Chief Orlando, FL | @victorsamuelo

Deputy Editor Orlando, FL | @astoldbysno

Victor Martinez-Rivera is a 23-year old Afro-latinx Queer Vegetarian and Scorpio (what a mouthful, huh?). Besides appreciating photography and fashion, Victor is a big advocate for morality, LGBTQ+ and BIPOC rights, and social justice. As Editor-In-Chief of Shifter, Victor hopes to amplify marginalized voices and get a transparent yet loud message across.

Born and raised in Miami, Florida, Samantha Olson is a 22-year-old Cuban-American journalist and content creator. After earning her bachelor of arts in journalism, creative writing and editing and publishing at the University of Central Florida, Sam has had featured bylines in Shifter Mag, Seventeen Magazine and Cosmopolitan. When Sam isn’t admiring city life and art museums, she’s probably live-tweeting awards shows or draping her cheeks in blush. Her greatest dream is to pass the mic and amplify the voices of those without a platform... and maybe attend the Met Gala while she’s at it.

Alina Alvarez Editor & Writer Orlando, FL | @alinajalvarez Alina Alvarez is a junior at the University of Central Florida pursuing a double-major in psychology and creative writing. Through her writing, she hopes to find her own voice and inspire others to find theirs. She advocates passionately for LGBTQ+ rights, POC rights, the Black Lives Matter movement, and sexual assault awareness. She hopes to one day create a safe space for victims of abuse and intolerance and maybe even publish a book or two.

Marcelo Orrico Graphic Designer Orlando, FL | @marcelo_orrico Marcelo Orrico is 21 years old and was born in Brasília, Brazil. He moved to Orlando in 2019 to study Graphic and Interactive Design at Valencia College. Besides graphic design, Marcelo is passionate about Fashion Design and Production. In his spare time, he enjoys sewing, drawing and enhancing his skills in the many areas of design.

Cat Le Writer Orlando, FL | @catxle Cat Le is a Vietnamese woman based in Orlando, FL who is passionate about advocacy, style, astrology, and cats. When she’s not working, she can be found writing or curled up next to her cat enjoying the next big K-drama.

Brianna Bradley Staff Writer Orlando, FL | @briespictures Brianna Bradley is a 21-year-old writer and editor based in Orlando, Florida. She studies literature, digital humanities and editing and publishing at the University of Central Florida. Brie joined the team as an editorial intern in 2021, and currently works as a staff writer for Shifter. In her free time, she enjoys watching movies, singing in the shower and caring for her houseplants. She aspires to promote kindness, inclusivity and body positivity through her writing.

Elisa Castillo

Regin Mantuano

Miguel Vargas

Art Director & Graphic Designer Orlando, FL | @elisa_castle

Photographer & Model Orlando, FL | @reginmantuano

Writer & Creative Director Orlando, FL | @mvmedia

Elisa Castillo hails from Boston and is passionate about aesthetics and design. She has a background in advertising, public relations and specializes in graphic design and photography. Working for a magazine has always been a dream of hers and she’s excited to get to work and collaborate with such an inclusive, progressive and exciting magazine like Shifter!

Regin Mantuano is a 21-year-old Marketing student at the University of Central Florida. His passion, interests, and strengths lie in all things creative such as photography, video production, social media marketing, and fashion styling. One of his main goals is to build a community for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ individuals where they can feel seen, safe, and heard. He is also very passionate about health and wellness, mental health awareness, and cooking.

Mia Cousar Photographer Orlando, FL | @mias.aiming 28-year-old Mia Cousar was born in the cold but thrives in the heat. Growing up in a little town in West Virginia, she would dream of going somewhere else, testing her creativity and finding herself. After all these years she is doing just that, thriving in her creative state and loving every minute of it. She made it to her dream state, with so much love and support from her partner Jesse and pup Mary Jane. Not only is she creating content, but she is also designing the concept and making her own visions come to life. Mia is aiming to help everyone realize how truly beautiful they are!

Kenny Wamser Artist & Featured Model Metro Detroit, MI | @666chainz 666chainz, a.k.a Kenny, is a 23-year-old experimental musician born and raised in Metro Detroit, MI with a batch of many characters in him. In 2013, he found his way into a new public eye through the social app Vine with his comedic videos. In 2014, his comedic videos led to the birth of Vine + DJ mixes that soon led into him feeling comfortable sharing his personal handwritten work in 2015. His upcoming mixtape “me n my pride” (due August 28) is a batch of seven remastered tracks and three brand new ones that serve a collection of different experimental moods to make sure you get servings of happiness, dazedness and nostalgia delivered through your headphones.

Miguel is a soon-to-be UCF alum majoring in Human Communication with a minor in Diversity & Social Inequality. Miguel immigrated from Colombia to south Florida when they were just a baby, and moved to Orlando at the age of 18 to start college at UCF. Miguel is passionate about all things fashion, styling, modeling, photography, sexuality/gender studies, and writing. In the Fall of 2021, they are set to move to Paris and start a Fashion Studies MA program at Parsons. Miguel hopes to venture into journalism, modeling, and activism for LGBTQ+ education, mental health awareness, sex positivity, and dismantling the politicization of the gender binary.

Kila Lambertt Writer Orlando, FL | @kilasonthelamb Recent UCF graduate, focusing on the art of theatre and writing, Kila Lambertt spends her time transforming her life into her creations. When she isn’t writing, you can find her making memories with friends and enjoying the company of her puppy. Making it her mission to provide representation to her communities, LGBTQ+ and POC, she will continue to use her platform to spread awareness. Bringing laughter and love to the world, Kila wants to change the world for a brighter future.

Samantha Piz Model Miami, FL | @samanthapizzz 22-year-old Samantha Piz grew up in the dance world of Miami for 16 years before discovering their love for modeling and creating. Exploring different styles within their photoshoots led to their interest in fashion. Sam loves playing dress up and trying out new, crazy makeup looks. When they’re not collaborating with photographers, they are either shooting their own self portraits or rewatching their favorite TV shows for the 50th time while also scrolling through social media for more inspiration. Aside from all that, Sam enjoys spending time in nature, playing with their dog and seeing their friends as a form of self care.

Emily Oliveras Model Orlando, FL | @emi_oli_arted Born and raised in West Palm, she is graduating from UCF with a degree in Ad/ PR and a minor in writing and rhetoric. Emily is passionate about cooking and staying healthy by exercise. Always interested in fashion, she combined her love for art and is currently selling her painted purses at a local store in South Florida. Quality time with family and friends is most important in her life and her mantra is to try to do something once a day that scares you.

Tara McCarthy Photographer

Metro Detroit, MI | @high.im.tara A multimedia artist originally from Chicago, Tara is always working to help other small artists with their work. From painting and digital design, to music and management, she has an eye for abstract design and uniqueness.