The Raven - Winter 2019 - The Anonymous Issue

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

Christmas Day. December 25th, 2018.

It’s around 9 am and I feel my phone ringing from under the covers about a foot from my hand on the bed. I sit up, grab the huge clunky hotel room remote control and mute the tv.

Looking down at the screen that’s now vibrating in my hand, I see the person calling me is my Aunt Deniece. For a split second I think about ignoring the call. I don’t want anymore drama. I’m tired of all the updates. I just want to keep my peace here in this room and be still. Alone. I don’t need anybody else calling me to see how I’m doing or to ask if I’ve visited my mother today, I think. But I answer anyway. I’d flown thousands of miles to be here and don’t really have anything better to do.

This time she calls my name for my undivided attention and it sounds more like a question being forced out of her mouth this time, too.

“Hello,” I answer. The word sounds like a question even though I already know who’s there.

They’re all at the hospital because my mom has finally died after all of this. My face flashes hot and my eyes well so heavily my silent hotel room becomes a blur.

“Good Morning, Candice,” Aunt Deniece replies, pausing to wait for me to say it back. I don’t. There’s a beat of awkward silence. “Candice,” she continues. This time she calls my name

“Yes?” “I, uh... we’re at the hospital here. And, uh, your momma’s gone on to be with The Lord, baby,” she says gently, pausing again for me to say something back. I try to swallow the giant lump that immediately forms in my throat. It doesn’t move.

My mom is dead.

“Um..okay.” The tears flood over and out like water from a broken levy. “Okay,” I say again. My body starts trembling with my voice as I fumble trying to figure out what else to say. “Thanks for telling me.”

helpless, in that hospital bed when I last saw her. Most of the time I’m exhausted every day trying to be a person with responsibility while my anxiety about what I’d never had in a mom replays in my head at all times. A lot of mornings I feel weak having to get dressed after unsuccessfully trying to sleep the night before but having to show up to work early and smiling at all of you in the hallways. Not having much to say when asked how I’m doing or if I’m okay.

All of us have had experiences that we’ll never forget. Big moments that have changed us forever. Many us might call the memory of those things ‘bad’ but it’s amazing what we’ve learned from these moments when we really think about it. On my trip back to my childhood home over winter break I really learned about how sensitive I am and that, even though I’m an adult, I need to protect myself from things and places that hurt me.

CANDICE AT AGE 2

“We’re all here. If you want to come over to the hospital. We’re all here,” Aunt Deniece knudges. I tell her I’ll come and hang up. Immediately I regret saying this. I remember that it’s not what I want to do. I’d already been in that hospital room yesterday where I’d kissed my mother’s forehead, held her hand, and left a letter telling her I love her, I forgive, and saying goodbye. After calling a close friend and my father to tell them she’s gone, I text my Aunt Deniece back to tell her I’m not coming anymore. She replies urging that we, as a family, should be together. I ignore it. For the rest of the day I just lay in the same place in my hotel room bed and cry.

The next morning I’m on an 8am flight back to New York.

Before winter break, I’d planned to be relaxing in some faraway country by myself for the first time ever. My plan was to relax and explore a foreign place that I’d never been to after a long year of hard work. Unfortunately, for me, this break was complete trash. Leading up to the day my mother died I had to make a lot of tough decisions after learning she’d just been diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer. Was I going to call her to see how she was doing? Did I want to be the person who decides what the doctors do for her? Would I drop everything to fly all those miles to tell my mom I loved her and forgive her? How would I feel about myself if I never went before she died? Within a few weeks I was on an airplane to Peoria, Illinois, knowing this would happen.

I was angry, confused, and still trying to be strong.

After a long, hard life of addiction, struggle, and our rocky relationship her time was finally up. It’s been a little over a month now and everything isn’t okay. I struggle daily to get out of bed and to leave my apartment. I cry randomly and feel sensitive when I see people with their moms. I get sad when I think about how she looked, so frail and

That I have a right to be safe and it’s okay for me to do what’s best for me even when it doesn’t look like what everyone expects me to do.

And I was reminded that I can’t save anyone, so it’s okay to love people from afar. Even if it’s my mom.

For our third annual Anonymous Issue of the Raven magazine, these brave writers went through this exact process: they thought about a moment that changed them forever—one that they’ve never told anyone (or many) people about—and they reflected on what they learned about themselves now that they’ve survived. I feel so proud of every writer in the Raven Magazine class for finding the courage to think about the hard stuff. As the theme suggests, you will see no student names on the stories you read here. To give us all a chance to read and think about these stories without judgement, the identities of the writers were kept private. Read on for stories about sex, dating, loss, abortion, depression, money issues, breaks up, alcoholism, domestic abuse, and more. Take it all in and try your best to be open. And if you find anything you start to read too triggering (meaning it puts you into a dark or bad place that feels too unsafe for you to handle), stop reading and take care of you.

Use the hashtags to guide you and look up more on the internet about these topics if you choose.

The words will be here when you’re ready.

WITH BIG LOVE AND SOLIDARITY,

CANDICE ILOH / EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 5

¨Take me to the hospital.¨ I tell my mom.

I have. I wipe my face as my sister and

She looks at me like I’m a ghost. My little

mom come back into the room. They tell

sister comes with us as we walk to

my mom that I have a bad stomach virus

Lincoln Hospital and wait in the

and that I have appointments I can

emergency room. They finally call my

attend by myself. Planned Parenthood. I

name but they only tell me to pee in a

hear about it in school but I never

cup. I’m finally in a room as they run

thought I’d have to go.

test results on my urine when the doctor tells my mom and little sister to leave the room.

It’s my first appointment and I'm shaking. They take a sonogram and they tell me I’m six weeks. ¨Do you want a copy?¨ I feel myself breaking.

Part of me wants a picture but I know the last thing I want is attachment to ¨I’m 15. I can't have a baby now,¨ I say

the thing that I made. Back in the

while tears fall down my face. For the

waiting room I wait for the doctor to tell

first time in my life I'm truly scared.

me my options. The most effective and

They give me a paper with a list of

easy way is the pill. All I'm thinking

abortion clinics. It's the only option

about is stopping myself from losing

because important things were happening in school. I had already missed the PSAT’s.

When everything got bad I stayed home for a week. Before I’d taken the pregnancy test I went back to school for a bit and people started looking at me in shock. You look sick. Oh my God Jess you look so skinny, you look unhealthy. I wanted to run and hide, just cry. Instead I just smiled and told them that I knew. That I would go to the hospital to see what was wrong.

Having an abortion changed me and the relationships I have. Now my heart aches with what if’s. I have mood swings. One minute I'll be okay talking like everything’s fine and then the next I’m not wanting to talk or be next to anyone.

I don’t trust or show love. I built this wall so high not even the people closest to me can get weight, a side effect pregnant and losing my appetite. I want to eat. I don't want to be scared anymore. I take the pill and go to the pharmacy

through. My thoughts haunt me more then ever.

All I think about is believing that if I’d just kill myself I wouldn’t feel this hurt.

to pick up painkillers. As soon as I get home I throw up and start to feel bleeding. I know the pill is working.

Levi, the boy I thought I fell in love with turned into a stranger. We aren't together. He’s single, but I’m in a committed relationship with him. I was in love with him but I knew he doesn't feel the same way. All we had was history, sex and used-to-be feelings. I knew a baby wouldn’t make him stay with me. It’d only make him resent me more. He knew but he didn’t care about me or what could have been our baby.

My mindset is different I don’t allow myself to get attached to people. I’m scared of someone that I grow close to leaving again. I tend to catch attitudes often. I don’t like to, but I don't want anyone to get too close to me. No one in my family knows because it’s hard to tell your mom or your siblings that you had an abortion at 15.

My main focus is myself and my happiness. I never thought that the person I was in April would turn into the person I am today. I try not to give up or show weakness for my little sister. I try hard not to disappoint people because I feel as if they were to find out they would hate and resent me. I don’t like to show my emotions, but I try to stay afloat. I keep everything to myself. I

I was starting to feel nauseous, and the smell of weed started to make me gag. I was starting to feel sick but I paid it no mind to it. I didn't get my period but I thought little of it. I started to throw up and my stomach hurt. But at the time didn't think I was pregnant because I thought when

don’t talk about what I’ve been through and it drives me crazy. I try talk to my friends or anyone in general but I feel as if they don’t understand. My parents and siblings will disown me. But I realized that, though I want people to be here for me,

you're pregnant you get weird cravings and gain weight. I was the complete opposite. I lost more weight in a week than people hope to achieve in months. I didn't want to go to the hospital

7

#DATING #FRIENDSHIP #TRUST

One day I go on kik and I see my

wanting to express my feelings,

girlfriend changed her profile

and punch the mirror in the

picture. I text her like, “Who’s that?”

bathroom that I know won’t break from a punch. Tears of anger are coming through my eyes. With many emotions flowing through my head, I’m not sure what should I do. I finally grab my phone and tell my homies what had happened and also tell them to block Carlos on all social media.

I also tell them, “lets jump him.”

They’re irritated but also

I text her back like, “Stop lying, I know that’s Carlos.” I see the hand

shocked that he’s done

I notice—the hand that belongs to my best friend. Carlos and Ashley are holding hands in her profile picture and I’m so pissed. I start sending death threats to Carlos, knowing damn well I ain’t gonna kill him. It’s just that I’m so mad.

Ashley’s cousin, Natasha, makes a groupchat with Ashley, Carlos and I. Natasha sends a picture of

supposed to be brothers. We link

Ashley and Carlos kissing. Ashley and Carlos laughing at me on how salty I am. I told all of them to “Smdh.” Then I leave the group chat. I also texted Carlos that I’m going to get my crew to jump him.

I run to my bathroom angrily,

something like this. We’re all up and walk together to where Carlos lives. We have a plan that one of my friends geso in front of the door, so that way he would open it, and then we just jump him right there. But he doesn’t open the door. I make my way back home and my brother arrives about 10 minutes after me. I open my room door and immediately to tell him what happened. I tell him what we tried to do to Carlos.

For the first time ever, I had a

I look at life like if girls don’t give

girlfriend. My girlfriend was kinda

me hints, they have to tell me

chubby, but she was pretty to me

they like me or I wouldn’t notice.

just the way she was. She was

Or if we don’t have a lot in

Puerto Rican with dark brown wavy

common, I won’t talk to them

hair. She didn’t go to my middle

because they would probably

school though. Life felt great. My

play me if I talk to them first. I’ve

girlfriend and I had already been

become even more antisocial. I

texting about life ahead of us. I

usually don’t talk first and I

passed the 6th grade and was

learned how to choose better

advancing to the 7th grade. My

friends. If you’re a guy and we

mom and dad were proud of me

don’t talk like that, and you see

because I had summer school in

me, you better reach your hand

5th grade. So 6th grade going to

out first, because I’ll walk right

7th grade made them very happy

past you. I started to think if you

because failing to passing was a

aren’t my mans you’re a dub.

great improvement.

Even though Carlos was my mans, I never expected him to do

Before this moment I was happy and trusted everyone. I would always go to Carlos’ house or he would come to mine. Carlos was a very funny guy—aggressive also.

It’s like he was unpredictable at those times. We had a lot of fun.

The week before, my father had taken me out shopping for sneakers and clothes. Everything was so great. Except one thing— my girlfriend was making excuses to not see me. This is what was holding me back from being fully happy, but I tried not to think about it too much.

something like that. We were so close and I miss that bond a little.

But the fact that he did that to me got me angry and we’re never going to have that ever again again. The trust isn’t there anymore. Growing up I was told to forget and forgive. That’s not how I think of it, I think of it as forgive but remember. And that’s what I did. But I didn’t allow us to be close like before.

9

I enter the apartment looking around for a few seconds. I hear the door shutting behind me. My dad walks past and travels to the back, to meet up with my friend’s dad. My friend’s mom followed behind my dad. The decorations on the walls scream “Christmas” and then I notice the tree due to the lights wrapped around it but my attention is mostly on the walls. I look down and see some damaged wrapping paper on the floor.

excerpt

11

LIKE CAR CRASHES #LOSS #GRIEF #FAMILY #ILLNESS

Ringggggg… the house phone is ringing. Ringggg… Someone pick it up, I say to myself. Ringggg…

“YO, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” I ASK.

APPRECIATE YOUR LOVED ONES WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

13

7:20 PM #VIRGINITY #SEX #DATING #FRIENDSHIP #DEPRESSION #LOVE When the bell rang at 3:53 pm I started to walk toward my house. I was deciding if I should go to my house or not because I didn't wanted to go home for some reason. Suddenly my phone vibrates against my thigh. I pulled out the phone and checked the message from my friend Emely asking what I was doing and if I minded pulling up to her house. I agree to without even thinking about it and I take out my phone to call my dad, asking him if I can go out with a friend.

“Sure, just be back by 7:20 pm and dont be late,” he says, hanging up.

I pass by my house and then head toward my Emely’s house. As I make my way to her house I put a timer at 7:00pm to remind me to head out of her house. Then I just keep on walking toward her house and as I was nearly around her block I texted her.

“COME DOWNSTAIRS, I'M FREEZING!” She replies with a laughing emoji and says, “I'll be right there. Hold up.”

She opens the door and hugs me for a while. I follow her up the stairs and she takes my hand showing me the way through her house. She pushes me toward her couch and turns on the tv. After a while she leans back and asks me to hold her.

“I'm so cold.” So I put my arms around her.

I look outside her window and saw the street lights are on. I whip out my phone and check the time. 4:40 pm. I still got time. Suddenly she’s moving like a worm and starts kissing me. I knew that it was about to go down.

Once we’r e done I feel my heart pounding dramatically. She gets off of me and tells me she’l l be right back. She rushes toward the bathroom

breathless and locks the door. I, on the other hand, look for my phone. 5:48 pm. I pick up my shirt from the carpet and put it back on. Emely unlocks the bathroom door and walks back to me.

“Was that your first time?”

I respond with a firm yes and ask her the same question.

She takes a while to respond. “Of course.

You are my first.”

I check the time again and it’s 6:56 pm. I tell her I have to go now. I move out of the blankets and start looking for my shoes. As I do this she looks for my jacket.

She cleans it off with her hands and then puts it on me. As I make my way to the door, I stop her from opening the door and kiss her. I was about to keep going and my alarm goes off. So I open the door and step out. I rush back for another kiss.

“I had a great time with you.”

“Go home stupid, you'll be home late!” We laugh for a bit and I head home. As I got home I headed for the shower. After a while my dad sees me and calls me far away from the hall and asks me what time I got home.

“7:14 pm.” Dad was pleased to hear that.

Before losing my virginity, I always wondered if someone would be willing to stay with me. My friendships were coming to an end and many had stopped texting back. We barely had enough time to hang out like we used to. I wasn't feeling good as usual because all I wanted was to find someone who was willing to give me some love and affection but there wasn't one.

I would also talk to myself every time I was depressed because [I felt like] that's the best medication for fixing your own problems.

I didn't talk to my parents about personal stuff because I was afraid that they wouldn't understand. I didn’t trust my parents because I knew that they would say something like “You'll live.

Trust me, someone will love you.” Or even, “Just let them come to you.” Something accurate like that.

That moment with Emely might seem like she didn’t help anything but she did. She made me re-think twice—even five times—about what my choices are. She made me feel hopeful and I was full of emotional, positive thoughts. I started hugging my mom randomly out of nowhere and telling her that I loved her. She gets surprised every time because she never knows when I’l l do it and she tears up. I wipe her tears off with my wrists and tell her it’s my duty to make you feel appreciated.

15

venessa marco AN INTERVIEW WITH AFRO-CARIBBEAN WRITER

At what age did you realize you wanted to be a poet and why?

I want to say I was eight years old but to be honest I’m one of those corny people who absolutely can’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

What inspired your first poem?

My relationship with my mother inspired my first poem. I had so much left unsaid that I needed to unpack. I relearned her through my writing.

Who are your artistic role models?

I’ve long [let go of] the idea of “role models.” I do, however, live eternally enamored by Basquiat, Nancy Morejon, Toni Morrison and a few others.

How do you prepare yourself to read with such energy and power?

I find that the stage allows me to tap into parts of myself that I typically do not showcase. I often use my poems to say what holds the most truth.I find that truth has a way of shouting itself out.

What general message do you try to push through your poems?

I just want to share my truth in hopes it moves others to speak their own.

If there’s one thing you want people to acknowledge by reading your work, what would it be?

I just want to be seen. I focus on what moves me, what I feel like needs to be addressed, often times it moves others. Sometimes it goes unnoticed all together. At the end it exists and in that moment I do as well. That is enough.

Where did you grow up and how does it impact your poetry?

I grew up in both Cuba and Puerto Rico. My childhood was political, one island a colony the other a communist ideal. I think poetry offered me an opportunity to find my voice both within my own body and the soils I call home.

Any advice for young aspiring writers?

What process did you go through and how long did it take you to write Black & Brown Girls Gone Missing? What was the editing process like for you-- how did you get all of your points together that you wanted to say?

What is something you hope for the future?

I think I’ve been writing that particular poem my whole life. It was always a reality that black and brown girls are left unseen and uncared for, when asked to share I quickly jumped at the opportunity. I wanted to advocate for the millions that are still missing that are not being looked for and will not return. The time frame awarded was limited and therefore I chose to be concise while editing. There was a lot more I wanted to say but, alas, there never seems to be enough time.

Write. I could elaborate and be really deep but it would be a waste of time. The best advice I could give you is to just write. Forgive yourself for the time you spend away from the page and look forward to the time you return.

DISCIPLINE. I’M WORKING ON THAT.

17

EXC ERPT

19

#LOSS #GRIEF #FAMILY #MOTIVATION

I JUST STAND THERE It’s a sunny day, all smiles and laughs until the phone rings. I pick it up and hear screaming so I rush into my mom’s room and hand her the phone. I go wait outside her door to see what the fuss is about. All of a sudden I hear crying. I go in the room and ask what's wrong and she doesn't answer me.

So I go into my room and start to look out my window and, for some odd reason, it was like I knew what happened without anyone really telling me. I go back to my mom’s room and she tells me that...

MY GRANDMOTHER PASSED AWAY. For a moment I just stand there and the thought of it doesn't hit me until I think about all the phone talks we had. At this point, my mind is racing and I go back to my room and tear up. I tell myself there's no way this is true.

My home was always filled with joy and excitement. Everyone was always in a good mood, except for when little disagreements happened. My life was going pretty well.

There were barely any huge bumps in the road. I barely ever saw my mom having a bad day. She would always talk about Grandma and tell us stories about the things they both did when my mom was younger. She would always call Grandma when things weren’t going well. My grandfather passed away before I was even born so my mom only had my grandmother and other family that was back home in Africa.

Me and my grandmother had a very strong bond. We would talk on the phone about three times a week and have long conversations. She would always say how she wanted me to be something in life. The only thing was that I never actually got to meet her. We would have both our laughs and our serious talks. My grandmother was the only woman other than my mom who I had a close bond with. Up until she passed I’d always been active and motivated. I always had the drive to do the things that I loved to do.

Days after my grandma passed away my mother went to Africa to go to her funeral. I couldn't sleep at night during these days. In school, I became even more laid back and didn't talk to anyone. After school I came straight home. I lost my appetite for everything and I started to lose motivation for the things I loved to do and I wasn't as active as I was before. Fast forward to today, I look at life from a different perspective. Grandma passing made me realize that the closest people to you can be gone so fast. They can be here one minute and gone the next. Family is a great thing to have. This moment also made me realize how much the death of a loved one can impact me. I [had to] try not to let it get the best of me. I’m starting to feel motivated again.

NOW I FEEL LIKE IF I DON'T BECOME SUCCESSFUL IN LIFE I LET MY GRANDMOTHER DOWN.

21

IN THE DARK #SEXUALASSAULT #FAMILY #FAMILYSECRETS #METOO

I cover myself with the blanket and turn on the lights. things could've been different.

DEAR READER,

perky person

“Now I’m just a

with ambitions to make [the life I want] a reality, more than just these scrutinizing dreams I was once having. I’ve grown mentally by observing and experiencing many obstacles like having no father figure, feeling and being abandoned by family and “friends”, being heartbroken over and over. I’ve witnessed my care constantly being shared and shown to many, but being abused and denied by most of those many.

I can’t say I’m perfect, as we all know, but I can say that I’ve grown and I’m happy with who I’ve become.

Stronger, more independent, more of an alien and less like a “normal” human being.

I’ve given myself a title and goals that others aren’t able to s e e . I ’ v e g i v e n m y s e l f secret missions to reach the stars. I just can’t wait until I strap on to the spaceship and see which star

I land on first.”

Love,

ANONYMOUS