Sweet | Charcoal Magazine Issue 2

What makes your life sweet?

Now especially, the need to reflect on the positives in life and for what and whom we are grateful feels more urgent. This issue we received an overwhelming amount of support and submissions from students expressing what brings them joy. For some, family plays an integral role in their identities and definitions of happiness. For others, their personal histories and warm nostalgia bring smiles to their faces. To us, food, friendship, and community provide comfort and peace of mind.

We are so humbled to release Sweet, our second issue and follow-up to our debut issue, Mirrors, launched in February 2018. Like any young project Charcoal Magazine has been a lesson in patience and time, but one that is well-learned and well-appreciated. What began as an ambitious idea shared between two best friends has grown into something more significant that embraces new perspectives from diverse voices. We send a big thank you to Innovate@BU for their guidance, to Terry and Christine Noble for their support in making the spring preview zine possible and, lastly, to our contributors. None of this is possible without you.

Thank you for joining us on this beautiful journey. We are so excited to share with you this issue and many more to come.

Peace and well wishes, The Charcoal Executive Board

fruit

Tart, delicious, and satisfying, fruit appears time and time again in literature as symbols for abundance and temptation. When it came time for us to answer the question "What makes life sweet?" we sought to photograph a story that embodies that same sweetness, sensuality and passion—and what’s sweeter than fruit?

PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRADLEY NOBLE ART DIRECTION BY ADIA TURNER

MODELS: KENDALL CASTANEDA, CAS ‘21 BERSABEH MAMO, SAR ‘20

MODELS: SKYLER VERNON, CAS ‘20 KENNETH GIRON, SAR ‘20

MODELS: EMMANUEL REID, CGS ‘18 COM ‘20 VALERIE RICOT, COM ‘19

every moment, a garden ...

WRITTEN BY LENA CAMILLE OTALORA

Lena Camille Otalora is entering her junior year at Boston University as a Film & Production major in the College of Communications with a minor in Comparative Literature in the College of Arts and Sciences. With her background in acting and theater, Lena plans to pursue a career in film-making and contribute to the diversification of narratives and representation in film.

“Love is something cosmic. It’s dizzying and intoxicating. Whether or not the love proved false or complicated or inconsistent or untrue, the moments of tenderness that one enjoys when in love or when experiencing love in any form are precious pieces of space that bring unbridled happiness. These poems explore the sweetness of love and its precious, yet ephemeral fragments of pure elation.”

Prelude to [october]

[Peplum ground, billowing placating over once— twice— satin source; longing’s textile tender & tentative timidity so supple, the foundation for our movements/stances...] mouth fixed— fixed to ‘hello’ and lemon yellow salve sunshine sitting –lounging delightfully at cupid’s bow dampened/glistening now stretching to fill the space —for an upturned crescent moon unfolding bright, bright, bright dips at each corner dips for each finger tip laid lightly –lounging with playfully pressed; now she’s full moon puckering— fill her up.

a kiss liquescent tenderness fiercely drawn in to be collected drip, drip, drip an ointment for the skin

Q+A with Qian Mei

INTERVIEWED BY REMY USMAN PHOTOGRAPHY BY QIAN MEI + EVA VIDAN

Everything. Everything makes me laugh.

It’s no secret that artists are expected to have big personalities—the kind that interrupts, exclaims, and that must express themselves regardless of the situation. Qian Mei, a recent grad from BU’s graphic design program in the College of Fine Arts, is little exception to this rule. To meet Qian would be to hear her before you see her, or perhaps to hear about her from other students. And while she might seem intense or intimidating to some, Qian is genuinely and unapologetically fun.

Born in London, Qian immigrated to the United States with her family when she was little and spent much of her time anticipating her grand future as a garbage collector. According to Qian, she is influenced more by her surroundings than by other people, and according to others, she is excitingly

creative, unafraid, and stubborn in the best way possible.

I first met Qian when we studied abroad in Venice, Italy. Her strong voice carries throughout her work and, much like herself, consistently exudes color and vibrancy. One specific color—coined by friends as Qian Yellow—is a recurring element throughout her portfolio, which is concerned mainly with themes of urban development and environmentalism.

Today Qian works at a Cambridge startup focused on bridging diverse social groups within one neighborhood and increasing social capital and political empowerment within communities. On any given day you might spot her biking across the city or training for her next marathon (when she’s not practicing taekwondo).

Talking with the recent grad and graphic designer who once “used two Micron pens in place of chopsticks to eat Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“Qian’s work shows her interest in three dimensions,” says Olivia Gelard, a design student in her class. "Everything she makes has a structural quality to it, and she explores spatial relationships in everything she does…and though she prefers to keep her work impersonal in nature & content, it still reveals a lot about who she is: curious, practical, and inventive."

When you were little what did you want to be when you grow up?

[Chuckles] I have a thing—I have one of those kindergarten assignments where you draw pictures of “when you grow up what do you want to be?” I wanted to be a garbage collector because they wore nice, shiny vests and, like, baseball-shaped caps…So, I wanted to be one of those.” And then I remember in like fifth grade or something I wanted to be a biologist, and a lawyer and like an international ambassador or something. And, I was like: “I can work all three jobs at the same time ‘cause who needs to spend 40 hours a week on one job?” Sigh. So, that was me then. And then, I was gonna be a biology major in high school. [I] did some internships, hated it, then decided senior year I’d apply as an art major and see what happens.

And you like it?

And I like it! But now I’m, like, veering away from art, so what can you do…

What was your first creative memory?

Uh, my family lived in Maryland and we were watching Sound of Music and we had all this blue paper, and I used glitter—like the glitter pens—and did drawings in glitter pens. And we still have those.

So you’re a prodigy all this time. Sure! You can call it that. [Laughing] You could call it prodigy….Terrifying drawings. Would you say you work mostly by hand or by computer?

Ah, that depends. I mean, probably computer, I’m not gonna lie. Like, it’s all computer. Except I do like to do installations so I would like to work more by hand. But, the computer’s just the most convenient way to do things. Like, if you want to mock something up it’s just faster than sketching something. That’s true.

Yeah.

I can only do computer. That’s partially why I chose to study graphic design, I don’t like sketching. I mean I remember freshman year I was in painting with Richard, and he was like—what did he say? He was like: “If you’re a painter you really like to play with the gooey paint and the palette; if you’re a sculptor you like to touch things with your hands; and if you’re a graphic designer you don’t like anything.” And I was like hey, it’s not mutually exclusive!

Do you have a process for starting work? Like, for starting a project?

My process…hmm…[chuckling] I feel like I suck because everyone seems to have a process and it’s kind of just like—I’ll think about it, and then I’ll probably come up with a number of ideas and shut them down ‘cause

they’re stupid as fuck, and then—and then I start it. And that’s it—no, wait, and then I’ll start it and realize that I have no concrete visuals that I’m going for—unless I do—and then I’ll go on, like, Behance, or I’ll go outside or something, and then I’ll look there, and then we start it…There’s no process, I’m sorry. I mean, it’s fine. I’m such a bad designer, I don’t have a process.

I don’t really have a process either. Okay, yeah. Sophomore year, it was second semester sophomore year. The professor made us do a process book and I just remember my process book was like I don’t have a process, I think processes are overrated. We just come up with ideas, and then we do them. And then I remember—it was probably the douchiest process book someone’s ever made. Pretty bad. I think some people really have regimented processes, and some people just flow with it. I don’t think I have…For me that’d be stifling. Yeah, it would be for me. If I have a strict thing for everything, it just wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t work at all. No, man. So, how do you know when something you’ve created is good?

When I’m more excited to work on it. And then if I stop working on it I know that it’s not something I want to work on. Do you feel you’re more intuitive as a designer, or that you’re more intellectual?

I wouldn’t say those two are mutually exclusive. We had one [class] project based on “This American Life”, and that was really interesting because you'd pick a podcast and then make three projects based on the podcast. So it was a lot of analysis and doing research on the subject and mine was kind of thinking philosophically and then mathematically about certain things. And once you understand a topic well enough then it sort of becomes intuitive when a design and topic mesh together. Those are the funnest ones, actually, when it’s gotta do a lot of research, ‘lil background. Those are the funnest ones. That makes sense. Who has most influenced your work? If anyone.

If you’re talking non-graphic design-y, I’m sad to say, just being in Venice. Interesting!

It is. So, I think being in Venice was different

I’m such a bad designer, I don’t have a process.

The view from beneath Qian's bed; a collection of postcards from all over the world, suspended by string and tape.

Like many artists, Qian’s personal style reflects her artistic aesthetic: graphic, geometric, and boldly patterned.

qm

because of how different the urban environment was. And that’s how I started getting interested in urban design. And from urban design that went into urban policy. And then from there, that went into social justice and then equity in cities. So, it started in Venice. Not by any particular person.

Does anything scare you in the area of design or creativity?

Does anything scare me? …Yes! Corporate design. Corporate design scares the balls out of me. That shit shouldn’t exist. Oh my god. It’s like when people who know nothing tell you what to do and then you have to do it ‘cause then it’s your job. Boy, that scares me the most.

What are your thoughts on crowd-funded design? Like with Paula Scher and the Red Hat logo?

See, I mean, that’s where the issue comes in. ‘Cause you have the idea of democratic decision-making and “participant-whatever” which is like a huge deal in a lot of things. But then, if you’re talking about logo design—just logo design—I don’t know how I feel about a democratic process because that shit is an icon. And you need it to look and represent you and not your voting. It just—I don’t know, I just feel like the designer has to take it on this one. You can’t just have a democratic process to make a fucking logo. Uh-uh. No. Right, especially ‘cause I feel like in such a large company everyone has different feelings about what that company stands for. Yeah, you should just at least make a disclaimer: “Your vote may not necessarily be considered at all.” Just do it. I don’t know. It’s like, I was making a logo at the Software and Innovation Application lab for one of the apps we were making for drug overdose interventions and the P.I., Kathleen sumthin’ sumthin’, just kept saying: “This logo is—” I don’t know, she was stuck on the colors and not on the forms so I did it in black and white and then she asked: “Why is this in black and white? I don’t want a logo in black and white.” And she kept wanting to change it back to her own thing, so like, why did you want me? Get out. Anyways. Check yourself before I wreck yourself. So, is there anything you dislike about being a graphic designer? Uh, yeah, I mean people telling me what to do. I dislike being a graphic designer because people then pigeonhole me into doing design work. I’m sure you feel that. As the designer you’re the person who knows how to use Creative Cloud and you’re fucking working at City Hall trying to do actual shit and they’re like: “Hey Qian, how about for your final proj-

ect you design our business cards?” Get out. That’s dumb.

It’s almost like in middle school or high school when your class sees you drawing so that when you have a project that’s making a poster everyone asks “Do you wanna be on our team?!” And then you have to do it, even if you’re a really shitty artist. It takes me twice as long in my policy classes and my sustainability classes to do a group project because I’m the one who’s making the P-P-T and, like, that’s on me ‘cause I volunteered ‘cause I was like I don’t trust you to make a good P-P-T. But also, it’s sad. I was spending so long on a design, crafting those P-P-T’s.

Who is your favorite graphic designer? Of all time? Sure. Or right now. Well, I will say out of thesis I liked Selina’s the best.

I love their stuff. The book especially. Yeah, and the content in the book was really well-written and really well-done. I was listening to their process while they were doing it, and they compressed some images—they took a JPEG from a page of their InDesign file and then compressed it into a JPEG to create the weird meme, and then they put that as the page itself. Super cool…Um, I don’t know I still think Paula Scher is my favorite visually. [Her work] is just very textured and busy, yet controlled. And it’s really hard to do that. You know, her earlier ‘90s, ‘00’s work. What do you think about her current work? What do you think—more specifically—about the Expedia logo redesign? Have you seen it?

Check Pentagram’s Instagram.

Oh, God. I hate that she’s with someone now. Has she not been for a long time? I thought she was. I’m just a fan of the New York posters. That’s the pinnacle of all things, I look back to that for anything.…What was the previous Expedia logo?

A plane. The new one’s trendy. I think that’s what they were doing. It’s trendy in that it uses this new font and it’s bubbly and round. They made it. Oh, they made this font? Oh, so the ‘e’ is custom?

Yeah. Basically everything else is almost Futura, I think. Look at the ‘u’ and the ‘o’, they do kinda—I mean, I don’t...Is this supposed to be like a cloud, like an air cloud, like a “woooh!!”? What’s it supposed to be? Ew. I think it’s about, I don’t know, aerodynamic something or other. If you go on their actual

Black boys and girls, please don’t forget the memories of being carefree, of being loved, of pure joy and laughter. Too much is taken away from us to not feel those beautiful emotions again.

Bejeana Breneville is a junior studying Advertising with a minor in African American Studies. She defines herself as a creative and as an activist. As much as she loves being involved in student organizations and activism Bejeana understands the mental toll that both can take and turns to poetry and spoken word as self-care. She believes there is an innocent freedom in writing without deadlines and for no other purpose than for oneself.

@bejbren

Black Girl, Please Remember Summer

I know you remember those Popsicles

The skinny rectangle ones Blue, Raspberry and Grape was the sacred ones Ain’t nobody eating the cough syrup cherry And don’t get me started on pineapple You’ll be lucky if you can trade that one

The ones you have to eat just right; slightly melted Slurping up the juices until it becomes your new lipstick and tongue painted

Usually you hate when your hands are sticky, but you didn’t mind it then Cause you tasted the summer

Your silvery-pink bike handle was a little bent and your chains kept popping on and off But there’s nothing like the sheer thrill of pedaling lighting speed until you got to the peak of the hill, feet stop, arms gripping the handle as you flying down

The beating sun turns to cooling wind, freeing the sweat away, Your knees are scabby, a ring of darkness around your bronzy skin. Sometimes dripping red, sometimes black and purple. Yea it hurt for a bit, but Each one was like a little victory And you never mind Cause it felt like summer

I know you remember that porch

The paint has chipped off and wood pieces are splintering And there’s three steps and somehow within the layout The ten of your cousins has a ‘undesignated’ designated spot Y’all know what the ‘lit shady’ spot was, the “my ass is gonna burn real quick” spot

And the “comfiest the wood is ever gonna be” spot

You’ll sit with a book in your hand, speakers nearby, while the cous play basketball across from you.

Dribbling of the ball, the chatter, chirping of the birds, rustling of the leaves

Perfect white noise and you never mind Cause it sounded like summer

I know you remember those pool parties

The ones you wait when the summer is starting to set, and the smoke from the barbecue Begins to awake your stomach

It was the set-up.

You marinating the meat, cous on grill, Bro #1 on the magic punch and Jello, little cous on cleaning duty. You couldn’t swim, so you tried to look cool by leaning on the pool steps and wading your toes in the icy water until it was hot cool.

You’ll close your eyes a second too long and suddenly felt the water rushing in the canal of your Ears, roller coasting up your nose until all you smell is blue-green.

Chlorine becomes the new hot perfume and you never mind it Cause it smell like summer

I know you remember looking at yourself in the mirror, right That melanin bronzing just right.

Water made it glisten like your new highlighter from Sephora Coconut oil made it shine and gave you the ‘Barbie’ look. The yellows, blues and white made your skin pop

It was the glo-up that winter never gave you and the one that lasted for the first day of school Curls flourishing, skin smooth like butter and hand always moisturize with That dang bath and body lotion! Sometimes your fingers will be slipping around the door handle And you never mind it Cause it felt like summer

You were carefree and black. You embodied ‘Black Girl Magic’ and ‘Black Boy Joy’ It was just you and your neighborhood. They were your family, the ones you hang with everyday, have the dumbest inside jokes Trade Sunkist and gushers with You were in your hub Mom and dad watching from that window in the kitchen Smirking at the kids in being in their own world apologetically. And they never mind it Cause it look like summer.

Sweet black girl, Please remember those summers

Close your eyes and inhale those summers

I know you forgot.

I know you lost the beauty and care freeness of summer. Because it was suddenly taken away from you

With each unarmed melanated boy and girl

Each shot, Each Facebook post

Each video

Each “I felt threatened”

Each “I thought he had a gun”

Each unindicted officer

With each ‘blank’ the numbness rose higher and higher Your neighbors all shared one look—the tired fadeness

The cool of summer and joy of scabby knees and Popsicles no longer filled them

Only the heat of anxiety and the blazing summer no longer bronzing our skins but making Them target.

Summer now feels like a ticking time bomb and each day is the finish line and start line.

Each day is do- over.

The beginning and maybe the end

But please baby girl, don’t let summer be over Remember the taste of sweetly stick blue raspberry pop

The feeling of your knees, of scraping the pavement after riding down the hill

The melodies of the ball, the birds, the speakers, the life in the air

The blue-green chlorine scent that lingers on your hair and skin

The reflection of your golden melanin that only the sun can give

The feeling of summer that makes the air so crisp, colors so vibrant like a vintage Polaroid, that Brings back the bubble that makes summer so longing. Remember that Summer.

“When I draw, the world stops.”

With each new illustration the layers of past drawings shine through from below, creating new forms and colors throughout the sketchbook.

INTERVIEWED BY REMY USMAN PHOTOGRAPHY BY PATRICIA HO

tiara burton desiré graham jo cosio-mercado

nectar

To outsiders, the School of Theater may seem especially peculiar. Partly situated on the third floor of BU's College of Fine Arts building, its classrooms consist of black box theaters coated, as the name suggests, in floor-to-ceiling black paint. For at least three hours each day, screams, squawks, shouts of pain, and laughter punctuate the air, joined by stomping so loud that the walls vibrate. It's trippy— especially at night. Curious, we met with three theater students to learn more about their influences and about what happens within those dark walls.

desiré graham

tiara burton

How do you prepare for a role?

The easiest way for me to start preparing for a role is to read the play twice (I always catch new things the second time) and start learning my lines. It’s hard to act freely with a script in my hand, so I try to have the script memorized as quickly as possible. From there, it’s just a matter of learning what I can bring to the character and where I need to improve. The last role I was cast in was a character from west Africa, which meant that I had to do a bit of dialect training alongside learning my lines.

I had some help from the director and dialect coach, but most of the work was just a matter of researching and mimicking YouTube videos. I was really concerned about [making] the accent as accurate as possible, so that made up for a pretty big portion of my preparation. There were also a couple of dance [and] movement sequences and some minor stunt work in the play, both of which took extra rehearsal time to learn. After that, it was just a matter of rehearsals. I rarely ever prepare for a role alone—it’s always a team effort by my scene partners, the director and anyone else working on the show.

Where do you see yourself in the future?

I’ve been asking myself this question since I came to college…the truth is, I don’t know. When I came to BU, I was dead set on moving to LA once I graduated and work as an actress. Since then, I’ve switched my major to biology with a focus in zoology and a minor in theater. I still want to act and still plan on moving to LA, but whether I want to be in movies or save tigers is a decision I’ve yet to make. I’ll probably try and find a way to do both because I hate making decisions.

When was the last time you cried?

Well the last time I cried was when I went to the movies and saw Isle of Dogs last weekend because I love dogs and that’s just such a sweet movie…as far as the last time I cried onstage, it’s been awhile. I think the last time I can recall crying onstage was when I was rehearsing a scene for my Freshman acting class. The teacher of that class is exceptionally skilled at drawing emotions out of us—I don’t know how he does it. But I distinctly remember feeling emotionally blocked as I rehearsed my scene in front of the class. He had me go to one side of the room and stomp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs until he told me to stop.

I knew that he didn’t want me to hold anything back, so I screamed and stomped to the point where I actually started getting frustrated and tears came to my eyes, which were both emotional responses that were useful in my scene. By the time my teacher told me to stop, I had stomped and shouted myself into a snotty, teary mess. My teacher jumped in, “Yes! Now go right into the scene from there!” I did, and it was some of the best acting I’ve ever done in my life.

Do you think there’s a common trait in good actors? In my experience, the best actors are the ones who are the most vulnerable and are willing to not hold anything back. It’s very difficult, bordering on impossible, to believably portray an emotion that you’re not actually experiencing. The more an actor can open up to a scene and actually let themselves experience the things their character is going through, the more realistic the acting seems. Of course, that’s a lot easier said than done and it takes an incredibly talented person to manufacture emotions on the spot and then do it again night after night under the scrutiny of an audience. It really is an amazing thing to watch, and I think a lot of us go to school for acting so we can learn how to do it.

What do you think theater is really about? Theater, to me, has always been about storytelling. What stories are we willing to tell, and why? Or maybe a better question is what stories are we willing to listen to and why? Whether we laugh, cry, or both is up to the specificities of the play, but at the base of it all I think is a desire to share parts of the human experience with each other in a collective space. I think there’s also a lot of activism in theater too. Oftentimes, playwrights are at the forefront of movements like feminism or Black Lives Matter or gun control, and our current cultural environment is reflected onstage because those are the things contemporary artists are writing about and performing.

When starting a role, how do you feel emotionally? I feel a lot of different things depending on the role. It can range from anticipation and excitement to laziness and reluctance. There are so many factors that go into each individual play that it would be impossible for me to pinpoint just one emotion. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all of the preparation I need to do (learning lines, rehearsals, dialect work) that it begins to feel like homework, but it’s always worth

“…you learn to just roll with the punches”

it in the end. The process of working with a cast is a lot of fun and you learn to just roll with the punches.

Why did you change your major from within School of Theater to CAS?

There were a lot of factors that went into the decision but it mainly came down to me having to make a choice between two things I love equally. I’ve been acting since I was a little kid, but biology is relatively new to me. I took classes in high school but never really had any in-depth experience with it despite how fascinating animal behavior and ecology was to me. It got to a point last semester when I was enjoying my biology classes more than my acting classes, and that was when I realized that maybe it was time to switch my major. Plus, I figured that if I changed my mind later and decided that I did want to pursue a career as an actress then I wouldn’t necessarily need a degree for it. But if I wanted to work in a biology-related field, I would at least need a bachelor’s degree. That helped me make the decision. It all worked out though because now that I’m not following the intense CFA schedule, I have more time to do art-related things in my free time and build my resume. So in the end, I got the best of both worlds.

I have class right across from the black box theaters on the third floor of CFA, which means we often hear random screeches and bird noises and stomping and shrieks—what’s going on?

Oh boy…there’s a lot of really intense emotional work that goes on in those black boxes…I don’t really know how to explain it. Because acting is such a hands-on profession, a lot of what we do is very vocal and physical. Our classes are different than what most people think of when they imagine a typical college experience, with lecture halls and textbooks. It sounds weird but the screaming and stomping is actually a really helpful way actors connect to their work and release energy that may be getting in the way of a truthful performance. It’s like what I was talking about earlier, when my teacher made me stomp and scream before doing my scene; sometimes you have to fake the emotions until you become so frustrated you actually start feeling them. All of the weird noises you're hearing are just different ways that actors are channeling their energy into their work.

Do you ever feel insecure as an actor?

All. The. Time. There’s a constant question of did I get it right? and craving that satisfaction even more when I see other people in their moment. The moment before presenting—especially when presenting for other actors—is terrifying 'cause I’m unsure if I will fulfill what is tasked of me. But I also think there’s a lot to see in that anxiety because that’s my body telling me that I care about my work. And it’s really not about ‘getting it right’ as much as it is being truthful in the scene.

Are you more introverted or extroverted? Does that translate into your acting?

I’m an extrovert to the point of embarrassment. Curiously enough it doesn’t flow over into the work because I actively check myself and my behaviors. I know I’m extra, so I’m constantly asking myself Would this character really be this extra? and I tend to minimize. I’m beginning to accept that the work is the perfect place for that socially-deferent extroverted self to live and thrive.

Tell me about some of your influences.

Xavier Dolan through and through. I’m massively attracted to moody francophone queer boys with mildly Grecian features who make art about themselves 'cause narcissism is fantastic. So him and Timothée

Chalamet (recent muse but wow that kid can act). Dolan was incredibly young when he made J’ai Tué Ma Mère. He wrote it at 16 or so, directed and acted in it when he was 18 or 19, and by the time he was 20 it was all over the festival circuit. I really love the stuff he does 'cause he’s in complete ownership of his voice and is just doing the most with what he has.

My theater work also seems to be peppered with influences from Cirque du Soleil. I really admire their commitment to creating a world and telling a story. They’re a circus but they invented an entire language so as to not alienate global audiences by only speaking French or English. And their aesthetic is fantastic.

Does anything scare you in the area of theater?

Typecasting. There’s not much variety for a moody francophone queer Asian boy with mildly Grecian features (if only). In all seriousness though, I’m terrified of my racial identification coming before my work.

CFA as a whole can feel like its own little world away from the rest of campus. Do you ever feel secluded from other schools/students on campus? Why? Not just the CFA but the SOT itself feels like it exists in its own bubble. I’m actually OK with it. I’ve built a lot of trust and love with my peers and knowing that there’s a community I have quick access to that is conscious and responsive to my emotional self is a comforting thought. The way we socialize is so different that breaking out of it is sometimes intimidating for me. I have my friends from outside the SOT but I also have that emotional agreement with them so it’s not so different.

What drives you?

I take a lot of pride in being an immigrant queer artist of color so the prospect of any opportunity to share that story is exciting. The avenues for telling stories like mine are few for now, but I’m a workaholic so I’m eager to rise to the challenge of carving a space for myself.

How do you prepare for a role?

I become weird and wear a black turtleneck and shades and read my script while smoking in the CFA alley by the no-smoking signs. While listening to Maurice Ravel.

Kidding. There’s a lot of investigation in who this person is to the people around them. I try to identify where my life as Jo and the character’s life intersect,

“Basically I see everything in Technicolor.”

Changing Seasons

WRITTEN BY DANIELLE GABRIEL ILLUSTRATED BY AMBER LIN

My name is Danielle Gabriel. I am a junior at Boston University. I was born in Brooklyn and raised in Jersey. I study English with a minor in Women’s Gender and Sexuality. I started writing free form and prose since I was in high school. In my down time I enjoy playing guitar, painting, and dancing. I enjoy anything that is interesting and convention bores me.

Changing Seasons is an introspective piece about an allegory of Spring to Winter in relation to personal growth from self-hatred to love. I got my inspiration from walking outside a cool spring night and realizing the difference between the dead leaves and the new leaves coming in.

Previous page:

Amber Lin, CFA, ‘19: @gamufruit

This time, Spring was approaching. I reminisced about the days of pulling on my coils of hair in resistance to shrinkage and attempting DIY lightening creams in preparation for summer. I inhaled trinkets of apricots swaying in the midnight breeze, then exhaled winter’s unforgiving gust. The air felt nice. Spring was always more syrupy than winter’s air of cold mint. The earth’s disposition shifted, like me. I did not change—I transitioned. No more stale leaves interrupting or shattering with each step. The idea of blossoming trees and warmth drew closer.

There was some sort of eerie pleasure in knowing how far I’d came, and how far the world around me also came. So I began to revise the pleasures of my life.

Pillows of clouds started to halo the moon in a tight hug. I regressed. I once pressed my hair every day with a flat iron and a cup of black coffee. Then I once aggressively untangled my hair with a wide tooth comb, and a cup of tea sweetened with black cherry. But now I am gentle. I caress my curls with the palms of my hands and a cup of green tea infused with a pinch of honey. I April-shower myself in self-love all year round. Free and shameless, yet with some awareness to the dysfunction in my nostalgia. My thoughts misinterpreted the rims of my past for salt instead of sugar atop a margarita glass.

The leaves danced around, jingling as the breeze picked up. I resonated to the optimism; but never really acknowledged how necessary the parts regarding my pain were. My hair had grown and along with it my mind fermented like an acquired and aged flavor. But to do so, something rotten must have preceded it, or so I negotiate to myself. As I untangled the knots of my hair from bottom up, I reached the roots of my scalp to become synonymous with the roots of the maple tree I stood beside. Its branches

no longer asymmetrically hovered over me like damaged pressed hair or the threads of a sew-in weave. I needed to remember the pain and the shame. Even though it was something I could no longer relate to, there was comfort in appreciating the pain that

once haunted me with tastes of masochism. Maybe it is wrong to associate the smell of black coffee with self-hatred. But I needed bitterness as frame of reference to happiness.

The wind was still kind but began to blow harder. The smell of the trees and the prospering buds swayed in my direction once more. While the dead branches swayed, the rustling dead leaves surrounding the trunk continued dancing. They did not die, but simply transitioned. Out of trend and season, but someday their reincarnation will continue to endure the rooted pain of pressed hair, lightening creams, and the taste of bitter black coffee. I can sip my green tea with a pinch of Mānuka honey unapologetically. I cut off all my heat damaged hair, and watch the dead leaves of my mane fall to the ground beneath me. Fully removed and detached, there was still a similarity between the dead leaves and the blossoming tree. It was mystical and strange. It was as if they still were hand-in-hand, connected in some sort of way that could never be sugar coated. They depended on one another, even if it was just once upon a time.

My thoughts misinterpreted the rims of my past for salt instead of sugar.

black female friendship

STORY BY ERIN EDWARDS

To me, one of the sweetest things about being black is the power of Black Female Friendship (BFF). In all white-dominated spaces (the media, workplace, school, etc.), women of color are pitted against each other to compete for the spot of the token POC. There is an unsaid rule that there cannot be more than one smart, successful, beautiful black woman in those spaces, if any at all, which causes friction and separation between many women. Though they can be difficult to form, when black female friendships do occur, they are filled with genuine support, love, and loyalty that are unmatched. Pictured here are two real-life best friends and self-proclaimed soul mates. They have pulled each other out of the depths of internalized racism and sexism, self-hate and mental health struggles, heartbreak and rejection, and so much more since the third grade, and they would not be the empowered women they are now without each other. They walk through the world—filled with prejudice—handin-hand and unafraid because they have each other to lean on.

MODELS: NASHID FULCHER, BU COM ‘21 DANEVA MONCRIEFF, BROWN UNIVERSITY ‘21

Who am I

WORDS BY EMMANUEL REID ILLUSTRATED BY AMBER LIN

Who am I

Who Am I

To observe a spirit so sweet Such as yours?

You dance on flowers bloomed Sprinkled by my tears of happiness. I dance weightless on the clouds On which I now reside, but understand You propelled us here.

Lost in your succulent softness

Your cocoa neck whispers my name As we intertwine our Legs and Fears and Breaths and Desires and Hates and Organs and Hopes and Eyes but

While in that moment I say How sweet it is to experience a spirit such As yours.

Magniloquent language nor aristocratic rhythms Syncopated beats nor artificial bosoms can capture your beauty only rivaled by the reality THAT I NOW KNOW You.

Your sexuality Drives me to be A monster of emotions who loves to eat the fruit of your tree Wandering aimlessly through a forest of mini Me’s Forever chasing the high of your love Yet stand drunk from bitterness of Loves foregone.

Your blackberry-colored curly hair Unravels my heart Alien to me in my solitary state

As I spiral into your arms late at night. You burst open my foolish heart When you caress me with your caramel skin on my ebony.

And I pour forth thoughts that I mistakenly solely found solace in the shadows of my mind.

I don’t understand: Your sensuality needs no synthetic cosmetics, Your name matches its written aesthetic. You add unique flavors to every new day, I hope you know Your sweet smile gives me Wings Like a Red Bull from City Co.

So I utter: Blessed a Soul Am I To experience an embodied Spirit So sweet As Yours.

sugar

Sugar, much like sisterhood, has an undeniable quality: it brings it all together. The word “sugar” came from the ancient Indian language of Sanskrit, शर्करा (śarkarā), originally meaning “grit”—a quality that rests deep in female bonds. In this shoot we explore the support and strength of three women, all of whom embody the fortitude and spirit found in the origins of the word śarkarā. With notes of intimacy and warmth, we capture the simultaneous resilience and sweetness of sisterhood.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY EVA VIDAN ART DIRECTION BY REMY USMAN

MODELS: JURNIVAH GIGI DÉSIRE, COM ‘19 ERIN EDWARDS, COM, ‘21 YURI HONG, CFA, ‘19