Summer 2017

Warning! Girl Power Inside!

Affinity All Proceeds Going To The Trevor Project

DARREL KENNEDY:

Wins It All!

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Meet Niusha Written by Fernando Reyes “Social media is useful for representation for certain groups of people and getting in contact with others to do more in real life. Representation can do so much, though,” Niusha said. “After that, you need to go out – in your community – and organize something.» Ironically, social media is where we found her – Niusha Hajikhodaverdikhan (@un.think on Instagram), a filmmaking, revolutionary-loving, radical, bright 17-year-old Iranian painter and activist – her confidence, her bold attitude, and magniloquent speech, which quickly set her apart from the millions of others who advocate human rights throughout the World Wide Web and protests, were an instant hook for me to want to find out about who this person was, what her politics were and why she believes so hard in what she does. Finally, after an hour or so, we sat at a café, Gypsy Den, which gave off quite a cozy allure. Picture the home of an artsy lumberjack that is one of the highest contributors to gentrification – that’s what it felt like. There were tables made of wood and couches for some calm relaxation, light chatter was floating through the air, expelled by those around us. The estimated 25-foot-high walls were accumulated with a variety of artwork, which had been purposely tilted to add a dramatic effect. “Effortless,” I assumed the interior designer said, “is out of the door.”

“Who is Niusha?” was one of my first questions.

“I would say that I am an Iranian immigrant,» she says confidently. «I moved here [to the U.S.] when I was nine. I would say that I am an artist. I’m a thinker mostly, I love philosophy. I love art.”

Through her work as an activist and artist, one of Niusha’s most important work has always been

that of her people. Last year, she launched a zine (titleless as of now), which would be sold for zero profit, and entire funds went towards the street children of Iran for food, education, and shelter.

“Imagine a child who has nothing suddenly has the slightest amount of opportunity,” she wrote, in defense of the Iranian street children on Instagram to her devoted 13 thousand followers. “Don’t you think they’ll take full advantage of it and someday make their own change in the world?”

In order to print her zine, however, she had to collect some money. With her sister, she began painting clothing for others to sell in order to print the zine. “My sister and I have been painting on our clothes for the longest time and are really in need of some cash to print our zines,” she wrote, then quickly adding a disclaimer saying. “Sorry we aren’t selling anything related to Iran if you’re not Iranian, but we WILL do other designs for you.” The photo that went along with that caption was on the back of a denim jacket, which had been painted by her sister and was a woman in traditional Persian attire and “Iran” written in Persian hovering about her.

Unfortunately, Niusha still wasn’t financially able to print the zines once more. “I’ve been broke as hell and haven’t had money to make prints of my paintings or zines,” she truthfully confesses. Being the tough, persistent person that she is, however, helps her enormously on keeping her hopes up – especially because her prints have sold before, as well as her art. In a way, it indicates that things will always be different. “I will probably somehow get save some money to make prints and sell them before 2018. That money will go to street children in Iran and possibly Syria.”

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NIUSHA However, while finding the money to create the zines can be an issue, she’s also been having quite an onerous time finding organizations that fit her ideal plans: “I am having trouble finding reliable neutral organizations that are helping Syria right now, though. I am still searching. I’m not necessarily happy with many of the organizations I have been finding.”

activist Malcolm X after her teacher was “teaching history in a very racist manner,” she said. After being referred to the office by her teacher, she was forced to write an essay on respect directed towards her teacher, which, naturally, would be done her way. “They really wanted me to be like, ‘I’m so sorry,’” she told me, “but it backfired on them.”

Meeting her, and really just going through her Instagram, you realize that she never fails to discuss her love for Iran along with her family. She said to me, “I really like Iran. I try to visit at least once a year; my entire family lives there. I love the people there; I love my culture.

I really want to go there for longer periods of time because, most of the time, I only go there for about two months.”

After writing the essay, her teacher then deemed it “threatening,” triggering thoughts in her mind of her early days in the United States when she was labeled a terrorist.

“I never cared that much [about being labeled a terrorist], but then when she said that, I was like, ‘Holy shit. I’m so angry.’”

The comment of her teacher, she says, left her feeling quite silenced and traumatized.

Niusha’s activism furthermore enhances itself after discovering of her near expulsion situation where she came in defense of human rights

Like any artist, she collected her frustrations and created art with them.

What was conceived out of that? A documentary titled “Power to the Students.”

Simultaneously, and conveniently, her ITV – her school’s broadcasting channel – final was coming up. Niusha also mentioned that her teacher from her film class was experiencing quite some conflicts with her. “She sent me to the principal’s office multiple times, it was really bad.

I also made it to prove a point to her to stop silencing me, it was pretty much proving the point against a bunch of teachers who were very much against me at school – and also administration at my school.”

Niusha is also an avid Black Lives Matter supporter and protest organizer. During her first protest in support of the movement, she estimated that 150-200 participated.

Many of these were youths, which shows her important impact for future generations. From her protests and that of others, she’s connected with other activists and together they built a forum where supporters discussed issues.

After discovering some of her inspirations such as Socrates (which she calls herself a reincarnation of the man himself), Fred Hampton and Mumia AbuJamal, it’s no surprise to see this constant rebellion against “social normality.” This ignites the conversation of what she calls her “second favorite book” – Brave New World. She discussed the book saying, “The main character – his name is Bernard. He’s basically super nonconforming – at the same time, sometimes he conforms because he feels so isolated when he is being a rebel. There’s this one point where he is being very rebellious and the ‘controller’ of that society is like, ‘If you don’t stop doing this, I’m going to send you to Iceland (which is like, the ultimate terrible thing).’

He’s so scared of that.

But he feels so happy because he finally realizes that people are noticing his radicalness.”

Connecting the book and real life, she stated that many political

“want to be validated.” The constant criminalization and disregard for radicals frustrates her; without validation, you’re simply failed to be taken notice of, which is important for any activist.

Her admiration of Socrates, however, seems to be over his persistence with sticking by his ideology and philosophy of life.

“Socrates was labeled for ‘corrupting the youth,’ but it was time for his trial, he questioned everyone to the point where they would contradict themselves,” she said.

“He was crazy. I loved that about him, but at the end, he still was killed – he was executed, which is essentially the sadness part about being rebellious or nonconforming in any society. [Sometimes it feels like] it’s almost your fate.”

Last year, in June, she proudly said, “If you hate your government, not voting is something that you should do. Stop acting like people have to conform to a system

that they despise. Stop acting like people have to choose between two different evils.” This she learned from her sociology professor who she says “changed her life.” Originally, she was a complete liberal and says that she was determined to become a lawyer and change the system from the inside. That, of course, changed when she met her professor.

In addition to that, she’s written captions such as “who is this fucking commie” under a selfportrait of herself, while in another photo promoting a t-shirt of the Iranian brand Bibi Agha, she had two books: one of Iranian poet Hafez and the second being Karl Marx’s The Communist Manifesto. It was only natural to ask her about communism, and most importantly if she was a communist.

“I don’t like to label myself because I feel like I am still young and I am constantly evolving,” she confessed. “One thing I label myself is radical because I feel like when

you care about people in this society, at this time, it feels so radical.

But right now, regarding my beliefs on economics and politics, like yes, communism is what I agree with and what I prefer – so I guess you can call me a communist, but I’m always open for debate.

I’m always open for learning and evolving, it’s not like I am stuck with that. I don’t label myself that, though, because people expect you to just be that for like the rest of your life – but who knows, maybe I’ll change, maybe I won’t.”

We spoke about people who were either executed or are already dead because of execution, but Niusha never showed fear.

She just said, “nothing matters” while talking about her passions of being an activist.

While Niusha is a committed and extremely devoted activist, she focuses heavily on art too; going as far as saying that “art saved her life.” My last few minutes were her were

spent with my lauding over her absolutely exquisite canvas paintings and even drawings. I compared her work to Basquiat’s neoexpressionism with a mix of Kahlo’s surrealism.

Looking through her work is, of course, all hers – no one else’s. And you know, it’s interesting meeting her; you can sense her mind constantly reading her surroundings, examining everything about her. I assume she does this all the time; she mentioned one of her favorite paintings – The Scream by Edvard Munch – and said, “It’s spewed in the center, and everything around is completely blended. It makes me feel like it’s just him and everything is happening around him and he’s just still, frozen in time. That’s how I feel most of the time. A lot of things are happening around me and I feel so much but on the outside, I have a calm face,” which immediately supported my assumption.

I Am Not Chaos

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CORNER

I don’t know what I’ve become, I don’t know if I even have become.

I emote to gloat I write in spite I cry, but it’s a lie I’m rhyming to distract you.

You see, I’m a rose so watered, I wilted, a conscience so aware, I forget, But as much as I think I am, I am not a chaos.

I have written this poem before, so congrats if this version made it.

My last was complete bullshit, and the one before that was too.

I fabricate myself as a hyper-abused intersection, telling you about all the accidents that never really happened.

You know it’s funny (even though I bet you won’t laugh) my sense of self has deteriorated so much so that I cannot find a new one.

Instead, I tamper with the fossil of who I once was...

That anxious, destroyed boy railing even against himself.

But I am not that kid, I haven’t been for awhile.

So I ask, why do I keep describing myself like I am?The only constant in my life is upheaval.

I only feel valid when unstitched.

But to save myself, I became stoic.

And it’s my tattered empathy, combined with my hollowness, that is undoing me.

I cling to find tears again, I yearn to be sad.

But enough is enough, the sun has always nourished me, the soil always buttressed me, and I have my thorns for protection,

POETRY

Written by Tommy Bruzzese

Open Doors Written by Elisabeth

Throw open the doors of your new school The gray halls of an unfamiliar place See unfamiliar faces, strangers in the mist The people who know nothing of you Turn the corner, see the doors, open or closed Each are a portal to another world, a mystery unopposed A maze of choices, scary and new Go through a door, than another Watch as the walls take on a color Grey turns to rainbow Faces become people People become friends They become vibrant with life It’s so surreal Animated dolls turned real The halls which were strangers to you become home The maze you learn to roam Each choice changing who you are You love this place You love their grace Tears stream down your face You will miss it when it’s gone Because you are not ready to move on.

But when the story ends When its time to go It’s ok...there are more doors to open

Hiraeth Written by Krysten Sliwinski A pungent scent filled my nostrils.

Taking cover was my only thought, but still, I stayed.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?»

Holding his hand in mine I was content.

The sun was setting on the horizon and I was warm.

«You know that sonnet is actually a eulogy?»

He looked at me with sad eyes, It’s coming to the end of you and me.»

The sun kissed the ocean and everything dimmed.

Holding my own hands, I was cold now.

Waves tickled my toes.

Vicious winds traveled my mind, Blowing out secrets and leaving them in voicemail boxes.

I was never one to be malignant, But no one likes being alone at night.

Right?

I would do anything for some type of heat.

Polemics poured down, Neither of us content.

Four a.m. holds all the answers

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Desi Girls In Their Element Photos by Alisha Dar

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Dawat!

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INTRODUCING GREEN BOX SHOP Written by Hallie Sebastian

Kayla Robinson is the creator and self-proclaimed bad bitch of Green Box Shop. Created just over a year ago, Kayla’s up and coming business has taken social media by storm.

With a following of over 60,000 on Instagram, her brand is dedicated to raising awareness through graphic social justice and politics t-shirts. Addressing topics from racism to misogyny and everything in between, Green Box Shop has successfully begun making waves in the social activist community.

reflects progressive views, ensuring that your dollar is being invested in a business that is ethically and socially conscious.

Kayla’s business doesn’t stop at just figuratively and intellectually supporting intersectional ideologies, but it has directly contributed to the resistance against the DAPL. One hundred percent of the revenue from select t-shirts went directly to NoDAPL, an organization dedicated to stopping the Dakota Access Pipeline.

Her views are not only reflected in her merI was lucky enough to get the amazing opporchandise, but also within her business itself. tunity to talk about Green Box Shop with the She incorporates her beliefs in the most amaz- queen herself, Miss Kayla Robinson ing ways, making her brand one you can wholly support. Kayla represents a new generation of empowered and self-driven entrepreneurs; you can join the resistance by purchasing Kayla’s merchandise knowing Green Box Shop

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r l e r i G l Pow er r i G l Pow r r e i G l Pow r r e i G l Pow r r e i G l Pow r r e i G l Pow r r i e G w o P l r r e i G l Pow r r i e G w o P l w r i What is Green Box Shop?

Green Box Shop is a lively and ongoing conversation about social justice and politics through graphic t-shirts/tye dye shirts.

My company is a form of expression and a way to start a dialogue in real life (most of which I have found to be surprisingly positive).”

Why is it so important to support blackowned businesses or businesses that reflect your views?

African Americans have nearly 1 trillion dollars in spending power. It is important for us to invest in our own growth & nourishment as a community to reach our goals of economic and racial equality. Your dollar will flourish wherever it is spent.

Your dollar holds tremendous power in our society. It is important for all of us to make a conscious and educated effort to invest our dollar into a positive future for our society. You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

How do you incorporate your own views into your business?

“I strongly believe that young people are the life of social justice movements. We are contributing to our future and we are setting an example for the next generation.”

What kind of impact do you hope your business has on society?

“My biggest goal is to set an example for other clothing companies, that they can use fairtrade fabrics and still thrive as a business. Also, I aim to guide society towards being intolerant of hate and fear but tolerant of people’s differences in the way they chose to identify, who they chose to love, the color of their skin, etc.”

What is your message to young people leading the resistance?

“You are equipped and you are powerful.”

‘Young people are the life of social justice movements.’

My shirt slogans express intersectional feminist ideas. As a bisexual Afro-Latina woman, I like to remind my followers and customers that my company aims to give a voice to all marginalized groups. For marginalized groups that I am not a part of, it is up to my support system to speak on their struggles and give suggestions so that I can deliver to a wide range of groups without speaking over them. My company also aims to source fairtrade and organic cotton shirts. As an intersectional feminist, I am morally responsible for supporting working class women of color around the globe.

What place do you think young people have in the social justice movement?

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BY EVELYN ATIENO

Photos by Brandon Towns & Petra Shrieves

DARREL KENNEDY

Wins It All I Anything can happen!

magine being the average young

ing for a way to live out her filmmak-

adult -- going to school and go-

ing dreams. She juggled working in

ing to work. Although your life is

hospitality and going to school.”I

simple, you have dreams of doing

moved to LA after a semester of col-

extraordinary things one day. That

lege and decided to create my own

used to be Darrel’s life. Now, she

path for my future.” She thought

is $100,000 richer after winning

that going to the film capital of the

GirlStarter with two other contest-

world would give her more opportu-

ants. Together they created an app

nities, but she faced some hurdles.

called ‘Tolli’ for starving artists.

“I learned quickly that being a pretty

How exactly did Darrel end up on

girl with a vision wasn’t enough,”

TLC’s Girl Starter? “One day I was

she says. “I had to get my hands

greeted by a random flyer about the

dirty and put in the countless hours

show in my email accompanied by a

of practice, research, and make the

passionate voicemail from my mom

sacrifices necessary to becoming

encouraging me to apply,” she says.

the one woman crew I’ve had to

“My first thought was, ‘mom, chill’,

become.” In an exclusive interview,

but little did I know sending in that

Darrel talks to us about what life has

application would change my life.”

been like since winning Girl Starter.

Before Girl Starter, Darrel was look-

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What were your initial fears when joining Girl Starter?

I’m gonna be honest,signing up for a show that you have never heard of and has never aired before is terrifying, simply

of the Girl Starter application. To be honest, I didn’t think I was qualified enough to get picked, but I knew my drive and desire to learn everything about business is what I brought to the table. I knew I would fight to stay every single week, not just for the prize or the money, but to make sure I learned everything Girl Starter had to offer me. When I got to the house and met girls like Lola, Claire, and Neha who already had functioning businesses with clients outside of their close friends, I was reminded that I had to fight for this. In the iconic words of Ms. Sofia, «All my life I had to fight,» and this competition wasn’t any different. I had no other option but to win.

‘I decided to trust my gut and say…

Screw it!’

because you have no clue what to expect.

With it being a reality show, there seemed to be no safety net as you entered into this world where ‘anything could happen’ — I also told myself for years that, as an actress, reality tv would never really be a part of my path because it often makes getting work somewhat of an uphill battle.

Well, more of an uphill battle. I didn’t want to commit to something that wasn’t right for me, but I decided to trust my gut and say… Screw it! I have nothing to lose but this opportunity if I keep doubting what I have presented before me.

Did you underestimate yourself, or were you super confident?

I was confident in my television presence for sure, because I knew just being myself wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me. I was more so worried about my abilities as a entrepreneur.

When I applied with RINKI DINK studio, it was nothing more than a functioning idea with a unofficial brand I scraped together for the sake

Your most challenging challenge on the show and why?

Hands down, the Air Force challenge. We were required to wake up at three in the morning to ride out to New Jersey after working on our businesses all night. Most of us were functioning on little to no sleep, and we were required to sit in on this informational PowerPoint that would prepare us before we went onto the battle field. I tried my hardest not the be rude, but I couldn’t help myself! I was so tired. I was legit nodding so hard that I damn near fell out of the chair right there onto the floor. Worst part was that they were filming the entire time as almost every girl embarrassingly slept through the presentation like it was a 6am lecture hall. I mean, that’s basically what it was. I’m just surprised they didn’t use any of that footage. I was expecting that laugh.

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to start business in six weeks. It’s so hard to explain!

You’re basically juggling two extremely time consuming things on a never ending schedule in an impossible window of time.

Would you say it was friendly competition amongst the girls, or cut throat?

All of the girls in the house truly got along, but you also have to remember that we were competitors as well as being friends. I’m a naturally a competitive person, so I spent the entire time paranoid that opening up too much would form as a distraction for myself. With an opportunity like this, there’s simply no room for error.

Where there times you doubted yourself?

During my time working with my first partner, Brandy, I saw myself starting to give up on the entire process. The more she and I hit a brick wall trying to come up with a business idea we both loved, the less motivated I got. I began to tell myself that while getting sent home wasn’t an option, gracefully giving up would be a better way to go down because I would at least be in control of my own fate. We were headed to our presentation with nothing, I heard you guys literally worked 24 hours, what was the process?

We would wake up around 5am every day to be able to leave the house at 7am most days… Our house mom would call that wheels up , and if you were late, you’d hear her screaming it throughout the halls. I’m actually surprised how little I was late in the mornings, though it did end up doing my makeup in the car everyday. We would get to set and would immediately be strapped into our mics, which meant the day was truly begining. We had around 12 hours filled with challenges, office time, presentations, and other surprises on set. After we were done filming, which was usually around 8pm, it was time to go home. That didn’t mean the work day was over though. You have to remember, we were building real businesses at the end of the day. Any moment we had where the cameras weren’t rolling, we were taking important phone calls that couldn’t happen otherwise.

24IS

We wouldT stay up all night researching, planning,

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and for a second I thought about reading off a resume about myself with the air time we had. Then I quickly realized how petty that would’ve been. Now that I look back on it, it’s a completely backwards and strange way to look at it… That giving up would be a better option than failing, because I’d hate to look back on any point in my life and realize I was the one who robbed myself of any opportunity. It’s not over until you say it is, and at the end of the day you’ve got to be your biggest advocate.

No one else will root for you as hard as you can root for yourself. They shouldn’t have to. I’m glad I decided to get over the fact that this experience was no longer what I signed up for. I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason, and as long as your giving your all from a place of good intentions, the universe will have your back. I mean, I feel like I just experienced a perfect example of that. I went from almost being the first sent home, to grinding my way to the win. Nothing has ever been easy for me, but every single thing has always been worth the lessons learned and the character built along the way.

k n i h t t ’ n d i d I ‘ d e i f i l a u q s a w I t e g o t h g u o n e picked’

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What did it feel like to end up being one of the winners?

I assumed winning would be like a finish line, that those balloons would fall on us and the race would be over… Boy, was I was wrong… This experience made me realize that any victory, big or small, is just like a speed boost in a racing game. Like those things on the ground in Mario Karts that make you accelerate ten times faster when you drive over is just like a speed boost in a racing game. Like those things on the ground in Mario Karts that make you accelerate ten times faster when you drive over them. Yeah, those. Rather than making you feel done, winning just pushes you to work harder and pushes you towards more opportunity. It’s up to you to use that moment of acceleration to your advantage or not.

knocking at my door since the airing of the show, and I’m eager to jump into the next stages of my career.

Is the industry hard for females? And why?

Making it in any industry is incredibly hard for women just because this idea of the «working woman» is still relatively new. It grosses me out even admitting that, but I believe men often overlook the fact that women have always been capable of successfully getting the job done. I always take that challenge as something to keep me interested in my work and to motivate me to work even harder. Gotta show these boys who’s boss.

‘Gotta show these boys who’s boss’

Any update on your film studio?

Lots of surprises in store for projects to be released. With this summer’s music being incredibly inspiring, you should expect to see some passion pieces from the studio featuring raw talent all over the US. Doing a lot of traveling this summer, so collaborating has been healthier than ever.

Future plans/ goals?

I have this secret goal where I’d love to host the show in future seasons. It’s this completely random fantasy of mine that I haven’t really shared with anyone, but I feel like I’d make for a great host. The underdog turned champ? I mean, that’s a pretty inspiring story. Outside of Girl Starter, I have a few exciting projects in the works. Opportunity has been

Advice to female entrepreneurs?

Don’t take business personal!

I’ve had to learn that the hard way. Your business partners don’t have to be your best friends. Make sure you remind yourself that most business isn’t personal, because getting into your feelings will catch you up.

Explain Tolli Tolli is a networking app that functions similar to a dating app in the way that it connects people based on geolocation and adjustable preferences. Only difference is, rather than setting random people up on dates; Tolli’s mission is to end the stigma of the starving artist by connecting artists with one another and with the opportunities they’re looking for in their area. It’s a great tool for creatives looking to build their resume and collaborate in ways that will challenge them more than ever. Imagine having every dope artist in your city at your fingertips? The opportunities will be ST endless, and we are so excited to share it with the NI R DE world.

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o t t o g e v ’ u o ‘y t s e g g i b r u o y e b advocate’

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SEE YOU IN SIX R

emember the summer we felt like we could run forever?” I’d ask him most weeks on the phone. The static would fall silent, absent of everything but a heavy sigh.

“Remember the night you told me you were dying?” he’d slowly reply, before dropping the line. I didn’t ask for any of this. At sixteen, all anyone wanted was to be envied.

How could I have ever wanted to stop being sad and self-destructive when schizophrenia was the most interesting thing about me? When I told him that, I was sick, killing myself slowly at least. How lucky he was now to be far away and mundane. Our friendship began the way that most of the great ones do – our mothers met in prenatal classes. I dropped out of the womb in early September and nine days later so did Robin. For years, we breathed each other’s air and punched each other’s siblings, but eventually, we fell apart in the organic way we’d fallen together. The slightly crooked nose, the reckless spontaneity, even the way rain fell onto his porch at night became irritating – that was the best explanation I could put in a letter, at least. Maybe it wasn’t all that organic, and maybe I left town without saying goodbye, but it was for the best. I did that for the both of us.

It all hit the fan the summer before seventeen. Fresh out of school, we were celebrating an eleven-week break from Mr. Crawford, physics teacher and (much to my disgust) the newly appointed head of sixth. Our first taste of freedom was a lot like Jägermeister and a transatlantic flight was on our horizons. I was supposed to be having the time of my life, but so far

I t hadn’t cracked up to much. Our mothers had hoped our forthcoming Scout Trip might have been the eye-opener we needed to fall back onto the straight and narrow, but I quickly brushed off the idea.

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By Chloe Gainford

We hadn’t exactly been model students, and (though I’d never tell the birth giver this) I was just about sick of tearing myself apart to entertain the masses. I was snorting heavy-cut drugs even more than I was cutting school; rolled-up fivers and cartoon-stamped tabs were starting to look a lot like a slippery slope.

Despite my best intentions, going to Japan consisted of almost everything my mother would disapprove of; smoking 20 on a bridge and almost getting locked up in a Japanese jail. Riding the night train (yes, all night) and scaling a 12-foot fence.

I hadn’t been sure what to expect as I waved goodbye to my parents in a rainy Yorkshire service station because I’d heard people only traveled to escape their tragic bosses or fill their empty brains, and until that point, I had been neither employed nor overcome with boredom.

And yet, I set off that day with a needy best friend and a heavy heart still trying to escape from something.

The sentiment was quickly lost, however, when said best friend promptly tripped down the stairs and off the bus. As the only boy I’d ever known to have a) entered and b) won a twerking competition, I always expected big things from Robin. But he rarely delivered. We weren’t allowed to play snap or talk or even sit next to each other on the flight – no plane ever had the storage space for my baggage or the head room for his ego.

But we made it and there was certain liberation in being 16 and 6000 miles from home. I didn’t understand why my parents were worried at the time but our ‘great ideas’ never landed me far from an A&E and a year later when Robin collapsed in front of me, drowning in vodka. I finally understood the parental paradox between “something really bad could’ve happened to you” and “thank god nothing too bad happened to

you”.

We were told to take three days in a city of

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infinite potential and run with them. My best friend’s eyes lit up – for the first time ever – as we got the green light to terrorise everyone and everything in sight. How Robin and I had developed an affinity for compromising situations was beyond me, but to the disapproval of our low-lying friends, we were notorious. Such infamous antics led to an acquisition of stealth, giving us private access after-hours. Chaos was set to strike on the hour. I’d been feeling off for some time but couldn’t rain check and spoil the festivities. I was wired up and so I’m not sure what came first; the voices or the drugs or if the voices led to the drugs, or if the drugs…it’s irrelevant because both were poisoning my system when we candy flipped on a Tokyo bridge. Smoke had never really sat right in my lungs, but since that fateful day at 14, I was rarely seen without a cigarette in hand.

In retrospect, I can’t see how rotting my lungs ever had appeal, but the social convention led ashy trails to most of my friends and the bad habit, at least, gave me reason to be angry about something tangible for once. Four hours later, I was higher than the ceiling and stuck on how to tell my best friend that I didn’t want this life anymore.

The paranoia was taking pieces of me hostage and whilst I sunk into a messy enigma of drinking and dealing, more sadness than soul inhabited my heavy bones.

As we flew back, dipping straight into London, I fell straight off the map. I transferred schools and changed my number. I’d always believed that when I did my thing and Robin did his, everything was fine, but that when we came together, magic happened. Suddenly, it was all poison – the reckless behaviour, excessive drinking, regularly seeing sunset and sunrise in the same sitting was too much. We were toxic together. It took ten years of being alone to realise which evil was lesser, injecting him into my system on the daily or letting the old dog die.

Withdrawal was deja-vu every way I turned; his reflection stared back in more mirrors than my own. It was falling asleep at my desk, compensating for five years of play

without work. It was finally taking care of myself (that shit is hard sometimes). I know he didn’t understand how his golden girl had faded to gray, but I only glowed through acid-burned eyes. I missed him but what was once an all-engulfing roaring fire was now a dying spark, I forced myself to believe. I told myself that this was for the best, that we were actually incapable of loving and looking after each other. The lies we tell ourselves burn oh so bright.

I took my medication, saw a therapist and stopped thinking about him. I mean, I tried. I thought that I could make my story boring or seem that way. If I could control my illness, then at least there would be no voices left to discuss it. I thought I could scribble him out of my narrative. But, Robin has a magnetism I’ve never quite understood. After years of distance, I reached for the phone; my fingers felt a pull to the keys, forming the pattern of his number. My voice pinged across oceans and into his ears. His soared back along the wires and through the empty space into mine. Words ricocheted across the minefield for hours until we finally laid down our syntactical weapons. We’ve been doing this for months now and I am finally admitting defeat. I can now accept that everything gravitates towards him eventually. Why? Well, isn’t it obvious? Because he’s untouchable; a stunted breath, a vivid nightmare, a shadow in the dark. Just as the night is far more fascinating than the day, he is a single moment captured in borrowed light, running through stolen time.

“Some people are kind but not you endlessly passionate and twice as fickle, but never soft. Make stars’ spin in my eye and call back the night. It’s always so. Draw me into the world of daylight and cold showers and it’s you; calculating, heart-breaking you.

The bringer of unbroken smiles – you – who exposes the wound and pours the salt. See you in six hours, Robin Taylor,” I said into his answer-machine. I ended the call and ignited the engine, taking the fast route to Rotherham – the only home I’ve ever known – for the first time in years.

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Adjusting To The ‘American Dream’ Short Story by Nyah Hardmon

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A

Amara was cold and wet and unemployed. Although she was out of the rain that continued to wreak havoc on the city, she could still feel the droplets on her skin as she sat on the hard bench and waited for the F train.

The dank atmosphere did not provide the comfort that Amara wanted. She desperately needed someone to tell her that everything would be alright, that there was always tomorrow. But that someone ceased to exist, and so Amara took solace in the lives of those around her.

She glanced at the group of women to her left, lingering by the tracks, their laughs ricocheting off the dingy walls.

She envied their carelessness, they probably have fantastic jobs she thought to herself, and immediately regretted the disdain she felt for such strangers. She glanced at the obese man sitting beside her, sweating despite the cool air, his pallor almost inflicting concern, and wondered if even he had someone to return to at the end of the day. Or perhaps, this pale man sitting beside her too felt as if he were living in someone else’s world.

When Amara was at home in Nigeria, she was surrounded by noise. She grew accustomed to the familiar buzz of friends and family and love. When Amara whispered of America from her university near Lagos, she dreamed of sky-high buildings that advertised opportunity and hope.

She dreamed of full stomachs and privilege and the sun shining brighter than it ever had at home. So when she received her green card, the doors of opportunity opened just for her, and she began dreaming of America in vivid blues and greens and yellows. To Amara, New York was white Christmas and taxis and bustling mornings filled with business men and women on their way to jobs that they loved, nights filled with eccentric bars and white people singing on Broadway.

This New York was much different. When Amara transferred to the local university in New York, she was underwhelmed by the city, sure, but she refused to give up on the prospect that this was where she was supposed to be.

She made friends and met fellow Nigerians that she felt obligated to relate to, but none who she laughed quite as hard with like the ones back home. She would often ask others how they were adjusting, desperately hoping that they also felt as if they were waiting for something more.

“So this is it?” Amara would ask her roommate, “This is what I’ve dreamt about all these years?”

“Yup, this is as good as it gets,” her roommate would reply with a sigh.

And so Amara would eat food which lacked the sharp flavors of home, socialize with her classmates, and contribute to meaningless conversations. When Amara calls home once every three months, she tells tales of adventure and opportunity but even Amara doesn’t believe the words that trickle too easily from her lips. She replaces the boxed macaroni with crème brûlée and opts out the construction worker that catcalled her on her daily pilgrimage to work with an American boyfriend that takes her on picnics in the park. Sometimes, Amara loses herself in these fantasies of the great American dream, but reality inevitably reels her back in and she becomes hyper-aware of the nights where she eats Ben and Jerry’s at home. Alone.

She often felt as If everyone else was in on a joke that Amara simply did not understand. So when she did things like wait for the F Train, which seemed to take pride in its lateness, she forgot how people fell in love with this city.

Sure, it had its perks, with its bright lights and diversity of colorful people whom she encountered daily, but there was also the way the stairs to her shared studio apartment creaked when she carried groceries, the way the leather on her favorite boots grew worn and tired from the constant walking, the way that she had long forgotten the last time she bought new clothes.

Through research and playful questionnaires, Amara determined that the key to happiness in a place like this had to be wealth. Amara didn’t come from wealth. Her house back home was small and modest, yet this never seemed to matter because so was every other house in her town. But here, it seemed like the charm of coming to a foreign country with very little, wears off very quickly.

Her scholarship money only stretched so far and while her roommate was extremely accommodating, using her parent’s trust fund to float Amara’s half of the rent, she could only live off the pity of being an immigrant for so long.

Amara’s quest for a job began with excitement, but this persistent hope soon diminished after a week of submitting her measly resumes, after hearing no replies. She silently marveled at how everyone else in her life seemed to get a job as if it were second nature. But for Amara, the task seemed unachievable.

Still, she remained adamant in her will to reach the American dream. She began lowering her standards to places like the café next to her apartment and the bookstore across from her classes. She wouldn’t groan when she missed her stop, simply clench her jaw and get off on the next one. She shook off the embarrassment of asking her new friends to pull in favors from their strangely successful networks.

It wasn’t until today that the hope wore off like a car finally running out of gas. As Amara walked to the subway, the leather on her boots begging for mercy, and the American sun nowhere in sight, Amara contemplated that maybe this America just wasn’t for her.

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Sophie Day

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Written by Kelly Chen

What are some major projects you have been involved in and currently working on?

Right now, I have opened submissions for Wet Dreams Zine Vol. 2 which is a zine series I started last year about open and unapologetic sexuality, self-love, body acceptance, and sexual exploration. It is composed of submitted and anonymous nudes, fantasies, and wet dreams. I’ve also been working on my first official photo book titled “LONG SUMMER” which is made up of photos I took this summer from May-August of my close friends which I am finishing up now and should be happy with soon. Also, FUCKBOY a documentary film project about a group of young skaters growing up in New York and how they’re shaped by our western ideas of masculinity.

Explain the motive behind the Wet Dream Zine series.

Wet Dreams Zine actually was sparked by the simple question, has anyone ever had a wet dream about me?

I found it so hard to believe, but as I started thinking about it more I realized that wet dreams are these natural and very private manifestations of sexuality and desire, and if anyone had that I wouldn’t know about it. I think that they are so fascinating and I wish that everyone would share them so, I decided to create a space for them. The zine is made up of written stories of people’s fantasies and wet dreams they’ve had, as well as nudes. I didn’t want to limit it because I found that people had a lot of secret fantasies they wanted to include as well. As for the nudes, they’re purposefully identity-less so everyone included feels safe. It’s also designed that way so everyone can fully indulge in this fantasy space that is the zine. I hope that the readers can explore their own sexuality through the project and further find themselves. Sexuality and identity are very linked for me, it’s a project and space for everyone.

How did growing up in NYC affect your work? How did growing up in an urban area affect everything?

It shaped the person that I am entirely. I’m thankful everyday for growing up in a city like New York, I became independent at a young age, traveling everywhere alone, and was exposed to all kinds of people from all walks of life. It’s difficult to even quantify the ways it’s made me who I am and the way

I make work. There’s no censorship in the city and you only get what you put in. I think I just became fascinated with people and the people I’m lucky enough to surround myself with. Everything is so fast in the city I feel the need to always document and save moments while I’m experiencing them.

Did you have an image for what high school was going to be like?

There were always a lot of older artsy girls I looked up to and wanted to be like when I was a misfit preteen.

I was bullied pretty bad by other girls in middle school and was kind of nerdy. I just wanted to find more people like me in high school. With the support of this sweet female art teacher I had at the time, I got into LaGuardia, this arts high school in New York. I remember being really nervous, but really ready to meet people I could relate to.

Do you consider yourself an adult? What defines adulthood for you?

I’d call myself a young adult, between girl and woman or maybe both. I think maturity is defined by traumas and experiences that actually constitute “growing up”.

Adulthood doesn’t mean anything to me except having seen and done a lot and being at a place where you’re secure and stable probably for the first time. Growing and learning never stop though.

Describe a time that you felt “grown up”.

Moving away from home across the country and living with my two close friends. I never had my own room growing up so every day waking up there feels like the biggest luxury in the world.

Describe a time that you were proudest of yourself.

Anytime I stand up for myself or my friends. So a few breakups come to mind, or calling out the way someone is treating a friend who couldn’t stand up for herself. Also, I try very hard to put my self-worth in my accomplishments, so I feel proud when I complete a project that I’m really

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Dont be afraid to mess up, because thats how you learn. excited about or get recognition for something I worked hard on.

What makes a DURABLE GIRL? To me it’s a non-gendered term, anyone should feel comfortable identifying as a “durable girl” even if they don’t identify as female. It’s about femme strength and originated as a term to combat the very wrong assumption that women are weak. Women go through the most and come out tougher, wiser, and better. Women are strong in their blood.

Advice for any young girls and overall young artists?

Put your self-worth in your work and accomplishments instead of your appearance or external validation, which is what women are conditioned to do. Validate and value yourself.

Don’t be afraid to mess up, because that’s how you learn. And LISTEN MORE! Empathize with others! Admit when you’re wrong and just grow from it. Talk about your art like you’re a man because they’re trained to have confidence and sometimes you need that to help people take you

seriously. Fake it (confidence and self-assurance as a female) until you make it. Bring up the women and femmes around you, support and accept one another. Consciously unlearn your conditioned passiveness and internalized sexism.

Rapid Fire Questions: favorite album (ever…): Operation Doomsday since it was pretty much my introduction to music/first album I remember loving favorite place (ever…): dunes on the beach the best age you have been so far: Every year is better than the last so far favorite teen movie: Bully your favorite summer: This past summer Durable Girls Collaborative is revamping our site and working on a LOT of new projects so keep an eye out for that this summer! Also, support more queer POC femme artists!

I also have a new show with 8 Ball Radio called Sweetness Radio which I do pretty regularly, you can go listen to the shows on their mixlr herehttps://www.mixcloud.com/8ballradio/playlists/ sweetness-radio/

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