Violet Summer Zine Issue 4

VIOLET SUMMER ZINE ISS. 4

© 2018 Violet Summer Zine, All Rights Reserved.

Published by: Mel Writes, LLC

EGO

&

truth

C OLLABORATORS

Melissa Henderson Melissa is a writer on a quest to make cool stuff.

She loves telling stories, shopping, and traveling the world. She currently works for A Complete while creating zines and other partnerships.

Follow her on social @melspainn. More at www.melwrites.com.

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Alana Blaylock Emmy Award Winning Producer Alana Blaylock Drives Culture Forward.

Hailing from Northern NJ, this Documentary Producer produces premium content for networks like Amazon, Youtube Red, and CNN Originals.

Follow her on IG @lanablayy.

Sanford Jenkins Sanford is a writer and film director from Philadelphia, a graduate of Morehouse College & USC School of Cinematic Arts. His work is supported by the Directors Guild of America, AFROPUNK, Fdation, and Art Share L.A. www.sanfordjenkins.com/

C OLLABORATORS

Aramide A. Tinubu Aramide A. Tinubu is a film critic and entertainment journalist. Her work has been published in EBONY, ESSENCE, Bustle, The Daily Mail, IndieWire and Blavity. She wrote her master’s thesis on Black Girlhood and Parental Loss in Contemporary Black American Cinema.

Malea Thomas Malea Thomas is a recent graduate of American University. She majored in English Literature with a focus in Creative Writing.

Since Malea was a little girl, she has always been obsessed with fashion.

This summer, she is teaching in Miami and hanging out by the beach.

Mi Mi Chloe Park An intellectually curious traveler who resides in Brooklyn; Mi Mi grew up in the South of France and New York City. Currently, she works for a French advertising agency and loves to document her experiences through the lens of a 35mm camera.

Follow @airpleinmode.

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www.melwrites.com

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C OLLABORATORS

Deanna First New York based artist Deanna First’s work centers on her fascination of the female form and capturing the many personalities of her muses.

Her client list includes ongoing commissions from Bloomingdale’s, Saks Fifth Avenue and Lord & Taylor.

Destiny Sweeney DurantDestiny is the owner of Destinys Cache, a lifestyle brand focused on empowering women of color through everyday products and accessories.

She loves travel, planning events & new experiences Follow @destinyscache and check out her products on destinyscache.com

Nicole Cimmarusti Nicole is an award-winning Art Director, a pale Italian, and a sucker for french fries. A typical work day for her consists of cranking out ideas, photoshopping, reminding her coworkers that Beyonce is queen and eating all snacks in her vicinity. www.nicolecimm.

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by

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Features Melissa Henderson

Birth

P.10

Ego Trip

P.12

The Audacity of Meghan Markle

P.13

Kinsley Deborrah

P.17

Africa Style

P.19

The Politics of Nails

P.23

Lifted To A Higher Self

P.25

The End Of Online Dating

P.27

Alex Jacke

P.28

A Note To The Future

P.29

Sanity Addiction Pt. 3

P.31

Temperature Rising

P.40

Credits

P.42

FEA TURES

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&wet “birth”

Mother She gave birth and felt the love of her life.

She gave birth and started another generation.

And that generation started a generation.

She saved her family’s history in her bible by birthdate.

She kept remembering her momma’s birthdate.

And her momma remembered her momma’ s birthdate.

Until they couldn’t forget each other’s birthdate.

Beauty Momma was a beauty, so she birthed another beauty, and that beauty birthed a beauty.

Beauty was so strong, beauty lived through the dark ages.

Beauty was like a vessel to blood, a worm to warm soil, a ray of light to clouds.

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&humid “birth”

Birthday Over the years, we couldn’t celebrate birthdays.

Birthdays went by without celebration, and like a candle still burning after a full night’s sleep, they were present, until it burnt out.

Then, one birthday lit an entire row of birthdays, until the light of birthdays gained back it’s flame of birth.

Love She gave her first love a birthdate their marriage was birthed, jumping over a broom at sunset.

Remember She forgot her own birthdate until it was nothing of her left.

She told her children to say her name to remember.

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egotrip Be great in 2018. That’s what people declared as their New Year’s resolutions before the year had even turned one month. Perhaps it was led by Trump who leads the majority of cocky, egomaniac Americans. Or maybe it was Anna Delvey ( aka Anna Sorokin) the “Russian Heiress” who managed to skip out on $100,000+ of hotel fees and free dinners while giving out countless of $100 bills to basically anyone around her, seriously who tips their package delivery guy and Uber driver? She made headlines in The New York Post and Vanity Fair, each had their own “exclusive” story about her. I also shrieked when one story I read suggested all of it was sponsored content because that’s how much influence she seemed to have. Perhaps that’s why she’s currently chilling in Riker’s Island with no bail.

The sad thing is that people will do anything to be cool, just put on a Céline bag and pair of Yeezys. In Anna Delvy’s case, she’s allowed white privilege to go to her head. People will do anything to get ahead. One evening after work, two upcoming designers told me that their former publicist was selling their (as well as others) merchandise to Beacon’s Closet. These designers had proof that their one-of-a-kind furs and silver jewels were sold on the second-hand market for a third of their value. They were in the process of taking this publicist to court, but it seemed helpless. It 14

was their Egos that pressed me to write about their brands even if they were non-existent in the long-run! Everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame.

EGO is a hell of a drug, which is why my astrology reading for Spring called for an ego cleanse. According to the Quietest Revolution astrologist Amber Khan, “Leos (that’s me) are on a Ego cleanse”. It calls for “unlearning things you thought you knew a lot about,” but in reality you had no fucking clue what you were talking about, it just sounded good coming out. Amber says the Ego has been bruised because, it has feelings. It’s like getting into an accident and swearing it wasn’t your fault until the street cameras say otherwise --Or not listening to your gut instinct. That little voice on the inside will say., “Told you so!” That gnawing feeling in my gut started this very zine. I was sure my rejected pieces were better than whatever dot com was trending in 2015 (and they were) so I decided to start my own magazine. I was bored and needed a challenge. The work I was doing was totally below me. The millennial in me screamed, I’m better than this! But at some point, our ego gets us in trouble.

Maybe you went to jail, or got fired, or smacked in the face because you had your nose in the wrong person’s business. Yea, it’s about that time to self examine with the truth.

HRH The Dutchess of Sussex She’s Got A Big Ego: The Audacity of Meghan Markle By: Aramide Tinubu

On a blistering hot day in the summer of 1996, 15-year-old Meghan Markle sat on the stiff black railings outside of Buckingham Palace with her good friend, Ninaki Priddy.

Wearing an all black baby doll dress and sandals with her mane of curls pulled back into a ponytail, the teen smiled bashfully into the camera. Twenty years later, the Los Angeles native would become Her Royal Highness, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.

Meghan’s journey to secure the castle was hundreds of years in the making. It was unlikely enough that a biracial woman raised by a single Black mother in LA would make it to the halls of Northwestern University. It was even more improbable that Meghan would rise to fame as a fan favorite on the beloved USA drama series, Suits.

However, if you take a closer look at the Duchess’ lineage, it’s obvious that this was the one role she was born to play.

A legacy of powerful Black women is just one half of Meghan’s story. She also has roots in England -- her new place of residence. The former actress’ 3x paternal great-grandparents, Thomas and Mary Ann Sykes, left Europe for the States in 1867.

Once the Sykes landed on U.S. soil, Thomas began working as a coal miner. Many moons later, the Bowers and the Skyes would merge when Ragland met and married, Markle’s father, Thomas Markle, a television director of photography. It was on the set of General Hospital at her father’s side that first invigorated Meghan’s love of acting.

This isn’t to say that Meghan’s journey to Queen Mary’s diamond bandeau tiara hasn’t been fraught with conflict. By the time she decided she wanted to try her hand in Hollywood, her dad was long gone -- an expat in Mexico avoiding various IRS tax liens.

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Still, abandonment can teach you a lot of things, and Meghan learned that life had rules; she just needed to learn how to play them. Scrappy and determined, she took bit parts in TV shows and did calligraphy work in between acting jobs to pay her rent.

But, the most significant thing she did – a decision that would leave her both vulnerable to critics and land her the role of a lifetime, was to become a woman without a race.

If you look at the Duchess of Sussex now, she could easily pass for a slightly tanned white woman. Long gone are her fluffy brown curls and in their place are sleek straight tresses. In fact, most folks were shook when The Wire’s Wendell Pierce showed up on Suits to play Meghan’s character’s father. Though she never deliberately said so, for much of her career in Hollywood, Meghan passed for “white.”

In a 2015 essay for Elle U.K., Meghan Markle: I’m More Than An ‘Other’ the philanthropist wrote openly about her heritage for the first time saying, “My dad is Caucasian, and my mom is African American. I’m half black and half white. ... While my mixed heritage may have created a grey area surrounding my self-identification, keeping me with a foot on both sides of the fence, I have come to embrace that. To say who I am, to share where I’m from, to voice my pride in being a strong, confident mixed-race woman.” Meghan’s choice to stand outside of the box was an interesting one. It’s a pronouncement that has certainly afforded her the privilege of being called Her Royal Highness. We can only think that if her hue was more in line with her mother’s, she might not be having this regal moment.

Refusing to label herself was perhaps the 36-year-old’s most brilliant move. It was apparent then that she had a long-term vision for the life. It was a world that her first husband, actor/ producer Trevor Engelson ultimately didn’t fit into. After seven years together, Meghan and Engleson married in September 2011, only to divorce just two years later. According to royal biographer Andrew Morton’s new book Meghan, A Hollywood Princess, Meghan ghosted Trevor. He had no idea the divorce was coming.

It was a cold and calculated move, one that many don’t expect women to make.

Meghan was never a woman to let a man define her -- unless he enabled her to reinvent herself completely. After deleting Engleson from her life, she moved on swiftly, diving into her work on and off the screen. The off-screen work, her commitment to activism, supporting women and children’s rights is what really caught Prince Harry’s eye. Without this key component in her character arsenal, the pair may have never connected. Charity work isn’t new to Meghan, it’s in her blood. The Duchess’ 2X maternal great-grandmother, Gertrude Sadler, was well-known in her community for her charitable nature. She was heavily involved in Black charity groups, and in 1931, in the midst of the Great Depression, she was elected the president of the Charity Club -- a relief group that gathered food and clothing for those living in poverty.

Charity and activism are what drew Meghan and the bad boy Prince to one another during that faithful blind date one summer evening in London in 2016. It was a chance meeting that would lead to marriage. Still, fate is a tricky thing. During the royal couple’s first BBC interview together after they announced their engagement, the actress proclaimed she didn’t know much about the royals or the House of Windsor. She said, “Because I’m from the States, you don’t grow up with the same understanding of the royal family. I didn’t know much about him.” Meghan’s comments certainly raised eyebrows. Having visited Buckingham Palace the summer before Princess Diana’s tragic death, Meghan would have been at a prime age to weep in anguish over the loss of the People’s Princess. We think she knew way more than she let on.

And yet, whether Meghan was obsessed with Princess Diana and her sons or not, no one can fault her for putting on the performance of a lifetime. The fact that she appears genuine, poised, and warm at all times is something that not even the Queen of England herself has been able to master in over seventy years. Meghan’s capacity to be both so approachable and entirely untouchable is masterful. It’s a coat of armor that remains out of reach for most Black women. The audacity of Meghan Markle is that she’s chosen her own box to stand in, and she revels in it. When her half-siblings on her father’s side were giving more energy than they could spare, selling stories about her to the tabloids, writing books, and urging her to call off her wedding Meghan remained unbothered. When fame obsessed associates dredged up even the slightest antidote about her, the Duchess of Sussex paid them dust. Instead, she sat poised next to her now-husband at St. George’s Chapel on a breezy May day, a coquettish smile on her face as Bishop Michael Curry gave his fiery sermon on love, an all-Black choir sang “Stand By Me,” and her weeping mother looked on. At that moment, Meghan Markle silently declared her Blackness. Her ego and her willingness to only accept the very best version of her life, allowed Meghan to create her own story – the Princess for the People. Whether it’s a narrative created in fact or fiction is something that still remains to be seen.

How to get a Princess Glow Guilty of sleeping with your makeup on? One pill of A Complete’s Beauty Concentrate Supplement ($34) is filled with all the Marine (fish) collagen, vitamin e, pomegranate extract (for complexion) and tomato extract ( hi, sunblock!) to make you wakeup beautiful. Blemish where?! Seriously, one month of popping these pearlescent magical pills will have your skin glowingg. www.acomplete.com 16

kinsley

Deborrah VSZ: What city do you live in?

KD: I live in Paris and I’m from Martinique, a beautiful island!!

VSZ: How many siblings do you have?

KD: I have 5 sisters ! Que des filles ! Je suis celle du milieu j’ai trois grande soeur , et les deux dernieres sont des jumelles !

VSZ: Cute! What made you start making Youtube videos?

KD: Pour moi mon Instagram c’est comme une boite à idées des que t’a une soirée un event ou quelque chose tu tape : Kinsleydeborrah et tu arrive sur la caserne d’Ali baba capillaire ahaha ! Mon insta c’est tout moi : cheveux , delire , fashion , makeup !

VSZ: Sunbathing or Swag- surfing?

KD: Sunbathing !!

VSZ: Favorite celebrity look?

KD: I’m in love with Christina Milian !!!!!!

VSZ: What are your summer plans?

KD: Work work work work work #rihannavoice !!!

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94 Val- de-Marne need hair inspo?

Look to this suburban parisian and Youtube’s most popular Kinsley Deborrah. Her hairstyles are unique and very black girl chic. From braided and curly styles, to straight and protective updos, her styles are super easy to achieve! VSZ met the curly hair doyenne in Martinique. Go inside our super basic conversation. blogger

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AFRICA STYLE If Supermodel Naomi Campbell can ambitiously imagine a Vogue Africa, then why can’t the powers that be make that wish come true any sooner? Change happens somewhere at the end and the beginning of the red carpet. This year, the Last Unicorn Actress Tiffany Haddish arrived at an event decked out in a custom Habesha dress and matching cape to honor her Eritrean roots, plus the blockbuster hit Black Panther made everyone go to the theaters in full on cosplay, the re-awakening of the cool kunta kinte clothes is lit. It’s about time this narrow-minded culture came to terms with their elitist subcultures. You can’t just steal what you want and call it McDonalds so that everyone will like it. Zara can’t sell Native American head scarves photographed on all white models and call it diversity. That’s why designers from Mali, Kenya, and Nigeria are trending with their refreshing designs. Bloggers and influencers have done their fair share of calling brands on their BS. The internet, has proven that the continent is more than that of what was previously portrayed.

The New Africa fashion is a continent full of sustainability opportunities.

Because the industry doesn’t involve lots of players, it’s easy to track their production flow. Linda Murithi, who 16

is the founder of Core Fashion Kenya, is focused on showcasing new designers at her annual fashion show. The event attracts sponsors like M.A.C. and US/U.K. Retail buyers are already attending the event to scout new trends for their stores. She says that designers in Kenya may be small-scale but their aesthetic is global. They face parallel challenges that European based upcoming brands struggle withon-time order delivery, brand identity, etc. However, Murithi says it won’t be that hard to adapt to, afterall the landscape is pretty much built for a sustainable production process.

Here’s who’s been on VSZ’s radar: (NIGERIA) Andrea Iyamah: It’s like each swimwear piece is dedicated to a certain personality. Nigerian born, Canadian Andrea Iyamah’s 2018 summer collection is nothing short of paradise vibes. There are long sleeve one and two pieces that are made for yacht flexing. All her pieces include vibrant patterns with intricately placed cutouts that mold the best body parts. The Kenya one-piece is both seductive and tribal and all the high-waisted bikini bottoms are like a one-size fits all type of shape. Aside from swimwear, Andrea Iyamah also designs bridalwear for the modern and elegant bride. For more go to: www.andreaiyamah.com.

Andrea Iyamah Swimwear

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mimi

Plange

(GHANA) Mimi Plange: Inspired

by African Art and Architecture, Plange’s collections are all about Mimi’s world. Her clothing is for the chic businesswoman who likes her cocktail parties, even on a Monday. Her dresses can easily be paired with a fresh pair of Air Force 1s for a modern breakfast at Tiffany’s look, or a strappy pair of heels. Mimi Plange has been worn by celebrity actresses Gabrielle Union and Viola Davis. www.mimiplange.com

tokyo james (NIGERIA) Tokyo James: Menswear is cool now that genderless dressing is a thing and it just so happens that the more chic you are in a suit, the more fashionionable you will be darlin, werk! As you can imagine, Tokyo James’ suits are like Afro-funk or is this just what Afropunk fashion materializes into? It’s a subtle bold look that only musicians and people with special and creative personalities can wear. You feel powerful in Tokyo James threads.

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Tosheka designs

PEOPLESFROM BARBADOS

(BARBADOS) Eyewear : PEOPLESFROMBARBADOS is a sunglass brand that was founded by optician and native Bajan Alicia Hartman and her love for luxe eyewear. VSZ first spotted the shadiness at Nikki Beach Club in Barbados, located off of Princess Highway. The physician and eyewear designer was inspired by Japanese design techniques and principles for her first collection. They are ultra light and are created from recyclable steel. These glasses are next level and they don’t come cheap.

Each sleek PEOPLESFROMBARBADOS shade are easy to wear from casual to Carnival. By the way, did you know that Barbados just elected their first female Prime Minister, the honorable Mia Amor Mottley? Now that’s girl power.

(KENYA) Tosheka Designs: Herman and Lucy Bignam may have planted roots in Philadelphia, but their soul lies in the rich soils of Nairobi, Kenya. Their business entails wholesaling native leather goods to stores like Anthropologie. Think goods you’d buy at an outdoor market place in Spain or the cobblestones of any country town abroad. Their production also includes developing the patent of a unique Eri Silk, which is very similar to cotton except it’s soft and fuzzy. The process is said to be sustainable for the landscape. Tosheka Designs employs Akamba people (native to a region in Kenya) and they are known for their traditional basket weaving and wood carving skills. They are also the fifth largest population in Kenya with a lineage that dates back to the 1800s when the Akamba people participated in long distance trade during the pre-colonial area. Tosheka has utilized these skills to produce contemporary basket and bag products using clean recycled plastic bags and cotton.

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The stereotype that women who rock bedazzled long beautiful nails “don’t work in an office” or “may not have a job at all” is becoming so outdated. It was the fourth snow storm of the year and my first work-from-home snow day when I realized I had to get my nails done. At this point, my cuticle skin was showing its ass by at least 3cm, damn near longer than some of yall’s real nails. I had several meetings and events coming up, and I couldn’t be looking all crazy in front of people who already think I’m exotic for rocking claws longer than stub nails. Basically, this snow day was the only time left to get my nails done. So I texted my nail lady, “estas en la salon.” Pero she didn’t respond, so I walked two blocks to the salon in the slushy, wet snow to find that it was closed! At this point, I was determined to find a salon that was A. open and B. taking customers at a 6:45pm. Don’t laugh! But everyone knows that’s too late in the evening. I trekked five more blocks to the tiny salon by the 2 Train that was damn near empty, with no heat. When I walked in the girl before me was pissed. She’d gone to the grocery store so someone jumped ahead of her. Plus, the two nail techs that weren’t making eye contact with me were annoyed so much because the lady that was getting a pedicure ( yes in a snowstorm) told me she was getting a full-set. Basically I knew then that I wasn’t getting my nails done from this nail salon in the cut. So I walked up the street to 7th avenue because it’s Harlem and there’s a nail salon every 100 feet. By the time I got to the corner, I saw that Junie Bees lights were off. Ugh closed, no wonder they weren’t answering their phone, I thought. Plus nothing was going on on their IG page. My last resort was Lucy’s which was open but they weren’t taking any walk-ins until the next day at 10:30am. I came back home soaked and freezing with bad nails. I literally looked like little red riding hood, aimlessly drifting to nail salons on the coldest day ever. To say I’m obsessed is an understatement. My nails make me feel whole.

They bless my gangsta. It’s not just something cool that pop culture all of a sudden loves. It’s a ode to my Philly roots. I don’t get a kick out of pointing my fingers while lip syncing a rap song in someone else’s car. I cling to this ounce of my urbaness as I get lost in corporate America. Having acrylics has become my social experiment. It’s funny because in some situations, I’m discriminated against as a black woman because people automatically assume that I’m uneducated or don’t have an important job. But when I open my mouth it’s a different script. Then there’s the people that show me respect. Businessmen on the train hold the door open for me, allow me to walk out first, interrupt my texting to ask if I want a seat. There’s also the Bronx girls with deep accents who compliment my nail designs. If I would have rocked nails to my Ebay job interview or even to my editor position at a swanky wedding publication, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the job because people like that tend to judge by your appearance. And that’s okay. I guess. But, no one can say you’re neglecting your nails, a part of your physical characteristics that speak volumes about your personality because you can’t bite your nails! And no, people who wear coffin-shaped nails aren’t scammers.

And no, ladies who spend $$$$ on their nails don’t just work at a strip club or in the service industry. And yes, I can pick up that quarter on the floor, and thread a needle and cook, and clean ( with gloves on, duh) , so let’s just all have an open mind about 23

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LIFTED TO A HIGHER SELF by

Alana blaylock

Healing after hitting rock bottom. I didn’t think it was possible. My journey started a year ago. For the majority of my life, I’ve occupied the role as the “together one,” holding myself to high standards while being equally tough on my inner standards. In life, we all enter seasons that define us. It wasn’t until I encountered my “breaking” season where my perfectionist model shattered leaving me to pick up my life by the pieces.

March 23 , 2017 marks the day that shook and crumbled my entire world. “I CAN’T BREATHE!”, I screamed as I abruptly woke from a cold sweat in the middle of the night. This was after weeks of waking up at 2am, my body filled with anxiety. I immediately called my mother and she suggested that I head to the hospital to have a doctor check my heart rate. It was my first diagnosed panic attack.

There the doctor prescribed me with an extremely high dose of Xanax, sending me even more over the edge. For 120 pound me, 5 mg a day was too high of a dosage to begin my healing journey. In retrospect, I really should have been given less, but hey I’m not a doctor. It was the onset of long-term mania that led me down a deep spiral.

A week after I went into mania, I looked and started behaving like a hot mess. You see, I hadn’t been sleeping and my sleep deprivation left me feeling inadequate. Meanwhile, this TV Producer’s life was turning into a full on sitcom! It shifted from a glitzy episode of “Power” to a terrifying episode of “Intervention.” Things got so bad that my family actually did do an intervention on me. I wasn’t taking my meds because I believed I could lock myself away and pray that my anxiety and depression would disappear. But each day I neglected my pills and did my own thing. My reflection in the mirror started to become unrecognizable. I was unable to shake this time warp of a nightmare no matter how many yoga chants I did or sleeping pills I consumed. Deep down, I knew a major change had to occur; that nothing was going to change unless I took a drastic step.

That’s when I booked a flight and checked myself into a specialized hospital in the desert. I traded oak trees and the Metropolitan landscape for cacti, wildlife, and picturesque mountains you see on postcards. It was the catalyst I needed to help me stabilize.

However, a few days into rehab, I felt like it wasn’t for me -- like I was totally over it.

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But there was literally nowhere to go, unless I wanted to get eaten by a vicious coyote in the middle of night while trying to escape l. So at that point I decided I may as well make the best of it. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. I had to eat three course meals five times a day and there was even a snack time where I could eat countless of Oreos.

Even so, this journey was not a cakewalk. Everyday was a battle. I had to muster up the strength to attend every therapy session, every group class to gain my confidence back little by little. Anyone who is has gone through therapy will tell you that talking about your feelings is exhausting. I took it one day at a time. It was extremely hard to get up at 6AM every morning and have a fully packed schedule until 10PM at night. I left the grind of New York and Los Angeles, but this was on another level.

There were perks of this rehab. I indulged myself with Shiatsu massages, acupuncture, and activity time on the days I explored my triggers. This was my healing. Everyday, I was getting stronger. I was able to sprint on the treadmill. A few days of getting my mind right, I wasn’t despising my 6AM wake up calls, I just felt like I had more energy and wasn’t missing my old self. And that felt like progress. It was at this point that I finally felt safe enough to release the weight of all that I had been carrying from my teen years, to my family issues to my career woes. It was time to let things be, and with the help of medications I was on the right path.

At some point during my time in the desert, I gained a sense of deep humbleness.

After 28 days, I was released and sent back home, back to a the burbs located 20 minutes outside of New York City.

Post rehab, I was tasked with attending one on one sessions with a local therapist.

After I developed a relationship with them, my physician diagnosed me with clinical depression. With clinical depression, daily lows can be extremely dark. It took me a while to accept this diagnosis due to the stigma that surrounds mental health. People automatically assume that you’re a ticking time bomb, unstable and not fun. Before, I believed that going to see a therapist symbolized weakness and that depression was a phase that people could just snap out of with church, yoga and shopping. But that’s such BS. Depression is an extremely serious condition in which you cannot control your downward spirals. Once you hit rock bottom, it’s tough to get back-up and function. And everyone’s rock bottom is different. Thinking positive thoughts feels damn near impossible. You’re literally a prisoner of your thoughts that you can’t run from. And that’s what affected me the most. Trying to uphold this “social media” perfect lifestyle, smiling in every single picture, on my shit 24/7 whilst battling an illness that is unique, and super tough to cope with. *deep breaths* While it hasn’t been easy -- embracing this plot point in self-discovery, knowing my condition has helped me to understand my past behaviors and prepare myself for a better future in the years to come.

Now I manage my mood disorder with a cocktail of prescribed medicine, naturopathic wonders, exercise, and mindful walks. P.S. natural world - it’s okay to pop pills if they stabilize your brain.

I’m confident that I’ve only changed for the better; becoming more understanding and proactive about my mental health. I’ve found that being compassionate with yourself is a necessity, and I’ve discovered that there is strength in vulnerability. While it’s simple to harp on the bad, it’s better to shift perspective and see the positives in a situation. Be grateful that you have some of the problems you have,it could be far worse.

I’ve become more patient, more compassionate, less quick to react, and smart to respond. Life is truly beautiful. In taking an overall #realtalk approach, I’m more honest in my relationships and I’m getting more out of them. I appreciate those who care for me and love me more than ever before. I am blooming and want to see the parts of my life I care about bloom as well. I’m a better person than who I was a year ago, and I am evolving into the woman of my dreams.

Succumbing to Letting Go 1. Use your “wise mind” when diagnosing your problems. This is the area between your emotional mind and rational mind. Your wise mind equals the middle ground where you have a healthy balance of decision making.

2. Take it day by day. Stop future tripping. Live in the moment and be present. This is how you avoid worry and self-doubt. Walk with confidence and live up to your potential.

3. Practice mindfulness and take time for yourself everyday to integrate self-care. Be one with the universe and shake it all out. Make noises aloud and woosah.

*VSZ Note: According to new health research studies, millennials are experiencing higher levels of anxiety, depression, and thoughts of suicide than generations past. If you are feeling alone and overwelmed, seek help with professional therapy or visit https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ for more resources.

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how much How much Poison Does it take?

To make one feel that they can make it Turn from nothing into something And show that some things Aren’t worth it But no, that Nothings know A whole lot more then those Who play the game for bluffin.

How much Poison Does it take?

To see that those acclaimed critics just sit there high atop their Pistons Ready to spit out colloquial rhythm mixed up with bits of foul opinion Strained specific to catch the slime so when it’s past off it was a given.

-By Chandler Jay Ponti @sexbiscuitz on IG

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The end of online dating

It started with a swipe. “Hello...” I picked up the phone and thought to myself, “Wow, he cares enough to call me first.” Going first is one of those moments in a relationship where the battle for dominance continues slow, steady and sporadic. After we hadn’t talked in a few days I was beginning to think about who’s turn it was to initiate. I thought it was an innocent hang out session but when we landed in bed and the lights went out to watch a movie on his MacBook Pro, I knew it wasn’t just for sightseeing.

My $13 cab ride turned into a booty call. I’d been in this situation before, but it wasn’t until a short thought swept over my mind as I perched in doggy style position as he grabbed my waist. “Arch your back”, he gently whispered just inches away from my ear. I was aroused by his soft neck kisses and the calmness in his voice. Just moments before, I outlined his eyebrow with my finger, as I gazed into his eyes in the night and saw nothing. And, although his gross apartment was a distraction, there was no holding back. I tried not to think about the dirty plastic thing that served as a trash can with no bag in the corner. Or the bed with no frame, the soiled sheets that probably haven’t been washed in weeks. The flattened pillows and mismatched cases. Ugh! My curiosity about where he stored his clothing started to grow as I realized where exactly I’d found myself in a dirty ass bare male apartment. The music he had sent me which initially elevated my intrigue meant nothing. Although, the bathroom was surprisingly normal, my other observations were the only thing that mattered. It wasn’t to my standard of clean, but it satisfied me enough that I sat my ass on the toilet seat just fifteen minutes before we got it on. It was times like this when I remembered that online dating ain’t worth shit. Don’t even think about pitching me a “Tinder Pro” package. There’s nobody good on the dating app for celebrities Raya either. These types of apps have become a place to hook up with no strings attached and the small majority of people who use it to find love usually end up disappointed or dating a guy who one of their friends dated, and that’s just awkward. Dating sites will boast about their millions of singles, but these millions of singles are not unique in that they are using multiple sites to hang out and find a new friend. The market for singles online has become so oversaturated that couples use it to start threesomes. Which is precisely why I found myself in some dudes dirty apartment. He was nice, but in a coyly sort of what-are-you-holding-back type of nice. From our first hang out session over hookah, I got nothing about his personal life. Eerily, I knew this situation was the norm because online, you don’t really get to much substance. I saw through his bad black boy act. I knew he was like the rest of them: egotistical yet innocent and full of fear on the inside. After our rendezvous, when I texted him, starting off with, “although we’re never going to see each other again...” I felt horrible yet relieved. What was I doing? My ego was telling me go for it because I matched with dozens of profiles, but in truth, it wasn’t that fun. Then the dynamic changed, I broke into a playful giggle...“why the whispering?,” I asked. But I liked it and wanted more. You always want more though, don’t you? Everything that’s beautiful is not always good for you.

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alexjacke

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Five years after his first EP was released, Dorm Fucking Music still remains on fans’ playlist but the singer has added actor to his resume. Alex talks Gangland, the musical film.

VSZ: How are you keeping up with the LA lifestyle, meaning are you vegan yet?

AJ: No, I’m not a vegan, I’m actually on a Ketogenic diet. Its takes a lot of discipline.

VSZ: Here we go. Well, Do you atleast consume protein?

AJ: Yes. That’s apart of the diet.

VSZ: Okay I can work with that. What is your sunday morning routine like?

AJ: Normally my Sundays are chill since the week is long. I like to really relax. I will stream One Church with Pastor Touré.

I like streaming it because the message is always potent. It’s non denominational. He talks directly to you.

VSZ: Oh wow, did you grow up in the church?

AJ: It’s something I picked up. I started changing 3 years ago as I started to mature as a person.

VSZ: Tell us about your new film /musical Gangland.

AJ: The movie is called GANGLAND. My character’s name is Tone. My character’s brother is the head of a gang. There are elements of Tone that I relate to. Like when people thoought I was crazy for dropping out of college to pursue music. It was situations like this that I drew inspiration.

VSZ: When can we watch you on screen?

AJ: September 2018 25

SUSTAINABLE A note to the future STATE OF MIND by:

Malea Thomas

Hearing my name called, walking across the stage, flipping my tassel right to left, I am proud to say I am a recent graduate and the designer ev bessar ’s firebird feeling is so surreal. I remember just yesterday when I transferred from Penn State in central Pennsylvania to American University in Washington, D.C. I remember just yesterday when I switched my major from journalism to literature with a concentration in creative writing. Making that switch to a new major was scary, but at the time I was ready. My advice to everyone, entering college, graduating school, or entering a new career opportunity or the job force: Do what you love and what you are truly passionate about. If you are passionate about your major, career/job, work will never feel like work—not only are you are staying true to yourself, but you are doing what you love. That is key!

These past four years in college flew by and I thought they were going to honestly drag by. My story, my truth is still in the process of being created. It is never finished and it never has an expiration date. My spirit and hopefully the impact I will make will live on forever. Another piece of advice: If you are living in your truth, thrive to make a positive impact on others so they can find their truth as well. Share your knowledge! These past four years are simply just chapters in a bigger book. The work is never done.

College helped me to define who I am as a thinker, as a student, and as a person. I always tried to stay true to who I am as a woman.

My major -- literature with a concentration in creative writing fit me perfectly. My literature classes taught me to think beyond myself, and to think about the world at hand. My classes challenged me to look at all systems— economies, governments, oppressions, and societies. Having the privilege to read literature from all over the world, the knowledge I have gained from college has truly made me become a better thinker. Moving on from undergrad, I am turning to the next chapter in my life. Graduate School! Waving good-bye to Washington, D.C., and I am saying hello to a new city that I will call my new home. Chicago! I have never lived there before and it is going to be an adventure. I am excited to tackle Graduate School with an open mind and open arms. My last piece of advice: Have fun, every day is a new adventure, a new start, and a new you! Always follow your heart, and most importantly take your brain with you!

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Write a letter to your future self...

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Sanity Addiction Pt. 3

Based on a true story by: melissa henderson

“Is Princess your real name?” “Uh yes, and you should mind your business,” I responded. I was standing in line at the DMV on Bleeker Street when the girl waiting behind me asked what has become a rhetorical question. This is the number one question nosy strangers have asked me since birth. But I’m not complaining because growing up I always knew of another “Princess.” I figured it was the hatin’ ass bitches that didn’t like me in high school that made me despise this question. However, as they say, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I was getting my paperwork together to officially make my way out of North Philadelphia -- out of the hood to be a stylist to celebrities and socialites in the Big Apple. I figured I’d start in New York since it was 99 miles away. Plus Sean, my boyfriend, could at least drive me to “work” since he was a street entrepreneur. It was my master plan at 22. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when I decided to take the Boltbus to New York after I finally got my ID. I’d enrolled myself into FIT a few weeks earlier and the next step was gaining official residency. That was the least I could do since Sean paid for my freshman year tuition in full, with cash of course.

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Financial Aid, who?! I stepped off the bus in a crisp Burberry Men’s collar shirt, that I finagled into a dress with a designer belt and sparkly platform sneakers. As far as I was concerned, I was dressed for success.

“Hi, I’m Princess and looking for my Fashion 101 class in the Marc Jacobs building.”

I stopped some chick on campus, which was on the corner of 25th street and 7th avenue.

“That’s on 8th avenue and 24th street. I’m actually heading there too! My name is Anita!”

I smiled because she was the first friend I made in New York but little did I know she wouldn’t be my last fake friend.

As we walked to the class together, we exchange career goals. I told Anita how I wanted to be a Celebrity Stylist with an education --That I wanted to study Fashion Business. She laughed and said, “Right?! because all these other stylists are scamming their clients straight onto the D-list.”

When we arrived. It was a full house in one of those lecture halls you see in the movies. Who would have known all these jawns were here to learn the basics of Fashion. I texted Sean to check - in.

Princess: Hey boo. I just got to class. What you doing?

Sean : (no response.)

I brushed off the unanswered text in an effort to pay attention.

But after class, I texted Sean again.

Princess: Hey boo, no response tho? You just gonna igg me just when I start making moves in the 212?! I’m on my way home. Meet at 30th street at 7 pm.

I was staring at my phone when my new friend Anita interrupted my daydream.

“Want to come out to the East Village with a few of us? We are heading to a party hosted by Mr. Ruggs, he’s like the hottest promoter in NYC. Lot’s of cuties too!!”

“No. I gotta get back to home, to Philly. But maybe next time?”

“For sure. Make sure you bring your overnight bag, then. You can always crash with me in the Bronx.”

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“Aww, thanks! Well, Gots to go.”

As I boarded the Boltbus, I got a feeling in my gut that told me something wasn’t right. Why was Sean dodging my text messages?! But that feeling quickly faded by an email I received from a popular publication returning my internship request.

Hi! Thanks for reaching out! We’d love to interview you. When are you available?

Best, Fashion Closet Director

Things were shaping up. I had no time for hood games. Even if I was literally going back to the hood, I knew it was temporary. Even though he was suddenly MIA, I knew I had Sean to thank.

The whole bus ride, I contemplated how to answer this internship email. But then that little voice in my head said, “Princess, stop trippin.’ Tell this girl you’re available when she is and make it happen.” So that’s how I responded. I hit send when the bus pulled up to the station.

Still, no text back from Sean.

I decided to take another bus to our apartment on 15th and Allegheny Avenue. But as I was walking towards my place. I ran into this dude name Tom who knew Sean, who discretely handed off a paper bag and told me to go the other way. “ It’s trouble over there,” he said to me making eye contact. So without hesitation, I put the paper bag in my vintage Louis Vuitton tote bag and headed to the other side of town. I knew something was up, but I didn’t know how bad until I was able to take out my phone.

First thing I did was I call my friend, Laura and asked if I could come to her place, AKA crash there. It was 9:30 at night and we were grown so it wasn’t like she had to ask for permission. Besides, we went dancing school together years ago, our parents were sort of friends. Her parents never had a problem with sleepovers. Plus she was privileged enough to have her own apartment in a big house uptown.

On the cab ride to Laura ’s, I called Sean’s friend Alex who told me he was waiting for my call. He didn’t have my number locked and apparently, there was a bust on my block and Sean was one of the guys who got booked. I quickly learned that Alex had my stuff at his place. He lived with his second baby mom. He offered to drive it to me. “Did Tom give you the bag?” Alex asked.

“Huh, oh yeah.” I was so out of it, I forgot to actually look in the bag. But as I grabbed it from my purse and took a peek inside, there were a few rolls of $100 bills.

I didn’t count it, but it was at least $20K.

“Listen, Princess, I don’t know when Sean is going to get out. There’s a snitch in the streets. He wanted you to have this to handle your business in New York.”

Tears rolled down my eyes, but I had no time to really cry. My phone buzzed. I got a new email. Still, on the phone with Alex, I read it. **** “Hi Princess, Thank you for interest. Can you come in tomorrow at 10 AM for an interview? I know this is short notice, but we are looking to fill the position of Fashion Closet Assistant Intern position ASAP.” *** “I’ll bring your stuff tonight so you can have clothes to wear for tmrw.” Alex offered.

“No I don’t want them and I have no place to store them.” Give them away to the kids on the block. If I’m gonna start over. I’m starting all the way over.” I replied.

At that point, I felt annoyed. I told Sean to leave the game alone, but he wouldn’t listen to me. No guy I like ever listens to me! I was sick of it. I was sick being left like this, to fend for myself. Since my mom died from breast cancer two years ago, and my pops wasn’t in my life, I literally had no one. New York was my golden ticket. So, as I hung up the phone, I tucked away my cash safe and had my eye on the prize.

Meanwhile, though, as I arrived at Laura ’s, I let myself cry.

“Don’t worry about it baby girl. We’re all just failing glamorously,” she said in her silk pajamas set. At that moment, I didn’t quite know what “failing glamorously” meant, but I felt it so the tears rolled down my cheeks even harder. ****** Two months later, I was officially a New York resident if subletting counts. Yes, I had the keys! I pulled my duvet covers off of me in a maddening fury as I hopped out of bed to my bedroom door and slammed it shut. The sound of my roommate Anita getting ready was so utterly disturbing to me on a Monday morning, it was rude. She sprayed perfume that could mask the stink on the entire city block. It was already well past 7 am and I had to cross a river to get to the factory where I worked.

To say I woke up on the other side of the bed was an understatement. I was hungover from the weekend of doing the most with errands. I graduated from over-drinking and experimenting with drug. I was clean in the sense that I didn’t accept random weed from strangers.

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Like clockwork, my phone started ringing.

“Hello.” I mumbled.

“You are a receiving a collect call from - Sean - to accept charges press 1, otherwise hang up. “ I pressed one.

“Hey wassup,” Sean said.

“Damnit, nigga, why you always gotta call me so fucking early.”

“Because I know ya ass ain’t up yet and you should be,” “Ugh, listen I don’t need you checking up on me like this!” “I’m fine. I’m going to my classes. I’m breathing.”

“Obviously not studying.”

Click. Dial tone.

Sean was checking up on me because he partially felt responsible for me not getting my dream internship. The night he got booked, it turned my world around. I showed up for my interview 30 minutes late. I thought back on that fateful day with an eye roll.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. I got lost coming here. I’m not from New York and it’s my fourth day in the city.”

“It’s fine,” The Fashion Closet Director said. But I knew she was disgusted because we talked in the lobby. She didn’t even invite into her office. It was at that point when the feeling of rejection started to creep up on me. I never felt it before because where I’m from, I was Princess - the pretty girl on the block, the best dressed with the shiny white teeth and slick hair. After the 10 minute interview, I left feeling like the grind of the city had just spit me out. So I did what anyone would have done: I went shopping. I bought a MacBook Pro from a random Pawn shop for $800, I then went to the nearest cafe to get wifi and started looking for apartments. Luckily, $20K in cash can take you far in New York if you’re thrifty. And I was ready to make moves.

Weeks later, and a few more times hanging up on Sean, the stage of my irrationality was sitting at angry. When I banged on Sean, I was hurt. At this point, I was sick of this guy trying to rule my life. I was thankful for his dirty money, but I was tired, lonely and frankly, horny.

Day after day, I would despise taking his calls. It would be the same conversation on his end. “Babe I read this book called Machiavelli and I think you should read it to. It can be like a book club.” Then I wouldn’t hear from him. Remember what I told you about niggas tryna tell me what to do? Well, his privileges would be revoked, he’d be in the hole, and I would just be looking stupid, rushing back to the Bronx to talk to my locked up man while Anita was having dinner on some promoters dime. I was clearly missing out.

I felt a wave of anger, annoyance for being here at this very moment. I felt upset at myself for canceling on two dates, trifled at the fact that I still didn’t own a Chanel bag after all the catcalls, worth $20 per gorgeous compliment, times that by 100 a day and I’d be a rich bitch. So I stopped taking Sean’s calls. I thought I would feel free, but this is when all hell broke loose. Here we go. *** It was March and I woke up snuggled up next to Tyrone, hiding from the coldest breeze coming through my dilapidated windows. Yes, the rebound is real. He came into my life at the right time. We met at a local brunch spot after talking online for a few days. It was nice to finally touch someone physically.

He was different than Sean - a better pedigree, a truthful job and a car that was registered to his name. I was vibing in a calmer setting but the only thing that bothered me was that he was too opinionated. I wasnt use to dating a guy who had it together, someone who rocked a suit to work. So, I didn’t care when he said things to me that made me feel slightly self-conscious. They went over my head. Until one day they didn’t and it started to poison the honeymoon stage of the relationship.

“Do you want to be with me?” Tyrone said one night when we were getting ready for bed.

“Umm, what kind of question is that,” I replied, shifting to my side. I was annoyed that he would ask me such a question. “Yea, I do want to be with you but it’s nice to have my own space sometimes.”

“So you don’t want to be with me.” He replied. “You shouldn’t be studying at home.

Leave that for a library. This is your time to relax and I’m here to relax you.”

“That’s not what I said.” Tyrone was talking about my schoolwork and job again. It was typical for him to manipulate my feelings.

I put this conversation in the back of my mind. I was afraid of losing something seemingly good. He was even going to introduce me to his friends. It was a sure sign of us officially becoming a couple. I yearned for normalcy. But this BBQ with his childhood friends was the iced cake of my concern. It was an outdoors fete where all 37

hell broke loose with us. Moments before, he fussed about my outfit being too basic, the sneakers I chose to wear were not trendy enough. When we finally arrived at the BBQ, his friends were losers, so I literally didn’t understand why Tyrone was pressing me.

“So let’s have a group discussion,” one of the girls said while we were doing the BBQ thing. It was code for finding out the intimate relationship details of who’s fucking who, who cheated on who, and why they took each other back.

I guess this girl Jessica (Tyrone’s friend from around the way) volunteered to go first and it was a bad idea because she and her “man” caught feelings right at the table during what was supposed to be a playful conversation.

“You don’t remember when we first kissed?” She questioned her “man.” Jessica was pissed off.

“No, I was dating other chicks before we made it official.” This dude literally played her at the table. And I felt so sorry for her, so of course, I sided with Jessica. “Ugh, I can’t even! That’s crazy.”

Which led me to point this conversation in the direction of Tyrone who was walking around being weird, drinking, and not sitting next to me. I wasn’t use to this type of behavior. He was at the grill playing with the switches while side eyeing me. He gave me that look that said, “You better not say nothing to embarrass me.” But I totally didn’t care. I freely started to recount when we met.

“We met on Tinder. We exchanged numbers and started texting. But we didn’t actually go on a date until a few weeks later. Then he started getting on my nerves. So I blocked him for two weeks and when he reached out to me again, I told him we would have to make this official if he wanted to be with me seriously. And now we love each other, happily. ever. after.”

It was short and to the point. Of course, I didn’t mention how I started messing with Tyrone because Sean, my drug dealer ex-boyfriend, couldn’t be with me. But Tyrone didn’t like my very watered-down side of the story. It was supposed to be sarcastic and from the guys and girls response, everyone at the bbq started laughing… followed by loud arguing. Tyrone came over to me and rammed his body into me trying to give me a hug, but his grip around my neck squeezed the earring out my ear and broke it! I dropped to the floor to look for the back piece. And then it started raining and Tyrone declared we were leaving. I hated that he had this control over me, but I let it go because he wasn’t like other hood guys I dated. I kept reassuring myself that he was normal as I tried to keep it cute leaving the BBQ.

“Babe, here’s some water,” I said as he smacked it out of my hand.

“WTF, why you always trippin!” I said. When we got in the car, the argument went to another level. Not only was he driving like a maniac, speeding to red lights and pumping his breaks, the Caribbean music was blaring from his car speakers and it was making me hostile.

“Can you stop!?” I yelled over the music.

“Stop what!? You wanna run your fucking mouth.”

“Run my mouth? Never that.” I said. Tyrone didn’t know the half of my troubles with Sean so he just said whatever he thought sounded good.

“You always gotta show off,” Tyrone said. He slapped me upside my head while he was driving with the other hand. I don’t know why he would do that because I lost it.

I punched him back right in his face. He swerved in the wet streets of Brooklyn.

“Let me out of this car,” I screamed. As he slowed to a red light. I peered out of the rearview mirror checking for the cops- as always.

Somehow, I hopped out of the car in the rain. My head was throbbing. I was hurt. I wanted to call Sean but I had no way of getting in contact with him, so I walked into the nearest bodega and bought a pack of Marlboros. Tyrone hated when I smoked“I’m not kissing you, I don’t want that secondhand smoke.” he says to me. But I didn’t care. My nerves were a wreck and Tyrone just sped off in his white Porsche, leaving me on a dark street.

When I pulled up to my apartment in a separate cab, Tyrone was waiting outside for me. He got out and started running towards me. His right fist was closed as he swung at me and missed, then he swung again and hit me right in my stomach. I doubled back. I couldn’t believe he hit me again!

My roommate, Anita came out and broke it up. I was hysterical. I wanted Tyrone’s stuff out of my apartment. What started as an innocent swipe, ended with a domestic disturbance complaint by a neighbor who called the cops. I managed to talk the cops out of giving us a violation. I knew Tyrone needed his job and snitching on him was not the answer to what he just did to me. So I thought. But I still signed my name on a pink paper. I stuffed it in my nightstand drawer, hoping to forget it. That night, I went to sleep feeling broken.

It was hard to wake up the morning after. It was still raining. It was by no means a glorious night. The physicality really speaks for itself and it had no way knowing about the previous page’s relationship. In my time of despair, I put on my go-to outfit for class: a black turtleneck, leather mini skirt, and black boots. I couldn’t think.

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She fell asleep in all her glitter.

“I have my grandma’s feet” were her last words, slurred from the drowsiness.

A summer sunset… running… veins forming on her tender legs at twenty-nine.

A summer breeze… lounging… there’s sand all over the dash.

Along the breathless curves of California, Marvin croons, as I gather my thoughts.

I don’t own this 911 (Porsche), but tomorrow’s her birthday.. and you can still jigger the ignition.

Maybe we’ll go to Sausalito, where the fog hovers the Bay like Sonic’s rings.

Jump in.

Further south, to waterfalls by the Bixby, for dinner at the edge of Nepenthe.

Seals foraging through the night, above my ancestors, in the tranquil of Monterey.

A dollar in my pocket, a minimum paid.

I’ve never known love like this. it made Swann reminisce.

And made Marvin sing, and Lauryn sing, and Jill sing, and Michael dance, and Momma dance to them, and made Diamond buck, and Andre thizz, and Nol-ya bounce, and reminds you of life itself and why you live it.

But when this dance ends…

Shifting, the only direction is forward, the only feeling’s instinctual, to avoid the endless loop.

I hope she’s dreaming of me.

Sanford | Temperature Rising |Northern California, 2018 | HMGE.

I just needed to continue my life normal so I went to my Fashion lecture class and met up with Anita after to recount the night that left me numb inside. It was over 12 hours and still no “sorry” text from Tyrone, yet I was worried.

“OMG, you have to report him!” She told me. I didn’t like becoming involved with the feds. I did not want my name on record. Like most women, calling the police is the least of worries. But even as a whole fortnight had come and gone, the need for our souls to join didn’t matter anymore.

And then like any other nigga would do he showed up two days later. I was walking back to my apartment from the subway. When I finally reached my block, I saw the familiar car, and the guy, who was holding a dozen red roses and a Chanel shopping bag.

I peered at him through my tinted shades. I slowed up my walk, as I got closer to him. He looked at me with sadness, I knew this was his apology, but how could I take him back? My gut throbbed. I couldn’t tell if it was trying to tell me something, or if it was just the pain felt a few days ago from the very man who had obstructed my view.

* If you are someone you know is in a absusive relationship, seek help with a trustworthy friend or call the domestic violece hotline. Trained advocates are available to take your calls toll free, 24/7/365 hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

CRED ITS|SOC

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Last Shout Out When VSZ discovered the brand LINEIJ on instagram, it was the beginning of a long friendship of comments, likes and obsessing over the HC Carryall bag ($537). But don’t pass up the black Hermes brand so easy! The story behind the brand is even more alluring.

Designer and businesswoman Kipenzi Chidinma was inspired by her grandmother Lillian Delancy, who left Blue Hills,Turks and Caicos in search of a new start in New Orleans as a clothing boutique owner for men and women.

A generation later, Kipenzi relaunched the brand with an even bigger mission.

She not only uses sustainable practices to produce her leather goods in Turkey, but also gives back a portion of her profit to organizations like Huntington’s Disease Society of America.

Thanks for being a loyal reader of VSZ and congrats on your impactful work!

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Violet Summer Zine: Issue 4 Social Instagram: @violetsummerzine www.melwrites.com for more travel adventures & writing products. Tag us in your summer beach and paradise photos: #violetsummerzine.

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