Amendment fall 2016

AMENDMENT

LITERARY AND ART JOURNAL SOCIAL PROGRESSION THROUGH AR TIS TIC EXPRESSION

AMENDMENT LITERARY AND ART JOURNAL FALL 2016

FALL

2016

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ABOUT THE COVER “CAUTION TAPE� BY NOURA ORABY This piece was influenced by my personal experience with dramatic contrasts between western and eastern cultures. The niqab is one of the most prominent garments that practically screams radical Islam in western eyes. The last time I resorted to wearing a niqab was when I was visiting family overseas, only to be overwhelmed with unwelcome gazes. It was quite interesting to think about how much safer I felt, as if I was wearing body armor. Wearing it here in the States, however, made me feel more of a target because the original purpose of the niqab has been ironically interpreted as a threat. I wanted to show a sort of double-entrendre because I knew that in the western eye, people will naturally interpret this piece to be of danger, rather than protection.

- Noura Oraby, Winner of the Fall 2016 Amendment Art Contest

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AMENDMENT STAFF CO EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Cyrus Nuval Kathryn Novelli LITERARY EDITOR Hallie Chametzky ART DIRECTOR Rachel Visser COVER ARTIST Noura Oraby ADVISOR Liz Canfield DESIGNER Uri Hamman

AMENDMENT STAFF Addy Gravatte Alec Dalton Alexis Quaye Brianna McCornell Caroline Simpson Elise Le Sage Emily Henderson Jimmy Rice Lara Koebke Natalie Kerby Nichola Thomason Gessler Santos-Lopez Sarah Carter Sasha Silberman Tori Thompson

STUDENT MEDIA CENTER STAFF SMC PRODUCTION MANAGER Mark Jeffries SMC BUSINESS MANAGER Jacob McFadden SMC DIRECTOR Allison Dyche

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MISSION AMENDMENT men(d)m nt/ e e

1. An annual literary and art journal that seeks to promote discussion on issues of equality, class, race, gender, sexuality, ability and identity.

2. A socially progressive student-run organization that advocates for social change through artistic expression, as well as provides a platform for historically marginalized voices in the artistic and literary community.

3. What you’re holding in your hands.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS First and foremost, Amendment thanks our numerous literary, art, and multimedia contributors.

Without your bravery, we could not exist. 2016 was experienced as a frustrating and frightening year. This journal is a celebration of perseverance, compassion, and courage.

Amendment hopes to reflect the power of your resilience.

Thank you to our incredible Art Director (& pure beam of generative light): Rachel Visser and extraordinary Literary Editor (& living essence of fresh air): Hallie Chametzky. Thank you to our amazing editorial staff: Addy Gravatte, Alec Dalton, Alexis Quaye, Brianna McCornell, Caroline Simpson, Elise Le Sage, Emily Henderson, Jimmy Rice, Lara Koebke, Natalie Kerby, Nicholas Thomason, Gessler Santos-Lopez, Sarah Carter, Sasha Silberman, and Tori Thompson. You are the backbone of Amendment. We are honored to have worked with you to ensure the success of our organization and publications. We are extremely grateful to know each of you.

Thank you to our former Multimedia Editor: Zephyr Sheedy and former Literary Editor: Mikaela Turkan Reinard, who both worked tirelessly to increase the quality and expand the capabilities of Amendment. Thank you to previous Editors-in-Chief; our wonderful friends Brittney Maddox, Maya Hope, and Kaylin Kaupish, for bringing us into the team and passing on the skills, knowledge, and thoughtfulness needed to fulfill our journal’s mission.

Thank you to the Student Media Center for providing a home for exploration, creativity, and community while serving as an absolutely necessary conduit for dialogue at Virginia Commonwealth University and beyond. Thank you to our SMC mentors: Mark Jeffries, Jacob McFadden, Lauren Katchuk, Greg Weatherford, and Allison Dyche, as well as our faculty advisor: Dr. Liz Canfield. Your guidance has helped us grow as editors, writers, artists, organizers, activists, and humans. We will always carry the lessons of your wisdom, kindness, and generosity. You are our heroes.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Thank you to all of our supporters for inspiring Amendment and ensuring VCU achieves intersectionality, integrity, and advancement. If VCU is to stand as an exemplar of diversity and inclusion, the institution must work to lift every marginalized voice, facilitate discussion, and disrupt existing systems of oppression.

Thank you for your participation; thank you for paying attention.

Thank you to Our School, Our City, Our Friends & Families, Our Teachers, Our Privileges & Struggles, Awareness, Reflection, Improvement, Past Present & Future, Hopes, Dreams, Moonlight, Sunshine, Stars, Scars, Protest, Peace, Education, Acceptance, Social Progression & Artistic Expression.

Thank you for staying vigilant.

Thank you for sharing yourself.

Thank you for having this conversation with us.

With love; sincerely, Kathryn Novelli Co Editor-in-Chief

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Hello, (hopefully) pleasant person holding this journal and (curiously) reading this section in the future!

How are you? How was your day/How do you think your day is going to go? How’re things at work/school/home/wherever? Did you do that thing you wanted to do/had to do? I’m hoping it went well or, at least, tolerably.

I’ll be honest, it is quite difficult making conversation with you right now. It’s not because you’re a bad conversationalist, I highly doubt that.

But because, right now, this talk we’re having is a bit one-sided. All I can do is type down my thoughts on this computer on November 2016 in the Cabell Library and hope that you get my message sometime in the future and wherever place you decide to read this Editor’s Note. We can’t properly communicate face-to-face and all we can do is hope that we understand each other despite the time and location differences between us.

But, it is quite a trip that as I’m rambling on in my particular time and space, your are reading my ramblings at your own different time and space.

In a weird, and less scientifically groundbreaking way, this chitty-chat we’re having is occurring in my future and your past at the same time. I guess that’s the crazy thing about stuff that’s written down on a physical object or posted up on the internet. They have, in their own odd way, a tendency to transcend time and space.

That has been one of the key goals of Amendment ever since our founding decades before any of our current contributors were probably even born. We offer ourselves up as a conduit for artists of all crafts to deliver their thoughts on the topical issues of our time to the people of the future. Whether it’s 1 hour in the future or, hopefully, 100 years in the future. We act as the metaphorical telephone for artists of your past to talk to the readers of our future. We also provide the people of the future a small portal to look back at our time and see what kind of emotions numerous artists at our university were feeling about what was going on around them.

Right now, in the period of American history that I’m writing this in, the emotion pervading the air around our community is frustration. 2016 has been quite an unpleasant year for a lot of people. Zika is spreading in Brazil, Kim Jong-Un is still a reptile, The Islamic State are being complete

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR inhuman monsters, there’s still a lot of Syrian refugees needing new homes and new lives, a merry band of bigots managed to get a referendum passed for the UK to leave the European Union for largely illogical reasons, a mass murdering sociopath became the President of the Philippines, a good number of internationally inspirational artists passed away, Syria and Turkey are in turmoil, a mournfully high number of innocent Black Americans have been murdered by police officers, some idiotic animal decided it was a good idea to take away the lives of 50 gay Americans in Florida, and many other catastrophes and adversities that I just can’t remember right now; there were a lot of them. But finally, as a cherry to top off this tragic cake that we’ve baked for ourselves, an immature and inexperienced conman will now become the President of the United States.

Dear reader from the distant or not-so-distant future, I really hope that things have improved or eased up by the time you’re reading this. The gods above and below know that the people of our world and the world itself can only take so much more damage. However, these bad times are the best times to show our resilience and the true power of our humanity.

These bad times are also the best times to be exactly who Amendment is, a conduit for the socially conscious thoughts and emotions of artists, some of whom have been marginalized by our society for who they are and what they were born as.

This journal is a conversation, albeit a one-sided one, occurring at two different times and places between you and the artists. Despite the temporal and spatial differences between us putting this journal together and you reading it, we all hope that you can empathize with the frustrated emotions of the artists through this conversation. We hope that this conversation gives you some understanding and insight to what was going on at the time when this journal was still being created. Finally, we hope that you find this conversation compelling and thought provoking or, at the very least, interesting.

Thank you for picking up this journal and thank you for having this conversation with us.

One Love, Cyrus Nuval Co Editor-in-Chief ix Amendment 2016 Fall.indd 9

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CONTENTS LITERATURE GRIEVING FOR ORLANDO IN A SUCCESSION OF DAYS by Addy Gravatte.... 2 THIS IS A POEM ABOUT A 24-PACK OF AQUAFINA WATER BOTTLES by Hallie Chametzky ..................................... 8 THE SURGEON by Addy Gravatte ..................................................................10 DEAR AFTER DARKNESS by Sylvia Jones ........................................................14 FEATURED ARTIST by Angelique Scott ............................................................16 SIX CHILDREN by Swathi Deo Sambatha ....................................................... 26 THE FIRES OF DRAUPADI by Swathi Deo Sambatha ....................................... 27 [UNTITLED POEM] by Joy Jenkins.................................................................. 28 [UNTITLED POEM] by Kathryn Novelli ........................................................... 29 A LETTER TO THE SCARS ON YOUR KNUCKLES AND HOW THEY HAVE HURT US BOTH by Bridget Condron.......................... 32 HAVE SEX WITH ME by Maheen Shahid ........................................................ 35 A LETTER OF APOLOGY TO GEORGIA O’KEEFFE by Hallie Chametzky .......... 38 STOP AND FRISK by Aila Shai Castane ......................................................... 40 2016’S BIGGEST LOSER by Ale Santander..................................................... 45

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CONTENTS ART CONTEMPLATION OF THE DOWNTRODDEN by Mary Alice Patsalosavvis ....... 1 HEAR ME by Nia Campbell ............................................................................. 6 VOICELESS by Nia Campbell .......................................................................... 7 ENVIRONMENT MANDALA by Sumiah Kabir .................................................. 9 DEAR DIARY by Anna Nguyen .......................................................................13 INTRIGUE by Rachel Lynch .............................................................................15 HERSTORY by Angelique Scott .......................................................................16 BARBADOS HISTORY by Angelique Scott........................................................17 BROKEN HISTORIES by Angelique Scott .........................................................18 DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR by Angelique Scott ................................................. 20 THE PROPER CONTENT by Angelique Scott ....................................................21 BLACK HAIR PRIDE by Angelique Scott .......................................................... 22 ILLUSTRATION by Uri Hamman ..................................................................... 26 PARANOIA by Ji Yun Park............................................................................. 30 A SUNDAY SWIM by Noah Hook ..................................................................31 BLIND NATIONALISM = HOMEGROWN TERROR by Sylvia Jones.................. 36 RACIAL INEQUALITY by Erin Thomas ............................................................. 37 ILLUSTRATION by Uri Hamman ..................................................................... 38 HUMANIZING THE BLACK MAN BY DEAUDREA RICH by DeAudrea Rich .......41 ANXIOUS by Monica Gosa .......................................................................... 42 CAUTION TAPE by Noura Oraby .................................................................. 43 FECAL FRAGMENT by Malik Radford ............................................................ 45

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CONTEMPLATION OF THE DOWNTRODDEN Mary Alice Patsalosavvis

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GRIEVING FOR ORLANDO IN A SUCCESSION OF DAYS Addy Gravatte

“50 Dead in Orlando Gay Nightclub” bright on my phone in the middle of the night. It is not enough to wake me.

DAY 1 This is my day off work and I’m sitting on a bright Delaware beach. It is full of other vacationers, including my cousins and her younger daughter. The ocean is wide and open. You can see for miles and eventually, presumably to another land. My eyes shaded and feet wedged in the warm sand, reading through Facebook. The headline from last night spreads itself across my feed in the form of frightened friends from college. The sun absorbs my skin into its heat. My cousins invite me to go into the water. I wonder why they have not mentioned this news consuming my friends in a world far away. Why would they?

Later that night I mention the news to my father. He tells me to keep going, to fight, what else is there to do. I agree out of nothing but heat exhaustion.

When I call my girlfriend as planned, she tells me she doesn’t wanna talk about it. She has been thinking about it all day, and it is so heavy (so heavy). Her family has been celebrating Ramadan, so she is called away to dinner after sundown.

DAY 2 More postings. More information today. More heavy principles. My family left the beach for business at home.

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want to grieve for his daughter’s love. I read and absorb the commentaries. This is the harshest grief for gay latinx.

Not me and my sun-burnt skin. I think about my friend in Arkansas, brown and still not out to his father. I think about a girl I went on a date with once who goes to the University of Florida. I look up its distance to Orlando – 115 miles. (She is safe, 1116 miles) Bullets can travel 1.2 miles. I think about how they’re doing.

I talk to my girlfriend again. She gets my care package.

She’s safe.

DAY 3 My coworker mentions she doesn’t want to talk about it at work today. I say I don’t either. My tongue starts to hurt from biting it.

I see their faces for the first time. The youngest is 18. A year younger than me.

I go over to my grandfather’s to make us dinner, like I promised on Tuesday night. My parents thank me after for spending time with him because he is alone and yet a social man. Outside on the balcony across the street there is a group of boys who are away on a collegiate vacation.

They are around my age and laugh when I come out in housewife tone to take care of my grandfather. My eyes struggle to give them disdain. A few balconies down I see a couple, the man wagging his finger at the girl. Fox News is on. They’re talking about the shootings. They’re saying an Islamic radical was responsible. Never once do I hear the word homophobia spoken. The preacher calls pulse a restaurant. I see the victims’ faces flash up on TV again, 3 Amendment 2016 Fall.indd 3

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faces of potential friends, lovers. and I see the tagline “Imam says homosexuality and drinking are sins” and I see myself in the microwave mirror trying not to cry. Am I going to cry here in my Pop-Pop’s kitchen? out of everywhere I had the chance to cry, I’m going to cry in my pop’s kitchen? NO, I decide, and go out to the balcony to eat when the dinner is ready. The boy on the other balcony is playing “Hallelujah” on his guitar, in the way that white boys with no shame to fear do. Pop-Pop says, “He’s making himself sadder than he has to be” and I agree. Pop tells me he is celebrating the 58th anniversary of his 28 year marriage.

It’s on the way home that I finally break down. I want to crawl into my girlfriend’s arms, but she is far away now.

Even saying that to myself pains me, My Girlfriend, because who even let me have her? I start to make metaphors out of the boys on the balcony. They are surrounding me, reminding me of what I’m up against. I feel a need to accept their laughter, to let them be attracted to me, to reciprocate.

Do they even consider if I’m attracted to them? What if they think I’m not? What if they see my girlfriend? The couple a few balconies down swims in my mind, an even further more frightening future. A loveless marriage born out of fear. Can I ever live with a wife? My grandfather doesn’t even know. How much does he hate me? I’ve been told not to tell him. No one wanted to talk to me about this and I realize people swallowing their emotions is better than expressing anything real sympathy or understanding of my fear. Is my fear worth less than your controversy? I take a deep breath and cry, cry for the deaths that didn’t even know they were a sacrifice. A sacrifice to what? To a homophobe’s end of a gun and incorrect justifications that it’s not about either homophobia or guns. I have to explain over and over again even to myself that my life is in danger. For a reason that people say I should not be afraid of.

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These and years of self-denial and hatred, of accepting but not quite awareness, of hatred and hatred and homophobia are the levy my tears are breaking under. Not ever seeing a happy gay couple live out their days until too old. I’m too young to declare my identity but young enough to die for it, to have my partner die for it, to have my friends die under it.

How can I have her and live? How can I have her and live?

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HEAR ME (LEFT) Nia Campbell

VOICELESS (RIGHT) Nia Campbell

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THIS IS A POEM ABOUT A 24-PACK OF AQUAFINA WATER BOTTLES Hallie Chametzky

This is all it is simply without, as they say, a catch This is not a poem about Monroe Park which sits conveniently a few hundred feet away from the 24-packs of Aquafina water bottles close enough that one could hold a gulp in one’s mouth during the walk and release the gulp (which has, did you know, undergone a 7-step purification system) onto the feet of the bench dwellers who have finally found shade here if not a working water fountain No, This is not a poem about this park because it will be gutted and stuffed and mounted on the wall soon turned into a 6.2 million dollar dust pan which will brush up the bench people and the Aquafina water bottles at their feet This is also, surely, not a poem about the James River a river in Virginia a state where one quarter of rivers churn a grayish-green dyed with coal-ash wastewater and often with plastic water bottles fallen from the springy netting on young, bouncing backpacks photodegrading absorbing packets of toxic time bombs waiting to be carried out to sea where 8 Amendment 2016 Fall.indd 8

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46,000 of their brothers and sisters wait in every square mile But this is not a poem about 20 percent of Aquafina water bottles which live a new life or the 80 percent which do not This is not a poem about Flint, Michigan where months after the water was deemed unsafe for car engines it was deemed safe for people This is still not a poem about Flint, Michigan Where the government smiled and shook its head (which has, did you know, undergone a 7-step purification system) and promised Over and over again this is not a poem about Flint, Michigan This is not a poem about 783 million people who may or may not have safe drinking water or about climate change or about imperialism or capitalism or any ism at all This is a poem about a 24-pack of Aquafina water bottles which are as they say free of cost

ENVIRONMENT MANDALA Sumiah Kabir

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(Content Warning: Graphic Violence and Assault)

THE SURGEON Addy Gravatte

Part I Once you finish having sex, he takes out a knife. He digs it deep into your core. You can feel the knife going through your back, puncturing the sheets, and are secretly happy because look how slim you are, the knife reaches all the way through. He cuts upward. It’s uncomfortable because the knife isn’t one for carving, so he works especially hard to move it past the bone and tissue and towards your chest. Your eyes are locked with his. Is this intimate? The knife gets to your sternum, slowing in pace. You ask him kindly to cut out your heart. He looks down, slicing with a careful intensity until he makes it to your heart’s top. Fitting a hand into the fresh slit, he wraps his fingers around the base, closing a fist over it. What fire it feels in his hands. Quick slices of the aorta and some pulmonary veins & arteries and it’s out. His hands locked over it, it pulses feverishly. You see the scarlet heart glowing in the dim lights. He asks you where to put it, you reply on the beside table. You look at it for longer, the tight condensed muscles weighted with fat. How it’s heavied with blood.

How much lighter you’ll be without it.

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Part II He asks if he can try something else. You nod, heartless. He plunges the knife again into the original mark. This time the blade moves south, slicing open your stomach and the contents spill out. Apple skins and black coffee lay all over you. You are thankful you had nothing embarrassing, like candy and stomach relaxers. Further down into the intestines, you can finally feel the relief you so longed for in all those stomachaches caused by nerves and impulses that have finally gone silent. They are out in the open now in new kinds of emotion. He’s taking his time with this cut, relishing each organ splitting open underneath the blade. He tears your belly button in two. The birthmark, unbirthed. The knife is level with your hips. It moves farther down. If you had a heart, it would be beating fast. The knife hits something inside you to make you scream.

There is no greater pain here. It stays there, piss spitting out at it, the instrument caught on the os pubis. He was enthralled by the scream, however, so he digs it deeper, gutting you underneath the shield of your bone. The knife touches something else, and you emit a real shriek. He is deeper inside of you than ever before. Is this intimate? The knife is extracted, and cuts over the skin of your bone heading towards the thick slit between your legs. There is true madness here! He runs the knife over the vestibule, barely drawing blood. You meet his eyes again. There is no difference in face when he fucks the knife inside you.

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(Content Warning: Sexual Abuse and Violence)

DEAR DIARY (RIGHT) Anna Nguyen

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DEAR AFTER DARKNESS Sylvia Jones

I’ve been flagrant. Not Brave.

“Steeplechased” after many a Sunday.

But if you need pussy.

I got you.

Flagrant (adjective) 1.) Shockingly noticeable or evident; obvious; glaring.

2.) Notorious; scandalous.

Steeplechased (verb) 1.) To ride or run in a steeplechase.

Steeplechase (noun) 1.) A horse race over a turf course furnished with artificial ditches,hedges,and other obstacles over which the horses must jump.

2.) A point-to-point race.

3.) a foot race run on a cross-country course or over a course having obstacles, as ditches, hurdles, or the like, which the runners must clear.

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INTRIGUE Rachel Lynch

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N O I T AU

C N O TI U A NC

IO T U N CA

O I T AU

C N O TI

HERstory

by Angelique Scott

featured artist

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This year, and the year before that, has been red marked by numerous tragedies that have led to the unjust deaths of many Americans inside their own country and, usually, at the safety of their own neighborhoods. Sometimes, when injustice and tragedy strikes a particular community or targets a particular race and ethnicity, it can become quite difficult or dangerous for people to be proud of their skin color and/or their heritage.

Sometimes, it can take a lot out of you to simply exist, when the authorities and the establishment of your society make it clear through their actions that your particular life matters less than the lives of the privileged class.

In this particular case, we are referring to the numerous tragedies and injustices suffered by the Black-American communities across the United States. Countless times, many Black-Americans, adults and children, have been unjustly murdered simply for being who they are. And countless times, their unjust murderers, usually the authority figures of the community, have not had to answer for their crimes.

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Broken HIStories by Angelique Scott

It is difficult, and sometimes dangerous, to be a proud Black-American in the United States. But this has not stopped the Black Community from rallying together and showing their pride everyday. This has not stopped Black Community leaders in leading chants on the streets that their people’s lives matter. This has not stopped Black Parents in instilling hope in their children’s hearts that there is a better future where all people will be treated equally. This has not stopped Black Teachers in equipping their students with the wisdom on how to achieve that better future. Finally, this has not stopped Black Artists around the United States from showing, through their art, pride in their heritage and pride in the amazing things their community is capable of.

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Angelique Scott, is one such artist who expresses her pride regularly and skillfully. Aside from showing her pride through her physical being, words, actions and the organizations she is a part of, Ms. Scott’s enjoys expressing her pride through her art. Her favored medium of artistic expression is physical sculptures, particularly clay and ceramics. Ms. Scott is currently a senior at Virginia Commonwealth University and plans on graduating in the Spring of 2018. Her field of study is Art Education and Craft/Material Studies with a concentration in clay and a minor in Art History.

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Angelique Scott is Amendment’s Featured Artist of the Fall 2016 semester and it was an honor to interview her for our Journal.

Amendment: What do you think about VCU? Is this a good place to be an art student?

Angelique Scott: I have grown to love VCU. I believe that with any public or private arts college, you pay for connections and opportunities, and VCU has a lot of them. Apart from the lack of diversity in the arts, VCU is a great place to be an art student. You are challenged by your peers and by your professors to create work that not only fits the prompt, but that is meaningful to you. The teachers care about their students, and the Dean’s office listens to students concerns, especially mine in regards to diversity. Once I noticed how I was the only black student or student of color in most my art classes, I decided not to stick with the status quo or the “norm.”

Aside from being an art student at VCU, what other groups and activities are you a part of around VCU?

I am a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Incorporated, one of the 9 historically black sororities in the National PanHellenic Council. We hold various events both educating and involving the VCU and Richmond Community. I am also the Co-Founder and President of B.A.S.E (Black Art Student Empowerment) at VCU. A cultural organization that was founded as a direct response to the lack of diversity within the School of the Arts. One of our biggest and most anticipated events is the Fall Showcase we hold every fall semester. This year’s showcase is themed “B(L)ack By Popular Demand.” I was also involved with the NAACP at VCU for Two years and was crowned Miss NAACP for the 2014-2015 academic year.

I was the speaker for the Presidential Forum on Diversity in Fall 2015 and a student organizer with Black VCU Speaks to discuss concerns from students of color to the President’s Office. I recently graduated from the VCU Aspire, 2-year service learning program.

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Don’t Touch My Hair

by Angelique Scott

What issues going on around the country, or in the world, right now do you feel strongly about?

Issues in Syria, Black Lives Matter, the Dakota Access Pipeline, and the precarious state of political emergency in the U.S. are topics that I am primarily concerned about now.

A lot is happening in our country and around the world and I feel that it is important to keep up with current events and educate others about what it happening whether through art or another medium.

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What inspired you to make the art pieces you submitted to Amendment?

I am inspired by my background, my heritage, and the world I occupy. Barbados was created as a way for me to pay tribute to my Caribbean roots and discuss the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade.

The Proper Content was my response to black bodies being held as a commodity and the cultural appropriation of black culture throughout time. With Black Hair Pride, I am embracing my natural hair, therefore embracing a primitive part of myself and my culture that I have been trained to despise. In highschool I was forced to use a relaxer to keep my hair straightened and soon after I graduated I realized that I hated my hair straight and using strong chemicals to maintain something I no longer liked. Black Hair Pride is a way of celebrating the Afro-Centric woman in a colorful and enticing way. I looked to Aaron Douglas and his paintings for rhythm and movement. Don’t Touch My Hair is one of my earlier works. I tried to remember how I felt when people (mostly not of color) would

The Proper Content

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by Angelique Scott

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automatically touch my hair as if it weren’t an extended part of my body; they were not invited nor did they ask but always seemed to exert the privilege of doing so. I was inspired by the different hair styles I have worn throughout my life. From braided pigtails when I was a little girl, to faux locs, to an Afro; no matter the hairstyle it still managed to prompt others to touch me uninvited. Broken HIStories was created to blend both the present day American flag with the Battle flag of the Confederacy and shatter them simultaneously. Both flags have complex HIStories that often do not include the prominence of the African-American contributions to the war, or the country.

Her Story was created to symbolize the freedom and peace

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(symbolized through the cowrie shells) the black woman in America seldom experience. From being constrained in the workplace to being stigmatized for their body image in a way that it is demeaning and overly-sexualized, money and gold are held above all else. The black woman is considered the world’s most disrespected and unprotected race and gender, so I choose to have gold in the background. Her Story is was inspired by not only black women, but Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me and trying to live free within your own body.

Out of all the art pieces you submitted, did you have a particular favorite?

The Proper Content and Black Hair Pride are equally my favorite works of art. Black Hair Pride was the first piece I assembled of that size and I was so thrilled to see the piece come to life. The Proper Content symbolizes so much information and I love everything that the piece fights for.

A good number of your art pieces discuss hair, particularly African-American hair. Why is that an important issue for you?

Hair is very important to me for many reasons. One being, it is a direct connection of DNA and history, and holds cultural and social traditions. Hair is also a statement. The world interprets many things about a person simply by their hairstyle.

Black hair specifically is something that I incorporate into my work often because it is something I value and has direct connections to the lineage and history of African-Americans.

Why did you decide to present the issues that are important to you through sculptures and physical three dimensional art?

I use my artwork as a way for people to engage in a dialogue about a sensitive, difficult or controversial topic. Being the only black person, and black woman in most of my art classes, not many people create artwork about race in the same way that my work demands the attention of the audience.

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Have you had any experience with discrimination, bigotry and/or racism?

Overtly, no. I have never had any be directly racist towards me but I have experienced countless micro-aggression, and experienced subtle or subconscious racism. I have experienced this in school, work, the community, and I have even internalized stereotypes that I must unlearn. I must relearn a lot of what has been told to me throughout life.

With all of the issues about race surround America right now, do you have hope that racism can still be overcome?

Racism is derived out of ignorance, and ignorance stems from a lack of education. Until the people are educated with honesty and nothing is withheld, there will always be racism.

This country was built on racism and genocide, until we can have open conversations in all areas and aspects about the war against black bodies, we can never have freedom from political and social constructs such as racism.

What can students do to fight against discrimination, bigotry and racism?

I believe that cultural or black organizations on campus such at BASE, BSU or NAACP, or even the Office of Multicultural Student Affairs are a great place to start to learn about people, learn about the problems people face, and discuss them.

Do you have any other art pieces or projects that you are currently working on that discusses or presents a topical issue?

Yes, I am currently working on a few pieces. One is a figurine of Lady Justice that talks about the biased judicial system in America. Another is a pop-color hair piece based off of 90s fashion, a statuette dedicated to my father focusing on black men and black fathers, and other fibers based artwork that will also talk about the 13th amendment and those who fought for/and against it. Most, if not all of my work centers around social or political topics.

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SIX CHILDREN Swathi Deo Sambatha

Life is beautiful when you are young.

However, my child, it became ugly quickly, didn’t it?

What did you know?

You were a mere child, given a too big a gift Like your Greek ancestor, Curiosity was the becoming of your tragedy For the God of Sun could not disobey the mantra The power of the gift was such.

You could never utter the truth, Even in your royal chambers For the walls could hear your words So you just weep every night For you should not be called Kunti the Queen, the mother of five honorable sons, But of six.

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THE FIRES OF DRAUPADI

Nothing can douse the fire in a woman For she rose from the ashes Laughing at the faces of weak men Who did nothing to help her She shook her head weeping in the royal court Causing her dark, curled tresses to fall around her torn blouse Covering the dark red blood covering on her body And looked on with the three eyes of anger And that was all for her guilty husbands To create a war, a great great war So terrifying that it will be written With tears and metallic blood Weapons and arms strewn everywhere The stench of thousands dead, men and a woman Filling the air, as the Empress looked on For it to unfold as a nightmare for brave warriors Till she saw her monster and his death And bathed her dark tresses in his princely blood Only then did she put up her hair To that of a royal woman She loudly proclaimed at the funeral of her sons, “No one shall protect women from now on, For we will fight our own wars And we will win�

Yet, for slighting a woman like that, One such war is not enough

Uri Hamman

Swathi Deo Sambatha

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[UNTITLED POEM] Joy Jenkins

Since I wanna ride a Scottish actor’s face with a jawline of a god And make out with a British actress whose lips look like heaven They call me anti black.

Let’s take away your black card And trade you for Macklemore in the racial draft Cause you are the opposite of black.

“You talk too white for my liking You can’t even fucking dance!

You gotta be mixed cause you ain’t 100% black.”

What does she know about the struggle?

She’s so fucking light; her ancestors were fucking house niggas!

Depression doesn’t count as a stuggle, sweetie.

You don’t deserve to be black.

But when the redneck with the confederate flag Sees me in the Walmart parking lot I’m nothing but a black nigger.

And when reading Huck Finn in class All the white kids turn and stare at me Whenever the teacher reads the word nigger.

When I get home I take off this smiling suit And bare my black and empty soul And turn off the lights and blend in Cause that way, I can finally be accepted.

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[UNTITLED POEM] Kathryn Novelli

Yes. Spit plays a part.

Saliva lubricates the mouth that spins the smooth silver words they swoon for.

They’re swaying, praying.

The holy communion between their heavenly idol and their collective lost souls searching, searching, searching for understanding.

And he spit on them.

And they considered it a gift.

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PARANOIA (LEFT) (LEFT) Ji PARANOIA Yun Park Ji Yun Park

A SUNDAY SWIM (RIGHT) A SUNDAY SWIM (RIGHT) Noah Hook Noah Hook

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(Content Warning: Domestic and Intimate Partner Violence)

A LETTER TO THE SCARS ON YOUR KNUCKLES AND HOW THEY HAVE HURT US BOTH Bridget Condron

I should have known when the first time you told me that you loved me, you followed it with: but I’m scared.

I remember the night your cat scratched you up pretty bad. I remember the way your fingers curled into her fur as you grabbed her by the skin on her neck and hurled her out the door.

“She needs to know she’s not allowed to hurt me,” you said.

This was the first time I realized I was not allowed to leave. You’d always joke that I couldn’t break up with you, I wasn’t allowed to.

You made me promise to stay, promise I was being true. You never believed I would be- I know this now.

The questions at first made reassurance fly from my heart, to my mouth, to your ears. Of course I won’t leave- you have my whole heart. It was only as the months grew longer and your questions more frequent that I began to realize these were not jokes; they were threats. I began to recognize the way your voice shook in desperation, in fear.

“Please don’t leave. You can’t leave. I know myself and I know what I will do if you leave me. You are not allowed to hurt me.”

I realize now these lessons were taught to you by the scars on your step dad’s knuckles; lessons from the bottom of the bottle of your alcoholic father whose been sober and kinder for years now. But when I met him I noticed the tremble in his voice- you can’t leave me.

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to hurt you; I had to prove on a daily basis this wasn’t my intention.

I so frequently ripped my true bleeding heart out and handed it to you- “please love, look. Look at how I beat for you.”

I loved the lines of your smile, the way it crinkled your face and the way your glasses would slide down your nose and you’d have to push them back up and I loved how you called me cutie.

Cutie, a name I thought was mine. I realize now that it wasn’t mine: it was yours. I was your property, your girl. I was a toy that you had, the nicest one you’d ever owned and you were so afraid of someone stealing me that you locked me away beneath the heavy weight of All Of Your Shame.

The amount of things I saw you hit during our relationship was too many to count on both hands- I knew it was only a matter of time until it was my turn to be your punching bag.

I remember how rainy it was the day you threw me out. I remember being cold and alone and broken and coming back and banging on your door. Even after you threw me away I still came back. I didn’t have anywhere else to go- you made sure of that.

At first I thought it was romantic you wanted us to keep so many secrets. I thought you just wanted things to be special, just ours. Now I realize it was because you knew what you were doing wasn’t okay.

I remember when you told me you didn’t want my friends to think badly of you. but they did. because: you were bad to me.

Sometimes you were so, so good to me. There were beautiful days where I so vividly dreamed of a future for us. Times when you bought me kombucha and chocolate or when you met my family, or when we’d stay in bed the whole day and you’d kiss every single part of my body. We laughed at the same things- you had such a great laugh.

And we loved, boy did we love. But you don’t hurt things you love.

You protect them, you don’t threaten them.

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You hurt me.

On a daily basis.

For a long time.

And you tried to cover it up; always. You tried to spin it and reconcile it but we both know how you are.

You have the same scars on your knuckles as your step father.

I know you threw him through a wall, I know that was a changing time for you. I know that broke you out of so many things that were happening to you. But it also opened up a part of yourself that you have not been able to close. There is a fire inside you that you cannot keep in. You refuse to believe it is there, to take the steps necessary to put it out. I’ve offered you water so many times- you won’t take it.

I hope you find some water sometime soon my greatest and most painful love. I will always be hoping that you do.

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(Content Warning: Sexual Abuse and Assault)

HAVE SEX WITH ME Maheen Shahid

I bought you so many things, so have sex with me.

I bought you beer at the bar, so have sex with me.

I offered to parallel park your car when you couldn’t, so have sex with me.

I lent you my jacket when it was cold out, so have sex with me.

I listened to you rant about your mother, so have sex with me.

I drove you home from that concert, so have sex with me.

I added you on facebook, so have sex with me.

I visited you at work, so have sex with me.

I parked on your street at night, so have sex with me.

I texted you at 2am, so have sex with me.

I told you he was no good for you, princess, so have sex with me.

I can’t believe you got back together with him, so have sex with me.

If you don’t call me back I will kill you, so have sex with me.

Bitch, where are you going? Have sex with me.

I told you you were mine! Have sex with me.

Bitch! Have Sex With Me! FUCK YOU! HAVE SEX WITH ME!

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RACIAL INEQUALITY (RIGHT) Erin Thomas

BLIND NATIONALISM = HOMEGROWN TERROR (LEFT) Sylvia Jones

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A LETTER OF APOLOGY TO GEORGIA O’KEEFFE Hallie Chametzky

I set out to write a poem It was to be a self-righteous one In disagreement with you (the you I have found in museums, on shelves, in lazy jokes and amateur critics) It was to be a treatise on my vagina and the way it never bloomed or blossomed or smelled faint and sweet the ways it is muscular, and visceral and powerful and never passive in matters of pollination But I discovered, floating there in the shallowest pools of research, that you spent your life eraser in hand running behind the narrative scratched together by the great pencil wielding hands The narrative stubbornly spouted by pseudo-Freudians lazily shrinking the whole down to its parts The one so happily touted by feminists (the only ones of the bunch who promised to believe you) when they used you for the covers of their anthologies talking loudly and quickly over your protest not hearing the irony or the cruelty man Uri Ham

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I am sorry, dear Georgia, that while great and genius and master were allowed you definer and decider and pencil wielder were not I am sorry your paintings have had fingers that did not belong to you dragged through them, leaving permanent smudges I am sorry we cannot, not ever, it seems, choose to believe women even in matters of their own creation I choose to see flowers (or if I do not, to call it chance) I choose never again to burden you with the weight of a vulva that you did not ask for I know yours has burdened you enough I choose to believe you I hope you will forgive me

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STOP AND FRISK Aila Shai Castane

Stop and frisk shouldn’t be a problem If I got nothin to hide?

Bullshit! I got my pride.

I got caskets full of ancestors proving me I’m worth somethin’.

I got marches full of fed up melanin telling me my skin is golden.

I got an afro full of ovens waiting to spring into a revolution.

Try and frisk with my history, I’ll stop you dead in your tracks.

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HUMANIZING THE BLACK MAN DeAudrea Rich

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ANXIOUS Monica Gosa

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WINNER WINNER OF OF THE THE FALL FALL 2016 2016 AMENDMENT AMENDMENT ART ART CONTEST CONTEST

CAUTION TAPE Noura Oraby

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FECAL FRAGMENT

2016’S BIGGEST LOSER

Malik Radford

Ale Santander

This election has been described as a boxing match, a clash of titans, even “the election of a lifetime”; a fight worthy of golden belts, dramatic steam-filled entrances and sacrificial blood. And it’s no wonder, considering the absurdity of it all. Penis size innuendo?

Check. A promise to kill the children of terrorists if elected? No republican outcry. Efforts to end his campaign were unsuccessful on all fronts, and at all times. Trump has been dodging and darting every punch that’s come his way. Yes, the left has been swinging and missing for 16 months now; but it wasn’t until tonight that Trump took the final blow, a knockout punch he himself delivered.

As I write this, my T.V. and phone are ablaze with the news that broke this weekend. I can’t say I’m shocked or even surprised. Clinton and Trump have been in the ring for over a year now, fighting a match which at times has gotten too close for comfort. Trump seems to brush off every scandal and attack with ease, nothing appears to knock him down; not the wall, not the Muslim ban, not even the KKK endorsement. Secretary Clinton had been playing it safe, or “going high” as Mrs. Obama would put it. Clinton had been in her corner, waiting out the clock, thinking what most of us did since Trump announced his candidacy last year: This is going to be hilarious, but inconsequential; he’ll be gone by Iowa.

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Sixteen republican candidates, 13,300,472 votes, and $168.2M later, the establishment finally heard what the people of this country had been saying all along: this guy can really win. A series of ads and TV appearances by Clinton and her campaign called into question his tax payment (or lack thereof ), his draft-dodging, his relationship with Putin, and even his brand, revealing the numerous bankruptcies and frauds committed by his company and so-called “charity”. Mitt Romney and H. Bush are just two of the countless other republicans who joined the “Never Trump” movement; a bipartisan effort that did what no issue or controversy had done for Washington in years: join democrats and republicans for a common cause: stop Trump.

This July, Mr. Khizr Khan spoke at the Democratic National Convention of his late son, Captain Humayun Khan, who died serving in Iraq. Mr. Khan spoke of his son’s devotion to his country, and Trump’s disrespect of their faith, and their patriotism. He spoke of Trump’s ignorance and condescension. But it wasn’t until Mr. Khan took out a copy of the constitution, offering to lend it to Trump that you could feel Anne Coulter start to panic; the crowd went wild. Call it what you want: heartfelt empathy or cold political calculation. Either way, Clinton finally struck back, and finally went on the offensive. The effects this had on the Trump campaign should have been devastating… And it was. Polls dipped to the lowest they had been in weeks. But as is usual with Mr. Trump, he bounced back. Even Cruz, who Trump called a “pussy” on the campaign trail, whose wife he ridiculed earlier that year, and whose father Trump accused as a conspirator in the JFK assassination, endorsed him just a few weeks later.

I can already imagine the books, courses, and movies that will try to explain this election to future generations… hell, even ourselves.

“How we let it get this far” and “What took you so long?” are just two of the many titles that come to mind. But what really strikes me, and at times even angers me, is the circumstances under which the republican base and American people finally said enough. The video that was released this weekend was desolating. Execs at ABC just fired Billy Bush from Good Morning America, and with the recent Gallup poll results, I’m going to go ahead and say the electorate just did the same to Donald Trump.

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Yet as a woman, Hispanic immigrant, and fervent dissenter from the very beginning, I really do have to ask: Why now? This sexscandal is what finally pushed you over the edge? We all knew who Trump was, and if you didn’t, you should have since the second he announced; kicking off his campaign with the disparagement of Mexicans with the now infamous line of: “rapists and criminals”.

Immigration quickly became this election’s hottest issue. The deportation of “illegals” is Trump’s main claim to fame, and frighteningly, what incited such a mass-following. Every rally, and subsequent headline dealt with the wall and his promises to bring back “law and order” - a nice Nixon callback that worked once before when oppressing a whole other minority. In reality, fewer Mexicans are migrating to the U.S. today than in the past. A recent Pew research report stated the following: more Mexicans left than came to the U.S. since the end of the Great Recession. Between 2009 and 2014, 870,000 Mexican nationals left Mexico to come to the U.S., down from the 2.9 million who left Mexico for the U.S. between 1995 and 2000. Net-migration from Mexico is now below zero. But like most facts, this was irrelevant to Trump and Trump voters.

Yet as a woman, Hispanic immigrant, and fervent dissenter from the very beginning, I really do have to ask: Why now? This sex-scandal is what finally pushed you over the edge? We all knew who Trump was, and if you didn’t, you should have since the second he announced; kicking off his campaign with the disparagement of Mexicans with the now infamous line of: “rapists and criminals”. Immigration quickly became this election’s hottest issue. The deportation of “illegals” is Trump’s main claim to fame, and frighteningly, what incited such a mass-following. Every rally, and subsequent headline dealt with the wall and his promises to bring back “law and order” - a nice Nixon callback that worked once before when oppressing a whole other minority. In reality, fewer Mexicans are migrating to the U.S. today than in the past.

A recent Pew research report stated the following: more Mexicans left than came to the U.S. since the end of the Great Recession.

Between 2009 and 2014, 870,000 Mexican nationals left Mexico to come to the U.S., down from the 2.9 million who left Mexico for the U.S. between 1995 and 2000. Net-migration from Mexico is now below zero. But like most facts, this was irrelevant to Trump and Trump voters.

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This racist rhetoric was to be expected, nothing we had never heard before…. But from a presidential candidate? And so blatantly and callously? This kind of unbridled disrespect would not stand in a presidential election… Racism is alive and well, but until now, manifested in more discrete and passive-aggressive tones. This man would not resonate with the American people. He would soon be denounced by thoughtful and well informed governmental leaders, right? Wrong. This aspersion and outrageous disregard of not only a people, but of the facts kick-started, and fueled this campaign from the very start.

Republican leadership has not condemned this behavior until now. The xenophobia, racism, misogyny, and unashamed disregard of the political reality had no sway with the republican party until he engaged in the so called “locker-room” talk on the Access Hollywood tape. Since he announced in July, former Miss Venezuela said she would publish a book exposing Trump’s “abuses of power and racism”. Called “Mrs. Housekeeping” and “Miss Piggy” by Trump in the past, Ms. Machado’s abuse should have been enough to rally the kind of condemnation he is currently receiving. Last March, a young black woman was forcibly removed from a Trump rally for holding up a Black Lives Matter sign. After Trump said: “Get her out of here” and repeatedly shouting “out, out, out”, she was pulled through the crowd, pushed and yelled at by angry supporters. The words “mob-mentality” and “raciallycharged” were just some of the terms used to describe these gatherings. Yet not until recently with the leak of the Billy Bush tape is the right “appalled at Mr. trump’s treatment of women”.

The accusations of sexual assault following this tape were disastrous for the Trump campaign, but nothing like the three debates. Vox’s editor-in-chief said Hillary has crushed Trump in “the most effective series of debates we’ve seen in modern presidential history; it wasn’t even close.” Before the presidential debates, Clinton was ahead by a little over a point. After, by more than seven.

Since the first televised presidential debate of 1960, no other debate, or series of debates have ever had the kind of sway in polls we are currently seeing in 2016.

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charges, pneumonia hysteria, uproar over her clandestine speeches to Wall-Street, and even reptilian accusations. As SN L’s third debate spoof so aptly put it, in the first debate, Clinton had “… set the table.

In the second, fired up the grill. And tonight, [she] feasts”.

Trump’s macho bravado and authoritarianism did him more than well in the primaries. But Clinton turned Trump’s only tactic –neanderthalic aggression- into his weakness. She used his lack of control, and then exploited it ruthlessly. In the first debate, she just called him “Donald”. As expected, he took the bait, and immediately tried to shame her into referring to him with more respect. With a series of sexual-assault charges under his belt, and the running thread of misogyny that had driven his campaign, the domineering and loud argumentative style that killed “Little Marco” and “Lowenergy Jeb” were not going to work against Clinton.

To his credit, Trump begins every debate relatively calm and collected, but very quickly (and easily) Clinton prods him; poking Trump on the huge business inheritance he received from his father, further taunting him by questioning his “millionaire status”, and how his not releasing his tax-returns only confirms this. Like a child being poked by his sibling, Trump walked into her trap; he was being embarrassed and ridiculed on national television, and by a woman. So at about the 30-minute mark of every debate, Trump becomes visibly and audibly agitated. He begins to interrupt her, and his quasi-presidential façade breaks; disrupting with incoherent remarks, refusing to move on and answer the question he was initially asked. Trump’s low blows and poor sentence formulation looked even more pathetic when he shared the stage with Clinton’s professionalism and calm; the gloves were off.

The Alicia Machado videos of sexual assault did him in. From the beginning of the first debate, the Clinton team set-up perfectly what would later be Trump’s demise. Without it, the Access Hollywood tape would not have held the weight it did. Trump was floored and forced into a corner, down and out awaiting the killer blow. His counterattacks were impromptu at best, even accusing Bill Clinton of sexual assault when he should have been preparing for the next debate, formulating a strategy to counter, or reminding America of Clinton’s weaknesses as well. Hillary Clinton masterfully pushed, and goaded Trump, cementing him as irrational and immature by establishing 49 Amendment 2016 Fall.indd 49

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a stark contrast with her professional, and cool demeanor; She managed to do what fifteen other presidential candidates could not; break him. He looked not only un-presidential, but idiotic; a feat I hope Trump will always remember was a woman’s-doing.

Clinton won the white house. November 8th will be both a loss and win for the right, and the left. When you vote for “the lesser of two evils”, I think it’s fair to say the emotion and optimism of 2008 or even 1980 is absent this election. Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton are the two presidential candidates with the lowest approval ratings in modern history. Clinton has been called many things, but the only one that rings true is “republican” …at least with progressives and liberals. Her campaign was not inspiring like Bernie’s or even shocking like Trump’s. Many take the name “Clinton” to mean establishment, and even associate it with corruption. Clinton know this, so she centered her entire campaign against Trump and united centrists, liberals, independents, and even moderate republicans against the lesser of these two evils. In an era when people are disappointed and frustrated with politicians, Hillary Clinton feels like a dose of more of the same. And with Trump as her opponent, we were all forced to take our medicine.

Anti-Mexican, immigrant, Muslim, black, establishment and even anti-reason sentiment exploded with Trump’s candidacy. The Trump Train did more than divide; it conquered. He called into question President Obama’s nationality, the validity of American democratic elections, and yesterday, by refusing to accept his imminent loss, the peaceful transition of power. Trump has been outed as pro-choice, pro-tax, and pro-Clinton in the past. His pandering to evangelical, southern, and racist voters was shameful, but effective. His voice is now the voice of the KKK, vigilantes at the Mexican-American border, and of the anti-gay, anti-Muslim base.

Yet it is important to remember that the loud, newsworthy minority we see on the news is in fact a minority; the Tea party is not Trump’s main vote source; they just get the most coverage. By tapping into people’s fear over the death of the coal industry, plants, manufactories, and the imminent “brown-ization” of America that will make non-Hispanic whites a minority, Trump sold them the death of their livelihood and country, and positioned himself as the only one who could save them.

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Call him what you want, but either way, Trump’s strategy raised many issues, and even more people: People who had never voted before; people who are disenfranchised and disappointed by empty factories and a dying industry; people tired of empty promises and teleprompter politicians. So to call the 16 million people who voted for Trump a “basket of deplorables” or “racist rednecks” (whether fair or not) is a mistake. His voice stirred the nation; he called to those angered by the new America, an America their parents had not promised. In an era of rapid change, Trump offered remedy to those who have not adapted or feel cheated by this conversion. In the ruins of the Trump campaign will live the hatred he upraised; the bigotry and skepticism that plagued the entire election from the very beginning. By appealing and tapping into people’s fear, Trump led a movement that cannot, and will not go away this November.

Trump will lose this election, but in the long-run, so did we.

Editor’s NotE: Donald Trump won the 2016 Presidential Election. Although Hillary Clinton won the popular vote (Clinton: 64,658,130. Trump: 62,448,319; as of November 28), Donald Trump won 306 electoral votes from the Electoral College. Hillary Clinton won 232 electoral votes and 270 electoral votes are needed to win the Presidential Election.

Donald Trump will be inaugurated into office on January 20, 2017.

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AMENDMENT

LITERARY AND ART JOURNAL SOCIAL PROGRESSION THROUGH AR TIS TIC EXPRESSION

AMENDMENT LITERARY AND ART JOURNAL FALL 2016

FALL

2016

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