ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF COUNTRY This edition of Wattle was edited, compiled, and published on the occupied lands of the Gadigal people of the Eora nation. We acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded, and that the occupation is violent and ongoing. We give our deep respect and solidarity to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and to their Elders, past, present and emerging. This land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.
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First published 2020 by The University of Sydney Funded by the University of Sydney Union And the University of Sydney Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences © Individual Contributors 2023 Foreword © Melody Wong and Faye Tang Afterword © Valerie Chidiac and Sandra Kallarakkal Graphic design © Yasodara, Dayeon Seo, Angela Xu, Melissa Lee & Shaney Wang Layout © Melody Wong, Faye Tang, Yasodara & Dayeon Seo Proofread © Melody Wong, Yasodara & Dayeon Seo © The University of Sydney 2023 Images and some short quotations have been used in this book. Every effort has been made to identify and attribute credit appropriately. The editors thank contributors for permissions to reproduce their work. Print ISBN: 978-1-74210-563-5 PDF ISBN: 978-1-74210-564-2 Reproduction and Communication for other purposes Except as permitted under the Act, no part of this edition may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or communicated in any form or by any means without prior written permission. All requests for reproduction or communication should be made to Sydney University Press at the address below. Fisher Library F03 University of Sydney NSW 2006 Australia Email: sup.info@sydney.edu.au Web: sydney.edu.au/sup Cover Design by Miles Long Huỳnh 2
Be whoever you want to be.
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Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 &
1 Acknowledgment of Country 6 Foreword
Faye Tang
Natarina Ramdhana
9 Rainmaker
Nikki Li 14 yiling showers M. K. Han 17 0. Sunshower Angela Xu 许卓悦 25 At the corner store Anonymous 26 Untitled
Charlie Chow 周卓慧 28 Cars 2: Tokyo Drift: A Techno-Orientalist Overview Atoc Malou 36 Stolen Joy Atoc Malou 38 How Long Shall We Walk
Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 39 Friendship
Marwa Hijazi 41 I Have Been Seated For Eight Years
Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 42 Love
Angela Xu 许卓悦 46 You are what you eat
48 Your audio guide to Wattle 2023 Anonymous 49 Fruit Market
Feronia Ding 丁雯熙 50 Grief Clings to Me like Smoke
Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 51 Home is what we carry with us Atoc Malou 52 God grew tired of us
Melissa Lee 56 Time & Time Again: The Function of Civil Rights Anthems in the Pursuit of Liberty
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Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 62 Tradition
Danny Yazdani 63 Poetry of the Present Period: A Perverse Predicament Nikki Li 68 A town with a river view
Feronia Ding 丁雯熙 69 Winter Song
Valerie Chidiac & 70 Afterword Sandra Kallarakkal
72 About the editors 75 About the contributors Miles Long Huỳnh 77 Cover Artist Statement
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Foreword Dear reader,
As we put this journal together, we have been questioned a lot about Wattle’s identity – “What do you usually include in the journal?”, “Is there a specific narrative that you are trying to tell?”, and it has been a pattern for some, if not all, members of the team to look at one piece and go – “this is very Wattle.” But is it? What is Wattle? This issue of Wattle would mark its 4th anniversary and that has caused us to think about what Wattle means to all of us. If we look at SASS’ journals as a family, there is no way Wattle is not gonna be the youngest child that everyone just spoils – everyone who worked on Wattle will gush about how much this means to them, and will always try to fit Wattle into their hectic schedule. Wattle has been a starting point for a lot of people, ourselves included, where we began our journeys in publications, whether as a contributor, an editor, or both. We have grown so much as a collective of baby-creatives. But in a way, Wattle’s identity has always been fluid. Wattle brings together the loose threads that comprises us – there is no singular, all-encompassing BIPOC experience, and this journal is a tribute to that. We touch on everything BIPOC related – the shame, the hurt, the exclusion, as well as the joy and warmth of being a part of the community. The characters that inhabit these pages are not invariably good or bad, and are not allegories for a universal, or even clearly definable, BIPOC experience. Instead, they explore the oddities of being a member of an ethnic diaspora – feeling debilitating nostalgia at the grocery store, falling in love under the arch of an umbrella, appreciating the poetry of old jazz music. As you flip through this edition of Wattle, you might also be confronted by the unexpected, the experimental: an intergalactic trial, murky portraits, poetry with distinctly visual and compelling form. We are so proud of the talent in this edition, and so proud to be able to give BIPOC creatives a space to shine and be heard. So, there isn’t a singular way to define Wattle, and maybe that lack of definition is the point of the journal. There is no such thing as the BIPOC experience – it’s incredibly varied, and endlessly interesting, and that’s what Wattle is here for: to showcase the diversity of our experiences. And here’s to many more :) 6
We would also like to thank everyone who has made this journal possible. To our contributors, and to our editors, to our general editors (Sandra and Val), and creative directors (Yasodara and Dayeon), for helping make Wattle a safe space, and to Miles, our amazingly talented cover artist. And most importantly, to our friends and families for backing us up throughout the entire process – to make sure we are sleeping and eating enough, and to let us bug them while we try to fight all the obstacles head on. We genuinely couldn’t have done this without any of you. Just as Laufey sings in Letter to My 13 Year Old Self: I’m so sorry that they pick you last Try to say your foreign name and laugh I know that you feel loud, so different from the crowd Of big blue eyes, and long blonde hair, and boys that stare But, baby, know that You’ll grow up And grow so tough and charm them Write your story, fall in love a little too The things you thought you’d never do I wish I could go back and give her a squeeze Myself at thirteen And just let her know, know that she’s beautiful Keep on going with your silly dream Life is prettier than it may seem With love,
Melody Wong 黃珮嵐 and Faye Tang Wattle 2023 General Editors
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by Natarina Ramdhana
It is po ssib le to love s omebody witho ut a name ? In Mexico, during Día de los Muertos, they celebrate the names of the deceased with beautiful grandeur: candles, flowers, music, dancing. They believe that one’s true death only happens after the breathing fails to remember. That the dead can go on living if they are alive in someone’s memories. Names are how other people stay alive to us, how we differentiate one person in our lives from the billions of other people on the planet. It’s as if we obtain an invisible string from a person’s name and tie it to our hearts – if we ever want to feel their presence, all we have to do is grasp their name and draw them back to us. A name is what attaches all of us back to reality – a thin gossamer safety line that lets you teeter on the abstruse edge of obliteration before reeling you back in with just a faint whisper. If a name fades, its owner fades with it. The string binding them to whatever and whoever they love is then severed, and they, too, join the forgotten memories of the faceless people that wander through the streets. Desolate emptiness. Strangers. If you really think about it, without names, we are detached from the world. At risk of floating away… and never to be seen again. *** There is someone in my life that does not belong to a name. And although there is no string connecting this stranger to my heart, she dances and skirts across the threshold of the void without the vulnerability of falling in. She will never fade – after all, on most days I find myself thinking about Her. 9
*** Before Her, nothing was particularly interesting about that Wednesday afternoon. The spring weather had been perfectly mediocre; and after a perfectly mediocre day at work, on a perfectly mediocre bus, a perfectly mediocre woman sat down in the seat next to me. Stirred slightly by the interruption of my quotidian activity of sitting and waiting for my stop, I spared a small glance at the invader. There was nothing particularly special about Her. She did not strike me as an outrageously beautiful person, nor did Her clothes differ from the standard work attire of the other people around me. Yet, Her hair was slightly ruffled from the wind. She was missing an earring, which had probably gotten lost in the tumultuous blitz of the 5 PM rush hour. What piqued my interest the most was the book She had pulled out of Her handbag and started reading. "How to make the world rain". As if she believed she had the power to make the world rain, the woman began to read the book as if she was caught in a trance, with a certain kind of ferocity. Who knows though? Maybe she really could. Maybe in Her mind, She truly believed She could. Or perhaps it was just a very good book. Suddenly, as nimble as fish darting in a disturbed river, Her gaze snapped up from the sea of words that had engulfed Her, and Her eyes met mine. They were large and very brown. As wide as saucers, set apart slightly farther than the average person. Startled and embarrassed that I had been caught in the act of observing Her, I quickly averted my sight to the revolving scenery outside the window next to me, awkwardly pretending to have been watching the traffic and landscapes flying past Us this entire time. "It’s quite an interesting read." Her voice. There was a certain kind of tenderness laced within it – as if it were veiled by a thin, white cotton sheet blowing in the breeze on a blue summer’s day, hiding the world’s wanton secrets beneath it. 10
It was the loveliest voice I had ever heard. How do I reply? What should I say to Her? Instead of responding, I let my shyness get the better of me, only managing to offer Her a small smile in return. *** When the bus pulled into the train station, it began to pour. People rushed off the bus and jogged to cover, ill-prepared for the weather as just moments before, the sun had been bathing the world in its cordial evening glow as it descended into the earth – preparing for twilight. The rain had quite literally come out of nowhere. While I was lining up to exit the bus, I found myself staring at the slender neck of the Woman who sat next to me. This could be my final chance of ever hearing a voice as wonderful as Hers. Desperate to hear it one more time, I cleared my throat and speculated on something to say. "This wasn’t you, was it?" I asked Her, rather fumblingly, recalling the title of the book she had been reading with such fervour. "I didn’t bring an umbrella with me today." My eyes met Her brown ones once more as she shuffled to turn around, giving me a small laugh while facing me. "Lucky for you, I happen to have one right here." She smiled, holding up a bright yellow umbrella in the small space between us. I had asked the question as a joke, but a part of me suspected that she had, indeed, successfully made the world rain. *** As we stepped off the bus, the Woman opened her yellow umbrella, and it flowered into the sky. Being the taller of the two of us, I offered to hold it. We walked together in silence towards the sheltered area of the station, crammed shoulder to shoulder underneath the umbrella. Being so close to Her, I could smell the Woman’s perfume – a floral bouquet. 11
Around us, the various commuters fell victim to the sudden torrents of rain, holding make-shift covers such as briefcases and school jackets to avoid its touch. They would give the Woman and I envious stares as they rushed past. Apparently, no one else apart from the Woman had sensed the incoming rain. "Are you catching the train? It comes in about a minute," She asked, checking her watch. "No, actually, I’m walking the rest of the way now," I replied, dreading the half-hour trek back home without her yellow umbrella. "Oh. I guess this is where we say goodbye and part ways then." The Woman stepped out from the protective arms of the umbrella and into the rain. "I’ll catch you later, hopefully." She smiled. My heart soared. The number of times you meet someone truly astonishing can be counted on one hand. I’ve met people before Her, and would surely meet many more after Her, but I knew that no one would come even relatively close to being as phenomenal as the Rainmaking Woman. I walked home under the safety of Her yellow umbrella – a bright stain in a greysodden world. *** It had been a particularly sunny spring this year, filled with cloudless skies and sunlight which in turn made my commutes home distinctively calming. That being said, I still brought my umbrella with me wherever I went, even though this season had been rather dry, I just took it with me out of habit. How long had it been in my possession? Three, four, five years? Long enough for its origins to be blurry. You’d think that I would remember where I received a canary yellow umbrella – it wasn’t exactly the most subtle of colours for an accessory. Squeezing it onto the rush hour bus with me was also no easy feat, something I would come to realise as I was embarrassingly cussed out by a disgruntled office worker who I apparently "stabbed the living daylights" out of as I sardined against them. "Why even bring the damn thing? it hasn’t rained in weeks!" The worker jeered. 12
They, of course, were right. I guess I just missed the rain. Looking out the window, grey clouds appeared to spread across the horizon out of nowhere, it seemed as if my wish would be granted. *** The asphalt is damp, and the smell of the sodden earth floats around me as I step off the bus. The clouds break apart, and the sun peeks through the cracks, casting small rainbows as the light intertwines with the falling mist. I look up toward the sky and enjoy the rain greeting me, it has been a long time. Opening up my umbrella I started my walk home when I glimpsed a woman on the sidewalk, twirling around in the downpour. What a beautiful woman, she was so mysteriously whimsical, the way she welcomed the rain like an old friend. Something about her secrecy awakened the shadows of a ghost long-hidden within me; fading as quickly in my memory as a stream of dripping water from a pair of cupped hands. But I was intrigued. Curious to divulge in this absence of mind – it felt like she could answer this void within me. And so I approached her. "What is so special about the rain?" I asked the Woman. "Its tears hold the weight of history, imprints of the days gone by. It is a reminder of what has been lost amidst the cleansing of a world born anew. Hello again, stranger," She beamed. Her voice. It stirred something in my heart that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was fighting to reveal itself, craving to be heard. It was overwhelmingly magnificent, as if I were experiencing the universe in all its colour for the first time. I remember. Her. Rainmaker. I returned the canary yellow umbrella to Her, my hands trembling in awe. This time; after all these years, I’ll make sure to get Her name too.
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yiling showers
by Nikki Li
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0. Sunshower
by M. K. Han
I. Rain Kit used to be able to control the weather, but now it controls him. It’s a shame, really. He once could summon snow in summer, clear the cloudiest sky, or rally a rainbow out of thin air. They used to call him the Sunshower, the one who shows the sun – back when he could halt the cascading rain with a click of the tongue. But now it rains all the time. Kit hopes his bus comes soon. The bus shelter isn’t doing much good in shielding him; his socks are drenched, his sweatpants stick to his skin. He feels like he’s about to sink. When the bus finally arrives and he steps inside, Kit brings in the rain like it’s an old friend of his. He sloshes water onto the aisle like a fish flung onto land. Is everyone else staring at him? He hides away in a seat at the back, swaddled in Robert’s old hoodie, and tries to warm himself up. The cold lashes at him like rainfall. Look, he’d summon the sun if he could – be true to his old title – but it’s been years since he’s done anything like raising the sun when it should have set. He probably couldn’t even rally a single ray. Sun cycles pass before the bus stops. Kit mutters his thanks to the driver before he steps onto the pavement and re-enters the rain. It’s a long walk to Robert’s apartment, and he forgot his umbrella at home, but Kit amuses himself by trying to count how many droplets land on his body. It’s almost disappointing that he has to stop counting when he arrives in front of Robert’s apartment. He hesitates before knocking. ‘You got my hoodie all wet,’ is the first thing Robert says when he opens his door. ‘Oh.’ Kit feels his face turn warm. ‘Sorry.’ ‘It’s fine, just take it off,’ sighs Robert. ‘Come in, quickly.’ 17
‘Yep.’ Kit shuffles inside, taking off his shoes and Robert’s hoodie carefully. Robert has a nice apartment. It’s sleek and modern and all the things Kit expects from a businessman’s house. It’s a shame there are no windows though. You can’t even see the sky from here. ‘How are you?’ Robert asks his phone. He’s handsome, even this close, even though he’s a good few years older than Kit. ‘I’m good,’ lies Kit. ‘Actually, there was all this rain on the way here, and –’ ‘You should shower,’ says Robert, grinning lopsidedly. He’s finally put his phone down and now he approaches Kit. ‘You look awful.’ ‘Oh. Alright. Sorry.’ ‘I’m only kidding,’ laughs Robert, cupping Kit’s chin with his rough palm. Kit turns away, embarrassed but pleased when Robert whispers in his ear, ‘Come.’ See? Robert can be sweet. Robert can be a good boyfriend. Robert is like rain, sometimes pattering in soft patterns, and other times torrential; an autumn storm. It matters very little that he can make Kit feel like he’s powerless, like he’s drowning – at least Robert’s there. Robert swamps over him in a flood, and Kit lets himself sink into him. He tries to play the same game he did on the walk here, counting kisses instead of droplets, but kisses are too easy to count. When it’s over, when the rain seems to have subsided for one miraculous moment, Robert rolls over in bed to look down at Kit and says, ‘You can’t stay.’ ‘What?’ Kit hates how small he sounds. The roaring rain returns; he can’t even hear himself think. ‘I’ve got family coming over in the morning, babe. And you know what they’re like, I’ve told you. Massive homophobes. They can’t see me with you.’ ‘But … it’s midnight.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ Robert says, sounding anything but. He looks at Kit like he’s a kid, and it’s at this moment that Kit realises he is one. 18
Silently but furiously, he dresses and makes to leave, taking back Robert’s raindrenched hoodie out of spite. ‘Oh, and babe? Could you make sure you shut the door when you leave? I hate the rain.’ He leaves the door slightly ajar. II. Sun On the way home, Kit tries for the first time in a while to make it stop raining. He knows it’s pathetic. Months of torrential rain, and now he tries? He stops at a petrol station, its artificial glow humming in the rainy night so brightly that it’s an eyesore. Although Kit can’t buy anything, he sits under the cover and stares stubbornly at the dark blankness ahead. He attempts his old magic tricks – clicking his tongue, flicking his wrists, humming to himself – but nothing works. The rain remains. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ asks someone behind him. Kit turns. It’s the boy at the counter, who has left his post to come scrutinise him. Though his words are accusatory, there’s a smile on his face. Kind, almost blindingly so. ‘Whoa,’ says Kit, blinking. ‘You’re so bright!’ Like a second sun. The boy’s grin widens. ‘Are you flirting with me?’ ‘What? No.’ Kit looks back at his hands, but the boy shines in his peripheral vision. He’s so radiant that Kit feels redundant – who needs the Sunshower when there’s sunlight even at midnight? ‘So … what are you doing?’ ‘I’m trying to stop the rain.’ ‘Well, good luck with that!’ He frowns. ‘I used to be able to, you know?’ 19
‘Really?’ The thing is, there’s no irony in the boy’s voice. ‘But not anymore? Since when?’ ‘Dunno. Been a couple months.’ ‘What happened?’ ‘I got a boyfriend.’ ‘And it’s his fault?’ Kit sighs. ‘Sort of. He’s just kicked me out of his house. I guess he’s scared people will find out about us.’ The boy sits down next to him. He isn’t really like the sun, Kit reasons, because you’re not meant to look directly at it. This boy has the kind of face that you can’t help but gaze at. ‘Tell him you’re unhappy,’ says the boy. Kit blinks. ‘Now?!’ ‘Yeah, come on. Maybe then you’ll be able to stop the rain, right?’ He pauses, and tries to ponder on this – tries to imagine a rainless world. ‘Maybe,’ he says, matching the sun boy’s smile. There’s something giddy about the way he contemplates the break-up text, hovering over the SEND button for a hundred raindrops before the boy beside him finally nudges him and he does it. ‘Done,’ he says, marvelling at his phone. He looks up at the boy, who beams back at him like the centre of a solar system.
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III. Moon Robert has always been a little rough, but today he is vicious. His hands don’t roam, they ravage, and Kit has to come up for air ever so often or else he’ll drown. The rain roars in his ears and down his throat and up his arms. Kit can’t stop choking. Robert’s mouth on his neck will brand a bruise on him tomorrow. Lying there, he imagines that he’s summoned a gust of wind that has taken off Robert’s roof. Kit can finally see the sky, and there’s the moon, casting her cold judgement onto him. He and Robert are like the tide, and she their conductor, their ebb and flow at her every whim, each thrust of the tsunami at her beck and call. She is expressionless. Kit gazes back, the rain splattering his face from up above. ‘I knew you’d come back to me,’ Robert grunts, one final wave crashing over Kit. ‘Stay with me, baby.’ Kit murmurs something in agreement and swims away, breaking his eye contact with the moon. ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ Robert’s tone is playful as he follows Kit, but it’s only a matter of ten tentative raindrops before it becomes demanding. ‘I’m tired,’ Kit says, still wading away, and it’s true. The sex is over, but the rain isn’t. Its pace is relentless. With every second the water level rises. Kit knows he has the power to stop it, but he just can’t. The sun wouldn’t treat him like the rain does. Kit takes one last look at the moon. Despite her lofty stage, he’s starting to meet her eye to eye. It’s their similarities that draw him to her, maybe. She controls the tides like how he controlled the skies once. She’s always changing how she looks but, really, she stays the exact same.
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IV. Sunset ‘… and then he asks me for some sushi,’ says the sun boy, laughing prettily behind the counter. ‘Like this is some restaurant and not a bloody servo!’ Kit smiles at him. It’s always fun to bask in the sun boy’s stories, or see him attempt to dazzle Kit with this new fact he’s discovered, or watch his white-hot grin flash before he’s even finished the joke. ‘And then what?’ ‘And then I tell the idiot that…’ Or maybe, Kit thinks, it’s the fact that he’s with the sun at all. The mere presence of the sun is something special. After years and years of rain, Kit finally sees a way out of the flood. A shining beacon of hope! ‘That’s funny,’ Kit says, though he wasn’t really listening. The boy tilts his head cutely. The sun sits at an angle. ‘Thank you, Kitten.’ ‘I told you, don’t call me that.’ ‘But it’s so cute to see you get angry.’ ‘Oh, you’ll know when I’m angry. Just look up,’ Kit jokes. It’s a bit of a sore spot that he still can’t control the weather, even after his sun’s help, but maybe joking about it will help. The sun boy feigns confusion, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Don’t you, like, have work to do or something?’ Kit says, turning away. Is it just Kit or does the day suddenly darken? ‘What’s that on your neck?’ Oh, shit. He instantly claps his hand over his neck, but the sun boy’s already pulling his hand away to reveal the sunset spreading on his neck’s side. The sun boy’s hands are warm but his eyes are cold. ‘That’s a hickey, Kit. Who gave you this? Don’t tell me it was Robert.’ 22
Kit debates lying, but the boy’s glare is too intense. ‘It was Robert,’ he admits to the floor. Disappointment clouds the sun boy’s voice. ‘How long, Kit? How long?’ Kit looks out the window, at the rainfall, cruelly constant. ‘Weeks.’ ‘No wonder you still can’t use your powers!’ The sun boy sounds disgusted. ‘Why’re you still with that creep?’ There is a heat to his words that Kit hasn’t felt before, and he pulls away before he’s burnt. ‘I don’t know, I just–’ ‘You just what, Kit?’ It doesn’t matter that they’re not touching; Kit feels the flames radiating at him from a metre away. He is Icarus, and he has flown far too close. ‘He’s been there for me when nobody else has, okay?’ A staring contest with the sun is never a winning game. ‘I think you should leave,’ says the boy. Who knew the sun could be so stern? ‘What? But–’ But you were meant to be my lighthouse. The one to save me from the storm. The one to help me regain my powers. Kit doesn’t say anything, just picks at his newly-formed blisters. As he leaves, he realises he doesn’t even know the boy’s name.
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V. Storm The city has never seen a storm like this. Lightning shatters the sky, electrifying the black night in an awesome display of power. Deafening thunderclaps arrive like applause, rupturing the ground everyone stands on, rattling their skeletons. And the rain, of course the rain, never ceases. It pounds and beats at the denizens of earth below, so much so that it hurts. Kits sits cross-legged in the eye of the storm. He can’t control this thunderstorm, but he finds that he doesn’t want to either. The rain has never been his friend, has it? The rain has remained for so long that Kit has become used to its never-ending barrage. He’s forgotten what it’s like to not be pelted by bullets of water every time he steps outside. He’s forgotten what it’s like to breathe. And the sun will never come back, will it? The sun has hung like a halo above Kit’s head for measureless moments, but now he’s out of reach. Now there’s only darkness everywhere the eye can see. The sun can’t be Kit’s saving grace, can he? Then who? If not the rain, or the sun? If the weather doesn’t control Kit, then who does? Robert is sitting in his windowless apartment, and the sun boy is nowhere to be found. A skein of lightning sets fire to the night, and people scream. The bus sails up, and a tide washes over everyone. But instead of getting on, Kit stands up and looks to the sky. Raises his hand. He stops the rain a little, just enough to see the moon.
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At the corner store by Angela Xu 许卓悦
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Untitled by anonymous
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: 2 s r Ca t f i r D Tokyo
by Charlie Chow 周卓慧
Hollywood movies visually represent East Asia as sci-fi, in which metropolitans like Shanghai and Tokyo are often reduced to neon signs, foreign-looking language, and The first shot of Tokyo in the film faceless multinational corporations.2 Cars 2 is a shot of Tokyo’s bright, Asians are painted as tech-oriented neon lights coming to life as day despite sharing similarities with begins to fall. The camera pans companies in the US. They are made to our main characters, Lightning to seem more distant, furthering the McQueen and Tow Mater looking up idea of the 'othering'. Cities are also in awe as they drive down a bustling depicted as dystopian3, to showcase motorway. The loud signs, all written an element of thinking into the future. in Japanese, reflect on the damp ground as Asians are painted as These technologyoriented stereotypes Lightning and Mater tech-oriented despite hide and deny the take in the sights of sharing similarities realities of global the city, far away from with companies in the capitalism. Stemming Radiator Springs. The scene shows a US. They are made to from the advances of technology during the quintessential Tokyo, but seem more distant, Korean War and the one only seen in films. furthering the idea of succeeding Economic It is not a quintessential Boom of the 1970s, Tokyo, but a technothe “othering.” techno-orientalism orientalist one. encapsulates Asian representation in the media and the linkages between Techno-Orientalism Japan and its rapid industrialisation. encapsulates the sentiment that The United States’ anxiety, many Eastern Asians share when distancing, and subsequent hostile looking at their representation in 1 attitude, such as 'Japan-bashing'4 Western media : their thriving, towards East Asia was developed over culturally rich cities diminished into years of continuous fear of Japan’s cold, scientific-looking cities of mass rising economic and political power. production and industrialisation. view ist Over l a t n ie o-Or A Techn
'
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Yang 2020.
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Yang 2020. Roh, Huang and Niu 2015, 151. Morris 2010, 14.
In turn, this led to the need to retaliate to secure the US’s global leadership position. This potential outcome eventually led to both intended and subtle orientalism. It was furthered by techno-orientalism, especially in the 1970-80s in the revival of Yellow Peril and the rise of Asian influence in films. In the Pixar feature film, Cars 2, the stereotype that Japan is highly feminised and nothing more than 'the land of the rising sun, where ancient tradition meets modern technology' is placed throughout the film.5 These stereotypes perpetuate existing ones about Japan and further cement the Japanese identity of tradition and technology, primarily through visual imagery. Set around a World Grand Prix in the Cars universe, the film’s Japan-specific portion (Timestamp: 18:34 – 45:15) opens with the sunset and the arrival of the neon and bright Tokyo skylines, highlighting the visual link between modernity and Japan. In this introductory sequence, technology is frequently highlighted from tire vending machines to carspecific capsule hotels. This imagery diminishes other aspects of Japan and instead promotes the idea of modern technology as being the primary representation of Japan. The film also jokes about how electronic Japanese bathrooms are difficult to understand, making Japan seem more foreign and distant. Japanese 5
Cars 2 2011.
society is alienated by the US, in anticipation of the ‘threat’ posed by Japanese unpredictability.6 These clichés make Japan seem more onedimensional as a result of inherent fear of the Japanese, but ultimately the unknown of their influence in both a global and regional scope. The United States expresses techno-orientalism by the systematic oppression and the exploitation of the technological advances of Japan by the American government. Its anxieties are countered by the barriers the US builds up against Japan to shield the US from potential threats that have led to 'Japanbashing'7, where the Japanese are painted as hostile. Although the American view of Japan has fluctuated over time depending on its threat level, the 1980s can be credited for the origins of techno-orientalism due to the rapid industrialization and Japan’s integration into the West.8 Japan’s initial absorption of Western culture stems from the US’ occupation post-WWII, which allowed Japan’s introduction of technological capabilities.9 The developmental state model was successful in spreading affordable consumer products throughout the region.10 However, Japan’s superior product was viewed as a threat instead of an achievement, 6 7
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Morley and Robbins 1995, 171. Morris 2010, 14. Morley and Robbins 1995, 4. Morley and Robbins 1995, 7. Wade 2018, 524.
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especially in the auto industry. The US retaliated by mass riots, blocking Japanese exports, and imploring Japanese companies to halt investments into the US market.11 In the eyes of everyday Americans, the Japanese were viewed as job-stealers who threatened the tehnological and economic output of the US. The US continued to create barriers such as the ‘Super 301,’ a bill passed to control the US market and prevent countries who were outperforming the US from further importing, targeting Japan.12 McKay furthers this argument by examining the AsianAmerican perspective on the subject. Many choose to disregard and ignore the public opinion surrounding the Japanese instead of keeping quiet in attempts to rebuff racism.13 'Japanbashing' is also conducted through a typical narrative in which Japan’s technology has become not only the ideal but also the outperformance of the West, securing its status as a tech-aesthetic.14 The exploitation of technological advances and the promotion of US superiority was actively encouraged by the US government, balancing the dichotomy of the righteous East compared to the monotonous East. US techno-oriental anxieties stemming from the Cold War have created the idea of feminising 11 12 13 14
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Tsukuda 2014, 582. Morris 2010, 56. McKay 2017, 956. Sato 2004, 340.
Japan into a submissive figure. The ideal woman is promoted through anthropomorphic characters that become representative of all Asians, typically approached via cyberfeminism.15 The dichotomy between the White male and the Asian woman is often shown to assert American dominance and technoorientalist paranoia from the US.16 It also questions the potentially adverse effects of Japanese hegemony and glamorises the otherness of Japan by romanticising and reimagining Japanese culture as a foreign entity in the cyberpunk state.17 In the film Ex Machina (2015), two robots, one White and one Asian, are opposed to the hegemony of the White robot. The Asian robot in question, Kyoko, is shown as submissive and a product rather than a human18, with her 'skin' peeled off for the White robot, Ava. The film emphasizes a specific racial hierarchy which sees Kyoko in a subservient role based on her work. Her characterisation is defined by her objectification as she remains an object rather than a subject, in adherence to the historical pattern of a White woman’s ability to purchase and use Asian artefacts to further her status as a sophisticated member of society.19 Within the genre of cyberpunk, Feminism is a key point of debate. Sato’s analysis of 15 16 17 18 19
Ueno 1999, 96. Posadas 2017, 147. Sato 2004, 340. Nishme 2017, 31. Nishme 2017, 35.
cyberfeminism and the implications of information technologies in altering the way humans perceive each other is particularly relevant.20 In 1990s media, cyborg women became more ‘domesticated and fetishised’ for servitude in stark contrast to their powerful presence in the 1980s. Ueno concludes that identifying cyborgs’ racial and gendered codes as a cliché of Japanese animation ultimately reinforces Western imagery and promotes a shared standard21, which Sato deems as influencing conformity.22 By maintaining the stereotypes of female cyborgs in both Japanese and Western media, it reinforces the role of Asia and Asian female bodies as compliant, sexualised, and unfeeling machines who only seek to serve the interests of those who control them. Adversely in Cars 2, the 'ancient traditions' mentioned in the news report create more traditional but feminised allusions of the Japanese people.23 This was most prominently shown through the cars dressed as geishas who serve and perform for other cars. The geishas also transcend time and are used to represent both the past and the present. By virtue of being displayed on a neon billboard, the imagery downplays the reality of Japan and furthers the feminine and submissive 20 21 22 23
Sato 2004, 337. Ueno 1999, 104. Sato 2004, 349. Cars 2 2011.
stereotypes associated with Japan. None of these characters have a speaking role, and instead serve to remind the audience of the exoticised location. White privilege – as socially constructed – is also represented in Cars 2.24 When confronted during the car chase, the masculine Japanese characters are shown as angry and brutish, while the 'White' characters seem put together and suave. It registers the confrontational stereotype of Japanese people as inferior and less put together while making the British spies seem impressive. The idea of techno-orientalism is ingrained in American cultural and ethnic memory as expressed in normative rhetoric.25 The concept is deeply enrooted on both the American Asian sides, with particular attention to how Asian-Americans are treated and how these memories are integrally suppressed. Cultural memory is highlighted in the film and on a larger scale in other mediums recording the different waves of techno-orientalism, starting from the notion of Asians stealing jobs in the 1930s in The Mask of Fu Manchu to the idea of Asia’s traditional yet futuristic empires in The Matrix.26 Asians are recognised as the ‘model minority myth’: hardworking, quiet, 24 25 26 100.
Rahayu 2019, 84. McKay 2017, 964. Roh, Huang and Niu 2015, 16, 89-90,
31
'
This consistent “othering” of Asian features circles back to remind the public of the West’s superiority and the East’s adoption of industrialisation.'
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shy, but technologically capable.27 The toleration of racial aggression from the trope of technologically advanced Asians transcends through generations: to assimilate is to live with the past but refuse the acknowledgment.28 This is continued by constant microaggression from other races, reinforces the model minority stereotype, and encourages the techno-orientalist interpretation of Asian people daily. On the other hand, technology is personified as Asian, strengthening the notion that Asians are robotic and machine-like, as exemplified by the Asian features ascribed to robots.29 This consistent 'othering' of Asian features circles back to remind the public of the West’s superiority and the East’s adoption of industrialisation.
27 28 29
Huynh 2021, 8. Huynh 2021, 3. Bui 2020, 112.
As a Pixar film whose target audience is children, Cars 2 continues to spread clichés to future generations. By suppressing Asian cars in the film, it renders Asian children feel less content with their identity.30 American anxieties are projected onto film and media, sustaining a techno-orientalist view of Japan and East Asia. Although the film does not necessarily paint Japan in a negative light, the film continues to further and take advantage of existing stereotypes for the purpose of storytelling to combine the Japanese into a onedimensional trope.
30
Ellithorpe and Bleakley 2016, 1427.
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Reference List Reference List Abel,J.Jonathan E and (2021). Digital Asias. Verge: Abel, E., & Jeon, J. J.Joseph (2021). Jonghyun Unfolding Jeon Digital Asias.Unfolding Verge (Minneapolis, Minn.), Studies in https://doi.org/10.1353/vrg.2021.0011 Global Asias 7(2): 6–22. https://doi.org/10.1353/vrg.2021.0011. 7(2), vi–xxii. Besana,T.,Tiffany, Dalal D., Katsiaficas and Loyd (2019). Asian American Besana, Katsiaficas, & Loyd, A. B.Aerika (2019).Brittian Asian American Media Media Representation: A Film and Analysis and Implications forDevelopment. Identity Development. Representation: A Film Analysis Implications for Identity Research in Human Development 16(3–4): 201–25. https://doi.org/10.1080/15427 Research in Human Development, 16(3-4), 201–225. https://doi.org/10.1080/15427 609.2020.1711680. 609.2020.1711680 Bui, L. Long (2020). Asian Roboticism: Connecting Mechanized Labor to the Bui, (2020). Asian Roboticism: Connecting Mechanized Labor to the Automation Automation of Work.onPerspectives on Globaland Development and Technology 19(1–2): of Work. Perspectives Global Development Technology, 19(1-2), 110–126. 110–26. https://doi.org/10.1163/15691497-12341544. https://doi.org/10.1163/15691497-12341544 Ellithorpe,D. Mogan E and Amy Bleakley (2016). Wanting to See People Like Me? Fogelman, (Writer), Lasseter, J. (Director, Writer) & Lewis, B. (Director, Writer). Racial and2.Gender in Popular Adolescent Television. Journal of Youth and (2011). Cars [Film]. Diversity Pixar Animation Studios. Adolescence 45(7): 1426–37. 1426–1437. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10964-0160415-4. M. E., & Bleakley, A. (2016). Wanting to See People Like Me? Racial Ellithorpe, and Gender Diversity in Popular Adolescent Television. Journal of Youth and Huynh, Jennifer A (2022). Understanding Internalized Racial Oppression and Adolescence, 45(7), 1426–1437. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10964-016-0415-4 Second-Generation Vietnamese. Asian American Journal of Psychology 13(2): 129–40. Huynh, J. A.https://doi.org/10.1037/aap0000211. (2022). Understanding Internalized Racial Oppression and SecondGeneration Vietnamese. Asian American Journal of Psychology, 13(2), 129–140. Lee, Erika (2015). The Making of Asian America: A History. New York: Simon & https://doi.org/10.1037/aap0000211 Schuster. Lee, E. (2015). The making of Asian America: a history (First Simon & Schuster Lasseter, John andSimon Bradford Lewis (2011). Cars 2 [Film]. Pixar Animation Studios. hardcover edition.). & Schuster. Mizukoshi, K. Kosuke (2018). of Hollywood Whitewashing?: A review of ‘Ghost Mizukoshi, (2018). PerilsPerils of Hollywood Whitewashing?: A review of “Ghost in in the Shell’ movie. Markets, Globalization and Development Review 3(1). https://doi. the Shell” movie. Markets, Globalization & Development Review, 3(1). https://doi. org/10.23860/MGDR-2018-03-01-06. org/10.23860/MGDR-2018-03-01-06 Morley,D., David and Kevin Robins (1995).ofSpaces ofGlobal Identity: Global Media, Electronic Morley, & Robins, K. (1995). Spaces Identity: Media, Electronic Landscapes Cultural Boundaries. London:p.Routledge. Landscapes andand Cultural Boundaries (reprinted, vi+257–vi+257). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203422977. Morris, Narrelle (2013). Japan-Bashing: Anti-Japanism since the 1980s. London: Routledge. Morris, N. (2013). Japan-Bashing: Anti-Japanism since the 1980s (Vol. 30, pp. viii– viii). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203851654 Nishime, LeiLani (2017). Whitewashing Yellow Futures in Ex Machina, Cloud Atlas, and Advantageous: Gender, Labor, and Technology Sci-fi Film. Journal Asian Nishime, L. (2017). Whitewashing Yellow Futures in Ex in Machina, Cloud Atlas, of and American Studies 20(1): 29–49. https://doi.org/10.1353/jaas.2017.0003. Advantageous: Gender, Labor, and Technology in Sci-fi Film. Journal of Asian American Studies, 20(1), 29–49. https://doi.org/10.1353/jaas.2017.0003
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Posadas, Baryon Tensor (2017). Beyond Techno-Orientalism: Virtual Worlds and Identity Tourism in Japanese Cyberpunk. In Isiah Lavender III, ed. Dis-Orienting Planets: Racial Representations of Asia in Science Fiction, 144–59. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. Rahayu, Nurhadianty (2019). The Portrayal of Gender and Race in Cars Trilogy. ATAVISME 22(1): 75–87. https://doi.org/10.24257/atavisme.v22i1.532.75-87. Roh, David S, Betsy Huang and Greta A Niu, eds (2015). Techno-Orientalism: Imagining Asia in Speculative Fiction, History, and Media. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Said, Edward W (2002). Living in Arabic. Raritan 21(4): 220–36. Sato, Kumiko (2004). How Information Technology Has (Not) Changed Feminism and Japanism: Cyberpunk in the Japanese Context. Comparative Literature Studies 41(3): 335–55. https://doi.org/10.1353/cls.2004.0037. Siu, Lok and Claire Chun (2020). Yellow Peril and Techno-orientalism in the Time of Covid-19: Racialized Contagion, Scientific Espionage, and Techno-Economic Warfare. Journal of Asian American Studies 23(3): 421–40. https://doi. org/10.1353/jaas.2020.0033. Tsukuda, Yoko (2014). Japan Bashing. In Xiaojian Zhao and Edward J. W. Park, eds. Asian Americans: An Encyclopedia of Social, Cultural, Economic, and Political History, 582–83. Ueno, Toshiya (1999). Techno-Orientalism and media-tribalism: On Japanese animation and rave culture. Third Text 13(47): 95–106. https://doi. org/10.1080/09528829908576801. Wade, Robert H (2018). The Developmental State: Dead or Alive?. Development and Change 49(2): 518–46. https://doi.org/10.1111/dech.12381. Yang, George (2020). Orientalism, ‘Cyberpunk 2077’, and Yellow Peril in Science Fiction. Wired, 8 Dec. https://www.wired.com/story/orientalism-cyberpunk-2077yellow-peril-science-fiction/.
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Stolen Joy by Atoc Malou
The children went berserk over the stolen lollipops. They ran after Tegu laughing and yelling as he pressed the jumbo box tightly beneath his shirt. Through town they hunted him, across the compound and towards Pedra Hill. The Sunday markets were already bustling with out-of-towners and the local patrons, so the children zig-zagged across fruit stands, trollies of fresh bread, bumping past elderly women strolling through. Running towards the hill, Mildril and Neo spot Ankle Boy, a tenyear-old soccer player faster than all of the Pedra children, walking towards Pedra Church. They ran towards him, so fast, their speed caused an altar boy to drop his candles and run in the opposite direction. Once reaching Ankle Boy, they grabbed his arms urging him to follow. “Prayer starts in 15 minutes, what do you want?” “Just run and listen!” pleaded Mildril.
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Ankle Boy reluctantly obeyed and through fast whispers, the boys offered him the largest portion of lollipops in exchange for his running skills. They wanted him to chase and tackle Tegu. Satisfied with the deal, Ankle Boy led the group of tired and desperate children atop Pedra Hill. Running up the grassy mound, some children dropped to their knees surrendering to its sovereignty. They watched on, placing their faith in Ankle Boy as he caught up with Tegu, leaping onto his back, causing the two to collapse and tumble down. No one could have prepared the townspeople for the ecstasy that followed. Children sprinted from all corners of the hill, out from the markets and through the narrow alleys to claim their share of the stolen candy. The rampage continued until nothing but an empty box and a sobbing Tegu remained on Pedra hill.
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How Long Shall We Walk? by Atoc Malou Twenty seven thousand boys fled into the bush. How long shall we walk? No joy in our talk; we crouch at the crunch of leaves. Long heats and perspiring nights We walked and walked until – Boys turned into men of war. I swore on my life I’d never take a pill. Dreary soldiers roam cratered paths; days spent recounting lyrics of love – Gone so fast. our lives have been lost! They braid their hair; delicate patterns creating tight, small braids, lasting longer than protruding – Pus attracts the mites. How long shall we walk?
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Friend!ip
by Melody Wong
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by Melody Wong
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You are what you eat
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By Angela Xu 许卓悦 47
Your audio guide to Wattle 2023
Split Niki
Minor Feelings Rina Sawayama
People Get Ready The Impressions
Clementine grentperez
Nobody Sees Me like You Do Japanese Breakfast
Wiyathul Gurrumul and more ...
Scan the QR code to listen to the playlist <3 48
FRUIT MARKET by anonymous
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Grief Clings to Me like Smoke by Feronia Ding 丁雯熙 Grief clings to me like smoke curling around my body as though a stray cat. Most days I don’t know what to do with myself, how to be, how to call the gentleness in fear the world (of course) and my body too. Young as I’ll ever be though my bedroom resembles a grave. Mourning all the lives I did not live – and all the lives I could, my love is present in each, Burning like a forest fire stoking an eternal genesis leaving behind a pile of ashes Wednesday again.
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Home is what we carry with us
by Melody Wong
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God grew tired of us by Atoc Malou
I must begin by explaining that in Linton Territory, I was instructed to begin my interview questions with, ’God grew tired of us. Weeping throats irked the mighty man, so he plagued us’. This is custom in the desert nation, as it acknowledges that Linton People are subject to the torment of God due to their own wrong doings, and anger between God and People. 52
Interview transcript: 46576889
Interview Date: 02.07.70 Interview topic: God’s hand in the Linton decline Interviewer: Gabriel (sent by God to record the Linton perspective on conflict) Interviewee: Linton Chief Interview location: Linton Desert Gabriel and the Linton Chief sit cross legged on a straw mat, melting onto the desert floor. They face each other, surrounded by fifty kilometers of desert in every direction. It’s a private discussion; except for the few snipers watching from the few trees. There is no trust.
Gabriel: (Scans the sky, then the desert, then the Chief) God grew tired of us; weeping throats irked the mighty man, so, he plagued us. Chief, why did God strip Linton Nation of power, dignity, and strength? Chief: (Gulps water from his round wooden bottle, licking the droplets off his trailing beard)
He knew us pathetic, so he plagued us, mighty. Black days, they plagued us. Left us dry, thirsty people, walking the sweeping plains; the remains of an injured nation.
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Gabriel: God grew tired of us; weeping throats irked the mighty man, so, he plagued us. How did this cycle of tournaments begin and why does it remain? Chief: (Grabs his walking stick, using the end to draw three stick figures. He decorates them with spiky hair and big bellies before crossing out the middleman; the thinnest man)
Black days, they plagued us. Left us dry, quiet people. Nothing left to preach; the preachers pray for themselves. Selfishness stains our people. Every house for themselves, and themselves more divided. One head fed; three left dead; the rest a trophy of resilience. Selfishness stains our people. Gabriel: (Stands to stretch his legs and fluff his wings. He offers to fan the Linton Chief with his golden feathers, but the chief declines. The snipers withdraw) God grew tired of us; weeping throats irked the mighty man, so, he plagued us. Chief, what future does Linton Nation want to build? 54
Chief: (Scans across the desert, listening to the whispers of his ancestors, a small smile forming on his face as he reminisces on their murmurers)
We knew a sovereign past. Where the harvest lasted, and no mouths ached. Where gunfire was silent; the quiet night, peaceful. We knew a sovereign past. Where laughter drowned our ears, and song came easy. These, he, took away. Gabriel: God grew tired of us; weeping throats irked the mighty man, so, he plagued us. Linton Nation’s biggest fear for the future, Chief, what is it? Chief: (Has started weeping, his ancestral memories colliding with the hopeless future. Witnessing the honoured man cry,the snipers and Gabriel avert their gaze) Nonsense babbled by children, Who hear nothing but riddles, uncertainty, “We’ll see” We’ve seen how plagues have tied their tongues, our children know nothing of light.
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TIME & TIME AGAIN: The Function of Civil Rights Anthems in the Pursuit of Liberty by Melissa Lee The soundtrack to the summer of my 2022 was defined by the dulcet hum of Hozier’s discography, comforting in the same way the rays of the sun often are on an early morning commute. Amidst his numerous love songs which speak to the incandescent spark of passion close to his heart, Nina Cried Power (2018) is stark in its theme and style. Written as a ‘thank you note to the spirit of protest,’ Nina Cried Power sees a fascinating melding of past and present in a mere four minutes.1 The rhythmic drumbeat of the song underpins the raw vocals of both Hozier and featured artist Mavis Staples, whose involvement in the Civil Rights Movement of 1960s America lends a historical weight unlike anything else to the song. As Hozier invokes the names of the numerous musicians who fought for liberty (Nina, Billie, Curtis cried power), I suddenly become privy to the fervour of a moment decades removed from my own. It is in this that the profound capacity for music to defy the otherwise relentless flow of time becomes evident. 1 Hozier 2018; Hozier and Hughes 2018. 56
Civil rights anthems in particular are emblematic of this temporal defiance. Deriving from historian Julius B. Fleming’s scholarship on AfricanAmerican theatre, where the Black body in performance was used to ‘renegotiate the politics of racial time,’ the performance of music during the Civil Rights Movement similarly assumes such a role.2 Beyond allowing the passage of meaning from one period to another, deeper analysis illuminates the deliberate use of music to renegotiate the timeframe of Black progress. Whether in the subtleties of the tune, or more overtly in the lyrics, the minutes of a performance allowed African-Americans to set their own tempo for the march towards freedom. Anthems of this period were a resounding refusal to abide by the timeline of the socio-political structures which had historically impeded progress any longer. Produced at the ideological turning point of the Civil Rights Movement, Curtis Mayfield’s People Get Ready (1965) and Nina Simone’s Mississippi Goddam (1964) provide contrasting vignettes into how this manifested. 2
Fleming 2022, 5.
People Get Ready opens with an instrumental crescendo which harmonises seamlessly with the mellow chorus of Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions. The characteristic tranquillity which saw the tune emerge as an anthem to the Civil Rights Movement immediately washed over me as I listened to it for the first time. Like the break of dawn, it was a gentle and certain assurance that respite was just over the horizon. The repeated refrain of ‘People get ready,’ combined with the lowered barriers to entry (‘You don’t need no baggage,’ ‘All you need is faith’) opens an invitation to all listeners to ‘get on board’ with the movement.3 As the subdued call and response between lead and backing vocals envelops you, there is a sense that even just by listening to and believing in the message of the song, you are participating in the fight for liberty.4 Embedded in the heart of the song were subtle cultural allusions which connected the movement of the 1960s to the historical struggle of the AfricanAmerican community. As Mayfield sang of the ‘train to Jordan / Picking up passengers / Coast to coast,’ he spoke to moments of exodus in historical memory.5 Both the Underground Railroad (early to mid-1800s) and the Great Migration (early-1900s) saw the mass movement of Black people from the South to the North, a decision rooted in the belief that freedom could be found past the 3 The Impressions 1965; Erickson 2015. 4 The Impressions 1965; Sanger 1995; Reed 2005; Stewart 2005. 5 The Impressions 1965.
physical borders of the Southern states.6 The invocation of these cultural references within People Get Ready sees the intertwining of past, present and moments in between to sustain a historical continuum. As written by his son, Todd Mayfield, the song was a ‘love letter to the fathomless strength and endless struggle’, which resonated profoundly with a Black audience.7 The song speaks directly to the experiences of Mayfield’s listeners, coaxing the persistent flame inherited from all those who fought prior to the movement of the 1960s. As Mayfield acknowledges the patience of his people, even after centuries of struggle, he urges them to continue walking forward and sustains the steady tempo of the march towards freedom. Juxtaposing People Get Ready, Simone’s Mississippi Goddam sees an upheaval of the steady hope of the Civil Rights Movement, and the setting of an aggressive tempo towards Black liberation. Where Mayfield encourages patience with his airy falsetto, Simone’s powerful contralto harshly reminds an audience of the reality of the 1960s. Confronted with the murder of activist Medgar Evans and the bombing of 16th Street Baptist Church which killed four young girls in 1963, the song was a visceral response to the unrelenting torrent of racial violence which African-Americans continued to face. Overwhelmed with emotion, Simone recounts wanting to put together 6 Kling 2004; Floyd 1995; Mayfield and Atria 2017, Chapter 6. 7 Mayfield and Atria 2017, Chapter 6. 57
a homemade pistol to kill someone – a proxy for the white hegemony which continued to impede the progress of her people. Instead, she sat down and produced the first of her civil rights anthems.8 Song is an inherently nonviolent form of protest, yet Simone used her voice to render bullets of righteous anger in the composition of Mississippi Goddam. Even in a small room miles away from Carnegie Hall, her impatience was palpable as I listened to a decades old recording of her performance. Simone boldly rushes forward and defines a new rhythm for the movement.9 Woven against the accelerating tune, the phrase ‘do it slow,’ becomes a subtle denunciation of the lingering patience of the Civil Rights Movement even as the socio-political condition of African-Americans grew urgent.10 Simultaneously, it embodies the frivolous attitude of government structures. Despite promises for change, officials frequently procrastinated enacting reforms, as in the case of the ‘deliberate speed’ which characterised the Brown v. Board of Education decision in 1954.11 Simone’s criticism of existing progress – or the lack thereof – culminates in a defiant declaration. As she sings, ‘Don’t tell me / I tell you / Me and my people are just about due,’ Simone demands immediacy from the otherwise sluggish attempts for social 8 9 10 11 58
Simone and Cleary 1991. Brooks 2011. Simone 1964; Brooks 2011. Simone 1964; Fleming 2022.
Song is an inheren tly non-violent form of protest, yet Sim one used her voice to render bullets of righteous anger in the composition o f Mississippi Goddam. Even in a small room miles away from Carnegie Ha ll, her impatience was palpable as I listened to a deca des old recording of her performance . Simone boldly rus hes forward and defin es a new rhythm for the movement.'
'
change.12 Simone momentarily shatters the racial order in her blatant refusal to abide by this timeframe any longer, effectively looking her oppressor in the eye as she sings of the tragic condition inflicted upon her people to the white audience sitting in Carnegie Hall.13 As her performance draws to a close, she belts out ‘Mississippi Goddam!’ one final time and announces the conclusion of her song.14 Simone confronts a framework which has historically commanded patience from the AfricanAmerican community, pressing forward with all the ferocity of a wildfire to hasten the Black pursuit of liberty. Although Mississippi Goddam undeniably addresses the socio-political structures of the 1960s, it simultaneously speaks to a world beyond the civil rights era. In the midst of her performance, Simone turns to her audience and remarks: ‘This is a show tune, but the show hasn’t been written for it yet.’15 The label of a ‘show tune’ alludes to a future where this political track can be regarded as exactly that – the tune of a long past, historical ‘show’. The prophetic intent behind this iconic statement is confirmed by Simone in a 1997 interview.16 The suggestion of foresight reflects the very characteristic of civil rights anthems which made it possible for Hozier to compose from a decades old legacy. The immense flexibility of the 12 13 14 15 16
Simone 1964. Simone and Sebastian 1999. Simone 1964. Simone 1964. Simone and Powell 1997.
genre, with what historian Brian Ward puts as a ‘seemingly endless capacity to fuse many varied, often apparently incompatible, influences,’ lends civil rights anthems a sense of universality which allows them to persist.17 Although the historical context has largely been worn away, People Get Ready remains a classic of peace and hope sung across the globe.18 Meanwhile, Mississippi Goddam continues to be invoked as a response to socio-political tumult in America. The 2022 overturning of the Roe v. Wade decision in favour of Mississippi, for instance, saw a performance of the song by singer Darlene Van Alstyne.19 More pertinently, the familiar refrain echoed across Twitter on the eve of the 2022 midterm elections in response to the arson of two Black churches in Jackson, Mississippi.20 Over half a century later, the structures which Simone confronted in Carnegie Hall persist. Mississippi Goddam proves to be tragically prophetic as it continues to speak to a future where the struggle for civil rights is ongoing. All this is to say; civil rights anthems have an uncanny ability to traverse through the sands of time. And as traces of these songs are covered, remixed and sampled in contemporary contexts, as in the case of Nina Cried Power, the legacy of the 1960s will be carried forward time & time again. 17 Ward 2003, 11. 18 Moore 2020; Redmond 2014. 19 Powers and Redmond 2022. 20 Associated Press 2022; Eric Michael Garcia 2022; True Words Are Spoke 2022. 59
REFERENCE LIST Primary Sources: Garcia, Eric Michael [@EricMGarcia] (2022). Alabama’s gotten me so upset / Tennessee made me lose my rest. Twitter, 9 November. https://twitter.com/EricMGarcia/ status/1590097838788476928?s=20&t=rYTNf2F1mdoQ87fZY11R1w. Hozier and Mavis Staples (2018). Nina Cried Power [Song]. On Nina Cried Power. Rubyworks; Island. Hughes, Hilary (2018). Hozier Unpacks His New ‘Nina Cried Power’ EP: ‘It’s a Thank You Note to the Spirit of Protest’. Billboard, 6 September. https://www.billboard.com/music/ rock/hozier-nina-cried-power-interview-mavis-staples-8473841/. Mayfield, Todd and Travis Atria (2017). The Life of Curtis Mayfield: Traveling Soul. EPUB. Chicago: Chicago Review Press. Simone, Nina (1964). Mississippi Goddam [Song]. On Nina Simone in Concert. Philips Records. Simone, Nina and Steven Cleary (1991). I Put a Spell on You: The Autobiography of Nina Simone. New York: Pantheon Press. Simone, Nina and Alison Powell (1997). You Al Capone, I’m Nina Simone: The American Soul of Nina Simone [Interview transcript]. http://boscarol.com/ninasimone/pages/nina/ interviews/interview1997.html. Simone, Nina and Tim Sebastian (1999). Nina Simone on BBC HARDtalk [Video interview]. BBC HARDtalk, March. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8olEruTT_io. The Impressions (1965). People Get Ready [Song]. On People Get Ready. ABC Records. True Words Are Spoke [@TruWordsRSpoken] (2022). The name of this tune is Mississippi Goddam / And I mean every word of it. Twitter, 9 November. https://twitter.com/ TruWordsRSpoken/status/1590115602517348352?s=20&t=I8Q9ax0vaWwoSTwAcpvEQ.
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Secondary Sources: Associated Press (2022). Fires set on and near historically Black Jackson State University; arson suspected. NBC News, 9 November. https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/ fires-set-historically-black-jackson-state-university-arson-suspected-rcna56218. Brooks, Daphne A (2011). Nina Simone’s Triple Play. Callaloo 34(1): 176-97. Erickson, Brad (2015). ‘People Get Ready’ – The Impressions (1965). Library of Congress. https://www.loc.gov/static/programs/national-recording-preservation-board/documents/ PeopleGetReady.pdf. Fleming Jr., Julius B (2022). Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation. New York: New York University Press. Floyd, Samuel A (1995). The Power of Black Music: Interpreting Its History From Africa to the United States. New York: Oxford University Press. Kling, David William (2004). The Bible in History: How the Texts Have Shaped the Times. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Moore, Rick (2021). Behind the song: ‘People Get Ready’ by The Impressions. American Songwriter, 4 January. https://americansongwriter.com/people-get-ready-the-impressionsbehind-the-song/. Powers, Ann and Shana L Redmond (2022). Post-Roe, a Look at How Old and New ProtestMusic Reflects Political Moments [Interview by Ari Shapiro]. All Things Considered NPR, 30 June. https://www.npr.org/2022/06/30/1109051853/post-roe-a-look-at-how-old-andnew-protest-music-reflects-political-moments. Redmond, Shana L (2014). Anthem: Social Movements and the Sound of Solidarity in the African Diaspora. New York: New York University Press. Reed, T.V. (2005). The Art of Protest: Culture and Activism from the Civil Rights Movement to the Streets of Seattle. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press. Sanger, Kerran L (1995). When the Spirit Says Sing! The Role of Freedom Songs in the Civil Rights Movement. New York: Garland Publishing. Stewart, James B (2005). Message in the Music: Political Commentary in Black Popular Music from Rhythm and Blues to Early Hip Hop. The Journal of African American History 90(3): 196-225. Ward, Brian (2003). Just my Soul Responding: Rhythm and Blues, Black Consciousness and Race Relations. Taylor & Francis e-Library. 61
Tradition
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by Melody Wong
POETRY OF THE PRESENT PERIOD: A PERVERSE PREDICAMENT by Danny Yazdani PICTURE THIS: A man in his early years is walking down the street. He has his dog’s leash in one hand as she pulls at it, begging to walk faster. In his other hand, he holds his phone, swinging it back and forth to the rhythm of the music. His feet do the same; they step in time with the music, as if with every landing, the concrete path lights up into an outrageously fluorescent colour. A disco floor. As the man moves in time to the music, feeling every beat coursing through his bloodstream, bystanders look on and question the freedom this man has in the streets of Baulkham Hills. For he is free, beyond their judgemental stares and stale music playlists. He is human. Wasn’t that a nice shot at romanticising my life? I listen to 70s music often, but every time I go for a walk with my dog, I feel reinvigorated beyond measure. It’s not the same as a party or a road trip; it’s an elation of the self, only describable through writing. As nice as it may be, no one – including me – has the time to document their musical experiences in great detail and on a regular basis. And I wonder, can we reach this level of connection with music at all when music is one dimensional? I confess, during my walks, I’m probably listening to I Will Survive'(Gaynor 1978) or More Than a Woman (Bee Gees 1978) But it could also be Are You Man Enough? or Shake Your Groove Thing. Songs seem to merge together under the umbrella of the 70s disco genre, but there are songs that are incredibly different as well. The first two deal with the usual heartbreak and romantic devotion reflected in the songs of today, and have stayed successful. However, the latter address completely different themes. The song, Are You Man Enough?, by the Four Tops, explores the contrast between lived experience and what the world tells you, promoting the need for a balance in a world that is out to get you. Even with its substantial meaning, it is accompanied by a catchy beat and potent lyrics. On the other hand, Shake Your Groove Thing looks into the hypnotic impact of music on the body, with an upbeat tempo keeping listeners hooked the whole way through. These songs convey a contemporary and underrepresented element of the human experience without compromising musical integrity. 63
It may be bold of me to say, but I think that music and the songs we listen to are the poetry of the present. Unless you follow the odd Instagram poet or are an avid fan of literature, it is unlikely that you will resort to poetry to unwind at the end of the day. But when you’re feeling sad and need something to cry to, you’ll crank up an Adele playlist. When you’re surrounded by friends who share the same cultural background, you’ll sing loudly to the classics you grew up with: Ebi, Hayedeh and the like. Music shapes a vast range of the experiences that constitute our humanity. Without it, chaos – in the musical sense – would ensue; lyricism would mean nothing! The widespread criticism of contemporary music may help us to better understand why the music we consume needs to be diverse in message rather than the same tedious overdone method that has surfaced in the last few decades. A 2016 interview with iconic KISS member Gene Simmons shone light on this dilemma during a chat with Kory Grow from The Rolling Stone. Simmons noted that he was '[looking] forward to music coming back to lyrics and melody, instead of just talking'.1 He went so far as to critique one of the world’s most well known talents: 'As far as I’m concerned, if Lady Gaga dropped the disco and the pole dancing and all that stuff and put together a rock band, that would be legitimate, because she’s got the musical goods. She can write songs, play instruments and can actually sing. And she understands the fearless quality of spectacle. I’d love to see her do Queen-style music.'2 Whilst I am infatuated with Lady Gaga and her music, Simmons’ first comment rings true: he defines music as 'lyric or melody'.3 The importance of lyrics when developing quality music is what bridges the gap and makes music the primary form of modern-day poetry. The songs we listen to are essentially poetry set to music. With this in mind, I wondered 'What can be done? Where can I turn to for some guidance?' I turned to poetry; poetry in a somewhat original form for some direction. Just as I adore the funky beats of the 70s, I consider poetry to be a powerful method in capturing what it means to be human. Let us consider one of T. S. Eliot’s finest, most ambiguous stanzas from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock below: And I have known the arms already, known them all – Arms that are braceleted and white and bare, [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] 1 2 3 64
Grow 2016. Grow 2016. Grow 2016.
Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Now, brace yourself for something completely different. We turn to a song I heard on the radio recently, and though it was released in the late 1990s, at the peak of rap. It represents exactly what I am trying to eliminate for the future of the music industry. Observe LL Cool J’s Doin It: It’s our first time together and I’m feeling kinda horn* Conventional methods of makin’ love kinda bore me I wanna knock your block off, get my rocks off Blow your socks off make sure your… Notice the asterisks put in place? And the ellipsis in the last line? You’re welcome. While I may seem prudish here or extremely conservative, I don’t actually want to associate with either. I don’t have an issue with people writing and singing about pleasure, about romance, about the tender bond that exists between two united souls no matter where they are. But I certainly do have a problem when ‘artists’ produce formulaic, shallow music and expect us to connect to it. Eliot’s beautiful words, although they discuss the promiscuous subject matter of prostitution, are incomparable to Cool J’s. Eliot embodies a tone of remorse, a tone of melancholy for which his Prufrock persona is weighed down by a heavy heart yearning for true love. After countless experiences with one-night stands, Prufrock depersonalises the experiences of being with women – 'And I have known the arms already, known them all,' highlighting the inauthenticity of this particular brand of romance, labelling them a 'paid service' rather than a genuine soul worth committing to. Furthered by the symbolic 'arms that are braceleted', 'perfume,' 'dress' and 'shawl' that makes Prufrock 'digress,' the small excerpt of the poem encapsulates the misfortunes associated with love and relationships, and their triggering nature for a hopeless romantic; from afar, Prufrock is infatuated by the overtly feminine characteristics of those he desires yet he cannot form a bond with them on a deeper level. I must now, unfortunately, turn your eyes back towards Cool J’s lyrics in which he also discusses his experience with a first-time lover. Demeaning language is used against the woman persona he sings about, leading to a loss of beauty in the words used to describe the indescribable. Despite the nature of the so-called artist’s relationship with the woman, we see all senses of lyricism and verse, of imagery and unquestionable 65
artistry, deconstructed and dirtied, the audience’s romanticised longing for true love now indecent and less desirable than ever. I don’t want to hate on those who love the rap genre which often is boiled down to and criticised because of songs like this. I may not be its biggest patron, but I can understand the redeeming qualities it possesses; I’m a Hamilton fan for goodness sake! Rather, I want to expose the perverse predicament we are currently facing in modern music. Our music is riddled with a repetitive method in which only the themes of heartbreak, romance, and/or sex have plagued the charts from the country genre to pop anthems. Some artists – even though their albums are jam-packed with love songs – have surprisingly pushed against this norm in the last couple of years and have excited listeners with their tenacity. When I first listened to versatile Indigenous-Australian artist Jessica Mauboy’s Little Things, I audibly groaned. I thought to myself, 'wow. She is bold, she has killer vocals, but she’s contributed to this devoid canon like the others', Then I heard Mauboy explain the song as a judge on popular television program The Voice and I was gobsmacked. She wrote the song about the burdens we carry when pleading with our loved ones to validate us. More specifically, she opened up to writing this song – with lyrics like 'Set myself on fire, to keep us warm/Swear I lose my mind watching you ignore' – about her past relationship with her mother. Past and present versions of the self, past and present versions of motherhood – all this explored in a mere three minutes and nine seconds. In the same year, British heartthrob Harry Styles (2019) released Falling and I had a similar encounter to that of Mauboy’s. Little did I know that when Styles belts with all his might, 'What am I now? What am I now?/What if I’m someone I don’t want around?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling', he is singing to a former and better version of himself that he wants to see again. It is heart wrenching, it is sombre and it is a glimpse of self-reflection all of us naturally experience. It was the last possible thing expected from a love song. In the rise of recent women and human rights violations in my motherland, I have seen Iranians using their voices beyond protests and social media posts too. Shervin Hajiour wrote a sorrowful ballad titled Baraye (For) (2022) using tweets to form his lyrics. Baraye gained instant action in the form of forty million views in less than twenty-four hours. Despite being wrongfully imprisoned and the song forcibly taken down from his Instagram page, Hajipour produced a piece of patriotism, spreading
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like wildfire across the world as his hamvatan took to the streets for a brighter future.4 As women removed their head coverings and defied the barbaric laws of the Islamic regime, the melody that marched in their hearts was akin to the eternal meaning of Baraye. But, as The Demon, also known as Gene Simmons, said, let modern day 'poetry' take its due course. I cannot force the industry to change overnight, nor can I be the final authoritative voice on the matter. Let contemporary music remerge as a medium in which true meaning and emotion can infiltrate the ears of the world’s people once more. It is on that day, that I will finally rejoice; indeed, there will be a brighter day where I will finally rest my cynical judgement, rid myself of sporadic eye twitches, cleanse my memories of the midnights imbued with the unbearable pain and excessive torture of tossing and turning over this god forsaken reality, and finally bask in the glory of pure musical sensation.
Bibliography:
Grow, Kory (2016). Gene Simmons Skewers Pop Charts, Is ‘Looking Forward to Death of Rap.’ The Rolling Stone, 17 March. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/gene-simmonsskewers-pop-charts-is-looking-forward-to-death-of-rap-238027/. Vivarelli, Nick. (2023). Iranian Protest Song ‘Baraye’ Wins Grammy as Iran’s Supreme Leader Announces Amnesty For Jailed Activists. Variety, 6 February.https://variety.com/2023/global/ news/iran-protest-song-baraye-grammy-amnesty-jailed-activists-1235514072/.
Works Referenced:
Bee Gees. (1978). More Than a Woman [Song]. On Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack. Los Angeles; California. Elliot, T.S. (1915). The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/ poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock. Gaynor, Gloria. (1978). I Will Survive [Song]. On Love Tracks. Los Angeles; California. Hajiour, Shervin. (2022). Baraye [Song]. On Baraye. Babolsar; Iran. LL Cool J. (1996). Doin’ It. [Song]. On Mr. Smith. New York City; New York. Mauboy, Jessica. (2019). Little Things [Song]. On Hilda. Australia. Peaches & Herb. (1978). Shake Your Groove Thing. [Song]. On 2 Hot!. Studio City; California. Styles, Harry. (2019). Falling [Song]. On Fine Line. Los Angeles; California. The Four Tops. (1973). Are You Man Enough?. [Song]. On Main Street People. California.
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Vivarelli 2023.
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by Nikki Li
A town with a river view 68
Winter Song
by Feronia Ding 丁雯熙
Always at the edge of life shifting slowly away don’t want the tears or the joy or the love don’t want any of it June is so cold but you’ll wish for winter when it gets to January (oppressive & identical to every January that came before) for now you want to go home and you will Godwilling write a song about winter pretend you’re an acolyte contemplate all the ways you should be better what does your body need can you feed its hunger? read a book feel nostalgic for what should have been A cliché but you’re fluent in those conventionality seems to suit you it must be prophetic then doomed to echo but never to speak imagine you’re the breeze that travels between the leaves always moving forward observe the honeyeaters flitting about on the train tracks the garden is beautiful if you just squint a little let the light pour in through the kitchen window Wash the dishes just so you have something to do with your hands itching to touch and hold and love Go on for a little longer why not
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Afterword '... Mourning all the lives I did not live – and all the lives I could.' Poetry Entry: Grief Clings to Me Like Smoke WATTLE us this. What does a journal of prose, poetry, non-fiction and art, contribute to the average student’s life? A life overcome by academic writing and potentially, recreational reading? As human beings we are continuously telling stories – even if we don’t identify as working writers. We live them out and breathe them in, consuming them until we become renewed versions of ourselves whilst our past selves are left behind in the process of reading. The lives you do not live, or cannot live, can still be experienced. In Wattle 2023, there is no limit to what you can vocalise – sunshowers, rain, musical melodies, cyberpunk, childhood, romance, heartbreak, grief and growth. We even have published a piece in transcript form! Our BIPOC contributors have flourished and nourished themselves on “the food of [stories]” (yes, at Wattle we dare to paraphrase Shakespeare). The boundaries of word count or editorial notes reminding contributors to avoid digressing into other, yet equally intriguing, subtopics did not obstruct them from conveying their authorial intentions. The BIPOC experience is not just recounted in an attempt at fulfilling the calls for “diversity”. It is because we all deserve to be seen and heard, no questions asked. Wattle strives to spotlight a variety of ethnic voices that share similarities as well as differences in histories, cultures, languages, struggles and achievements. Our aim is to showcase how BIPOC are not a monolith that can be succinctly described to fit one stereotype. For instance, we artistically capitalised on the motif of food in our aesthetic to reclaim the common narrative where the ethnic experience is typically accessed by others through food and cuisine. Of course, it is a gateway, but that doesn’t mean food is what we only have to offer. This journal is by and for BIPOC, however we welcome all to read and experience the lives they “did not live”, though we do ask you to respect, and handle with care, the stories and words shared within these pages. It is not an easy task to recall, reimagine and reconstruct lives and experiences, fictional and otherwise, when you exist in spaces that have been, and continue to be, unwelcoming, colonial and hostile. And yet, we carry on in small acts of resistance through such words which celebrate difference and find joy in instances of commonalities. 70
And so, thank you to our contributors and editors for sharing parts of themselves, while also being open to being critical of those experiences. It is through the vibrancy, talent, and skill which each and every single one of you has brought to the table that Wattle 2023 was woven. We are so, so grateful for everyone’s time, patience and efforts. Special acknowledgement and thanks must also go to our amazing creative directors Yasodara and Dayeon, without whom this journal would not have come together as beautifully as it has, and to Melody and Faye, our lovely editors-inchief, for their tireless hard work and leadership in bringing together this wonderful team of creatives – we deeply appreciate all you have done to puzzle the tapestries of this journal together. And finally, to our readers, thank you for carefully making your way through our little big labour of love. We hope you have been able to find a safe space to both recognise yourself and experience an instance in a life you have not led. We hope the stories found here encourage you to continue to tell your own stories, and you remember that this will always be a space that welcomes these stories with open arms. With love, & Sandra Kallarakkal Valerie Chidiac Wattle 2023 General Editors
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About the editors
!"#$%&'($)* (黃珮嵐) is a final year Media and Communication student with a second major in International Relations. She takes on the world with her daily cup (sometimes cups) of coffee in her hands. You might usually find her working in Marketing/Public Relations, but she will always go home to publications and her cat. +,&"'-,)* is a 2nd year student majoring in English and German. She is currently obsessed with hyperspecific memoirs (so, lots of Annie Ernaux) and consuming media in which nothing of note happens. She is also thoroughly enjoying mooncake season! .,)%/,'0,##,/,11,# ! "#is a fourth year Education/Arts student who lives and works on unceded Bidjigal land. When not attempting to make uninterested high-school students interested in the joys of literature, she enjoys moon-gazing on the balcony and curating mood-specific Spotify playlists. Currently, she edits poetry at Voiceworks, and has previous experience editing and/or writing for several USYD student publications. " is a second-year Arts/Advanced Studies student 2,#"/3"'453%3,6'! (majoring in relations – International and Industrial/Human Resources – what other relations did you think?). You may have read her Honi articles or asked about her connection to Matilda’s player Alex Chidiac. She is honoured to contribute to Wattle’s legacy and wishes to instantly find a free desk at Fisher, preferably with a charging outlet. 7%"#3)"'45,3 (蔡颖玲) is a final year Media and Communications student with a second major in Psychology. She has written for Honi Soit and Pulp and is passionate about platforming minority groups and their stories. When she’s not writing concert reviews or running a book club, you can find her crawled up in bed, playing 1989 and Midnights on repeat. !"#"$%&'#($") (勝家雅子) is a second year Law/Arts student and an avid reader of a wide range of genres, though partial to creative non-fiction and a good murder mystery. Mainly surviving through drinking teas and iced coffees, they one day hope to continue to edit publications and write more frequently. *'+(%,+- is a final-year English major. She’s a hopeless romantic who spends her free time lost in love poetry. Her dream? To live a cottage-core life as a Victorian woman. 72
.#+/+0"%1"/$'#( is a final year Medical science student majoring in physiology and minoring in procrastination. She has previously been EIC for ACAR Honi 2021, editor for Wattle 2022 and artist for various publications among other things which has led her to be Lead editor for prose team this year. Her background equips her with the depth of understanding to discern the layers of stories every piece of art holds. 23"+#(%456 (許育琪) is a second-year Science/Law student majoring in psychology who has been painfully pedantic about writing for as long as she can remember. She is open to reading practically any genre of literature but holds a special place in her heart for introspective metafiction and adjectives before abstract nouns. 1'7(#/%4'"-8 is an emerging writer, amateur photographer and aspiring English teacher from South-Western Sydney. A lover of stories (multicultural or otherwise), when he is not wasting camera film or teaching Shakespeare, he is working on his debut novel with extreme productivity. Or so he says. 93+:(%;"#0 is a third year Arts/Law student majoring in Criminology. She loves to read and write poetry and is very excited about the prospect of reading so much of it (for free!) for Wattle. Some of her favourite poets include Mary Oliver, Jane Hirshfield, and Taylor Swift <3. She’s worked as a poetry editor for Wattle for the last three years and can’t wait to read the 2023 version. <+:'3(%*$"-8 is a third-year student who enjoys reading, photographing her pet parrots and adding to her postcard collection. Currently very obsessed with Fuecoco from the latest Pokemon starters. =:'%&"6/+5/" (ᜁᜃᜓ ᜊᜂᜆᜓᜐ᜔ᜆ) is a 2nd year Liberal Arts and Science student majoring in Linguistics and Medicinal Chemistry. This is their first time working on a student publication but works externally in KAPWA magazine. If they’re not making convoluted coffee drinks, they’ll be enjoying the suns rays or baking bread! 2$"#3+(%2$'> (周卓慧) is a recent graduate in Arts/Advanced Studies in INGS, where her supervisor reluctantly said yes to adding cuss words in her thesis. Outside of work she can usually be found at a beach/pool with her emotional support water bottle and romcom book of the week. ,'5(?$+-(%@((%(李徾汶) is in the third year of her media and neuroscience degree, you will typically find her in the theatre or writing or editing an article or filming instead of studying. 73
A"--B%C"DE"-+ is an English and Sociology student and an aspiring academic. He enjoys writing across the literary, poetic and theatrical fields and is fascinated by topics of biculturalism, masculinity, theatre, and ethnicity. Currently, Danny works closely with the Dramatic Society (SUDS) as its 2023 Vice President and also writes extensively for Honi Soit. His favourite quote is, 'Hope will never be silent'. C"5'E"#"%is a second-year Medical Science student, majoring in Visual Arts. Her work traverses cultural commentary, brownness, selfhood and equality. A cross between a tortoise and a laughing kookaburra, the aptly named Yasodara is a dully chaotic creature with a tendency to guffaw at the faintest trace of clever punnery and satire. When not in her usual habitat, surrounded by paint palettes and her trusty easel, you will find her pondering the origins of life on Earth. A"B('-%!(' is an undergraduate student with a range of interests from English and History, to Education, Law and Journalism. She is always keen to learn more about postcolonialism, cultural identities and the experiences of women and immigrants. She has experience editing publications and is excited to share her love for art through Wattle. Her favourite comfort shows are Community and Gilmore Girls, both stacked with endless pop culture references. !$"-(B%F"-8 is a second-year Environmental Studies/Biological Design student and spends most of her time looking for or reading different fictional stories on her phone, eating noodles and being a chronic night owl. This is her first time working on an editorial team and is keen to give it a go whilst having fun. G(3+55"%@(( is a third year majoring in History who is endlessly curious about the world and determined to learn everything about anything which vaguely interests her. Her daily goals as of late are to have fun and wake up early to enjoy the sunlight before it gets too hot. 9-8(3"%H6 (许卓悦) is a Chinese-New Zealander who dabbles in art and writing in
her free time. She finds particular inspiration in her family, her culture, and looming deadlines.
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About the contributors
!"#$%&'()*&+,-).&is a final semester Commerce student cosplaying as an Arts student. He is a fervent consumer of niche print media, films where nothing happens, and his friends’ Spotify playlists. Right now, his art is informed by kitschy children’s book illustrations and using bright yellow as a neutral. 8,9,/3),':,;%5,),'is a first year who is currently trapped in a serious degree that sheds a rather gloomy societal perspective (don’t worry, she finds it very interesting though). Creative writing is her way of romanticising the world to remind her that not everything is doomed because of institutionalised injustice. She also loves sushi which helps with the pessimism (a little). <+00+%@+ is a big fan of strawberries, matcha lattes and staying inside when it’s raining. Currently and always dreaming about living by the sea. GI%.I%4"- is an aspiring writer who also happens to be a third-year Education student studying English and Latin. He enjoys reading and writing, but doesn’t seem to do enough of either. 9/':%G"3'6 utilizes writing to explore and reflect on the complex world. She enjoys writing about real and bizarre interactions with strangers. Atoc loves experimenting with her writing style and developing new worlds. !,/<,'=3>,?3 is a fourth-year Education/Arts student who has a passion for literature and history. She thoroughly enjoys reading fantasy and sci-fi novels, watching horror films, playing Dungeons and Dragons, and conquering a good game of Scrabble! Her work has featured in EDSOC’s Drylight and she is currently working on a fantasy novel. 2$"#3+(%2$'> (周卓慧) is a recent graduate in Arts/Advanced Studies in INGS, where her supervisor reluctantly said yes to adding cuss words in her thesis. Outside of work she can usually be found at a beach/pool with her emotional support water bottle and romcom book of the week. J(#'-+"%A+-8 (丁雯熙) is a first-year Arts student, majoring in English and Film Studies. She enjoys reading and writing poetry in her spare time and can often be found browsing bookstores or record shops on the weekend, even when she doesn’t have the money for it! She loves Ocean Vuong, Mary Oliver, Richard Siken – all the classics – and hopes to publish a poetry collection one day. 75
G(3+55"%@(( has an uncanny knack for incorporating personal interests into academic work and will admit that the only reason this essay exists is because she wanted to write about Hozier even if only tangentially. Coincidentally, she shares the same birthday as him. 9-8(3"%H6 (许卓悦) is a Chinese-New Zealander who dabbles in art and writing in her free time. She finds particular inspiration in her family, her culture, and looming deadlines. G(3'EB%F'-8 (黃珮嵐) has written for multiple student publications before, including Honi Soit and AVENUE. But she is still intimidated by how others might perceive her words, and in this case, illustrations and photography. However, she hopes to step outside of her comfort zone and make herself proud! A"--B%C"DE"-+ is an English and Sociology student and an aspiring academic. He enjoys writing across the literary, poetic and theatrical fields and is fascinated by topics of biculturalism, masculinity, theatre, and ethnicity. Currently, Danny works closely with the Dramatic Society (SUDS) as its 2023 Vice President and also writes extensively for Honi Soit. His favourite quote is, 'Hope will never be silent'.
Special thanks to illustrators @,A$%,/,B'How Long Shall We Walk, Poetry of the Present Period: A Perverse Predicament, Stolen Joy, Your audio guide to Wattle 2023
C,&"$)'."$: Rainmaker, Time & Time Again: The Function of Civil Rights Anthems in the Pursuit of Liberty 7)*"#,'DE (许卓悦): 0. Sunshower, Cars 2: Tokyo Drift: A Techno-Orientalist Overview !"#3AA,'F""B'Grief Clings to Me like Smoke, God grew tired of us .5,)"&'(,)*B'I Have Been Seated for Eight Years, Winter Song'
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Cover Artist Statement
by Miles Long Huỳnh
If you’re searching for where the fabric between this world and the next is the thinnest – in Australia – look no further than the Tasmanian winter. During a 9-day trip in July, I had a sort of creative epiphany. Between being astonished by Cradle Mountain and chugging long blacks from Banjo’s, I realised I had stopped making art just for the sake of making art. Everything I created was for something, someone, some publication, some assignment... so I started to draw. The cover art before you is composed of elements as pure of a brain dump as I could muster up during my time there; expressions as visceral and innate as I could sketch. Of course, reworks and editing has shaped it into printability but each piece can be traced to a monument, a piece of jewellery, a rock, a signpost, a seashell, a dream, or a feeling from lutruwita. At risk of sounding too Eat Pray Love, to have the opportunity to be informed by land in such a wholly revelatory way is something I’ll always be grateful for. I'm not particularly religious but I believe that if God had an office, it would be among the penguins at the shores of Bicheno.
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Special thanks to Angela Xu and Jamaica Leech, and all the editors that came before, for their wisdom, guidance and patience. To our editors and contributors, Thank you again for letting us join you on your creative endeavours. And to the SASS team for their support. And thanks to The University of Sydney Union The Sydney Arts Students’ Society The Sydney University Press
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