Alive Magazine August/September '08

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magazine

hope for a city of dreams kaleidoscope eyes art by joanna ebert

slaves in the dark shedding light on a hidden trade

what do you want from your media?


A WORD FROM THE EDITORS

what do you want from Your media? written by lauren melcher & natalie neal watercolor by anna gizzi

E

xperts (and parents) often exclaim how dangerous the Internet is for young women with the prevalence of online bullying, sexual predators, and publication of personal documents or videos without one’s permission. All of these topics have made headlines in the past year, and some have even influenced law makers to propose changes to the ways the Internet is monitored and regulated (or unregulated). But when used correctly, the Web also provides incredible power: access to knowledge, awareness of important issues, and ways to keep in touch with loved ones easily and affordably. In this issue of Alive Magazine, we want to shed light on some of the Internet’s greatest and most powerfully constructive tools. Feeling techno-illiterate? We have ideas for how you can personalize your computer and portable electronics. Want to give back to your community but don’t have a lot of time or extra cash? Check out this issue’s Spend column. We’re also highlighting the stories of two women who are utilizing their powers to fight human trafficking (Imagine) and explaining some issues surrounding media consolidation in America (Consider). Yes, there are still young women for sale on Craigslist, and people whose fake online identities destroy families and lives. I hear stories like these all too often, and they break my heart. But those who tell you, as a young woman, that the Internet is completely dangerous … well, they underestimate your capacity to use it wisely – for yourself and the greater good. Using the Internet wisely means taking responsibility for the content you post and the content you view, so that you neither harm others nor yourself in the process. By doing so, you strengthen your own voice and at the same time prove to naysayers that young women do have the power to change our world for the better. So, what stance will you take on using the Web? Share your stories at www.alivemagazine.org, and you could be featured on our Web site homepage or in an upcoming issue of Alive Magazine. Until then, enjoy this issue and spread the word!

Lauren Melcher, managing editor 2


“W

hoever controls the image controls the mind,” said Allen Ginsberg. Although our culture and the media promote certain stereotypes of beauty and “normalcy,” young women – those most affected by such labels – can have an impact on the future direction of stereotypes in our culture. After all, the media is completely dependent on its audience; if you feel strongly about this subject, I urge you to make yourself heard. Through your relationships, your community, your contributions to the world – you have the power to change the face of the media Research on the effects of media stereotypes on young women reveals chilling statistics. A Children Now National Media survey found that 69 percent of girls surveyed said they wanted to look like a television character and one-third of those girls have changed something about their appearance to resemble that character. Unfortunately, three-fourths of women on television are underweight, meaning that young girls are comparing themselves to characters that falsely represent real women. The proportions of models are unrealistic. What is more disturbing is that, even with these “perfect” proportions, most models are airbrushed to fit an artistic director’s vision. It is no wonder that a study conducted by Our Health, Our Futures – a project by and for adolescent girls – indicates that only eight out of 3 million people look like a supermodel. Most photographs of women in media today reflect illusions rather than reality – it’s just a fact of the industry. These frightening statistics remind us that mainstream media outlets, magazines being one of the forerunners, affect us more than we would like to admit. So how can we reclaim the media? For those of us at Alive, we strongly believe in creating a safe and positive media source for young women. Just recently at a staff meeting, our executive director, Jen Dotson, unveiled Alive Arts Media’s new vision statement: “Her voice in the media, her place in the world.” All women need support and guidance in their quest to find their voice. Rather than look to popular culture icons, girls should emulate positive, real-life role models (such as family members or religious leaders) and learn how to exhibit their own true, realistic beauty. Also, advertising and media outlets should take responsibility for their material and use their influence to help girls become confident in their own skin, rather than pointing out potential flaws and ways to correct them. However, it is not just the responsibility of advertising directors perched in their sky-scraping offices to shape the media; readers and viewers have a crucial part to play as well. Girls crave authenticity and a place where they feel safe to rejuvenate through the inspiring words and innovative art of real women. We have a right to feel that we are not alone and have the opportunity to express ourselves wholeheartedly. It all depends on what you want to see from your media. So upgrade your tech-savvy skills, and equip yourself to streamline the media into a positive tool for you and your friends. Although the media’s degrading fantasies may seem enticing, what is vital and speaks louder is a picture of a real, genuine young woman. Grounding yourself in your unique identity will give you confidence to find your place in the media and use it as a positive tool for social change.

Natalie Neal editorial intern

* About Face: http://about-face.org

Deconstruct advertising and commercial images of women with help of the website created by the nonprofit organization, About-Face. Inside the website you will find petition letters written by young women to companies who sell harmful advertising as well as articles like “10 Things You Can Do to Empower Yourself.”

* Women Make Movies: http://www.wmm.com WMM is a nonprofit media arts organization with a mission of training women to become filmmakers. Over the past decade, WMM has gained international recognition and distributes over 500 documentary, dramatic and experimental films, some of which have gained top prizes at prestigious film festivals such as Cannes and Sundance.

* iEmily: http://www.iemily.com

As a health Website for young girls, iEmily provides girls with respectful, in-depth information about physical health and emotional well-being.

* For more websites that empower young women and help them change media and cultural steroetypes, check out our Kindred Spirits link at: http://alivemagazine.org/web-resources.php

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able of content 4

THINK

a word from our editors

2 What Do You Want From Your Media?

by Lauren Melcher and Natalie Neal | watercolors by Anna Gizzi Although today’s mainstream media outlets portray women as...

CONSIDER

news-related stories relevant to you and your world

8 Buzzword: Media Conglomeration

by Erica Hudock | typography by Mandy Gebhart

Welcome to the information age, an era that has inundated us with various sources of news through means of communication never thought possible.

DISCOVER 11 Love! Song what makes you come alive?

AIM

inspiring successes, curious ambitions, & unique interests

GAZE

art for art’s sake... and your viewing pleasure

SPEND

where to spend your money wisely and effectively

FLAIR

creative styles and ideas for adding a personal flair to current trends

MEND

picking up the pieces when life falls apart

by Naomi Hataway | illustration by Lauren Gallagher

There is a freedom and power in music that can’t be found anywhere else. It has the power to describe emotions that words cannot express, release frustration, and trigger memories.

12 Épée, Giants, and a Girl by Carina Finn

The last thing they expected was a petite fencer – and a girl. Yet by the end of the first practice, I showed them that girls were worthy opponents, too.

14 Kaleidoscope Eyes

artwork by Joanna Eberts

Toward the end of high school and during my first year of college, I began to stray away from black-and-white realistic drawings and started throwing color on everything.

20 Free Change

by Sarah Tengblad | collage by Lauren Gallagher

Mother Teresa once said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.” Keep that in mind when you check out these nine free (or almost free) ways to give.

22 Neon Laces and Yellow Sunglasses by Anisha Patel

Now I’ve always thought of myself as being a little bit odd. I have a spunky personality, can be loud and act crazy, and have an unusual amount of self-confidence.

23 Clarity and Love

story and photos by Anna Stevens

It was more than just a playhouse; those four walls were built with love for the happy little girl that I once was.

EXPLORE 24 A Pick-Up Line or Two: My Solo Travels through tales of travel and adventure

Italy

story and photos by April Boland

I was warned that Italian men flock to American women...

MUSE

original poetry and fresh lyrics

27 A Reality

by Hanna Thieme | photograph by Stephanie Taft

She may fall to the ground / but the own sound / of her breathless heart beating / is of what the means of staying down...


Joanna Eberts, contributing artist, is focusing on medical and fine art illustration as a sophomore at the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York, but hasn’t forgotten her Ohio roots. She finds inspiration in boring novels, crazy music and people watching in airports. She loves cinnamon toast, cats and getting covered in paint and gesso.

Stephanie Fisk, contributing writer, is a small-town Iowa girl who aims to live each day with passion and purpose. Her heart beats for the marginalized – especially women and children who have become victims of modern-day slavery. She has traveled to all 48 continental states and 18 countries. She loves culture, coconuts and clotheslines.

Heather Fraser, contributing writer, is from Dakota Dunes, S.D. with a Bachelor of Business Administration degree and an emphasis in Health Care Administration. She dreams of promoting and improving organ donation in the U.S., as her dad is currently awaiting an organ transplant. On the lighter side, she can’t pass up the outdoors or a good laugh.

Jeanne Foels, cover, will be a junior at St. Olaf College. Usually on the other side of the lens, she is happy to contribute her mug to this mag. She is eagerly anticipating studying in Turkey, Morocco, Egypt, Israel, and the Caribbean in the coming year. Although not quite sure how she will live out of a single suitcase for five months, she’s looking forward to filling several memory cards full of pictures.

Anna Gizzi, contributing artist, just finished a year of volunteering with Alive Magazine and has started to move on to the real world. She works part-time at a nearby coffee shop and at a non-profit called Fraser, specializing in autism issues. Anna is also preparing for the GRE and applying to Psychology programs for fall 2009. In her spare time she likes to visit family and surf Craigslist for cool stuff.

Henry J. Graf V, contributing writer, resides in Fort Wayne, Ind. with his wife Tricia and their two daughters. He works for Promise Ministries and teaches Communications at Indiana University-Purdue University while finishing a master’s of divinity at Concordia Seminary. Henry speaks nationally, is half of the band Rahfah, and likes Old Crown coffee.

Naomi Hataway, contributing writer, is a girl on the go. She loves working full-time as a barista, scavenging antique stores, spur-of-the-moment camping trips on the weekends, and strumming the guitar on the patio in the evenings. A staple in her Mary Poppins-size bag of a purse is Orbit gum - she’s tried every kind!

contributors

April D. Boland, contributing writer, is a freelance writer and editor and originally from New York City. She now resides in Austin, Texas where she enjoys reading, writing, soaking up culture and taking advantage of the beautiful outdoors that she never had back home. She is also the founder and editor-in-chief of Della Donna, a webzine for women.

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able of content

TASTE

28 Fortune Filled

by Meg Shoemaker | photos by Lauren Gallagher

favorite dorm recipes, snack ideas, & cafeteria creations

IMAGINE

Confucius says: No restaurant can compare to this delicious homemade fortune cookie recipe.

31 Special Feature: The Hidden Trade

series illustrations by Lauren Gallagher

how would you change the world if given the opportunity?

This special series illuminates the pressing issue of human trafficking and the underground sex slave industry, through personal narratives, interviews, and the hard facts about human exploitation.

31 No Substitute by Renae Post

32 Slaves in the Dark by Brittany Smith

36 Chantear

by Stephanie Fisk

MISTER

37 Lone Contenders for Greatness by Ryan Workman

life from his perspective

GIVE

At any age, but I think especially as twenty-somethings, we have a unique opportunity to both demand and strive for more meaningful, engaging lives.

38 Hope for a City of Dreams

story and photos by Heather Fraser | photos and typography by Mandy Gebhart

stories of service and volunteering

“It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that...

FLAIR

40 iAccessorize

creative styles and ideas for adding a personal flair to current trends

by Danica Myers and Lauren Melcher

MISCHIEF 44

Operation: Dormitory Take-Down by Kelly Kramer

tales of fiction, truth, shenanigans & friendly foolery

BELIEVE

finding God in unexpected places

LISTEN

perspectives on life from someone older and wiser

Personalize your computer to reflect your true style. Learn how to use docks and widgets to customize your desktop and create a work space that is completely and uniquely you.

What do an orange Crayola marker, a paper plate, and a group of bored college students have in common? Well, that’s classified information.

46 Two Paths to Scotland by Emma Shandy

Suddenly, there were two paths that I could take. The first one was to hide myself from the world and become even more depressed. The second was to pick myself up and...

48 I Never Saw Beauty

by Henry J. Graf V | pen and ink by Mandy Gebhart

She looked deep in my eyes and asked, “Will you still love me, if I am never beautiful again?”


Kelly J Kramer, contributing writer, believes when things don’t go to plan, you’re left with a better story. She is a member of Delta Sigma Pi, serves as vice president of Gallatone Records and can solve almost any problem by using string. Currently she works in Manhattan while pursuing degrees in Environmental Studies and Economics from New York University.

Renae Post, contributing writer, is majoring in Psychology and is a senior at North Central University in Minneapolis, Minn. After learning about the global problem of sex trafficking her freshman year of college, Renae launched an awareness and activism group, Release, on her campus. She hopes to enter the anti-trafficking field after graduation.

Emma Shandy, contributing writer, lives in Davis, Calif., and loves pie, Shakespeare and running. Dancing has always been her passion. Most of her family lives in northern Europe where she spent all of her childhood summers. She loves to write and express herself through words, and hopes to one day be a journalist for a non-profit organization.

Anna Stevens, contributing writer, enjoys long summer days out in the sun, preferably by the lake at Luther Park Bible Camp where she has spent many a summer day working or enjoying time with friends. A student at St. Olaf College, she dreams of finding a career that will allow her to write and interact with interesting people. Anna loves to smile.

Stephanie Taft, contributing artist, is a passionate performance artist who ventures to “live the art” by making her works through life experience and then documenting it with video and photography. She draws from cultural archetypes and iconic figures – becoming a blank canvas and submitting herself to an idea for each piece.

Hanna Thieme, contributing writer, is bouncing off to grade eight and enjoys obsessing over music and laughing at funny things. She rocks out these days in a church bell choir, her hair is all-natural, and she recently discovered that dissecting frogs is not all that disgusting. She loves field trips, talking and playing badminton.

Ryan Workman, contributing writer, currently lives and works in Los Angeles where he enjoys anything outdoors, playing music and working at a pro bike shop. You can hear some of his work at www.myspace.com/keepyourcourage. He is also raising the world’s most adorable terrier puppy, Kahlo, with his awesome girlfriend, Dawn.

cover: Anna Gizzi and Jeanne Foels back cover: Lauren Gallagher

not pictured: Anisha Patel

contributors

Erica Hudock, contributing writer, is a native of Bloomsburg, Pa. and a May 2007 graduate from Mansfield University. She spent her last semester in Arlington, Va. interning with the Student Press Law Center where she covered high school censorship. Erica now serves as an AmeriCorps VISTA with Big Brother Big Sisters Lehigh Valley in Allentown, Pa.


t s Po

k r o Y et Jour w e N Buzzwonarl d : Media S B C Conglome ration FOX

CN N

Wall S tre

written typography by erica hudock by mandy g ebhart

AB NBC de C ui G TV FCC

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Welcome to the info rmation a various s ources o f news th ge, an era that ha thought p s inundate rough m ossible. S eans of c d us with ome choo events in ommunic se to see a city new a ti o k nn th s paper or any case, on an eve e latest gossip and ever news is s ning tele till a busin global vision bro ess, and All-encom a a d c b ast. In ooming b passing c usiness a onglome grown to t th rates of b at. a monstr roadcast ous size, operation and print where mo s have m me re than 5 erged into 0 once-in dia have a handfu The issue d ependen l o f “media g of t iants.� by today media conglomera ’s society tion has b , ecome w impairme id nt to loc posing great co ncerns fo ely recognized alism in minority news an r leaders in media q d limitati the busin uality, accurate ons for ess. With and curre female a a growing nt inform conglom nd desire for ation, Am erates an the most d the cart e el they ha ricans are arguin g agains ve over th t e market.


“women ow n just 6 percent o f all full-power commercia l broadcast r a dio stations, e ven thoug h they comp rise 51 percent of the u.s. population .” Big media rise

s to the top Media comp anies have ex panded cons last 30 years iderably over but only nota the bly since the a daily nece Internet becam ssity. The m e ost familiar are those of big media na the national mes broadcast stat CBS, CNN an ions: ABC, N d FOX. Altho BC, ugh argumen over which st ts can be mad ation is most e For every action… objective, gro StopBigMedia ups such as th .com Coalitio e n ar picture. Com prised of organ e concerned with the bigger When a media gia nt purchases lo izations like P the National companies, th cal, independ ublic Citizen an Federation o e agenda of ent broadcast d f Community group focuse it s B lo ne ro ca adcasters, th w owner may l news and in s on network is terests a prio ownership an not make other news its airwaves. rity, thus lack d how they an sources have In the case o in g d lo become cont calism in names. f print media written about rolled by a , an article m a deadly fire b few ay be y a journalist That article is in the next co One of those th en so ld unty. names is Rup to other pub state, where ert Murdoch. lications aroun CEO of New many are ow As the owner d s Corp., an in the ne d lo b y si ng the quality and the same com ternational co not only owns and possibly pany, thus mpany, Murd FOX and all T th he e och refore, “loca accuracy of a local FOX affi print publicat lism” is a m local story. liates but also media ions like the atter that gre activists. Wall Street Jo York Post an at ly concerns ur d TV Guide, nal, the New an example consolidation. T o he f cr Federal Com oss-medium General Elect munications C ric, another ho of a different government ommission (a usehold nam type, is an un n independen agency esta e likely media co in fact owns N b t lis he b ng ro d ad lomerate, but BC and its Sp in ca st 19 m 34 et hods of com to regulate anish network m un g ui , ic Te d ation) establis elines early in lemundo. Other resear its existence to hed strict ch on big and localism encourage so media reveal conglomerates b y ur ce lim diversity it in g s that the cross-owners are inadvert areas, accord hip in metro ently limitin opportunities in g to FC politan C g Chairman Kev to women an ownership in J. Martin. d minorities. by Free Press A 2007 study titled “Off The Dial: Female Radio Station and Minority Ownership in the United St the claim: “W ates” confirm omen own ju ed st 6 percent commercial b of all full-pow roadcast radio er stations, even comprise 51 percent of th though they e U.S. populat ion.”

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FCC making

changes for

the worst? Despite their past efforts to promote loca of mass med l news instea ia conglomer d ation, a rece clearly prove nt FCC decis d the agency ion is shifting gea 2007, the FC rs. In Decem C altered a 33 ber -year-old defen ownership of se against cro a daily newsp ssaper compan station in the y and a broad same city. The cast stipulation was to prohibit a first establishe media oligop d oly in the co metropolitan untry’s 20 larg cities. est Lawmakers d isagreed with the FCC’s d March Sen. B ecision, and yron Dorgan, last D-N.D. introd Resolution 28 uced Senate , rescinding th Jo int e December May 15, 2008 2007 decision. , the Senate p O n assed the reso touted as a w lution, which in for media re was form advocate s nationwide. However, the FCC still claim s they were co the decision rrect in makin to weaken ru g les about m “The record edia monopo indicates that lies. the largest m a robust num arkets contai ber of diverse n media source diversity of vi ewpoints woul s and that th e d not be jeop newspaper/b ardized by ce roadcast com rtain binations,” sa report in resp id the agen onse to Sena cy’s te Resolution 28. Critics of m edia conglom eration poin evidence. Der t to contrad ek Turner, re ictory search directo testified befo r of Free Pre re the FCC p ss, ri or to the cont on localism in roversial chan the media. ges “Media cons olidation had been a disas Turner said. ter for localis “Overwhelmin m,” gly, broadca newspapers co st television ntinue to be th an d e most relied local news. T upon sources his is because o f th ey are really producing loca the only entiti l news.” es Even Michael Copps of the FCC disagreed stating that with the chan the Commissi ges, on’s decision “rational, fact was not that -based and of p ublic interest making.” Cop -minded polic ps also directe y d his comments diversity barri at the industr er. “We are to y’ ld s to be content to help women with baby step and minorities s , but the fine the real ben print shows th eficiaries will at b e white men,” small busines he said. “So ses owned b even as it bec y clear that th omes abundan e real cause tl y o f the disenfr women and m anchisement inorities is med of ia consolidatio green light to n, we give th a new round e o f— consolidation. yes, you guess ” ed it—media With Resoluti on 79 awaiting a voice vote Representativ by the House es, the future of of media co unclear. “The nglomeration situation isn’t is g o said. “Big med ing to repair itself,” Copp ia is not goin s g to is not going repair it. This to repair it. Commission B ut representativ the people, es, and atte their elected ntive courts have had a d can repair it angerous, dec … We ades-long flir consolidation. tation with m I would welco edia me a little ro public interest mance with th for a change. e ”

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“the situat ion isn’t going to re pair itself... but the people, the ir elected representa tives, and attent ive courts can repair it.”


by naomi hataway

song

My foot taps and I softly hum to the music coming from the computer speakers on my desk. I gaze at the blank page on the computer screen, tapping my fingers on the keyboard to the beat of the music. “Love....love....what do I love?” I mutter to myself. Frustrated, I turn the speaker volume to max, throw my head back, and bellow the song. When the song is over, I turn the music back down and continue to stare at the still blank page. Easily distracted, I jump up and grab my guitar. I play a quick song while mulling over what I love. The twang of the guitar and the feel of the strings beneath my callused finger tips soothes my mind and makes my heart glad. “Music!” I yell. “I love music!” There is a freedom and power in music that can’t be found anywhere else. It has the power to describe emotions that words cannot express, release frustration, and trigger memories. It can allow you to focus on the moment and forget your problems or it can be a reminder or reflection of things happening in your own life.

i love music because it gives you a glimpse into a tiny part of everyone’s heart. it is a reflection of what is on the inside. ways to relieve stress. It allows the frustration to flow through you and calms the nerves. I love music because it gives you a glimpse into a tiny part of everyone’s heart. It is a reflection of what is on the inside. It allows you to express thoughts, feelings, and emotions that have no other outlet. There are times when I’ll put on a cd and my heart will ache with the emotions that the song creates. I may never have met the singer, but for one second I’ve shared in their pain or joy or sorrow. As I sit here skimming the page on the computer screen that is now filled with words, another song begins to play. My foot starts tapping out the rhythm, I begin to hum again, and the love I have for music makes my heart sing along with the artist.

Music has always played a big part in my life. All the memories I have, good and bad, are set to music. I remember sitting on the porch swing with my sisters and making up songs. We would sit and sing for hours, our childish hearts happy and carefree. I remember Thursday nights in summer at the town square. My best friend and I would dance as the visiting bands played their peppy tunes. I remember listening to bluegrass on the way to church with my dad, going to concerts with friends, my mom harmonizing with the songs on the radio, and the boisterous songs that could always be heard on Saturday nights from the small church across the street from my house. Sometimes when I’m tired and frustrated, I will pick up my guitar and strum, loud and hard. Mike, my old guitar teacher, once said that playing the guitar is one of the greatest

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After a long, exhausting search through a maze-like complex where no one spoke English, I finally found the cafeteria. Normally I would club, and that is where it met.When I finally arrived, I realized I was an hour early for the advanced class. An elderly, vaguely Hispanic-l skeptically when I walked in but did not stop working with the class. I put my bag on the floor and began stretching. When he finished the you?” I said brightly. His expression did not change. He looked at my half-opened bag that was overflowing with only partially functionin lost coming here and no one spoke English, and I didn’t know the Spanish word for fencing and…” I said, falling into my nervous habit o hour later, about 20 relatively large men filled the small space of the cafeteria. A jumble of rapid Spanish and broken English bounced off feet tall and a girl — very unusual for an épée fencer. When, after a brief bit of sparring, the head coach sent me over to the few other é 6-foot-2-inch block of masculine muscle said, mockingly. I smiled gamely, unwilling to let him intimidate me. The coach, an even taller ma what is?” “She’s so little,” ,” the first man said with a sneer, and everyone behind him began to laugh.“Okay, okay guys. Come on, let’s jus would register my touches on the scoring system. As I stood on the sideline stretching into a lunge one last time, I felt a mixture of excite touches, I realized all he had to do was stick out his arm and let me run into it. I couldn’t fence someone that much bigger than me the won our first bout by sheer force and size, and I walked off the strip nursing a bruise on my right shoulder that had already begun to turn of my one-liter bottle of water all at once. “You’ve got to be smart; use your size to your advantage. Small fencers like you have to be stra score a quick touch and then get out as fast as I could in case I missed. I spent a lot of time hopping back down my end of the strip wit again. He had easily beaten his first two opponents, and as I hooked up my equipment and tested my weapon,by he carina said, “There’s written finn no way the chest, but the light on the scoring box didn’t go off. For a moment, we both looked around in confusion.. The coach shrugged and sign drew his attack, and made a clever hit on his forearm while dodging sword.Thesearch light didn’t go aoff. “Test your weapon,” theno coach said After a long,his exhausting through maze-like complex where use my blade,” he said as he handed me an oddly angled blue-tinged weapon with a grip I’d never seen before. This new sword one spoke English, I finally found the cafeteria. Normally I would have no felt fore using before. The cant [the odd angle I had noticed] willinterest give youinathe littlelocation more height length at than you Miami had before.”I my knees a of theand cafeteria South Middle bent School, attack to notice mine, and then lunged at him like a cat and hit him in the knee. He stood there stunned as the red light on the scoring b but on this particular night I planned to join the fencing club, and that is of which were double-touches: a score unique to épée where both fencers get a point.As we unmasked and shook hands, he grunted an where it met. because I had fenced well in general, but because I genuinely had fun. Even though I spent the first half of the evening discounted becau advice. I think the best thing about the experience, however, showing a group of men a woman could in a “boy’s Whenwas I finally arrived, I realized I wasthat an hour early for theexcel advanced class. game.” being “one of the guys” still did not stop some of them… when one guy asked me out for ice cream after practice, wouldn’t let me Anfor elderly, vaguely Hispanic-looking man directed a line of he students no one spoke English, I finally found the cafeteria. Normally I would nosix interest in the location of the cafeteria at South Miami Midd ranging fromhave ages to 30-something in rudimentary advance/retreat hour early for the advanced class. An elderly, vaguely Hispanic-looking manatdirected a line ofwhen students ranging fromdid ages to 30-some drills. He glanced me skeptically I walked in but notsixstop my bag on the floor and began stretching. When he finished the with exercise, he walked over and forand me began to speak. I stood up awkwa working the class. I put my bag onwaited the floor stretching. half-opened bag that was overflowing with only partially functioning fencing weapons and pink and green striped knee socks.“You’re to When he finished the exercise, he walked overnobody and waited forEnglish me to here. Es Spanish word for fencing and…” I said, falling into my nervous habit of rambling uncontrollably. “Nope, speaks speak. I stood up awkwardly out of my split and shook his hand. the cafeteria. A jumble of rapid Spanish and broken English bounced off the table-lined walls. I looked around nervously. I had never fenc a brief bit of sparring, the head coach sent me over to the épéeists and their stares me (although “Hi!few I’mother Carina, I e-mailed you?”coach, I saidmore brightly. Hisgreeted expression did not this tim gamely, unwilling to let him intimidate me. The coach, an even taller man, stepped between the two of us.“Yes,” he said the gatherin change. He looked at my half-opened bag that was overflowingtowith everyone behind him began to laugh.“Okay, okay guys. only Come on, let’s just hook up. What was your name again?” the coach asked me. I partially functioning fencing weapons and pink and green striped the sideline stretching into a lunge one last time, I felt a knee mixture of excitement and fear as I saw who my fi rst opponent would be— the g socks. me run into it. I couldn’t fence someone that much bigger than me the same way I fenced someone in the women’s tournaments, where I nursing a bruise on my right shoulder that had already begun totoo turnearly purple.“His reach is too long,he even your full extension and lung “You’re for the advanced class,” saidwith simply. use your size to your advantage. Small fencers like you have to be strategists.”I fenced and beat two other opponents. I began to catch lost stuck coming here and nodefense. one spoke English, and Isuggeste missed. I spent a lot of time hopping back down my end “I of know…I the strip got withreally my point straight out in When the coach didn’t know the Spanish word for fencing and…” I said, falling into up my equipment and tested my weapon, he said, “There’s no way I won’t win this one.” There was no way he would win this my one. I darte nervous habit of for rambling uncontrollably. we both looked around in confusion.. The coach shrugged and signaled us to continue. He thrust out his sword and scored a touch on his sword.The light didn’t go off. “Test your weapon,” the coach said to me. I pushed the point my swordhe intosaid, the toe my shoe. Noth “Nope, nobody speaks English here. of Esgrimar,” the of Spanish weapon with a grip I’d never seen before. This new sword felt foreign in my glove: clumsy, and too heavy.“If it feels weird, that’s because word meaning “to fence.” more height and length than you had before.”I bent my knees and sunk into a lower-than-usual, on-guard position. I waited for the mome knee. He stood there stunned as the red light on the scoring boxover buzzed loudly, indicating I had scoredlarge a point. restthe of the match we A little an hour later, about 20 relatively menThe filled small get a point.As we unmasked and shook hands, he grunted and of asked if I would be coming back next week.“Absolutely! I can’t wait,” space the me cafeteria. A jumble of rapid Spanish and broken English though I spent the first half of the evening discounted because ofoff mythe gender and physical I had earned respect from the co bounced table-lined walls. Iappearance, looked around nervously. I had never a group of men that a woman could excel in a “boy’s game.”Two days later, I went back to the club forcoach the next practice. When I walked fenced against men with the exception of my at school. asked me out for ice cream after practice, he wouldn’t let me pay. And while I can’t stand sexism, I am always in favor of chivalry. After a l I am barely 5 feet girl — very unusual for antoépée When, interest in the location of the cafeteria at South Miami Middle School, buttall on and this aparticular night I planned join fencer. the fencing club, and after a brief bit of sparring, the head coach sent me over to the few other directed a line of students ranging from ages six to 30-something in rudimentary advance/retreat drills. He glanced at me skeptically whe épéeistsout and coach, greetedI’m meCarina, (although this time walked over and waited for me to speak. I stood up awkwardly oftheir my split and more shookstares his hand.“Hi! I e-mailed you?” I said were for confused, not blank). weapons and pink and green striped knee socks.“You’rethey too early the advanced class,” he said simply.“I know…I got really lost comin uncontrollably. “Nope, nobody speaks English here. Esgrimar Esgrimar,” ,” he said, the Spanish word meaning “to fence.”A little an hour later, “Oooh look, a girl épée fencer!” a 6-foot-2-inch block of over masculine lined walls. I looked around nervously. I had never fencedmuscle againstsaid, menmockingly. with the exception of my coach at school. I am barely 5 feet tall an I smiled gamely, unwilling to let him intimidate their coach, more stares greeted me (although this timeme. theyThe were confused, not blank). “Oooh look, a girl épée fencer!” a coach, an even taller man, stepped between the two of us. 6-foot-2-inch between the two of us.“Yes,” he said to the gathering group, “but that’s not what’s important about her. Can anyone tell me what is?” “ What was your name again?” the coach asked me. I hurriedly reply and then hooked myself to what’s the boximportant that would regist “Yes,”whispered he said toathe gathering group, “but that’supnot fear as I saw who my first opponent would be— the guy about who had metell for me being “a is?” girl.”After he scored the first few touches, I her.dismissed Can anyone what fenced someone in the women’s tournaments, where I was usually smaller, but not that much smaller than my opponent. He won our first “She’s little,” rst man said a sneer, and everyone behind reach is too long, even with your full extension and lunge, you so won’t hit the himfilike that,” thewith coach said as I gulped down half him of my one-li began to laugh. fenced and beat two other opponents. I began to catch on. I bounced light on my feet, looking for a weak point to jump in and score a q stuck straight out in defense. When the coach suggested“Okay, a round-robin practice I felt ready face the guyname again. He ha okay guys. Cometournament, on, let’s just hook up.toWhat wasbig your this one.” There was no way he would win this one. I darted in for the fi rst touch, catching him off-guard. I hit him square in the chest, but again?” the coach asked me. I hurriedly whispered a reply and then to continue. He thrust out his sword and scored a touch on my shoulder. I bounced backward down the strip to collect myself, drew his a pushed the point of my sword into the toe of my shoe. Nothing happened.“It’s broken. The spring is probably too short. Here, use my bl glove: clumsy, and too heavy.“If it feels weird, that’s because it is. But it will probably work better for you than what you were using before


d have no interest in the location of the cafeteria at South Miami Middle School, but on this particular night I planned to join the fencing looking man directed a line of students ranging from ages six to 30-something in rudimentary advance/retreat drills. He glanced at me e exercise, he walked over and waited for me to speak. I stood up awkwardly out of my split and shook his hand.“Hi! I’m Carina, I e-mailed ng fencing weapons and pink and green striped knee socks.“You’re too early for the advanced class,” he said simply.“I know…I got really of rambling uncontrollably. “Nope, nobody speaks English here. Esgrimar,” he said, the Spanish word meaning “to fence.”A little over an f the table-lined walls. I looked around nervously. I had never fenced against men with the exception of my coach at school. I am barely 5 épéeists and their coach, more stares greeted me (although this time they were confused, not blank). “Oooh look, a girl épée fencer!” a an, stepped between the two of us.“Yes,” he said to the gathering group, “but that’s not what’s important about her. Can anyone tell me hooked myself up toname the box that would register my me. touches I bent my kneesaand sunk a lower-than-usual, st hook up. What was your again?” the coach asked I hurriedly whispered reply andinto then hooked myself upon-guard to the box that on the scoring system. As I stood on the sideline stretching position. I waited for the moment when my he opponent wasfirst few ement and fear as I saw who my first opponent would be— the guy who had dismissed me for being “a girl.”After scored the into a lunge one last time, I felt a mixture of excitement and too deep in thought about his own attack to notice mine, same way I fenced someone in the women’s tournaments, where I was usually smaller, but not that much smaller than my opponent. He fear as I saw wholong, my even first opponent would be— the lunged atlike himthat,” like athe catcoach and hit him the knee. n purple.“His reach is too with your full extension andguy lunge,and youthen won’t hit him said asinI gulped down half who had dismissed me for being “a girl.” He stood there stunned as the red light on the scoring box in and ategists.”I fenced and beat two other opponents. I began to catch on. I bounced light on my feet, looking for a weak point to jump loudly,practice indicating I had scored point. to The rest ofbig guy th my point stuck straight out in defense. When the coach suggested abuzzed round-robin tournament, I felta ready face the After he scored the first few touches, I realized all he had the match went similarly. He only managed to score four y I won’t win this one.” There was no way he would win this one. I darted in for the first touch, catching him off-guard. I hit him square in to do was stick out his arm and let me run into it. I couldn’t on me, all of which were double-touches: score myself, naled for us to continue. He thrust out his sword and scored a touch ontouches my shoulder. I bounced backward down the strip toacollect fence someone that much bigger than me the same way I unique to épée where both fencers get a point. d to me. I pushed the point of my sword into the toe of my shoe. Nothing happened.“It’s broken. The spring is probably too short. Here, fenced someone in the women’s tournaments, where I was eign in my glove: clumsy, and too heavy.“If it feels weird, that’s because it is. But it will probably work better for you than what you were usually smaller, but not that much smaller than my opponent. As we unmasked and shook hands, he grunted and asked and sunk into a lower-than-usual, on-guard position. I waited for the moment when my opponent was too deep in thought about his own He won our first bout by sheer force and size, and I walked me if I would be coming back next week. box buzzed loudly, indicating I had scored a point. The rest of the match went similarly. He only managed to score four touches on me, all off the strip nursing a bruise on my right shoulder that had nd asked me if I would be coming back next week.“Absolutely! I can’t wait,” I said smiling.I smiledI said not because “Absolutely! I can’t wait,” smiling. I had beaten him, or even already begun to turn purple. use of my gender and physical appearance, I had earned respect from the coaches and the other fencers by working hard and taking their I smiledin,not becausegreeted I had beaten even ”Two days later, I went backlong, to the clubwith for the everyone me likehim, I wasorone of because the guys.I But my “His reach is too even yournext full practice. extensionWhen and I walked had fenced well in general, but because I genuinely fun. where e pay. And whileyou I can’t stand always favor of chivalry. complex lunge, won’t hit sexism, him likeI am that,” theincoach said as I After a long, exhausting search through a maze-like had Even though I spent the fi rst half of the evening discounted dle School, but on this half particular I planned to water join the gulped down of my night one-liter bottle of allfencing at once.club, and that is where it met.When I finally arrived, I realized I was an because my gender andnot physical appearance, I had ething in“You’ve rudimentary advance/retreat He glanced at me skeptically when of I walked in but did stop working with the class. I put got to be smart; use drills. your size to your advantage. earned respect from the coaches and the other fencers by at my ardly outSmall of myfencers split and his hand.“Hi! I’m Carina, I e-mailed you?” I said brightly. His expression did not change. He looked likeshook you have to be strategists.” working hard and taking their advice. I think the best thing oo early for the advanced class,” he said simply.“I know…I got really lost coming here and no one spoke English, and I didn’t know the fenced beat twoword other opponents. I began little to catch about however,large was men showing group sgrimar,” ,”I he said, and the Spanish meaning “to fence.”A over an hour the later,experience, about 20 relatively filled athe smallofspace of on. I bounced light on my feet, looking for a weak point to men that a woman could excel in a “boy’s game.” ced against men with the exception of my coach at school. I am barely 5 feet tall and a girl — very unusual for an épée fencer. When, after and score a quick touch andlook, thenaget as fencer!” fast as a 6-foot-2-inch block of masculine muscle said, mockingly. I smiled me theyjump were in confused, not blank). “Oooh girlout épée days later, I went back to the club for the next practice. I could in case I missed. I spent a lot of time hopping backtellTwo ng group, “but that’s not what’s important about her. Can anyone me what is?” “She’s so little little,” ,” the first man said with a sneer, and When I walked in, everyone greeted me like I was one of down my endaof the and stripthen withhooked my point stuckupstraight out that would I hurriedly whispered reply myself to the box register my touches on the scoring system. As I stood on the guys. But my being “one of the guys” still did not stop defense. guy who in had dismissed me for being “a girl.”After he scored the first few touches, I realized all he had to do was stick out his arm and let some of them… for when one guy asked me out for ice was usually smaller, but not that much smaller than my opponent. He won our first bout by sheer force and size, and I walked off the strip When the coach suggested a round-robin practice cream after practice, he wouldn’t let me pay. And while I ge, you won’t hit him like that,” the coach said as I gulped down half of my one-liter bottle of water all at once. “You’ve got to be smart; tournament, I felt ready to face the big guy again. He had can’t stand sexism, I am always in favor of chivalry. h on. I bounced light on my feet, looking for a weak point to jump in and score a quick touch and then get out as fast as I could in case I easily beaten his first two opponents, and as I hooked up ed a round-robin practice tournament, I felt ready to face the big guy again. He had easily beaten his first two opponents, and as I hooked my equipment and tested my weapon, he said, “There’s no ed in for the first touch, catching him off-guard. I hit him square in the chest, but the light on the scoring box didn’t go off. For a moment, way I won’t win this one.” n my shoulder. I bounced backward down the strip to collect myself, drew his attack, and made a clever hit on his forearm while dodging hing happened.“It’s broken. spring probably There was no way heThe would winisthis one. too short. Here, use my blade,” he said as he handed me an oddly angled blue-tinged it is. But it will probably work better for you than what you were using before. The cant [the odd angle I had noticed] will give you a little in for the rst touch, off-guard. hit to notice mine, and then lunged at him like a cat and hit him in the ent whenI darted my opponent wasfitoo deep incatching thoughthim about his own Iattack him square in the chest, but the light on the scoring box ent similarly. He only managed to score four touches on me, all of which were double-touches: a score unique to épée where both fencers didn’t smiled go off.not Forbecause a moment, bothhim, looked around in I had fenced well in general, but because I genuinely had fun. Even I said smiling.I I had we beaten or even because confusion.. The coach shrugged and signaled for us to oaches and the other fencers by working hard and taking their advice. I think the best thing about the experience, however, was showing continue. He thrust hisone sword andguys. scored touch on“one of the guys” still did not stop some of them… for when one guy d in, everyone greeted me likeout I was of the Butamy being my shoulder. I bounced backward down the strip to collect long, exhausting search through a maze-like complex where no one spoke English, I finally found the cafeteria. Normally I would have no myself, his attack, andarrived, made aI clever hitI on that is where it drew met.When I finally realized washisanforearm hour early for the advanced class. An elderly, vaguely Hispanic-looking man while dodging his sword. en I walked in but did not stop working with the class. I put my bag on the floor and began stretching. When he finished the exercise, he d brightly. His expression did not change. He looked at my half-opened bag that was overflowing with only partially functioning fencing The light didn’t go off. ng here and no one spoke English, and I didn’t know the Spanish word for fencing and…” I said, falling into my nervous habit of rambling about 20“Test relatively large menthe filled thesaid small of the cafeteria. your weapon,” coach tospace me. I pushed the point A jumble of rapid Spanish and broken English bounced off the tablend a girl — unusual forthe an toe épée When, afterhappened. a brief bit of sparring, the head coach sent me over to the few other épéeists and of very my sword into of fencer. my shoe. Nothing h block of masculine muscle said, mockingly. I smiled gamely, unwilling to let him intimidate me. The coach, an even taller man, stepped broken. spring is with probably tooand short. Here, use my him began to laugh.“Okay, okay guys. Come on, let’s just hook up. “She’s so“It’s little,” ,” the fiThe rst man said a sneer, everyone behind blade,” he said as he handed me an oddly angled blueter my touches on the scoring system. As I stood on the sideline stretching into a lunge one last time, I felt a mixture of excitement and weapon gripout I’d his never Thisinto new realizedtinged all he had to dowith wasastick armseen and before. let me run it. I couldn’t fence someone that much bigger than me the same way I sword felt foreign in my glove: clumsy, and too heavy. t bout by sheer force and size, and I walked off the strip nursing a bruise on my right shoulder that had already begun to turn purple.“His iter bottle of water all at once. “You’ve got to be smart; use your size to your advantage. Small fencers like you have to be strategists.”I “If it feels weird, that’s because it is. But it will probably quick touch and then get out as fast as I could in case I missed. I spent a lot of time hopping back down my end of the strip with my point work better for you than what you were using before. The ad easily beaten his first two opponents, and as I hooked up my equipment and tested my weapon, he said, “There’s no way I won’t win cant [the odd angle I had noticed] will give you a little more t the light on the scoring box didn’t go off. For a moment, we both looked around in confusion.. The coach shrugged and signaled for us height and length than you had before.” attack, and made a clever hit on his forearm while dodging his sword.The light didn’t go off. “Test your weapon,” the coach said to me. I lade,” he said as he handed me an oddly angled blue-tinged weapon with a grip I’d never seen before. This new sword felt foreign in my e. The cant [the odd angle I had noticed] will give you a little more height and length than you had before.”I bent my knees and sunk into


welcome to gaze, a gallery designed to showcase an uninterrupted series of artwork by a young female artist... not to accompany an article, but simply for your viewing pleasure!

Toward the end of high school and during my first year of college, I began to stray away

from black-and-white realistic drawings and started throwing color on everything.

There is something beautiful and graceful in the female form, and as a constant doodler, I find

myself driven to illustrate this unique beauty. A lot of the work I do is inspired by people I’ve

seen or music I’ve heard. These works all display my newfound love for color and the fact that

the best art comes from loosening up and just having fun.

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gemelas

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summer

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dream

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hong kong cuckoo 18


talk

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written by sarah tengblad

collage by lauren gallagher

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Why do we give? Giving, in whatever amount, capacity or fashion is an essential part of the growth of our world. To give is to acknowledge that life is bigger than yourself, that there is a need for you to give, and that you believe in our world’s future. And – it feels good! How can we give? Let’s face it, giving would be a lot easier if you had thousands of extra dollars in your wallet. The good news is, with or without the extra money, there are many ways to give. Mother Teresa once said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.” Keep that in mind when you check out these nine free (or almost free) ways to give:

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FreeRice.com – FreeRice, which began in October 2007, is a fun and easy way to give! When you enter the website, a vocab word will appear and you guess the correct meaning. With each word you define correctly, 20 grains of rice is donated to people suffering from hunger. Since the launch of this Web site, over 37 billion grains have been donated!

Feed My Starving Children – Would you rather donate your time? Volunteering at Feed My Starving Children is an excellent way to do that. At these non-profit locations, you can help pack food that is sent to over 50 developing countries. In 2007 alone, 185,000 volunteers packaged 43 million meals for hungry children. www.fmsc.org


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The Mocha Club – Could you survive with two fewer mochas per month? If so, consider donating the $7 it takes to buy two of them and donate it to communities in Africa through The Mocha Club! You can even choose the project you want your money to go to: HIV/AIDS, orphan care, child mothers, education, job creation or the regrowth of Sudan. www.MochaClub.org

Freecycle.org – This Web site allows users to exchange personal items for free in hopes of reducing waste and the burden of landfills, along with saving resources. To do so, you can join a local group, and post a message by sending e-mails to that group’s Yahoo! address or by clicking “messages” on the local FreeCycle group Web site.

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“sure i’ve tried to fit in at times, i’ve tried not to be seen or heard, but what’s the fun in that?”

en writt

isha by an

patel

I’m sixteen years old. Walking the halls of my high school every day it seems to me only one thing is important: fitting in. Now I’ve always thought of myself as being a little bit odd. I have a spunky personality, can be loud and act crazy, and have an unusual amount of self-confidence. I’m a different ethnicity than most people in my school, I have a strong faith in God, and I’ve always thought of myself as a leader, not a follower. Sure I’ve tried to fit in at times, I’ve tried not to be seen or heard, but what’s the fun of that? So last week, I decided to step it up a notch by doing a little experiment. I decided to start dressing differently, the way I really want to dress – to not be bound by the “social norm.” I bought a pair of yellow pants, skirts and leggings in bright colors, and a wacky pair of shoes with orange and green neon laces. Pair these with my crazy yellow sunglasses and bright nail polish, and you get pure amazingness – well, in my opinion at least. There are no rules to what I can and cannot wear, and I love it! Sure, I’ve gotten a lot of comments about how ‘I don’t match’ or how my clothes are ‘too bright’. Yeah, some of my friends roll their eyes at my crazy outfits. I’ve even had people outright make fun of me because of the way I dress. But it hasn’t all been negative. There are a lot of people who love my new wardrobe. I get about 20 compliments a day from my peers, and even teachers. People notice that what I wear is different, and they respect that. There are even some people who want to dress like me! I think secretly everyone has their own personal style, but we’re just too afraid to show it. I’ve had a lot of fun being different, and I think it’s the best thing I could’ve done for myself. I plan to continue with my crazy clothes and crazy personality, well… forever! I believe every one of us is unique, and encourage you to let your style show your true personality! Whether you want to wear funky clothes, act a little different, or hang out with people who are different than you, my advice is go for it! God made each of us unique in our own way, so we shouldn’t be afraid to let our multi-colored personalities shine through! I discovered that being a Fruit Loop in a world of Cheerios is a lot of fun!

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story & photos by anna stevens A mist spread across the neighborhood, creating stillness as But can we ever fully understand what it means to say old as time itself. As I looked out the window of the house goodbye? It’s different for some; they make it seem so easy I grew up in, across the yard full of childhood memories, to move forward. For me it was not that easy. Not easy at all. I breathed it all in one last time. I knew I would miss my I questioned everything. Nothing seemed to fill that longing playhouse, but it was too big to take with us. I looked out deep inside. It seemed I would never be able to fully say at its tiny front porch and remembered building it from the goodbye – goodbye to the playhouse and goodbye to my ground up with my grandpa. I got my grandpa. Holding on for dear life… I “...it drives me to first blue thumb building that playcouldn’t let go. No way. No chance house after hitting it with a hammer; of that. live the life that little however, the magic of the playhouse girl dreamed of.” So I waited. soon caused the pain to fade. The moment passed, and I knew the time had come. The world was out there, fading my memories and begging me to make new ones. Slowly I slipped on my shoes and tried to hold back the tears filling my baggy eyelids. No time for tears. I must be strong, I thought. It’s moving day and life goes on. One last longing look and I was out the door. The click of the lock resonated with the pangs of my heart. As I drove away from my old house for the last time, I remembered the writing on the ceiling and the rock that wore nail polish, which matched my toes throughout elementary school. That place held my hopes and fears from the beginning of their existence. Those walls had seen every step of my journey thus far. Life went on, and I had new walls to call home. But not even a year after we moved, my grandpa passed away. I suddenly found myself longing for the comfort of my old house. There in someone else’s backyard sat what my heart longed for most. It was more than just a child’s playhouse; those four walls were built with love for the happy little girl that I once was. Oh, how I would give anything to have that blue thumb once more, as long as it meant Grandpa would be by my side again, sharing his quiet strength and teaching his unimaginable love. I wiped the rebel tears away from my eyes, knowing the playhouse was no longer mine. However, deep down I knew it wasn’t the place that was important, but the family memories I would always carry. But somehow… somehow it was impossible to get that message from my head to my overflowing heart. I told myself, This will all pass. Pain will fade and memories will take its place. Someday the longing will fade. It will fade right? Of course it will. It has to.

I waited for the day when I could sit cross-legged on that old playhouse floor, surrounded by the love I needed so much, missed so much. Grandpa’s love is with me forever and always. But I needed to feel it surround me. My eyes needed to see it; my hands, to touch it. Maybe then, just maybe, things would be better, I thought. I just wanted to be wrapped up in the playhouse’s assurance of my grandpa’s love. In my dreams I knew everything was as it should be. I knew that wonderful person, who I am so lucky to have called Grandpa, would always be right there with me hammering a nail to make a place for my imagination to run wild – a place where dreams come true. When I wake in the morning, my heart is in rhythm with the swing of his hammer. It drives me to live the life that little girl dreamed of. The beat reminds me of his laugh. With tears in my eyes, I slip on my shoes like I did that sad day long ago when I left my childhood home. Goodbye is not the answer. All along I thought I needed to learn how to say goodbye, but that wasn’t it at all. There is no need for goodbye, just see you later. It is time to pick up the pieces and make the journey to the later, to make it worth all that Grandpa gave me. The lessons he taught me without saying a word guide my feet, and the little girl I once was takes hold of my hand. Life is calling. For the sake of the playhouse and all that it means, I am going to live every minute with quiet strength and unimaginable love just like my grandpa taught me to do. I will strive to make Grandpa proud because I was proud of him.

ery minute with quiet strength and unimaginable love... life is calling. for the sake of the playhouse and all that it means, i am going to live every min

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story and photos by april boland soft pastel by jordan kammer

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“Excuse me, Miss, do you have the time?” I heard these you?” he asked, remaining in step behind me. “No, this is words outside of the Colosseum as I shielded my face not a good time, bye!” I said, and hurried away. from the brutal heat and browsed the wares of vendors on display for tourists like myself. Rosary beads, miniature Traveling alone in a foreign country is an act of courage, no replicas of the Colosseum and other Roman classics like the doubt, but doing so when you are a woman is even more so. Vatican and Michelangelo’s Pietà, and assorted fans and Before I had left for my trip, I was warned that Italian men postcards were set out on small tables where Italian men flock to American women, but in northern Italy, where I was living, I was left pretty much alone. smiled and told foreign women that The further south I traveled, however, they were “bella” – “beautiful.” I had “traveling alone in the more that changed. A pick-up line just escaped one such vendor when I a foreign country is or two in Florence, followed by a few was stopped by this tall, dark-skinned, an act of courage, no more in Rome. By the time I reached middle-aged gentleman in the street. Pompeii, men were honking their doubt, but doing so horns and yelling out of their cars, “3:00... uh, I mean, 15.00,” I answered, quickly correcting myself as I recalled when you are a woman and I received a marriage proposal in Sorrento. “I will wait for you, April,” the European way of telling time. I is even more so.” Matteo cooed while caressing my was capable of speaking in Italian, but since he asked me in English, I responded in kind. “Thank hand. (I was just trying to buy myself a sandwich when I got you,” he smiled, just as I noticed that he was wearing a into this mess.) A woman not used to such attention in her watch. “Where are you from?” I had continued to walk own country, I was more nervous than flattered. after giving him the time, but the man now followed me, continuing our conversation. “I am American,” I answered, I did the best I could, traveling the trains and subways only and he grinned. “I knew it. I knew that you were not Italian; by day and staying in all-female hostel dormitories when I could. When a fellow train passenger in Naples stared at you are too beautiful.” me unabashedly for over an hour, I kept my eyes averted, I didn’t know what to make of this since, firstly, I am Italian- trying to ignore him though my heart pounded with fear. In the end, my trip was a safe one. A year later, when American, and secondly, the man was my I spoke of it to my aunt in father’s age. I decided that it was just a line that didn’t make any sense. “May I walk with

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Connecticut, she exclaimed, “You traveled around Italy I acknowledge that there is a difference between a man by yourself? That was brave! I would be too afraid to do who is trying to get a date and one who means harm, but that!” I had not considered the magnitude of what I’d to the naked eye, how do we discern? I have read enough done before she expressed her admiration. After all, we stories in the newspaper to know that such discernment is terribly important – it could mean are both from New York City, my life. which is arguably just as perilous “...i am not about to let as most other places, if not more so. I recall taking an early evening fear keep me from seeing I do believe, however, that it is important for us to overcome such stroll by the Brooklyn Bridge with the world through my difficulties and continue to travel. a female friend one night when we own eyes or walking its Safely, of course, with daytime were teenagers, only to read in the paper that the very next night, in roads with my own feet.” schedules, a companion and perhaps some Mace, but doing it the same neighborhood and at the nonetheless. Most of us are smart same time, a female college student and savvy enough to stay as safe as possible when we was raped. In another instance, a homeless, one-eyed man travel, and that will have to carry us through as we refuse to engaged me in conversation, then pulled a kitchen knife let anyone else inhibit our experiences in life. It isn’t easy, out of the back of his pants. Fortunately, he replaced it after of course, but as for me, I am not about to let fear keep me a few minutes and walked away, leaving me stunned. I have from seeing the world through my own eyes or walking its even been assaulted by a man who was ahead of me in line roads with my own feet. for the bus. The doors opened, the man stepped in and inserted his MetroCard, and for no apparent reason, threw a swift kick out behind him that crashed into my thigh. I looked up to the bus driver, who was shocked, but in the end neither of us did anything. I was too afraid of what he would do if confronted. Let’s face it: the sad reality is that women are threatened with danger wherever they go – especially while alone – all around the world.

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A Reality

poetry by hanna thieme photograph by stephanie taft

She may fall to the ground But the own sound Of her breathless heart beating Is of what the means of staying down Let her own heart Keep her down From the own bearing Of a lifeless life Of something Yet changeable Of her own ideas Discouraging her She chooses to get up To stand To take the muscles And whimper to the upright To make her life The world Her heart The way it was meant to be To ignore the push The anger of life To move it aside and realize This is life Life is waiting to make her get up Off the ground of discouraging sounds To mend together broken hearts Frightening thoughts and ruthless starts For who cares the starts of yesterday They are the buildup of another day The day of today The day that is meant to become a reality. A Reality.

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Fortune Filled

Looking for a girls’ night-in activity or dessert to serve at your dinner party? Fortune cookies are fun to make, and the end result can give a tasty, funky twist to your party!

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Directions 1. Preheat oven to 350°F. 2. Grease a cookie sheet thoroughly. 3. Whip the egg whites on low speed until light and foamy. 4. Blend in the sugar and continue to beat until soft peaks form. 5. Pour in the melted butter, flour and salt; mix until well combined. 6. Separate batter into bowls and add extracts. 7. Drop a tablespoon of the batter onto the prepared cookie sheet. 8. Using the back of a spoon, spread the batter evenly into very thin 3-inch rounds. 9. Bake for about 5-8 minutes or until the edges are a light, golden color. 10. Remove the cookies with a spatula and place on a clean countertop or cutting board. 11. If using a filling, place a dollop of filling in the center of the circle and fold in half to make a semi-circle. If not using a filling, place fortune inside folded cookie now. 12. Place semi-circle (lip side up) on the rim of a glass and pull down ends, creating the traditional fortune cookie shape. 13. Cool in mini-muffin tins or small glasses to hold shape until crisp. 14. Repeat with remaining batter. *Because you must work quickly to shape these cookies, bake only 2 or 3 cookies at a time (depending on how many people you have ready to fold).

Kitchen Tips My fellow staff members (and friends) Lauren Gallagher, Lauren Melcher and I decided to jazz up the traditional fortune cookie recipe. We made two different batches: one with different flavors added to the batter, and one plain batch with a variety of cream fillings. The night started out easy enough with preheating the oven, greasing the cookie sheet, and whipping the egg whites and sugar with Megpower (or Lauren-power, depending on who was on-hand at the moment). It took 40 minutes of manual labor – no electric mixer to be found in my kitchen! We put our first two cookies in the oven to bake, and then forgot about them until 10 minutes later. Oops! They were extra crispy but tasted great! Round two went a lot better. We decided to add more flavor extracts because we are “powerful women who deserve powerful flavor” (according to Lauren Gallagher). The extracts did not actually provide much flavor, but they were fun to smell! Our genius idea

Ingredients 2 large egg whites 1/3 cup sugar 4 tablespoons soft butter 1/2 cup flour 1/4 teaspoon salt

Optional

flavorings to add to batter [a.k.a Powerful Flavors for Powerful Women!] 1/2 teaspoon almond extract 1/2 teaspoon lemon extract 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon rum extract 2 teaspoons mocha cappuccino mix Pick one and mix into batter before baking.

Fillings Chocolate Cream Cheese Filling -1 1/2 ounces cream cheese, softened -1/3 cup granulated sugar -1 cup Hershey’s Mini Chips semi-sweet chocolate - Dash of milk Mix ingredients together – should be the consistency of soft paste. Refrigerate until use. Pineapple Cream Cheese Filling -1 1/2 ounces cream cheese, softened -1/3 cup granulated sugar -1/2 cup crushed pineapple - Dash of milk Mix ingredients together until the consistency of soft paste. Refrigerate until use.

in the flavoring department was the mocha cappuccino fortune cookie. We added the flavoring powder and a little bit of water to thin out the batter, but it didn’t work as well as we had hoped. With the second batch, we focused on fillings. We made a chocolate one and a pineapple one, but brainstormed a few others that you could find in your kitchen like peanut butter, jelly or frosting. After filling the cookies, we put them in the fridge to harden. Overall, the cookies were softer than the ones you would find at an Asian restaurant, and the unique taste of each cookie created a night of entertainment and goodies to share – not to mention a lot of laughs! If you are up for a few new ways to serve fortune cookies other than the standard wrapper, try these: a la mode drizzled with caramel sauce, with fruit salad or use it for dipping with chocolate fondue.

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Here are some fun fortunes our staff came up with - just slip one (or two if you’re feeling very fortune-ate) in before you fold your cookie.

let your fortune be told!

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You have something on your right cheek. Your other right cheek.

JYour future looks delicious.J

Take that vacation you have been wanting to take. You will thank me later.

JDisarm someone with your smile.J

You will be fortunate and more creative than this cookie message.

Believe me, you don’t want to know.

Only a fool would look to a cookie for words of wisdom.

A cynic is only a frustrated optimist.

Our first and last love... is self love.

The first step to better times is to imagine them.

You’re lookin’ mighty fine today!

You will soon eat a fortune cookie.

Much more grows in the garden than that which is planted there.

You love Chinese food.

“It’s about time I got out of that cookie!”

Do not mistake temptation for opportunity.

Funny thing about humility – just when you think you’ve got it, you’ve lost it.

It is much wiser to take advice than to give it.

Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

Smiles are free.  Give some away.

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.

God gives us dreams a size too big so that we can grow into them.

Tip well.

Whoever gave you this is pretty awesome! J

JYou are loved.J

You will find what you’re looking for.

Surprise! You found me!

Genie on vacation... please leave a message.

Do it. You’ll be glad you did.

Cheer yourself up when no one else will.


written by renae post

A seven-year-old Cambodian girl walked through the village. This would be the last time she would travel those streets; the last time she would see the same familiar faces of family and friends. Sold to a brothel, she now services anywhere from 10-40 men per evening. It was this picture that flashed through my mind as I talked with a friend over coffee. Did this really happen? Were little girls actually sold for prostitution? For weeks I pored over the Internet and books to answer these questions. Each new statistic, each new fact wrenched my very being. I could not look away from the faces of the broken women and children. At first, it appeared as if nothing could be done, as if it were hopeless. How could I help someone whom I had never seen or met? The more I read, the more I realized I had a responsibility to aid in their rescue and fight for their freedom. One thing was certain, I could not sit back and remain silent; I had to help these women find a voice.

did this really happen? were little girls actually sold for prostitution?

Martin Luther King Jr. once stated, “Sympathy is no substitute for action,� and after researching this atrocious crime, a desire to act grew inside of me. As I continued to empathize with these precious faces, I began antitrafficking initiatives where I live. This past year I was able to volunteer with a non-governmental organization (NGO) that is combating sex trafficking in their city. I quickly realized there was much to do with few hands to assist. With a pressing need to aid in this fight, I encouraged my fellow students to act.

series illustrations by lauren gallagher

No Substitute

The coming school ...after researching year will be an exhilarating one this atrocious crime, as our university a desire to act campus launches a grew inside of me. new anti-trafficking organization called Release. As one of the founders and three directors of the organization, I work to inspire other students to become part of the change. As a community of students dedicated to eradicating human trafficking, we are able to provide local anti-trafficking organizations with volunteers, raise funds for existing NGOs globally, and to network with surrounding schools. Although it often appears as though there is nothing we can do as individuals, each one of us has something to offer. I encourage everyone to use their specific gifts and talents to aid in the anti-trafficking movement. Many do not know that women and children are dehumanized and reduced to an item in a marketplace. However, we can use our immediate resources and share our knowledge with those around us. Something as simple as telling others about the plight of these women will bring a revolution. Although we may not have the opportunity to raid a brothel or counsel a victim, we can be a voice for the voiceless.

sympathy is no substitute for action. 31


written by brittany smith A woman leaves her home to buy food at the neighborhood market. A charming man approaches her, offering a convenient job that will supply a much-needed source of income. She accepts, and is never seen again. A young teen boy is kidnapped and forced to fight in armed combat. He is trained to kill – even those in his very own family.

Slaves in the dark. What you need to know about human trafficking.

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A young woman is kept under strict surveillance in a local massage parlor as countless men stroll in for a night of sexual pleasure. She is forced to serve each man with her body, though beaten and severely bruised. She is malnourished and without any sense of dignity. These scenarios are played out daily in countries from China to India, Sudan to the U.S. Every day, countless people are kidnapped or bought and then sold as slaves. It’s a reality known as human trafficking, and no country or group of people is exempt. I never realized the reality of human trafficking until my junior year of college. In fact, before college I had never even heard of the issue. However, when I talked with David Grant of Project Rescue, I became aware of the incomprehensible abuse young women endure when they are forced into the sex-slave industry. From reading his book, Behind the Soiled Curtain, I discovered the stories of real young women who had been sold into sexual slavery and had no way out, of women who had been told they were worthless for not satisfying the multiple men they had to service each night. These were women who faced the reality of the human trade industry day in and day out.


But what exactly is this world of human trafficking? It encompasses many different methods of exploitation, but a common factor is “the use of force, fraud, or coercion to exploit someone for profit,” according to a 2008 report released by the U.S. Department of State. It can include both sexual and labor exploitation, They are kept but according to Katie under close watch, Luse, anti-trafficking unable to travel program assistant at The Salvation Army freely, and are World Service Office, deprived of basic the two often go handnecessities. in-hand. Adeyemi Oshodi, director of the anti-trafficking program at World Hope International, said many forms of this injustice go unnoticed. Many children – most between 15 and 18 years old – are forced to serve in armed conflict, either in direct combat or as cooks, guards, messengers, or spies. Young girls are often forced to have sex with male soldiers, and enslaved boys are frequently sexually abused. Many children are also forced into domestic servitude. They are kept under close watch, unable to travel freely, and are deprived of basic necessities. Children are also commonly bought and sold for forced begging, in which they must beg for money in harsh weather conditions for hours a day, fearfully striving to reach the day’s minimum collection. If they do not meet the demands, they suffer cruel threats and beatings. The illegal removal of body parts for use in ritual practices is yet another practice in the human trade business, according to Oshodi. Human traffickers often succeed because they target women and children in vulnerable situations. They extend offers of marriage to women who believe marrying a man in a more prosperous country will enable them to have a better life. They offer education to those “Anyone can unable to get valuable take a girl out schooling and adverof a brothel, but well-paying jobs for only God can take tise children, many of whom the brothel out have to work to support of the girl,” their families. Each offer is a lie – not only to the individuals, but to the families who often unknowingly sell their children into slavery as a source of income. “Women and girls in the U.S. are being recruited by traffickers at all kinds of venues: at schools, on the streets, through clubs, and hugely through the Internet. They are recruited as ‘girlfriends’ or ‘lovers,’ a disguise that tragi-

cally leads to that girl being sold for use in prostitution. This is sex trafficking happening within the U.S., slavery within our borders, and we need to make people aware of it,” Luse stated. “With the rise of technology comes a rise in the way a person can be trafficked,” Oshodi observed. Internet sites such as www.craigslist.org are increasingly being used to exploit individuals. Advertisements to buy a person or to “get a hot date” are areas for potential trafficking. U.S. government–sponsored research completed in 2006 found that around 800,000 people are trafficked across national borders every year and about 80 percent of these victims are women and girls; as much as 50 percent are minors. These 800,000 people accounted for do not include the millions exploited within their own countries, but even these numbers cannot be determined exactly. “The industry is primarily in the dark and the stats are based on what’s in the light – what we can see, so we feel we are not getting an accurate picture of what’s really going on,” Luse commented. 33


How can I protect myself from being trafficked ? •Be informed about the issue. •Be on guard at all times when alone in public places. •Be cautious of job offers for modeling or ones that claim to “make you a star” without clearly establishing contracts and payment agreements. •Be careful of overly curious and friendly strangers. Traffickers will try to get very familiar very fast. •Be aware that traffickers can be female, as well as male. •Be cautious of strangers who ask you for help but request secrecy.

•Be aware of overly demonstrative behavior: for example, a stranger walking up to you and offering you flowers. •Be cautious of a new person in the neighborhood asking young girls to sleep over. Simply be aware and on guard. •“Be wary of an offer that sounds too good to be true, because it probably is,” advises Sheehan of the Barnaba Institute. If you have been abused in the past, it is important to get help. Being taken advantage of in the past could make you more susceptible to being trafficked, according to Sheehan.

It is extremely difficult to truly indicate how many people are involved with different forms of buying and selling people. “It’s a very underground world,” Oshodi pointed out. The buying and selling of individuals for sex, specifically, makes up a large part of the human trade industry. Most of those used for sex are girls. However, 2 percent of victims are men or boys and, according to a U.S. Department of State report, this may be less than the reality. Because social stereotypes suggest that boys are not susceptible to sexual cruelty, and because the abuse can take place in unorganized settings, they can be easily overlooked and are unable to get help. Those who have been utilized for sex suffer different degrees of trauma, according to the U.S. Department of State. Such trauma can stem from being strictly confined and repeatedly beaten, to suffering extreme psychological brutality and severe threats.

to acquire life skills and job training. Outreach Director at The Barnaba Institute, Jen Sheehan, believes it is important “to allow them to gain a life of their own.“ Because the average age of entry is 13, many survivors come out having no basic skills. They’ve had no opportunity to do anything by themselves, so it is important to let them do as much on their own as possible, Sheehan explained. Sheehan’s work and the mission of The Barnaba Institute emphasize education and training in the fight against the buying and selling of individuals by talking to schools, churches, and whoever else is willing to listen. “Most people don’t think it can happen to them; they think it can only happen to somebody else far away,” Sheehan commented. Sheehan, along with other volunteers, also reaches out to girls on the street who are victims of sexual exploitation. Many organizations, some of them faith-based, strive to meet the needs of these delicate victims. Project Rescue’s Homes of Hope provide a safe place for survivors of sexual slavery to learn that God loves them and wants to restore their lives. It is in these Homes of Hope that survivors are allowed to stay as long as they need to and receive counseling, discipleship and vocational training, as well as medical and hospice care. “Anyone can take a girl out of a brothel, but only God can take the brothel out of the girl,” said Project Rescue cofounder and Director Beth Grant. Project Rescue emphasizes the importance of restoring victims to spiritual freedom through Jesus, as it is only through hope in Jesus that survivors can be physically and emotionally restored, according to Beth’s husband and co-founder David Grant. Others are reaching out via the use of technology. World Hope’s Oshodi pointed out that a radio show in Sierra Leone gives people the opportunity to call in and describe their situation to see if they are being trafficked, as well as to find out general information about the trade. But our media portrays commercial sex as normal, and it’s making the trend of buying and selling people for sex worse. For instance, Norma Ramos, co-executive director at Coalition Against Trafficking in Women, pointed out that HBO’s reality show “Cathouse,” filmed in a brothel in Nevada, fails to meet the claim of a documentary.

Because of the extreme brutality these individuals face, recovery from sexual slavery is a long and complicated process. Survivors need a safe place for food, housing, clothes, medical care, and transportation. Many also require legal our media portrays commercial sex as assistance and counseling, which typically normal, and it’s making the trend of requires the aid of translators. It is vital that they learn safety skills, as their trafbuying and selling people for sex worse. ficker could still be looking for them, and

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“Pimps are turned into managers and the harm of prostitution is erased. This all serves to normalize the commercial sexual exploitation of women and girls. Normalizing prostitution gives men and boys permission to purchase girls and women for sex, thereby increasing the demand for sex trafficking,” Ramos said. Luse of the Salvation Army World Service Office also emphasized the importance of informing men how much cruelty the majority of women experience in the commercial sex industry. “Women should be aware that there are pressing messages all around us; TV, radio, newspaper, movies, that promote women as a commodity for sex. As young women in this generation, we need to fight back and live counterculturally in our belief about the true dignity and value of women.”

Who else is fighting against human trafficking? World Hope International World Hope International is a member of Faith Alliance Against Slavery and Trafficking International (FAAST). They have programs in the U.S., Cambodia, South Africa, Sierra Leone and Liberia. Their goal is to create networks in communities by training people to identify trafficking and connecting them to service providers, who they’ve trained how to deal with survivors. Emphasis is also placed on law enforcement to strengthen government response to the issue.

The Salvation Army World Service Office SAWSO is currently working with both international and local partners to combat human trafficking in China, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, and Liberia. These projects employ an innovative, action-oriented process through which communities identify and develop strategies to combat human trafficking. The projects aim to directly impact thousands of individuals with awareness messages, create education opportunities, and use tools to combat the evils of human trafficking.

Coalition Against Trafficking in Women (CATW) Working toward law reform, CATW recently partnered in leading a coalition in New York, which resulted in the passage of the country’s strongest anti-trafficking legislation. They take a humanitarian approach to their efforts, emphasizing that those bought and sold are indeed victims and should not be subjected to criminal prosecution. The legal responsibility should instead be on the men who create the demand for the commercial sale of girls’ and women’s bodies.

Equality Now Equality Now is an international human rights organization working to end violence and discrimination against women and girls worldwide. Under its program to end sex trafficking, Equality Now manages the Fund for Grassroots Activism to End Sex Trafficking (The Trafficking Fund), which supports grassroots organizations working to end commercial sexual exploitation among women and girls. The organization has also worked to pass strong anti-trafficking legislation and has shut down several sex tour operators in the US.

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written by stephanie fisk Chantear is a 12-year-old girl from an orphanage in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Last year, while traveling with a program called The World Race, an intense discipleship journey that takes radical twenty-somethings to 11 countries in 11 months, I had the opportunity to spend a month with her and 60 other children who have made each other a safe place in the midst of corruption and pain. Outside of these orphanage walls, a different story rings true. If I were to walk two minutes in any direction, from anywhere in the city, I would find a brothel or place for cheap ‘boom boom’ (sex) with a child. My heart broke for Chantear. It is estimated that 27 million individuals live enslaved today, but I could no longer hide behind these statistics and numbers. The facts became faces with large brown eyes that I will never forget. And the abstract numbers became “Chantears” who have a name… a heartbeat. At age 12, kids should be worrying about their math homework, not about how many men they are going to have to service that night.

the facts became faces with large brown eyes that i will never forget.

Upon returning to the states, I saw followers of Christ come together and take action against this global injustice. Combining a passion for adventure and the great outdoors, four individuals (including myself) embarked on a pilgrimage of sorts: a bike ride that would hopefully stir the hearts of a sleepy American church. The goal of Team Up, Gear Up: Biking Against Human Trafficking was to raise awareness about modern day slavery that would motivate our generation to act. The Lord calls us to intercede on behalf of his children, and this 450-mile bike ride was just that. While we were physically biking to raise awareness for human trafficking, we also engaged prayer warriors to ‘fight’ in the spiritual realm.

the raw beauty that explodes when our passions meet the needs of the world is breath-taking. Each night of the ride we hosted a nationwide conference call. We invited organizations who are currently combating slavery to partner with us on this venture, and every night a survivor, author, broadcaster, non-profit president, abolitionist and/or concerned Christ-follower would share testimonies in order to raise awareness and encourage the listener to act.

Upon questioning the staff at the orphanage, I found out that Americans cannot adopt children from Cambodia. Why? I dove deeper into the story, which revealed an ugly While traveling with The World Race in Cambodia, not only answer. In the recent past, too many Cambodian children were my eyes opened to a hurt and broken world, but my had been “adopted” into American homes not to become heart and soul awoke to a God who heals and restores – a part of a family, but to serve the needs of a family. These God whose heart beats through his people here on earth precious children were being trafficked to the U.S. as and awakens individuals to their passions and dreams. The domestic servants and sex slaves. As I read this, sitting in raw beauty that explodes when our passions meet the an Internet café in Phnom Penh, emotions started to stir needs of the world is breath-taking. my spirit to action. This is not alright, and people need to know about. To read more about the bike ride, check out the website www.freewebs.com/baht. I also invite you to follow my blog www.stephaniefisk.theworldrace.net. 36


by ryan workman Walking down the streets of Los Angeles, I find myself caught in a brief moment in time wedged between the mundane and the hectic – a time in which I see my reflection in someone else’s eyes. Looking out onto the sea of people reminds me that inside this enormous muscle of movement, there are others like me – others who daily find themselves challenged by getting caught up in the stressful details of life and fighting to stay true to who they are, what they believe, and the person they wish to become. Restless. At any age, but I think especially as twenty-somethings, we have a unique opportunity to both demand and strive for more meaningful, engaging lives. In every relationship I maintain, each person shares this hope for betterment. We want our lives to be fulfilling in every way possible, and we want the work that comes along with it. We are anxious. We want something to happen, and we are in an unprecedented position to be heard. But we are timid because we feel our credentials are lacking, and we are apprehensive to want too much from life. Maybe it’s because we were raised to be relatively modest and have normal expectations – the 9-5 job, the family, the kids, and more. We have felt a sense of ease with being comfortable. However, I’m becoming wary of letting that comfort develop into complacency. I don’t want to look back on any part of my life and wonder if I could have done more. What is more? While the answer differs from person to person, the foundation is the same. Starting with our immediate worlds and focusing on the small things, the natural progression will be for that bubble to expand. There is nothing insignificant. Whether it’s taking the few extra seconds to hold a door for someone, or building something as large as the Great Wall, our actions count for something. If we all do our part, there is no way communities around us can remain unaffected

“by building our lives on Qualities that are admired by everyone kindness, truthfulness, honor and grace, we set ourselves up to achieve that greatness.”

So how do we move forward? How do we make the jump from thinking we are the only ones who want more out of life, to the realization that there are countless others who want the same thing? If we can make it to that point, we will no longer see ourselves as lone contenders for greatness. By building our lives on qualities that are admired by everyone – kindness, truthfulness, honor and grace, we set ourselves up to achieve that greatness. This is the bottom line: We must convince ourselves that we are the ones. We have to believe that the fight is worth it. We are the ones who are done with mediocrity. We want more. More for us. More for our loved ones. More for our communities. We owe it to everyone. 37


Hope

for a City of Dreams story and photos by heather fraser typography and photos by mandy gebhart

New Orleans, Louisiana’s signature motto is “Laissez les bon temps rouler”… translation:“Let the good times roll.” It is only fitting for a city famous for extraordinary jazz music, gregarious locals, exquisite Cajun cuisine, and a legendary annual Mardi Gras celebration. Unfortunately, in August of 2005 it became infamous for the catastrophic Hurricane Katrina. In March of 2007, I traveled to New Orleans on a service trip with the Lutheran Campus Ministry of South Dakota to rebuild homes demolished by the hurricane. While I packed for the trip, I rifled through all the preconceived notions I had about what I would experience based on the media’s description of the city after the hurricane. I anticipated a gloomy, lifeless, and most of all, faithless city. I imagined angry locals, mad at both God and their government. However, I found the city quite different. I discovered a city, although it was struggling, filled with hope and life. Yes, darkness and despair in New Orleans are present, but so is the Lord’s Spirit. This became evident after meeting an 89-year-old woman named Marion. I had the opportunity to work on her house: a modest threebedroom ranch that had been abandoned and unopened since the storm. The water line fell just below the roof. Marion had lived in that house for over forty years and raised seven beautiful children there. Unfortunately, their childhood photos and keepsakes were destroyed, as well as a home that housed millions of memories. Inside, all of her belongings lay damp, broken, and scattered. A lifetime’s worth of possessions from photographs, diplomas, to even a wedding dress were destroyed. A coffee cup and a copy of the local newspaper sat on the kitchen table. The headlines warned about the hurricane and the date read August 28, 2005 — a day before the storm hit. Overnight, the storm would forever change Marion’s life and leave her with no material belongings. One day she would have a home, and the next day it would be gone.

“i discovered a city, although it was struggling, filled with hope and life. yes, darkness and despair in new orleans are present, but so is the lord’s spirit.” 38


“being around marion’s strong faith made my faith stronger; i could feel her faith in a way i do not think i have ever felt mine. her lack of attachment to material items went against all i have learned from society.” Marion showed an enormous amount of grace in the aftermath of Katrina. I wondered how I would react in this situation and if my faith could withstand a Category 5 hurricane, considering that I freak out when I cannot find my favorite pair of jeans. I could not imagine losing everything I owned and exhibiting any amount of grace. I became humbled in Marion’s presence. As I spoke with her, she expressed no ill feelings toward the Lord about her situation, but rather gratitude for all she had been given. She praised the Lord for her health and that of her family. While she spoke, she spontaneously began to sing “Amazing Grace.” At first, I thought it was awkward and weird. I had never heard anyone spontaneously sing mid-conversation before, but I soon realized her faith shone through the song. A group of us began to sing along with her. It was a beautiful and powerful moment. Being around Marion’s strong faith made my faith stronger; I could feel her faith in a way I do not think I have ever felt mine. The great poet Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best, “It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” Marion’s strong faith and beautiful spirit inspired me. Her lack of attachment to material items went against all I have learned from society. Arriving home from the service trip, I took inventory of all my blessings, whether it was good health or a home unaffected by a natural disaster. One day everybody will have to weather their own storm. These storms will take different shapes, but they will test each of us nevertheless. It might be an unexpected loss of a loved one, a career crisis, the demise of a meaningful relationship, or a natural disaster. No one is immune to tragedy. Even so, in the midst of life’s hardships, what matters most is recognizing what you have been given. Though circumstances may be rough, it is important to count all the blessings in your life and to take every opportunity you are given to help others.

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written by danica myers and lauren melcher

if your pc is dying for a mac makeover...

[rocketdock]

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[switcher]


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something only macs can do... [macgourmet]

[icon gallery]


[widgets]

macs & pcs unite!

[icons]

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Operation: Dormitory Take-Down... written by kelly kramer In the deep recesses of my room, somewhere between my hand-me-down mini-fridge and standard extra-long dormitory bed (most likely buried under a pile of laundry that may or may not be dirty) lies a stack of paper plates: run-of-the-mill, 300-for-a-dollar, perfect-for-picnics-andarts-and-crafts paper plates. The kind you peel apart – someone always hands you two. And immediately after handing one to your friend, you regret it because you know that just one isn’t going to support the Jell-O you are about to put on it. White. Round. Nothing special right? Not quite. This stack of plates was the vault that held our grandest plan. On one hidden plate, using my cryptically bad handwriting and an orange Crayola marker, my floormates and I outlined a splendid map for mischief. We had decided to prank every floor in the building. But you can’t take on a massive shenanigan operation like our paper plate plan right away; becoming master pranksters takes practice. Our love for this sophomoric art form started one dismal Friday night in January. It was too cold and windy to go outside. As we sat in the drafty hallway of our semi-haunted residence hall, we noticed that our dear friends in Room 1503 had gone to dinner leaving their door wide open with all the lights on. Naturally, we had to do something. But what? Recreate the Himalayas out of shaving cream on their desks? Tie everything in the room together with string? Pour liquid Jell-O on the windows so it solidifies against the cold glass, giving the room a red tint? No, not good enough. Flip everything upside down? Perfect! 44

From the beds and chairs, posters and laptops, to the pictures in the frames and every box, book and tube of lip gloss – that room got flipped! The key was in the details. When moving out of the room six months later, our friends were still finding overturned items from that well-spent evening. The next weekend we found ourselves in the same predicament: too cold and too bored. This time, it didn’t take us long to think of something to do. The girls from the upside-down room were more than eager to help us pull something similar down the hall. Every time we pranked a room, the prankees would join our team of hooligans the very next week. Eventually we hit every room on the floor and had a group of 20 people looking to get away with some harmless trouble. We gathered our army of mischief-makers and created the paper plate plan that would go down as the greatest set of pranks that 175-year-old building had ever seen. It was simple. Step one: think of something for every floor. Step two: divide and conquer. We came up with 13 pranks for the 13 floors and wrote them on the paper plate we hid among others in my room for safe-keeping. If someone from another floor knew of our impending tomfoolery, the effort would be for naught.

“but you can’t take on a massive shenanigan operation like our paper plate plan right away; becoming master pranksters takes practice.”


.

The Paper Plate Plan: Floor 1: With 24-hour surveillance, we let that one go prank-free. We aren’t experts – yet. Floor 2: Place cups filled with water in rows throughout the hallway so that the water must be drunk for people to pass through. Floor 3: Cover the door handles in lotion so that they are too slippery to turn. Floor 4: Nothing. You’ll understand when you see what we did on Floor 11. Floor 5: Tape newspaper to the door frames from the floor to about 6 feet high. Pour popcorn (or packing peanuts) into the space between the door and the newspaper. When the door is opened, the prankee is greeted with a flood of popcorn. Floor 6: Cover all hallway lights and windows with black paper. Floor 7 and 8: Switch all numerical plates and door decorations so that when the residents get off the elevator, they believe they are on the wrong floor.

Floor 9: Switch the numerical plates and door decorations within the same floor, so people find themselves at the wrong room. Floor 10: Hang pictures of the demon child from “The Exorcist” in every doorway at eye level. Floor 11: Hang signs saying “4th floor rocks!” (thereby incriminating the fourth floor). Floor 12: Scatter pennies in the hallway. Why? It’s a prank. It doesn’t have to make a ton of “cents”. (No Floor 13. Superstition got the better of those 19th-century architects.) Floor 14: Do a good old-fashioned tee-pee job over the pipe running down the ceiling in the hallway. Floor 15: This was our floor, but to make it look like we were also victims, we filled our hallway with balloons. But really, who doesn’t want a hallway full of balloons 3 feet deep? Floor 16: We let them be. The floor is already supposedly haunted by the ghost of an old resident. So there you have it: the master plan. We’re pretty much done gathering materials, and we have set a date for it all this mischief to go down – but that information is classified. If anyone asks, it wasn’t me.

“step one: think of something for every floor. step two: divide and conQuer.”

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aths to scotland by emma shandy

Has something ever happened that made your life turn upside down? Have you ever lost someone close to you? Over the past six months I have been able to answer yes to both of these questions, and I have emerged as a stronger person. I was halfway through my junior year in high school, just getting over the stress of the SATs and learning how to drive, when my life changed drastically. I arrived home from school one afternoon to find my parents sitting around the dining room table deep in conversation, both with stressful looks on their faces. They had received a phone call from my grandma who lived in Scotland. She had told them that at a recent doctor’s visit they had discovered she had Stage 4 esophagus cancer and gave her about six weeks to live. My mom left one week later to take care of her. Originally, she had planned on staying only two weeks, but as soon as she arrived she knew she could not leave my grandma. My brother, dad and I had to find some way to adjust to life without the presence of my mom. Although I thought it would be difficult, I felt everything would turn out fine because I have a strong faith in God, a close group of friends, and have always been a positive person. Yet having my mom gone

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I feared that Grandma might pass away while I was at school and dreaded coming home to a motherless household. meant there was a missing link. We tried our best to adjust. I started to learn how to cook dinners and do my laundry, but every day I feared that Grandma might pass away while I was at school and dreaded coming home to a motherless household. My dad and brother felt the same way as we started to feel the stress. I became very depressed; my grades started to slip and my friends noticed something was bothering me. I was angry at God for taking my mom away and for not doing anything to make me feel better, at least that’s how it seemed. A month after Mom had been gone, my grandma received radio therapy treatment, meaning my mom would be gone longer than we had planned. Hearing this news made something inside me snap. Suddenly, there were two paths that I could take. The first one was to hide myself from the world and become even more depressed. The second was to pick myself up and make the best of the situation. I chose the second one. There was no big, miraculous sign, but I knew I had to change my outlook on life. As soon as I made the decision, my eyes opened to see everything God had been doing to help me. The Bible says that God is love, and I have never felt more love in my life than I did during those first few months of 2008. My friends opened their arms to me and invited me over to dinner anytime I needed to get away from the tension. My boyfriend, who is also a Christian, constantly encouraged me and prayed with me whenever times were rough. In March my brother and I took a trip to Scotland to visit my mom and grandma, which was such a blessing. Seeing them filled me with the strength I needed to finish my junior year. Time passed, and every day I felt God’s care. I was getting stronger, in every aspect of life. I realized it was possible to survive without a parent because God fills the missing hole. But it wasn’t long until life hit me with another shock. In late April, my dad went to Scotland for a week, and that’s when I received the scariest phone call of my life.

I was making breakfast one Saturday morning when the phone rang. My grandma’s voice met me on the other end, informing me that both my parents had been hit by a car while crossing the street and had been put in the hospital. My whole body went numb; I could not believe this news. My boyfriend held me, saying a prayer for my parents, as I sobbed into his shirt. We waited to receive more news, and we did. My mom was fine, having only bruises, and although my dad had some cracked ribs, he too, was going to be fine. God protected my parents, and my dad returned home safely four days later. To show my thanks to God for all he had done those past few months and to reaffirm my faith, I wanted to be baptized. Even though my mom wouldn’t be present, she understood this was important to me. In the middle of May, I stood up in front of my church congregation, gave a testimony and was baptized. In late June, my grandma passed away. I was able to spend her last week with her in Scotland, as was my mom. Although the past six months have been the darkest I have ever experienced, a light always shone through; I always felt supported and loved. Without God’s grace, I would not have been able to come out of this with a smile on my face. He provided all the care and love I needed to keep me strong and stable.

Although the past six months have been the darkest I have ever experienced, a light always shone through School starts again in August, and I will be applying to colleges and getting my license. My life is slowly returning to normal; my family is reunited, and we no longer have such heavy stress on our shoulders. However, I am not the same person I was six months ago. Now I fully understand that every case of sorrow has an end, and that it is only through these trials that we become the people we were born to be.

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written by henry j. graf v pen and ink by mandy gebhart “in her vulnerability that only sickness can bring, i saw beauty... but beauty like i had never seen before.” In naïveté, I fell into the trap of marrying my wife primarily for her beauty... Honestly, it really had less to do with beauty and more to do with the fact she was hot. I’m telling you this not only because it is the truth, but because without it, the rest of the story will make very little sense. Although Tricia has been beautiful since the day I met her, I never saw her beauty until... I had just gotten back from helping build an orphanage in Haiti, and Tricia was gearing up for her dance school’s showcase. Any showcase is a big deal, but the fifth anniversary is a milestone. As a twenty-something, the primary teacher and the artistic director of a ballet school, she was in great physical shape. Ten days before the showcase, Tricia bent over to pick up her laptop, heard a pop in her back and could not stand back up. In an instant our world changed. One moment she was planning to perform a flawless solo with triple (some French words that I couldn’t dream of pronouncing) – and make it look easy. The next moment, she wept from the pain of struggling to stay motionless on a hospital gurney. First, there were two months of lying on the couch. These days were filled with taking nearly an hour of exertion, greater than any she had put into her NCAA tennis championship, merely to traverse the nine steps to the bathroom. Then there were two years of traveling to the best physicians in renowned diagnostic hospitals, only to hear befuddled doctors confess their confusion. More symptoms followed.

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Her hands and feet would turn black and blue instantaneously, only to return to normal (whatever that was) as mysteriously and quickly as the gamut of them. This led to more confusion from chiropractors and alternative healers. To this day, no one has ever diagnosed what happened to her. In retrospect, Tricia would tell you that it was not until she got sick that she could begin to heal. For me, it was not until I stood in the midst of this hopelessness that I understood beauty; it was through her illness that I began to see beauty and healing as two sides of the same coin. One day, I was sitting at a local coffee shop telling a friend about all that was going on with Tricia. Another patron who I knew on a casual basis overheard our conversation. He approached, like so many others, not really knowing what to say and expressed his sympathy, but then asked, “So are you going to stay with her?” I wrote this off as an ignorant question. Later that week, Tricia physically felt a little better, and on those days the emotional side began to kick in. Without her sole mental focus on the pain, she could think about the future and ask difficult questions. Will I ever get better? Will I ever walk again? Will I ever dance again? I was used to these worries, but that day she asked another question, one specifically for me. Grieving the effects this illness would likely have on her body, she looked deep in my eyes and asked, “Will you still love me, if I am never beautiful again?”


In my wife’s fragile question I realized the profundity of her fear, and I realized the man in the coffee shop’s response was the question she was afraid of. It was in that moment that everything made sense. It was that moment I saw beauty. Her illness had forced her to articulate the question so many struggle with: “Does love go deeper than the surface?” In her vulnerability that only sickness can bring, I saw beauty… but beauty like I had never seen before. La beauté n’est que la promesse du Bonheur // Beauty is only the promise of happiness. – Marie Henri Beyle That day I learned the problem with beauty is that seeing it has a prerequisite, as do most important things in life. To see beauty, one must first know love because beauty flows from love. This is explained more clearly through an illustration, rather than an explanation. Two friends of mine who just moved to Germany are in love. They are a young couple who married only a few weeks before the move. Tricia and I have known the bride since she was a little girl. During the wedding I shared this quote by Alexander Schmeann – “Movies and magazines always have the icon of marriage, always as a youthful couple. But once, in the light and warmth of an autumn afternoon, I saw on the bench of a public square in a poor Parisian suburb an old and poor couple. They were sitting hand-in-hand in silence enjoying the pale light; the last warmth of the season, in silence.” All words had been said, all passions exhausted, all storms at peace. Their whole life was behind them; yet all of it was now present in the silent unity of hands. Present and ready for eternity. This for me remains the vision of marriage. It’s heaven. There is no doubt that my friend was beautiful on her wedding day. Almost everyone will agree that a bride glows on her wedding day. The glow is an extension of beauty flowing from love. It is not only the love that the bride has for the groom, but the love of the family and friends she is surrounded by. Perhaps one of the reasons the divorce rate is so high is because people get hooked on the glow, missing the beauty and the love behind it. I shared that story as my prayer for them: that they would grow into that old Parisian couple, hand-in-hand, illuminating passers by with the love they shared. But how does that happen?

“may you settle for no less than reception of a free love that overflows, and may that love radiate in beauty.” Because I am a little thick-headed, it took what happened to Tricia for me to understand the simple truth the Parisian couple understood. For years, I could not see beauty because I was blinded by Tricia’s glow. On some level I think everybody realizes the beauty, love and glow. The simple realization of this connection, without the understanding of its dynamics, led to a very selfish love. I gave with the expectation of the glow, longing to see beauty in it. Until then, I never realized that this was not love at all. When Tricia’s injury happened, she could no longer perform any of the loving acts she once did. It was in the absence of these acts that I got confused. Beauty never resides in what a person does, but is rather the direct and simple radiation of love. In looking for these actions, we miss the love. For a very long time she could not do anything. During this time I came to realize that she loved me, not because of what I did for her or what she could do for me, but because love lived in her. In looking for “things,” and thinking I could somehow do enough to cause the glow of love, I missed true love and never saw beauty. Like the old Parisian couple, beauty and love go hand-inhand. It is not having love that allows one to see beauty, but receiving it. Until one stops rejecting the fact that they are loved more deeply than they can comprehend, they can’t see the beauty that exists in anything, including themselves. I never saw the depth of beauty in Tricia because I never allowed myself to receive love. I read about love and talked about love. I attempted to earn love in numerous ways, but I never simply received it because I never felt worthy of it. The strange fact of the matter is, I never was worthy of it – nobody is. I have never done anything to earn anyone’s love. The problem with trying to evoke love is you can never do enough. I have done a lot of things, but nothing was enough to ensure that anyone would love me unconditionally. It was not until I let myself receive love that I saw beauty, yet her beauty paled in comparison to the love. Perhaps that is the point of beauty: it can only be seen as a pale overflow of the love you receive. May you settle for no less than reception of a free love that overflows, and may that love radiate in beauty.

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taff&intern 50

Jen Dotson, executive director, loves to experiment with Thai cooking, barter voice lessons for homemade dinners and dancing lessons and photograph weddings – especially when she can capture details of the day like cake icing swirls and beautiful beadwork. She scares her roommates by rearranging the furniture in their house at least weekly.

Lauren Melcher, managing editor, can’t leave a bookstore empty-handed and is happiest when she is buying tickets to new places. She loves cooking and baking from scratch, especially while watching “The West Wing” and “Gilmore Girls.” Lauren spent her summer learning how to fix things around the house, building furniture, riding horses and relaxing at the lake whenever possible.

Danica Myers, artistic director, loves traveling and becoming a cultural collage of a person. She couldn’t live without nature, music that has soul and being surrounded by genuine people. Her favorite books are children’s stories that are deeply philosophic and poetic. She has a great propensity for inventing words and making simple things in life into elaborate metaphors.

Laura Lewis, project manager, is an artist in Minneapolis and a graduate from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design. She can be found reading, dancing at inappropriate times and pondering the universe. Her favorite interests are philosophy, theology, sewing and petting cute dogs. Cats are OK too.

Kelin Loe, poetry editor, just graduated from St. Olaf College. She moved from the contented cornfields of Northfield to the lakes and questionable urban planning of Minneapolis. Everyday she writes, reads and studies for the GRE! In addition to reading poetry for Alive, she interns and takes classes at the Loft. She hopes to start an MFA program in poetry come next autumn.

Jordan Kammer, artist-in-residence, recently moved back to Minneapolis and is a graduate of St. Olaf College. She is fond of wearing hats, watching esoteric old movies and swing dancing. She hopes to camp at least once in every national park in the U.S. Jordan intends to pursue her master’s in education and continue to sell her soft pastel landscapes.

Carina Finn, writing intern, loves acting, singing and dancing… so she spends most of her time in the theatre building at her college. She travels a lot, loves shopping for absolutely anything and driving her Mustang too fast on canyon roads.


mission&vision

WHO WE ARE:

Alive Magazine brings together the real stories and artwork of young women around the world in a publication that give tomorrow’s female leaders an important voice in the media today. Recognizing that change must begin with youth, our aim is to give young people a voice, and in the process, allow the conversations that result to shape the communities in which they take part. As a non-profit publication produced entirely by women 25 and under, Alive Magazine challenges the prevalence of negative media by offering a constructive, creative outlet for self-expression and empowering young women who are committed to making positive changes in their communities.

Alive Magazine is one component of Alive Arts Media, Inc., which empowers women through creative self-expression by enabling them to create the media they wish to see. Through its programs and activities, Alive Arts Media increases access to the arts through integration with media outlets, promotes media literacy and social consciousness in marketing aimed at youth, and offers high levels of professional experience and job skills training to women at an early age. Alive Magazine believes that advertising & media can be used as a positive tool for social change. Alive Magazine sees creativity as a means for sharing & developing one’s identity. Alive Magazine fosters vocational exploration for young women. Alive Magazine believes in the economic value of young women’s work. Alive Magazine views faith as an important part of real women’s lives, and encourages dialogue and reflections on personal faith journeys. Alive Magazine values beauty as a virtue of character, not an assessment of worth. Alive Magazine supports businesses that operate with a local awareness and global consciousness, with respect for economic sustainability and social justice.

“DON’T ASK WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS, ASK WHAT MAKES YOU COME ALIVE AND GO DO THAT... WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS IS PEOPLE WHO HAVE “Alive makes a bold statement in the COME ALIVE.” -HOWARD THURMAN

CONTACT US: Alive Arts Media 1720 Madison St. NE Ste. 300 Minneapolis, MN 55413 (612) 284-4080 info@alivemagazine.org www.alivemagazine.org

magazine industry that women are about a whole lot more than fashion, sex and dieting. Here are real young women celebrating the depth and diversity of their voices, uniting around their humanity, and asking society to respect them for all that they are.” - Naomi Wolf

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taff&intern 52

Lauren Gallagher, graphic design intern, is an ambassador from northwest Ohio who likes to ride bikes and draw pictures. She wants to give Chuck Close and Michelle Branch a high five someday, and she misses her dog Jake who lives back in Ohio. She is hopefully on her way to becoming a full-time traveling-film-makingbarista-spray-painting musical artist.

Mandy Gebhart, graphic design intern, is working on a BFA degree with an emphasis in Graphic Design at the University of South Dakota. She is the youngest of ten girls in her family, and can’t live without her faith, family and friends. She loves being involved in school and summer activities such as Campus Crusades for Christ, Campus Ministry, dancing, water-skiing and listening to live music.

Natalie Neal, editorial intern, is an English and Philosophy of Fine Arts: Design Aesthetics (CIS) double major with a concentration in Media Studies at St. Olaf College. She has a fiery passion for dancing, designing, writing, acting and playing soccer. Few people know that she has her black belt in karate, learned to read French before English and has a brown-striped birthmark in her right eye.

Jensen Power, community relations intern, is from Kansas City, Mo., and is now a junior English and Media Studies major at St. Olaf College. Jensen is passionate about photography, literature, traveling and meeting new people. She enjoys crossword puzzles, alternative music, back rubs, coffee, arts and crafts and being outdoors.

Meg Shoemaker, advertising intern, likes to GO! She likes meeting new people, trying new things and traveling. She could get lost in almost any book she picks up, and when she’s not studying, she loves to hang out with friends. She is a Women’s Studies and American Studies double major at St. Olaf College and is excited to start her junior year in the fall.

Brittany Smith, editorial intern, dreams of working in magazine publishing while being involved in church ministry. She has a passion to speak truth into the lives of young women and to encourage and inspire others by writing from her heart. She has a strong relationship with Jesus, loves golden retrievers and anything cuddly or sparkly.

Sarah Du Toit Tengblad, public relations intern, is a junior at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minn., majoring in Women’s Studies and American Studies with a concentration in Media Studies. When she’s not concentrating on her “studies,” she enjoys singing in choirs, napping, shopping, enjoying three-hour long meals with family and friends and finding humor in the little things in life.

Ali Thompson, editorial intern, is a senior Communications major with a double minor in English Writing and Psychology at Hope College in Michigan. She enjoys traveling and black-and-white photography. She’s also a huge fan of Scrabble matches, crossword puzzles and raspberry iced tea. She can usually be found dancing to her music when she thinks no one is watching.


read. share your story. join the movement.

www.ALIVEMAGAZINE.org

We want to hear your voice in the next issue of Alive Magazine! Submit your creative essay, painting, poem, drawing, travelogue, photography, or article by Friday, August 8th to be considered for the October/November issue of AM. Read our guidelines and submit your work anytime at www.alivemagazine.org/submissions.php. Submissions received after August 8th will be considered for future issues or published on our Web site.

For now, you can download issues of Alive Magazine and read new content weekly on our Web site for free. To support the future publication of AM, please consider making a $5 donation (safe through PayPal on our Web site!) for each issue that you enjoy.

When we went all-online in 2007, we didn’t want to be just another blog or magazine on the Web. We wanted to offer our readers timely content, but also reserve the chance to incorporate artwork and stories in a similar way as we did with our print magazine. So, we have the best of both worlds: new articles twice a week on our homepage, plus a fullydesigned, downloadable PDF of the magazine every other month.

We were founded on an audacious vision: that a new generation of women--given the opportunity, access, and vehicle to do so--could change the world. This vision found its wings through the establishment of Alive Arts Media, Inc., whose message is simple: her voice in the media, her place in the world. The bi-monthly production cycle of Alive Magazine is fueled by our internship program, where college-aged women design layouts, work with writers, and publicize Alive Magazine and Alive Arts Media events. To apply for an internship with Alive Magazine at our headquarters in Minneapolis, Minn., visit www.alivemagazine.org/internships/index.php

We cannot produce Alive Magazine without our amazing supporters and donors. We want to specifically thank this powerful community that has demonstrated their concern for the next generation of young women. In the past year, our loyal donors have given gifts ranging from $5 to $15,000, providing a tangible opportunity for these young women to create the changes they wish to see in the world. Please consider joining them today at www.alivemagazine.org/donate.php. 53


www.alivemagazine.org


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