Return | Charcoal Magazine Issue 10

There is something phenomenally universal about history. The way the past nurtures our spirits and contextualizes our experiences beyond definition is a force to be revered. Time, itself, is a force to be revered. As Charcoal celebrates the peak of our 5-year-anniversary, it felt natural to revel in our success. It felt natural to revel in our progress. It felt natural to revel in our product.

It felt necessary to recognize how we got here.

Return is our guide through time. It takes the hand of you, our dear reader, and calmly walks you through the past nine eras of Charcoal Magazine. As you step through this celebratory issue, we ask that you read with a curiosity and a capacity to seek more. With open eyes, you’ll see far past the surface of this publication. You’ll see our reflections, our joy, our history, our community, our honesty, our hopes, and ourselves.

If you allow Return to do anything, let it teach you, let it remind you, and let it ground you. By grasping a larger understanding of our past, we have a firmer foundation in our present, and an expanded imagination for the future. Revisit the memories that make up your personhood, as you are not the same as you were then. With your present perspective, you may be shocked to remember the younger version of yourself that guided you to read these words today.

Our histories are a teacher beyond measure. We hope you learn a bit about us from ours, and a bit about your own from yours.

Retrace your steps in our 10th issue, Return.

We can’t wait to see what you remember, Charcoal Magazine

Editor-in-Chief

Chike Asuzu

Director of Operations

Anne Joseph

Community Relations Director Maria Niño-Suastegui

Managing Editor

Stacey Dubreus

Acquisition Editor Skye Patton

Creative Directors Atiyyah Mayale-Eke Gauri Nema

Art Director Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza

Marketing Director Irvin Alonzo

Editor-at-Large Shamayam Sullivan

Head of Finance Huaixuan (Ariel) Shao

Senior Administrative Assistant Emmy Ma

Community Relations Manager Rafeeat Bishi

Editorial Associate Editor Fréhiwot Bayuh

Online Associate Editor Brianna Altman

Director of Photography

Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie

Director of Videography

Melanie Menkiti

Modeling Manager Hannah Dedji

Head of Makeup Arianna Bravo

Fashion Editor

Immanuella Gabriel Jaelyn Carr

Art Production Manager Rayne Schulman

Marketing Manager

Angel Cisneros

Administrative Assistants

Adiera Beyene Ellaya Johnson Erin Cheng Monfaye Nabine

Production Assistants

Aman Shahzad Andrea Peña Brianna Anderson Isabella Abraham Kasandra Kue-Rojas Madison Lloyd Nyayian Biel Regina Wang Rachel Nozaki Sirena Lopez Taylor Walker Torin Harris William Chapman

Editorial Copy Editors

Audree Damiba Emily Wu Gloria Ampadu-Darko Kiara Bennett Shaylon Walker Yashvi Grover

Editorial Staff Writers

Charline Ochang Esther Besson Huleymatu Sow Kritika Iyer Olivia Sutton Shre Venkatesan Suhera Nuru Tami Gordon

Online Copy Editors

Amanda Siow Mateo Daffin Morgan Jenkins Yoko Zhu

Online Photo Journalists Amisha Kumar Sushmita Udoshi Torin Harris

Online Staff Writers

Alejandra Jimenez Brittany Hoskins Jahiem Jones Jessica Muchiri Joel Aduba Kohana Bondurant Megan Balani Sara Diaz Vanessa Ho Zea Karmadi

Photographers

Alexandra Bradley Benjamin Roldan Isabelle Yap Jennifer Perez Kaito Au Leah McFarlane Ramsey Khalifeh Ruofei Shang

Videographers

Andrea Regina Esperon Ayan Patel Christine An Hector Rivera Jr Puturen Sungti Amer Yaxin Mao Models Alefiyah Gandhi Allyson Imbacuan Ashley Facey Benjamin Fang Brenda Gonzalez Brian A. Bazan Charu Tiwari Esther Besson Falan Walker Gloria Ampadu-Darko Grandee Rafael De Guzman Jaden Bridges Julian X Kate Seo Maika Takemoto Mateen Bizar Miyu Nakajima Mya Turner Nicolas Zuluaga Patrick Udeh Raniya Delil Sage Gunning Sara Diaz Symone Pettis Tami Gordon Thuy Anh Nguyen Toni-Marie Gomes Tyler Best Valyn Lyric Turner Zaari Isabella Colón

2 3 4 5

Make-Up Artists

Amy Kim Juliana Sena Nyayian Biel Symone Pettis

Fashion Stylists

Hope Myers

Janelle Williams Sandra Kyaw Tony Zhang Uni Valdivieso Wooldridge

Hair Stylists

Hope Myers Sahara Harris

Layout Designers

Amanda Siow

Annika Pyo

Ava Moran

Ebony Nkrumah

Emmy Ma Felix Huang Hailey Wang Rachel Nozaki

Seyun Om Tiffany Hoang Vincent Liu Yuka Masamura

Content

Strategists

Angie Zeng

Irene Kim

Jacqueline Santoyo Lorenzo Mendiola Nicole Agwu Sue Kim

Insights Strategists

Cover Photo

Modeling By Grandee Rafael De Guzman

Photography

Publisher

By Leah McFarlane

Charcoal Magazine & The Howard Thurman Center for Common Ground

Printing

Puritan Capital Press

Join the Community

If you want to learn more and join the Charcoal community, visit our website: charcoalmag.co and follow us on Instagram @charcoalmagazine.

Chat with Charcoal

For more information, or just to say hi, please email us at: charcoalzine@gmail.com

Boston Office

808 Commonwealth Avenue Boston, MA 02215

Thank you to the Howard Thurman Center for Common Ground for their continued support.

Charcoal Magazine does not reflect the opinions of Boston University or The Howard Thurman Center for Common Ground.

Charcoal Magazine issue #10 is dedicated to Remy Usman, Adia Turner, and the founding members of Charcoal. Thank you for bringing this publication and its pages to life.

Alejandra Jimenez Rachel Lin

Graphic Designers

Anita Emokpae

Julie Lee

First Edition

7 8 9 10

CONSIDER THEM ALL

Oftentimes, a singular stroke of paint fails to depict a complete self-portrait. Likewise, upon reflecting on what makes us truly us, we bravely present a variety of answers. When in front of the mirror, we Consider Them All–all the personas we embody, as each represents the full spectrum of where we are now.

Inspired by Issue 1: Mirrors

It felt like the beginning of a really exciting and terrifying expedition. None of us had ever done anything like this before and had no clue what we were doing, but we knew we were on the verge of something important. -Bradley Noble

I R

When I first got involved with Charcoal’s first issue, Mirrors, there were only a four to five staff members. Seeing Charcoal’s growth over these years, I am glad to see how big of a community it has become. I hope it continues to develop into a space for POC to shine, celebrate, and connect with each other. -Patricia Ho

Charcoal Dictionary

Written by Shre Venkatesan | Edited by Shaylon Walker | Designed by Felix Huang

“Charcoal Dictionary” explores what six important words mean within the walls of Charcoal, helping the readers connect deeper with the community before going into the rest of Return.

Mirror /ˈmɪrər/ Noun

A reflection, only visible to the self, of everything you are and everything that you want to be; introspection of the self; understanding one’s identity; shows the realest form of the whole; coexistence of fear and fearlessness; mental, emotional, and physical transparency.

Introspection /ˌɪntrəˈspekʃn/ Noun

Diving deeper into the self to understand one’s own interactions with the external world; reading between the lines; under the surface; giving voice to mannerisms and habits that surface.

Identity /aɪˈdentəti/ Noun

Pure, personal disposition bringing in complete visibility to self; awareness of the self in the external world; creative tendencies; flaws and mistakes; thoughts and actions; mindsets; beliefs; values.

Purity

/ˈpjʊrəti/ Noun

The raw self that comes out in a state free of expectations; when I am who I want to be and not who I am assumed to be; when I wake up and go to bed; when I was born and when I am about to die; aloneness.

Whole /həʊl/ Noun

Feeling everything to be everything that you are; inclusion of experiences, relationships, thoughts, desires, and emotions to their entirety; oneness.

Love /lʌv/ Noun

An overwhelming feeling of unconditional appreciation and attachment towards self, community, or other people; embracing flaws as flawlessness; yearning limitlessly.

Shre (they/them) is a sophomore majoring in Economics at Boston University. They’re from Trichy, a city in Tamil Nadu, India. They’re a writer and are interested in autofiction and poetry. Charcoal is one of the first places Shre found community in after moving to the US for college–this is their main source of inspiration for their piece.

Consider Them All

Makeup by Amy Kim, Arianna Bravo, and Nyayian Biel Styling by Hope Myers, Jaelyn Carr, and Sandra Kyaw Hair Styling by Sahara Harris

Photography by Ben Roldan and Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie Modeling by Nick Zuluaga, Tami Gordan, Toni-Marie Gomes, and Valyn Turner

Montego Baby

Written by Tami Gordon | Edited by Kiara Bennett | Designed by Felix Huang

From the perspective of Tami’s mother, “Montego Baby’’ is a monologue pondering the idea of love while reflecting on her rough upbringing in the countryside of Jamaica. For Tami, this piece is a documentation of her own inner child work, her relationship with her mother, and a call to action about generational trauma within the Afro-Caribbean community. This piece beckons us to treat others and ourselves with agape love and to look at our parents not just as parents but as dynamic, imperfect human beings.

The sky is bruised purple and blue today. The Sun sagged below the horizon line. For miles, the tires chewed up loose sticks and cobblestones that littered the road, breaking them apart and spitting them out. If I closed my eyes, I could hear my sisters’ barrettes, jumping as I did. We popped up while our hair click, click, clacked like teeth breaking through the shell of a sunflower seed. When the Sun began to retire, I would usher six brown bodies through our front door. A couple of Bents, a few Kings, but Riley was an unrepeated mistake–a plate of breakfast, grits intentionally left missing. I used two hands to stir the pots. Ninety-nine cent canned mackerel. Parboiled rice. Babies with pigeon pea eyes.

The pain was a given, a necessary sacrifice. To survive, I spent my youth bleeding, gratefully, for them. I spent my years as a teacher, a doctor, a cook, a maid, a mother; rarely a friend, a sibling, a child. I felt my pulse thumping harder behind my ears. The bruising of the sky began to take on a deep black with the intensifying rain.

My grandma would always say, “Don’t let the Devil steal your joy,” but how could you avoid such a thing if you shared the same four walls? If his gaze molested you every morning, glowering at the reflection in your eyes? If his hands taught you touch was a vice, and love was a full-blown addiction, only to be soothed by sipping on a man like a cup of Earl Grey named Bent, King, or Riley? (A father, yes, but never yours.) And even after you managed to leave, you could still feel the tangible unrest festering in the bottom of your stomach.

A deep contraction bellowed through my body. My core began to swell, pulsing underneath the tension of skin. My jaw unhinged and I began to wail. Maybe a mile or two had passed before my heart became aroused, deluding my mind, and my eyes seemed to deceive me. I pulled over. We exchanged shallow breaths, figuring each other out through the black holes of our eyes in a way that felt unpleasantly familiar. Someone’s rounded, flattened nose and wirey coils of black hair. Someone’s baby girl with curried skin. Someone’s baby. Do you remember me this way, Mama? Do you remember me as your baby?

Somewhere, in my throat, I began to feel trapped. Instinctively, I reached to hold her. To, finally, be eye-to-eye with what I was, what I did not have, what I had to fight for. Then, to feel her heart rapping against mine like a soft dedication to living, a query on how to love and be loved again.

When I look into her eyes now, I find my stillness. Someone’s baby. No longer me, but mine. I wanted to be like her forever. She was everything in me, and yet, amorphous- yet to be defined. Her eyes were a mirror: pure and honest. Not yet tainted by suffering or grief. Her arms reached towards me, trusting me to give her what she needed–what we both needed. Her familiar face was like an old friend, while still holding the novelty of meeting the most beautiful stranger, washed clean with a love like ivory soap.

Upon finding success, nothing short of a celebration is needed! Reveling in the triumphant debut and reception of our first issue, Charcoal entered its second era With Unbridled Joy. Hints of sweetness lingered throughout, on the tips of our tongues, in the depths of our hearts, and in the atmosphere of the community.

Inspired by Issue 2: Sweet

My journey with Charcoal began at the launch of Mirrors when I asked Remy if they needed anyone to take care of their finances. From there, I joined board meetings and helped coordinate our funds to make the shoots happen. It’s a nostalgic issue because that’s when I began my journey with Charcoal. When helping to organize the launch party, all I could think about was Charcoal makes my life sweeter. -Thalis Perez

Sweet was really fun! It was a colorful experience, and it was a great second issue. I think this is when we really started to understand the impact that Charcoal could have in the BU community. -Bradley Noble

-Archelle Thelemaque

Charcoal provided a space for me to shine as a photographer. Sweet was the first issue where I shot a photoshoot with models. I am extremely grateful for this chance that it started my photography journey. -Patricia Ho

Excited

Series

“Milvia and Stuart”

Written by Suhera Nuru | Edited by Emily Wu

Written by Esther Besson | Edited by Yashvi Grover | Layout by Seyun Om

“Rollercoaster Highs” is the exciting remembrance of a rollercoaster ride from Esther’s childhood memories, a breathtaking ride she still remembers even as 10 years have passed by. Reminding us to pause and reminisce on the simple moments that brought us joy in childhood, take this piece as an opportunity to reach back into your past and relearn what fills you with joy.

“Pink and Blue”

Written by Charline Ochang | Edited by Gloria Ampadu-Darko

“Pink & Blue” was inspired merely by Charline’s own quirky dreams, and her unusually quirky father. Her father was a big part of her creative journey, and she often accredits her dreams with inspiration for new stories.

“Rollercoaster Highs”

Milvia and Stuart

It was just a regular day. We came back from school; relatively early I remember. Craving stimulation, we forced dad to take us biking. “Biking” consisted of riding up and down the intersections of Milvia and Stuart. You wanted to take Milvia and I wanted Stuart, but there was never any compromise. Dad just started running up and down with us. He always said, “Don’t go far. Stay only in Milvia and Stuart.” You were always the problem. I could hear dad screaming “DUDU don’t go too far,” and “put on your helmet.” He would scream at me too, but it was just funnier with you.

After taking a big gulp of water, we started pedaling as fast as we could. I could not tell if we were racing, but the energy just seemed very different. As we neared the “finish line,” you looked back at me and said, “let’s go.” I don’t know if you even gave me a chance to respond but I didn’t need one. So, we started pedaling faster and it felt like we could go as far as we wanted. The sound of all the leaves slowly lifted off the ground swayed me as we rode past everyone and everything that we knew. We guided ourselves

through the busy neighborhoods and parks listening to the energies that were being expressed.

“Hopefully dad doesn’t notice that we left,” I say to her to preface the concern. She starts laughing. I start laughing and soon after, we arrive home.

“Lijoch, did you have a good time?”

And maybe that’s when I looked at you closer as we followed the path back home. I saw the joy in your eyes and I thought.

Rollercoaster Highs

You could see her from miles away, a towering titan of pine overtaking the sky. Like a latticed fortress, the Twister was all carved slopes and curves, a bundle of twists and turns, without a single space to breathe. Her height made my neck crane all the way up as my ears caught the screams she relinquished from the riders above. Her screeching cars and the gusts of wind left behind startled all the other passersby. Face after face turning ice cold, avoiding eye contact with her as they swore to never ride the Twister. But while others saw her as a painful reminder, I saw her as a beautiful challenge. As a devotee of speed, the Twister felt like a fantasy, and a breaker of bounds that I didn’t even know I had. The tallest and fastest rollercoaster I had ever seen stood right in front of me, daring me to take her on. So I did. As the sun set out in the sky, I dove into what would be the ride of a lifetime.

The air surrounding me buzzed with the chatter and excitement of potential riders in line as we moved along. With a smile stretched across my face, the satisfaction was sweeter than a soda when the ride attendant told me I was just the right height to face the Twister. I was trembling from head to toe; my anticipation multiplied with every step I took closer to the ride itself. But as I approached her gate, my hunger to ride the Twister only grew stronger as the roars only got louder. As our roller coaster cars climbed up to the first peak, my stomach could barely contain the hurricane of countless butterflies – butterflies of nervousness and eagerness – stirring inside me. With one clammy hand clutching my best friend’s, and the other grasping the safety bar, I took one last breath, in an attempt to soothe my pounding heart.

And then came the drop.

As my stomach dropped to my knees, my tiny smile transformed into the widest grin as we descended. She was pure speed and adrenaline from start to end. Each loop and curve welcomed screams of pure delight. As my arms stayed permanently affixed in the air, my whole body became addicted to cutting through the swift wind. Nothing could compare to the joy I felt soaring through the air. I couldn’t care about how my hair looked, how loud I was, or how I was fighting to keep my flip flops from falling off my feet and into the sky. I only cared about how I was having the best time of my ten-year-old life.

Esther Besson (she/her) is a Haitian-American poet, model, and artist from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She is a junior majoring in Political Science with a minor in Architectural History. Outside of her studies, Esther loves spending time with her friends, holding photoshoots, and watching *good* documentaries. She thanks Charcoal Magazine for continuing to provide a safe and welcoming space for her creative expressions, and she aspires to release her own poetry book in the future.

Pink and Blue

As a child, I dreamed in rainbows. I created worlds where the skies were Pepto Bismol pink and the grass was a cerulean blue. Worlds in which colorful monsters threatened my innocence, but my father always came to save the day. A tall, round man with a deep, resonant voice, but a contrastingly high-pitched laugh, bellowing from the top of the water tower to fend off any threat in my surroundings. The top of the water tower held the answers. Every warm night of my childhood, I sat on my back porch. I leaned on the screen door, against my father’s wishes, gazing a quarter mile in the distance at a red and white checkerboarded tower with a barricaded ladder running up the side. I tried to count the rungs of the ladder but I always forgot what number came after 12.

When my father would catch me staring, he’d say something along the lines of, “What’s up with you?” I’d reply with a strangely cryptic question regarding the top of the water tower. A question that could only be defeated with:

“Well, I guess we’ll have to climb to the top and find out.”

I asked every night if we’d climb the tower as the sun climbed the sky the next morning, and the prankster always said yes. But we had yet to do so.

Were we ever going to make it to the top? Or even start the climb? I didn’t know. If I weren’t so young, I’d have given up asking before the snow piled up in my spot by the screen door. But I knew that the answers to my innocent questions, and the key to my dreams were stored up there. As if there was a superhero on top that heard me rambling at the bottom, preparing to lead me up there one day. When I laid my head down to sleep, the skies faded into pink and the sun shone on a world covered in blue grass, but the water tower stayed the same. Colorful monsters threatened my innocence but it didn’t matter; all my answers were at the top of the tower, and my father was taking me to climb it in the morning.

Charline Ochang (she/they) is a second year Film/TV and Philosophy double major at BU, and this is her first semester writing for Charcoal. She grew up in New York, raised by her Zambian mother and Kenyan father. Charline’s greatest passion is storytelling; she is a writer and filmmaker with aspirations to own her own film and television production company, producing independent films and television series. When she isn’t writing or partying with friends, Charline loves to binge movies by her favorite directors and read books recommended by her younger sister.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARCOAL!

Written by Suhera Nuru + Emily Wu Edited by Stacey Dubreus Designed by Hailey Wang

“Happy Birthday Charcoal!” is like a letter to your best friend. Birthdays are a chance to not only look at how far one has come, but to look forward to what can become. This HBD is a ride down memory lane to see how much Charcoal has grown and to highlight how much Charcoal has done in just 5 years. This is a sweet piece to commemorate the journey that Charcoal has brought us all on as we approach another anniversary.

With Unbridled Joy

With Unbridled Joy

Photography by Alex Bradley, Leah McFarlane, Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie | Modeling by Us Layout by Gauri Nema

Makeup by Arianna Bravo, Symone Pettis Styling by Jaelyn Carr

Cheers to another year and many more to follow. Inshallah may they be good to you. Look at everything that you have piloted, inspired, and manifested; applaud yourself. In your infancy, you posed worldly questions –“where do I go?,” “how do I start?,” and “who am I?.” Although these questions remain unanswered, we can explore them together on an ever flowing river.

As we ride down the river, we return to the beginning to feel the weight of your growth. We look at our reflections in the surrounding water like an infinite mirror, and see the mosaic of beautiful faces and stories you have brought together. For the sweetness of life around us, we bask in joy. For the influence of our history, of our sankofa, we give gratitude and respect.

For this is the echo that we listen to; its message reverberates through our collective body, allowing us to become more in tune with who we are. What we believe in now is an everlasting muse, an informidable fuse. When we enter your space, we can finally be emotionally safe; we can finally bare nude. Our climax heightens yearly as you will continue to grow, to achieve, and to push limits. We’ve had to let our egos die down this turbulent river, but we can always return to our core to become grounded. Nonetheless, we can always look forward to see how much more there is to explore.

Charcoal, you turn five today! My present to you is the sweetness of our smiles, the harmonies of our laughs, and our untouchable love. As you continue to guide us through this ever-lasting ride, we’d like to say, Inshallah, have another great year!

Ameen.

Emily Wu (she/her) is a third year majoring in both Psychology and Political Science with a minor in Deaf Studies at Boston University. She is the youngest of three to Chinese immigrant parents and has lived in Boston, MA all her life. While she does not particularly identify herself as a photographer, Emily enjoys taking pictures of and enjoying/walking along nature-esque scenes, particularly by the water. In addition, she loves wtattoos and enjoys hearing the stories and inspirations behind others and their tattoos. Emily hopes to be able to travel the world to try cuisines from all different cultures and see natural wonders. In her free time, Emily enjoys winding down, whether it be by watching her favorite shows, taking a nap, or going out with her family and friends.

I’LL STILL REMEMBER SUMMER

Written by Olivia Sutton | Edited by Fréhiwot Bayuh | Designed by Ava Moran and Rayne Schulman

In thinking of timeless experiences and emotions, nostalgia was the primary inspiration for Olivia’s piece “I’ll Still Remember Summer”. It is a poem in response to Black Girl Please Remember Summer, first appearing in Issue 4 of Charcoal Magazine entitled Sweet. The intention was to take those images and memories of black summerhood and reassure the original author that, despite all that has transpired over the years and what has (and continues to) happen in the black community, we still have joy. We still celebrate ourselves and each other, we still dance and party and share stories. We take those memories of summer block parties and cookouts and create new ones with each generation. This poem is a declaration, a reassurance that, yes, we do indeed still remember summer.

I was told, once Begged, even To remember those summers Remember what they felt like Tasted, sounded, smelled like Remember the joy before it was snatched Before boys in blue barged into our black spaces

Minding our black business Making banners of our black faces

Before the colors of our sun soaked skin

Resembled dirt to the sun-deprived We’d shuck and jive to Mary J. Blige Earth, Wind and Fire Coursing through our veins Mixed with hard ciders and lemonade

This, was summer. Grills set ablaze, picnic tables adorned with colors of soul food and sleep aids

The greats and grand mothers, fathers, uncles, aunties

Would gather together and marvel at the sight

Of their great and grand children. The tales of old passed around like potato salad

“I remember when….”

As we rushed to the grasslands Surrounded by the jagged edges of concrete

To blow bubbles and flex our muscles

In double dutch and dance battles Sweat beaded our foreheads

As the dew of our existence The droplets to our memoirs Nectar to our joy

Bill, Lionel, and Marvin Cupid and Mariah And with a sprinkle of Salt-N-Pepa Beckoned us to the dance floor

Our bodies front and center Like synchronized swimmers, we danced FREEZE! Everybody clap your hands!

Olivia Sutton (she/her) is a new employee as well as a part time student at Boston University. She was born in Boston but raised in South Carolina and is African American, though she recently discovered that she has roots in the Gullah Geechee islands. She is a writer and storyteller with a goal of publishing her first poetry book and turning her passion into a full time career. Currently she is studying American Sign Language and is interested in combining her love of writing with the art of ASL storytelling and poetry. Besides writing, she enjoys spending her weekends going out and exploring Boston, cooking, playing video games, and spending time with her family.

I could write sonnets of black suffering Endless paragraphs pleading for reprieve But instead, I’ll crack open this cold one

And sip slowly Close my eyes, and breathe The air, sight, smell Of black summer

Slowly growing up, new homes and new forces can make it easy to neglect the sacred forces we harbor. But it’s not “taboo to go back and fetch what you forgot”. You Need Reminding, despite how transient time might have felt. The past grounds us and carries us forward like dunes of loose sand.

Inspired by Issue 3: Sankofa

Sankofa’s photoshoot was my favorite. I was able to be playful with the concept and express it through photography. My time at Charcoal is when I really pushed my limits as a photographer and artist. -Patricia Ho

Sankofa was an amazing opportunity for me to create and submit film photos that truly spoke to my healing and self-discovery. It required me to reflect on and release my pain, so I could continue to grow. -Cameron Cooper

Sankofa was a whirlwind because we were coordinating with the Howard Thurman Center (HTC), pitching our ideas to be integrated as an HTC program. While the team was organizing shoots and gathering written submissions, I watched the magic of the issue come together as a background character. I loved being a fly-on-the-wall at meetings, scheduling meetings with the HTC, and working through the concepts of Sankofa. -Thalis Perez

Exhausted -Archelle Thelemaque

the will ensure that breath leaves your body every moment that you still. She will spend your youth learning that her lungs did not stop breathing life into yours when that physical connection was cut, though you may not realize. She will feel your pain so much that she cannot separate herself from it. As far as the mother is concerned, you will always be her, and she will always be you. And perhaps she may get tangled in these similarities of the soul, she may fail you in the very ways she failed herself.

Written by Huleymatu Sow | Edited by Shaylon Walker | Layout by Amanda Siow

Taboo is inspired by both Sankofa itself and personal experiences. Things Huley has found a recent appreciation for as well as aspects of her identity that make her who she is. Taboo is a research piece, into the past of Charcoal and into oneself and their history.

mother

The child has never known this life of connection. Every step is their own. The sun warms their faces with the possibilities of the world unaware of the shadow that whispers encouragement. Sometimes it is not until you fall that the child acknowledges this presence, its necessity, its use.

It is not taboo to be enlightened later, nor to befriend your own shadow.

To hesitant roll calls And foreign phonemes

To anglicized amputations And edited identities

Do not cut your wings and turn your back

to those who jumped so you could soar

How could they have known the transplant angel would not be seen as divine

Do not reduce yourself to this existence

Do not erase all those who poured life and meaning into everything you could be

The first utterance of your name was not simply a label

That your name would not be seen in its glory the name

The breath that fueled that announcement carried hopes, dreams for anything you could imagine for yourself

It is not taboo to make sure you are not forgotten.

Let every hesitate read and founding phoneme reintroduce everything that brought you to that meeting

Ensure every person who breathed life into that name and into your journey get their respect

1

Silence echoes, it keeps things still but the world is turning over on us and we cannot lay still history is spilling onto us, into us, out of us

These multidimensional identities build themselves on this history

It is not often we see things that represent the essence of ‘us’ but there is so much beauty in every direction behind us, in front of us, within us, outside of us it just takes a look to recognize it

2

the mosaic

My mom would tell me how when she was still pregnant with me, I think she’s gifted me some sort of special connection with it 3

She is woven into the meaning of my name, the shape of my face, and the fabric of my being. I do not exist without her, 4

I see my grandmommy, The matriarch I see my grandfather’s lopsided jaw, I see my Lolo, dark tapioca eyes, I hear their stories

It is not taboo to look back to the beginning to remember where you are going. To realize how many people you can touch by being the person who speaks up. To live up to the name and continue to nurture the fire. 6

5 I usually begin at the end! While these histories lay out the path they leave some things uncolored… one poem can tell a million stories.

6

Huleymatu Sow (she/her) is a sophomore studying Speech, Language, & Hearing Sciences with a minor in Medical Anthropology, and this is her first semester working with Charcoal. Growing up in the suburbs of Atlanta to a Guinean immigrant parents creativity wasn’t something that was explicitly encouraged. However the arts were her greatest comfort and outlet, singing, dancing, and writing especially. After seeing the impact of Charcoal she decided that this would be a great opportunity to finally share and expand her artistic side.

Casey Ramos, Remember, Sankofa, 53. 1 Rosie Reyes, Q+A with Rosie Reyes, Sankofa, 41-44. 2

Nikka Palapar, Q+A with Nikka Palapar, Sankofa, 32-37. 3

Adia Turner, Chip’s Daughter, Sankofa, 26-27. 4 Casey Ramos, Rosie Reyes, When I look in the mirror, Sankofa, 58-63. 5

Casey Ramos, Q+A with Casey Ramos, Sankofa, 47-50. 6

You Need Reminding

Photography by Leah McFarlane and Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie | Modeling by Rafeal De Guzman, Raniya Delil, and Zaari Isabella Colón | Layout by Rachel Nozaki

Makeup by Amy Kim and Nyayian | Styling by Immanuella Gabriel, Sandra Kyaw, and Uni Valdivieso Wooldridge | Hair Styling by Saharah Harris

I II III IV

The power of community echoes in every sense of our existence, and in our darkest moments, has been a sound loud enough to revive our spirit. The collective experience Of Where We’ve Been, cultivates the familial force we so deeply pour into and wholeheartedly believe in. In the face of anything and everything, we stride hand-in-hand absorbing and exuding love.

Inspired by Issue 4 & 5: Echo & Believe

Echo was a very sentimental issue for me because it required us to look at the facets of our lives that have helped shape who we are today and how that’s echoed throughout who we are. I had difficulty in my classes and with having to pay for school myself, so I found myself floundering. Developing Echo by organizing the launch party, building the concept, and coordinating with the HTC, gave me a sense of purpose. While reflecting on my echo, I was creating a brand new wave. The work ethic and drive I developed, and the relationships I formed, while working through this issue is something I didn’t foresee happening. I found myself becoming more involved in the creative process of how the issues come together. I also became passionate for the magazine and the team in ways I hadn’t before. -Thalis Perez

Believe was made with love and executed in the most trying of times. Right after wrapping our last shoot, we all cheered, celebrated, and went into spring break with the hopes of returning to campus to finish creating our issue. Our E-Board continued to connect with each other online to execute what I “believe” to be my favorite issue of Charcoal. To me, Believe signaled a change in direction for the magazine and a shift towards it becoming a community of passionate artists of color. Believe will always signify what can be achieved by a group of passionate, unrelenting artists. I could not be more proud of Believe. -Cameron

Arguably, this was the issue where Charcoal started to get the recognition on campus it deserved. More people knew what Charcoal was and what it stood for; it seemed like everyone wanted to get a piece of the action. I remember seeing our creative work hung in the newly constructed HTC building, and feeling like the ideas we had for Charcoal were not too big. -Karen Antony

It was a pleasure meeting such kind and creative people during the shoot! It was also my first time being professionally photographed. The staff and other models were all beautiful souls. -Sarah Elmosbah

Confused -Archelle Thelemaque

Cooper

Necessity -Chike Asuzu

Echo was my light in the darkness. It was my first issue serving as co-creative director alongside my good friend and posse brother, Bradley Noble. We had returned that semester after the passing of one of our community’s brightest lights, Erin Edwards, and Echo felt like a chance for all of us to reconnect with ourselves through artistic expression while honoring our friend. Echo asks us to reflect on how our environment and our experiences create patterns throughout our lives and shape who we are. In many ways, it felt like a perfect follow up to Sankofa, as it asked us to look deeply at our past, remember our experiences, and heal from them so that we could carry on in the present. -Cameron Cooper

Echo was an issue that almost did not happened, but I couldn’t have been more proud that we pulled it off. It was an experiment forced out of unfortunate circumstances, but it was the catalyst for Charcoal’s growth as a publication. -Bradley Noble

Believe was my introduction to Charcoal, a magnificent group of artists that would change my life for the better. Though I wasn’t involved with the production of Believe (through the photoshoots or writing), one of my first tasks in Charcoal was bringing Believe to its physical completed form. I remember feeling so much uncertainty and fear— Was I going to be able to properly honor this work that the people before me had poured so much of their hearts into? I came into Believe not believing that I was an artist or that I deserved to be here in this space, but it was the first project where I began to believe in Charcoal. Though it would take more time and more issues for me to get to a place of believing in myself, Believe was the first issue where I saw the community come out to support Charcoal, despite things being rather tricky since we were in the early days of mask mandates and social distancing. I saw at that first launch party I ever held for Charcoal (consisting of two foldup tables at the lunch time slot in the HTC) what Charcoal MEANT to people. I saw for the first time ever in my time at BU a reciprocal community that was eager to provide and engage, especially for people of color. I’ll be honest and admit that I cried after that first launch, not because of stress, but because the feeling of otherness I had felt throughout my life like white noise in the background finally settled when I looked at the beautiful cover of Hikima and the glistening in people’s eyes when they saw and read about people like them, being unabashedly beautiful and expressive. -Jessica Zheng

Believe was a chaotic issue. Because of the pandemic, it was short-lived and our creative efforts were cut short. We were deprived of the biggest launch party to date. I had the task of planning a ball for the launch party, and I began those preparations in January (for April!!!) I was involved in every shoot, helping set-up and giving input when needed. As this was my last issue, and many of the teams’ last issue, we were pulling out all the stops. COVID cut it short, but we were still meeting consistently and making sure that the issue got put out. The shoots are still some of my favorite. -Thalis Perez

I remember being new and excited to be a part of Charcoal. We were working remotely, and it was hard to meet people. I joined as they were wrapping up this issue, and I just wanted to help in any way I could. I feel like I can’t speak on this issue too much because I joined at the end of it -Abby Gross

I felt honored to be a part of something that was so impactful. To me, Charcoal has always been a community where folks from different cultures share and celebrate their love for art. It’s a space for us to share our stories, and find beauty in ourselves and the world around us. I appreciate that I could’ve, in some small way, been a part of that journey. -Afnan Tabidi

Believe is my personal favorite! -Bradley Noble

Newness -Chike Asuzu

Floating In Space

Written by Kritika Iyer | Edited by Audrvee Damiba | Design by Chike Asuzu & Emmy Ma

“Floating in Space” explores an unnamed narrators’ journey through space after abruptly escaping their home planet due to war and destruction. Through diary entries, readers witness the fear and uncertainty of leaving home and how our narrator copes with it all. It’s in these moments of reflection that we see the narrator break down their life and eventually find a home within themself. The story was inspired by various pieces from Echo that dealt with ideas of home and what home means to us.

DAY 34

Dear Diary,

We’re refugees with no destination. It’s been about 34 days since we left Andhar on an escapeship. We’ve just been floating in space.

Those of us on the ship talk about it rarely. The months leading up to the escape, the bombs and the bones. We do talk about the moon. We’ve never seen it in its entirety, only ever shadowed by the dark.

It felt freeing, at first, to have nowhere to go, to have no one. Now it feels daunting. For once I feel a twinge of regret.

DAY 80

Dear Diary,

I feel like I can’t breathe. Maybe it’s the recycled air on this ship, maybe it’s in my head. Once on a road trip, my mom told me motion sickness was a mindset. I laughed and then threw up.

I saw her last night. It’s been a while since that happened. Those dreams sputtered out around age 15, and by 19 she was gone completely. She’s recently reappeared. I stopped one night and took the time to tell her everything I never could. That I still felt her in my blood. That she was every word I said and every tear I shed. She will always be me.

She left too soon, or maybe I did.

DAY 59

Dear Diary,

I forgot the chorus of my favorite song. There’s no way to listen to music on this ship.

DAY 94 Dear Diary, Sometimes I wish I had never left.

DAY 100

Dear Diary,

Our space radio doesn’t work so we’re unable to call anyone back home. Although sometimes we float by and I think of when we first saw the other side of the moon. It was then, most of all, that I owed some acknowledgement of our abrupt escape.

I look at Andhar brittled with destruction and all I see is myself.

I watch the days pass. Watch myself walk to the same coffee shop everyday and then to the library. Sometimes I check out the same books so I can reread my favorite passages. I watch myself walk to school, taking the same route every day.

It’s in these moments when my chest tightens and my head feels heavy that I owe some sort of acknowledgment to our departure and to these unremembered pleasures.

Since floating by home, I see the moon the way I once saw it before, in all its different shapes and shadows. I miss watching it go through each phase, constantly returning to what it once was.

DAY 114

Dear Diary, I tried praying to ground myself, but when I went to look up all I saw was myself in the mirrored ceilings of the spaceship. I tried to focus on my thoughts or saying a mantra but all I could think about was the scar on my forehead that I got as a kid when I tripped and fell down the stairs in our old house.

That was back when I used to run everywhere. I’d sprint across the house, panting and laughing. I don’t know why I was moving so fast like I had somewhere to go.

I was too eager to leave, never thinking of coming home. This whole time I’ve been missing home when really, home was with me all along.

Esther / Gloria

Written by Esther Besson

Designed by AnnikaPyo Edited byYashviGrover

We connected so easily.

We chose the same first-year writing class, but I didn’t know how impactful that choice would be. I didn’t know that I would meet my first friend in college through that class, a bond that blossomed despite the fact we were screens apart.

And even when we drifted apart in the spring, you reached back in the summer to offer me a place with your friends. You stretched out a hand to save me from drowning in the eerie waters of college. We transitioned from sharing screens to sharing bathrooms. We started our days with ‘good morning’s’ and sharing plans, and ended with late nights full of laughs.

Through these moments, I admired the passion, ambition, and confidence that you embodied in your life . You had a natural radiance that seeped out, as you could hold conversations with anybody. Talking to you was effortless, but only when I avoided depth. You were always vulnerable with me, but I never found comfort in being vulnerable with you. Sometimes, I couldn’t fathom if we were truly friends, because there were so many things I never told you.

Inspired by Echo’s “Solange/Maneesha,” a piece discussing the fracture in the relationship between two best friends, “Esther/Gloria” navigates through an unknowingly important college friendship between Esther Besson and Editorial Print Editor Gloria Ampadu-Darko, and its roots, both old and new, to Charcoal. Written not only as dedication to friendship, this piece is also a self-reflection of Esther’s journey with her vulnerability. I

were a shooting star. You could crack my surface, but nothingmore.

A year ago, you asked me to come watch your performance at Charcoal’s launch party. At the time, I was just a friend who wanted to support you, but as I entered that space, I got sucked into this galaxy of creativity and curated vulnerability.

I was completely captivated by what I read, what I watched, and what I saw. Charcoal captivated me in the way that you captivated me as a person. Always shining on the everyday stage, but also reminding me of the distance between us.

Just as I was shrouded in the audience watching you that night, I shrouded everything about myself that I thought no one would ever care about– my passions, my wishes, my struggles, my soul. I hid it all because I never wanted anyone to get too close. I wanted to block the eventual hurt and rejection. Back then, I was petrified to call you my friend because I didn’t think you would ever call me yours. But, how could you say I was your friend if you never knew who I was?

It was the same with Charcoal: an enthralling night sky that I thought I could only admire from the ground below. Self-doubt and intimidation stopped me from getting involved for so long. What do you do when you feel like a fraud, that you won’t belong? Countering self-doubt is a challenge that I face every morning, and some days I lose, like when I missed out on being vulnerable and becoming better friends with you. But some days, I win that freedom to do what I want. Like joining Charcoal, but I couldn’t have done it without you and our other friends encouraging me to take that chance.

And so we switched places that spring; I got to be onstage while you watched from afar. But I don’t regret any of it, because even though you weren’t here, I found this space to grow into my own light.

Now we’ve reached our third year together, but on a different stage. A stage where we work together in Charcoal. Where I have the chance to show up as your friend the way you showed up for me last year. To walk you through this sometimes confusing process, hearing and pushing for your ideas in a universe that requires you to be vulnerable with yourself and others. You shine differently when you’re vulnerable, but it’s a light that we can shine together.

There may never be enough words to express my gratitude towards our friendship. From that first text you sent me, so many wonderful parts of my life formed, Charcoal being one of many. Cheers to us and may our friendship continue to fulfill us both.

Esther Besson (she/her) is a Haitian-American poet, model, and artist from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She is a junior majoring in Political Science with a minor in Architectural History. Outside of her studies, Esther loves spending time with her friends, holding photoshoots, and watching *good* documentaries. She is eternally thankful to Charcoal Magazine for continuing to provide a safe and welcoming space for her creative expressions, and she aspires to release her own poetry book in the future.

OF WHERE WE’VE BEEN

Photographed by Kaito Fujiwara, Ramsey Khalifeh | Modeling by Us | Designed by Yuka Masamura, Rayne Schulman Makeup by Amy Kim, Symone Pettis | Styling by Jaelyn Carr, Tony Zhang, Uni Valdivieso Wooldridge

The Making of Charcoal: Blueprint Behind the Binds

Written by Stacey Dubreus | Edited by Chike Asuzu | Layout by Rayne Schulman

Three strong voices convened on a zoom call to speak on the intimate development of what we see today as the impactful multimedia arts publication– Charcoal Magazine. These voices consisted of Adia Turner and Remy Usman, the founders of Charcoal, as well as our current Editor-in-Chief (EIC), Chike Asuzu. Their albeit distant conversation reverberated across each other’s screens as they discussed the emotional and transparent truths behind the makings of Charcoal. Today, we applaud how the manifestation of a nebulous concept unfolded into a 5-year-old and growing publication led by a team of 100+ creatives and directors. Today, we pass the mic to the giants whose shoulders we stand on. Today, we present to you the blueprint and the tools to expand it. Absorb, appreciate, enjoy.

AT: I don’t think we felt accomplished until senior year, which is sad, looking back. But from the adults and the kids coming in, we got flowers. I remember, I worked at [Boston University’s] admissions, and I had a lot of Black girls come up to me and say, “I think I’ve seen your name on BU’s website? Yeah, you started a magazine, right?” And that to me was kinda wild because you’re on a website and you see something Remy and I literally cried over, almost stopped being friends over. But, I don’t know if we really got flowers from our peers. Our friends showed up. Our Posse showed up. But if you’re talking about the wider BU community, it’s not the way it is with y’all. For the first issue, it really was just everyone who loved us.

plished. Another big thing to point out was that we didn’t really have time to stop and smell the flowers because we were just grinding. I mean, I was really passionate about Charcoal, but I also wanted to do well in school.

CA: Honestly speaking, do either of you believe y’all received your well-deserved flowers for founding Charcoal?

RU: What was crazy to me was that so many students thinking of attending BU said they heard about Charcoal before they even got accepted, and that was a big reason on why they even decided to go to BU. So, in that moment, I felt really accom-

CA: It’s so funny because I was recently talking with Archelle1 about how important that perspective is when it comes to how hard you all worked to get this off the ground. Y’all had to crawl, so that when Archelle and them were here we got to walk, and that today we can soar. That doesn’t make what we’re going through anything less, but it does put into larger context, that anything we experience today in Charcoal, much like that of before, is something that we can take on. It is something solvable. It is something we can navigate.

“The Making of Charcoal: Blueprint Behind the Binds” was inspired by the commitment to amplify dynamic voices and stories. There was a lack of our founders’ presence in our current work, and it was highly necessary to give space for them to reflect, emote, and critique. The goal of this piece is to better understand what Charcoal is as we explore who our founders are.

CA: A bit unrelated, but were there any rumors or misconceptions about yourselves or Charcoal that you’d like to clear up?

RU: Often, if I shared it [the idea of Charcoal] with adults, I think that’s where most of the misconceptions would be. The main one, which still frustrates me, is “Can non Black people or non people of color read it? Can they still enjoy the magazine?” And, it’s like, I’m not gonna stop you.

AT: It came up a lot more than either of us expected. Cus, you know, BU is supposed to be progressive, but people were really pushing back that this was for only Black and Brown people. But, we stood ten toes down, and I was really proud of us because I think there were moments when we were like maybe if we don’t have enough people we should let like one or two [non students of color] in. But I’m glad we never did because it would’ve grown not to what the vision was.

CA: And there can be, almost, antagonizing feelings around that where it’s like, girl, this ain’t about that. But, there’s also marginal areas where we’ve seen people grow beyond that. I remember at the Ego Death launch party, after, Ms. Kennedy2 was like, “Chike, this group of white boys who came over to me kept flipping through the book and they

were mesmerized! You guys are getting so big that they can’t help but love it!” So there’s definitely some differences nowadays. Granted, I still end up having to really clarify just how much this publication is made on behalf of people of color (POC). Non-POC can be fans of the work, but they should never misunderstand their positionality in Charcoal. They are not who we aim to center in any aspect of Charcoal.

CA: With Charcoal, it always feels like a double-sided coin of need and want. I think so much of the space is about letting people have some fucking fun doing whatever they want to with a drive and a hunger, but there is a magnetism to it too. There are certain stories that felt like they just needed to happen and be told somehow. What stories do y’all feel were absolutely necessary to be told throughout your time in Charcoal?

AT: There’s one photoshoot in Sankofa that really encapsulates what we were trying to do, and it’s the one with the three Filipino women [“Adarna”]. Remy, do you remember? I was proud of every issue, but that photoshoot, I remember thinking this is what we’ve been talking about. And what’s her name? The girl on the cover, she’s so beautiful.

CA and RU (simultaneously): Rosie, Rosie.

AT: Rosie, yes! I just remember being like, when in Charcoal’s history, BU’s history, have you seen a woman like Rosie on anything that isn’t diversity related? So when I think about stories that Charcoal wanted to tell, it was more important, I think, about who was telling those stories for us,

who got heard. When I look back at Charcoal, I don’t think there was one story that we needed to hear. It was more like we want everyone to feel like they had a story to tell. And the culmination of that was really Sankofa–this idea of going back. You don’t know where you’re going unless you know where you’ve come from.

RU: And being on set for that shoot was one of those moments where it’s like this is really what we can do and this is what I want to be doing every time we publish a story in Charcoal. But, I’m gonna take it back to the first issue because the two stories, “My Grandmother Carried White Babies on Her Back” and, “Digital Brownface,” were so moving, so eloquent. When I think of storytelling, those are prime examples for me.

CA: With all the work it takes to do any sort of creative storytelling, I am curious about who you all tend to be inspired by in any way?

RU: Ruby Carter. She’s a black costume designer, and most recently, she’s worked on the Wakanda Forever movie. I think the talent and skill, cus it’s not just something you’re born with, to tell a story, to explain someone’s background and their personality or where they came from and where they’re going within a story, just from a glance, is pretty

IT WAS MORE IMPORTANT, I THINK, ABOUT WHO WAS TELLING THOSE STORIES FOR US, WHO GOT HEARD

insane. It’s not something I can really wrap my mind around. It takes so much research and dedication and a desire to be faithful to your subjects, especially if they are fictional.

AT: One of my biggest influences is Jesmyn Ward. I first read her work, The Men We Reaped, as a freshman at BU. It’s a bit of an autobiographical conversation about how all these men in her life died, and how white supremacy played a role in their deaths. So the way she writes, magical realism, a Latinx-originating form of writing that blends myth and reality, influences a lot of how I write. It’s this idea that religion, myth, history, all blends to create a beautiful story. Also, I would say in some ways, Remy has been a muse for me. I did not know jack shit about art. I was an “art appreciatist”, as she would call it. I knew something was pretty, something was nice, and I had done AP Art History in high school, but I had no understanding of things like Afro-Futurism.

RU: You did AP Art or AP Art History?

AT: I did AP Art History! Come one now, you know I can’t draw!

CA: This next one is a funny question because I personally don’t know if there nec-

essarily is one, but do either of you think there is a secret formula for being an effective storyteller?

RU: Kinda lame, but just do it. Just start. If you have an idea, pursue it. Make a shity draft. Keep working at it over and over again because eventually you can get to something good. I think what prevents new artists from pursuing their craft further is the fear of failure and that their taste may be years away from their ability. Welcome failure. No one is gonna start at the finish line; there is no finish line for something like this.

AT: I struggle with the idea that there is a formula to do anything. Right now, I’m doing NaNoWriMo, a non-profit that provides resources and encouragement to write 50,000 words everyday, and it goes back to what Remy was saying. Part of the reason why I haven’t written in like two years is because I thought I peaked in college. I actually had a family friend who read my work in Sankofa and said, “Adia, you can do this. You can write. You have so much worth listening to.” So, going back to not giving up, that really lit a fire under my ass. I needed that reassurance.

CA: You need that imagination in yourself that your story is worth telling. You need to be able to keep going and going because that is what’s gonna make a story effective. That’s how you can say for certain that it was intentional.

CA: I am curious though, and I ask this expecting full honesty and transparency. Is Charcoal today what you envisioned it to be? What things should we stay mindful of in this work?

RU: For me, it’s absolutely what I was envisioning. It seems like it is a real name on campus, which is amazing! The events you are doing are so fun; that’s what I was hoping to have been doing when we were on Charcoal, but we were in the trenches absolutely pouring into the foundations. What I would love to see happen is some sort of involvement and connection with artists of color in the Boston community. Now looking back, that’s something missing from my initial vision for Charcoal– a mentorship connection. Adia, imagine how different things would have been for us if we had someone whose primary focus was growing us and so many others behind Charcoal? Would have been even better if they’d come from the editorial field and understood where we wanted to take things.

AT: Remy and I have talked about this a lot, you know, the growing capacity of Charcoal. Everytime you all host a launch or a different event, we’d text each other like, “Oh my gosh, look how many people showed up!” Our launches were not like that.

I WOULD LOVE . . . SOME SORT OF INVOLVEMENT AND CONNECTION WITH ARTISTS OF COLOR IN THE BOSTON COMMUNITY

RU: Our biggest launch was in the basement of the George Sherman Union (GSU).

AT: Yup, yup, yup, the Sweet launch! We would have 50-or-so people come, and we were proud of that. But, to see all these people come at once, and that it’s a production, is really cool. We built something to be built on, we wanted this to go further. It’s like having kids. We wanted y’all to succeed us.The one thing, for me, that I would love to see is more written pieces in Charcoal. I think it has moved towards visual art, which is beautiful and wonderful. But I would love for it to be equally matched.

RU: Absolutely, and also always ensuring the quality of what you all are doing. Not just the mission and values behind Charcoal, but the curation of the work as well. You want someone to flip through these books and really think about how uniquely curated they are all around. It’s funny, because prior to this conversation when you walked us through the curation behind Return, and how you all are piecing together so many concepts and inspirations–that’s what I wanted. The ability to weave together a story, not just with artwork and stories that you are soliciting from people, but connecting so many larger stories by connecting it to so many previous stories of Char-

coal across the past 5 years.

RU: That is a rare skill, especially in professional creative environments. People can’t link concepts together and make those ideas possible. I hope you truly take a step back and understand how unique that really really is–

AT: And how proud we are of y’all of it! If no one else has given you your flowers, from the people who started it to those who are leading it now, there is not a time in my life where I think “Oh Charcoal is going down the drain.” It’s the exact opposite! Something I want to actually thank you all for is keeping the conventions of the cover with the woodmark, one-word titles, and image composition. It keeps the artbook style rather than leaning super traditionally into a typical magazine. It was a conscious thing for us to make it this way, and so to see that intention continue throughout the years. You all ensure that Charcoal feels the same, no matter how much it may grow larger and do new projects. Not everyone has vision, and not everyone knows how to implement a vision. It takes a lot of leadership and planning to do what y’all are doing.

It is a big deal to be doing this work the way you all are, so thank you.

CA: That… that is really sweet to hear. I always try to remind the team how much we are all babies. Charcoal is a baby. It’s 5-years-old! We aren’t always going to know what we are doing, but we can care enough to wanna figure it out because it’s fun and it’s worth it. For a while when I first started, I felt like I was cosplaying Editor-in-Chief. I didn’t know exactly what it meant to be this, and now I don’t think I was ever going to un-

til I was doing it actively. It’s funny too, because getting to talk with you both so much and Archelle, especially throughout the building of this issue, it makes me a little sad that I don’t get the chance to work with you 3 as the person I am now.

CA: As you both now continue to move forward and live your lives, what has life been like for y’all recently? I mean, the last time you both were in Charcoal was Spring 2019!

RU: I don’t think I fully understood the environment of BU that helped conceptualize something like Charcoal, and create it in general. It’s college, so inspiration was everywhere. People and professors were constantly looking for different ways to engage with students to work our minds more. But I am finding it, that spark again. It may not come as easily, but it’s there. I have projects on the horizon that I have been working on, and I am really excited to start seeing some of these projects become reality.

AT: No one talks about how that transition from college to post-grad can be so disorienting. Things become so centered on survival and the day-to-day. Personally, I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck in New York for a community-oriented job I recently moved to Harlem for. Just trying to survive in this world, it can be really tricky finding time to be with yourself and pursue storytelling. I would say to anyone in college now that it is something you have to fight for, and you should.

CA: That is so incredibly real and I think it’s so important for all creatives to never forget that. It really is something you have to be hungry for. Something you have to want for yourself. I think it can be either overly ambiguous or overly rose-colored when it comes to conversations of working as a cre

WE WANTED SOMETHING THAT WE WERE PROUD OF, SOMETHING THAT PEOPLE CAN SEE THEMSELVES IN

2

ative after experiencing higher education. It’s not an easy transition to make, let alone confidently and with fair financial compensation. But you’re right, it’s something worth fighting for.

CA: Lastly, with everything we have been talking about with history and the implications of Return, how would you both currently define the idea of legacy?

RU & AT: (collective silence)

CA: I know, it’s a toughie!

AT: (Laughing) That’s a great question, and it’s probably the question I’ll cry at. I think when Remy and I started this, legacy was the last part of our minds. We wanted something that would survive, but we did not expect this. We wanted something that we were proud of, something that people can see themselves in. All those moments of grinding and crying and confusion and struggling for money, we sound like a broke couple, but that’s what legacy is. (Crying) And, yeah, I’m getting emotional because Charcoal was such a defining moment for Remy and I, carving out a space for each of us.

RU: I love you!

AT: I do love you! And I hope that love we have for each other is felt.

RU: I don’t have much to add, but if Charcoal were to have ended with Sankofa, I would have still been happy. I never set out to do Charcoal with legacy in mind. Just the hope that it will continue to be a space for young people of color to come together and create community. We are so proud of where you and other students have taken it. I feel like it’s in good hands, and I look forward to how it continues to evolve.

1

Stacey Dubreus (she/ her) is a Haitian-Amercian junior majoring in Human Physiology on a pre-med track and minoring in Entrepreneurship. This is her second semester working in Charcoal, starting as a copy editor and now working as the Managing Editor. Born and raised in Jersey City, NJ, she developed a love for writing and poetry upon loving music first, as she often says that music lyrics are poetry within itself. Through storytelling, she hopes to encourage emotional and mental healing, and through working in the medical field, she hopes to physically heal.

Archelle Thelemaque was the Editor-in-Chief of Charcoal Magazine from Fall 2019 - Spring 2021.

Katherine Kennedy was the first paid Director of the Howard Thurman Center for Common Ground.

I II III IV V

What’s more human than freezing under the spotlight? The duality of life asks to experience movement as well as stagnation. Even if on a pedestal, this pause serves as a moment to reflect on The Way Things Were, and hence what needs to change. But even statues, crafted and revered moments of stillness, never lose their strength and beauty.

Inspired by Issue 7: Nude

Nude was really the first issue I felt apart of. I didn’t have any real experience modeling, and was very uncomfortable in front of a camera and in front of people in general. I became more comfortable as I developed relationships with some of the other members, and it really felt like I was a part of something. -Patrick Eteng Udeh

Nude was the first time I was like ohhhhhh this shit is gonna be huge!! I felt like this issue really opened and touched on a lot of things that don’t get talked about in other media. I remember going to the launch party and feeling really proud about my name being in the magazine. This semester, I also got to know people more (shout out Kiana Sanchez and the Charcoal Connect team), and I felt like I was just starting to really see all of the different directions Charcoal could go moving forward. -Abby Gross

Being a part of the Nude issue was such a wholesome experience. It was amazing to see how everyone (and myself included) were able to become vulnerable (within shoots and written works) so quickly, even with people we didn’t know. Everyone was very supportive, and as someone who can sometimes be camera shy, that was something I really appreciated during the photo shoot. Overall, I am really glad that I got to be a part of the Charcoal fam, even though it was only for my spring semester senior year. It’s definitely a safe space, with beautiful people and an abundance of creativity! -Ejiro Agege

This was my beginning in Charcoal, and I look back on it fondly. It is lovely to look back on where I started with Charcoal and see how far I have come. Some things have certainly changed, but other aspects are the same. As exciting as this issue was, it was equally nerve-wracking. The support from creative directors, other photographers, production assistants, and everyone else on the creative team helped me through this issue. It made me eternally grateful for the community of Charcoal. -Isabelle Yap

Similar to Fuse, I was mainly at home which continued to be an obstacle in helping. My feelings of regret reached a height where I questioned if I should re-apply. -Irvin Alonzo

I’ll always remember Nude very fondly because it was the first issue that I was asked to challenge myself within Charcoal and further build on the amazing work that had come before me. From the inception of Nude as a concept to every shoot that we had (including the actual nude shoot in my little apt lmao), it was around this time that I truly felt comfortable in my own skin and in Charcoal. Nude was our opportunity to highlight and lead the discussion on topics and things that society (and our smaller community) would say was ‘too scandalous’ or ‘risqué’—and this meant a lot to me since I was getting really into reading about pleasure activism at the time. I think what really comes to mind when I think of Nude, is pleasure, and how pleasure-centric and orientated this issue was. Around Nude was also when BU and greater society started loosening up around COVID guidelines and social distancing restrictions, so we started gathering again and having bigger in-person shoots. Some of my first, REAL hands on shoots were for Nude, and I discovered a love for backstage/behind-the-camera production work that I never really knew I would enjoy or excel at. My inexperience in the art production field always scared me, especially since I knew I had a crucial role to play in planning and executing photoshoots, but Charcoal as a SPACE really gave me the freedom and mobility to learn, make mistakes, and grow. Nude was also the first time that I expanded my circle of comfort and belief of what I could do/what kind of events I could actually put on for Charcoal. I remember Archelle saying that she wanted me to “go crazy” for our last launch party of the year, and her last launch party in her BU career, so I did (or tried). The Nude launch party was the biggest Charcoal event at the time, considering our usual launch parties were lunchtime affairs at the HTC. This definitely changed the way I saw my role as an individual within the grander space of Charcoal. Around the same time as the launch party, I also had to consider whether or not I wanted to come back and continue in this role as Director of Operations for my senior year at BU, and I can wholeheartedly say that Nude as an issue was the deciding factor. I realized that I wasn’t done yet with Charcoal, far from it actually, and that Nude had given me a taste of what I could expand my role to be—more focused on operations and less administration-oriented. I realized that my first year was mainly learning to be comfortable in this space and comfortable with myself as an artist, but in my second and last year, I was determined to give my best to Charcoal and embrace the best of what Charcoal has for me. -Jessica Zheng

Hopeful

Exhausted but determined. -Chike Asuzu

‘Deep is the Hunger’: A Search for an Understanding of Group Identity

Written by Ramsey Khalifeh | Edited by Stacey Dubreus | Layout by Chike Asuzu

“

For many years, Charcoal Magazine, and the people who have helped bolster its initiative of inclusivity, augment the voices of creative people-of-color, and inspire the producing of meaningful art, has been centered within a space we call the Howard Thurman Center (HTC). But, how did we get here? In my pursuit of finding these answers, I looked to this person whose name is embellished on the center that this very magazine operates and publishes under. Howard Thurman is an author, philosopher, mystic, and civil rights activist, to name a few. His legacy and written words can show us what power we hold as a magazine and what each individual holds themselves.

The HTC was first established by Dean Emeritus George K. Makechnie in 1986 in the basement of the George Sherman Union. Its entitlement was given to Thurman who was the Dean of Marsh Chapel here at BU between 1953 to 1965. The center quickly became a space for people-of-color, whom most of the time were cast away from the university’s status quo; a minority. It

was in January of 2020 when the university opened its doors to the new HTC in the space we know now at 808 Commonwealth Ave. It’s a shared space, a space for Charcoal to exist, and for the community to feel

“

safe and welcomed.

Howard Thurman, born in 1899, published many-a-notable works in the fields of theology, spirituality, and philosophy. I started first by looking at Deep is the Hunger and its second volume, Meditations of the Heart, to understand the depths of his voice and message. With both volumes, the collection of meditations were originally intended for a variety of uses, such as guidance on the self, faith, and navigating through adversity. Thurman concludes in the foreword

‘Deep is the Hunger’: A Search for an Understanding of Group Identity” is an exploration into the written words of Howard Thurman, the man whose name is embellished on the center that Charcoal Magazine operates under. In his words, we can see how Thurman’s sentiment resonates equally with the values of this publication.

of Meditations of the Heart that “their use has already been tested,” as these meditations infiltrated Thurman’s church and influenced the masses he preached to.

One of Thurman’s first meditations, under Deep is the Hunger’s first section ‘A Sense of History’, poses an initial question:

“Have you ever been in a position in which you had to stand up and be counted? Really! For most of us life does not make the specifically dramatic demand of taking a formal stand …

Of course, there are people who are always taking positions, always being counted. For such, perhaps, the dramatic character of “stand taking” is neutralized by repetition … We are living in the midst of events that make such demands upon us. The options are very few.

It is well within the possibility of the present that we shall be called upon to take a stand which will be, for us and our kind, decisive, in terms of the life and death of the person. It may not be a bad idea to get in practice now and to develop the climate within, that makes it possible for you to make up your mind — to be counted!”

Through our past nine issues, this community has done just that. We have made the intuitive and intentional decision to be counted. To be counted is to create visibility for the unseen and unheard. This value, much like other components of Thurman’s words, is one that I’d hope a platform like Charcoal can foster. What it can allow, and already does, is for each person represented to be more confident in the world, to walk into a space and show all the way up; the opportunities, once counted, are endless. It’s a powerful thing, to live, act, and walk towards a pursuit, and to realize that those attributes have been characterized to you in writing by someone many years your senior. To find it, too, is another powerful act.

I’ve spoken with a few members of our magazine, who’ve said they felt misguided and unheard at our institution. They’ve then gone on to say that in discovering Charcoal, the Howard Thurman Center, and the people involved, they’ve found a home to live, reside, and be themselves. At times, it feels like a physical manifestation that will carry on throughout all of our lives, and what Thurman calls our “track to the water’s edge of a lifelong quest.”

I want to share something that comes later in Meditations of the Heart, where Thurman lists out 54 different internal meditations. Number eight, ‘To See and to Do’, so eloquently highlights what I feel is a pillar of the center, of Charcoal, and of ourselves. It goes like this:

“I seek courage to see the true thing. It is a fearful admission that courage is required to see the true thing. So much of my vision is blurred by my fears, my anxieties, my narrow self-interests that I find difficulty to sometimes in giving full range to a searching scrutiny. It may be that I suspect the effect on me of seeing things in their true light …

“

I seek courage to do the true thing. To see the true thing is not necessarily to do the true thing. It may be that it takes a heightened form of courage to do the true thing. The act of a person finally involves the person and [they] are required at last to back [their] deed …

I seek courage to do the true thing that my own life may not be double talk. Here, in the quietness of worshipful waiting, I seek courage to do the true thing.”

What this “true thing” may be, I do not know. For every individual it may manifest as different things, an internal truth, unfiltered and real. The commitment we’ve made, however, is to pursue our truth and to take that first step.

I spoke with Dr. Walter Earl Fluker — a Howard Thurman scholar, editor and director of the Howard Thurman Papers Project, and professor in the School of Theology at BU — in an interview over a year ago. In this interview with Dr. Fluker, I was able to understand what Thurman was like first-hand. A man of deep care for the people in his life, Thurman always seeked the truth and clarity both with others and himself. Dr. Fluker told me about a time in which he reached out to Thurman for advice before starting a Phd program in Boston in 1980. Here’s what happened:

“After a millennium, he wrote me back, handwritten. He asked me to answer three questions, which are standard questions for him. And I’ll leave that for you and your viewers. His first question was real simple:

1) Who are you, really? That’s a hard question.

2) What do you really want? What are you hungering for all the time that you won’t even tell yourself? What do you want, really?

3) How do you get what you want? What is your method?

So you have three questions: Identity, purpose, and method. Those have been guiding questions for me throughout my life, and as a result of Thurman, they are also guiding questions, I think, for a new generation of seekers, activists, who really want to see something different in the world and in society. One has to begin first with one’s own self, asking the question of identity ‘Who am I, really?’ ‘What is it that I really want? Why am I out here doing this work, really?’ And the third is ‘What’s the most effective method that I can use to get what I want? The moral and effective method.’

That’s all I got.“

This excerpt from the interview stuck with me since the day I recorded it. I screen-recorded that part on my phone and have it saved in my camera roll. It really made me think about my life and the choices I can make: How I can become more self-aware of my identity, make decisions that benefit who I want to be, and find the best way to live my life. It also made me think how in writing this, we can use Thurman’s words and writing in dissecting who we are as a magazine, as Charcoal Magazine. The message, his lasting impact, is that we can establish a collective consciousness, find solace within ourselves, and trot forward in our pursuit of life.

Ramsey Khalifeh (he/him) is a senior at Boston University, majoring in journalism in the College of Communication. Ramsey is Lebanese and has spent most of his life in the Middle East, living in both Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates before going to university in the US. He is a reporter who covers an array of topics including metro news, arts, and more. Recently, he has been focusing on personal essay writing, discussing topics of death, sex, and the body. This piece is an intersection between personal writing and reporting.

The Way Things Were

Makeup by Arianna Bravo, Juliana Sena, and Nyayian Biel Styling by Jaelyn Carrand Janelle Williams | Hair Styling by Hope Myers

Photography by Isabelle Yap | Modeling by Allyson Imbacuan, Ben Feng, Mateen Bizar, Sage Gunning, and Sara Diaz | Layout by Chike Asuzu

‘Quiet In Still Waters’: Past Charcoal Editorin-Chief, Archelle Thelemaque , Sheds Light Beyond the Surface

Written by Kiara Bennett | Edited by Chike Asuza | Layout by Tiffany Hoang

“Quiet in Still Waters” was inspired by the overwhelming need to humanize two past Charcoal members, Archelle Thelamaque and Erin Edwards. Erin’s passing in August 2019 was the catalyst for Archelle to take up the position of Editor-In-Chief, a position that was supposed to be filled by Erin in the following semester. It touches on the joy of friendship, the strength of Archelle, and the lasting memory of Erin.

Retracing the footsteps of Charcoal requires allowing those who walked to hold the mic for themselves. Archelle Thelemaque and Erin Edwards joined Charcoal Magazine in the Fall of 2018. The former was the Chief Marketing Officer, a position she held until Fall ‘19. The latter initially came in as a model before swiftly rising to Managing Editor in Spring ‘19. Coming into Fall ‘19, Erin Edwards was the intended Editor-In-Chief, however, her unfortunate and untimely passing fogged the clarity of what the future of Charcoal would look like. In wake of one of her best friend’s passing, Archelle made a choice–one she never regrets.

KB: What was life like for you growing up?

AT: Well, my parents are immigrants from Haiti so I grew up in a very Haitian household. We spoke Haitian creole, we ate Haitian food, all while growing up in Kennesaw, Georgia. It was great. It’s very different from anywhere else I’ve lived up to now, such as Boston, Oakland, or San Francisco. I love Georgia and I love the south. It’s such a unique place to live, and I think if I hadn’t grown up in the south a lot of the ways that I navigate people and even my idea of common ground would be so different.

KB: What’s your family like and do you think they influenced your personhood in a huge way?

AT: We’re all a culmination of our experiences, so mine were heavily inspired by my Haitian parents. This brought with it different experiences with how I understood my own Blackness. As well as, just valuable life lessons that my parents taught me about being careful with who I choose to be friends with. That’s something that I’ve taken to heart and tried to practice throughout my life.

I also have an older brother! He’s about three and a half years older than me. I adore him! Having an older brother definitely gave me a different perspective on the world, and I mean that in every way. We had our differences, of course. He liked video games, and I couldn’t give a shit about that. I was definitely the annoying younger sister, but we were still close. We found that common ground between us… Yeah, I really love my brother. I love my parents. I have a little niece and a sister-in-law. I just love my family.

KB: What was the college experience like for you?

AT: I loved BU (Boston University)! It was probably the best decision that I could’ve made for myself when I was 17, 18. I don’t regret any part of it. BU was a wonderful school for a person like me who had so many interests and wanted to explore them all. For example, I was an orientation leader during my freshman summer, the Director of Communications for Student Government, and I worked at the Student Activities Office for some time.

Overall most of my favorite parts about BU had nothing to do with anything in particular. It would be a random day on Maneater1 where I thought “oh my god, I love you guys.” I remember one of my favorite shows was this one day during freshman year. Erin and I were on the same show at this dreaded 6:00 AM timeslot, and I think we had gone out the night before too. This is so random, but my ex had texted me some shit too! I was down in the dumps, so we had a sad girls’ playlist day. I thought to myself, “I love college, if this is what it is, I love it.”

On the other hand, some of the hardest parts were during Fall ‘19, the semester after Erin passed. It was pretty difficult, but I also think a lot of good came out of that. We as a community leaned on each other during that time. Also, navigating a pandemic while you’re 20, 21 was a rough experience. There were definitely some moments when it was really challenging.

KB: How did you get into Charcoal?

AT: My freshman summer, Remy, one of the founders of Charcoal, had reached out to me and said, “Hey, let’s talk about Charcoal.” I went to the Mirrors launch during Spring of 2018 and loved it. I thought it was amazing. However, oftentimes whenever I know that I wanna get involved with something, I feel it in my stomach. I didn’t feel it in my stomach when I saw Mirrors because I was never a person that wanted to produce a magazine. My whole thing was building community and building a community around these intangible concepts. Charcoal was very much a community building a tangible product, so it wasn’t something that I ever thought I was gonna get involved in. Remy asked me if I wanted to do public relations (PR) for Charcoal. I was a PR student, so I thought it was time to put into practice what I was learning in class. I started helping with their PR strategy, and even doing that, I always expressed to them “I’ll help plan events, I’ll help do all these things, but please do not let me touch this magazine.”

KB: When did you first meet Erin Edwards?

AT: I met her for the first time at our third round of Posse2 interviews. She was in this gray dress and these black boots. I would come to know those black boots because she’d wear them out all the time throughout freshman year. I remember meeting her feeling almost mad, thinking, “why is she so perfect?” It sounds weird to say, but

I’d say I wasn’t really mad, more so, taken aback. She radiated so much personality and kindness.

The summer before college, she and I started getting a lot closer, because I had so much anxiety about not having my person in Posse. She and Diem, my other Possemate, were super close because they were interning at Turner Studios in Atlanta. You could also tell that [their other Possemates] Kendall and Simeon were going to be close. I was just struggling to find my person, and now they are all my siblings so that doesn’t matter, but starting out I was a little worried thinking, “Who’s gonna be my buddy?” I believe Erin had sensed that, so we began facetiming and getting to know each other a little bit better.

KB: How would you characterize Erin?

AT: Erin is, was. It’s weird to talk about her in the past tense still. She was an incredible person. She was incredibly kind, one of the kindest people that you could meet. I, on the other hand, am not like that. The word people often use or what they say is “when I first met you I was intimidated” and I’m like “yeah, that’s fair.” I can be abrasive, but as I’ve grown I’ve tried to adopt a little bit of Erin. I’m trying to be kind to people when I first meet them. It’s a battle, but I think overall it just circles back to Erin being so kind. She was also the hardest-working person I have ever met. People who didn’t know her thought she was perfect. People who knew her knew she wasn’t perfect, but she was close. She was just so good, so kind.

When I think about her, to be honest, I remember that she was such a goofball. Erin was one of the funniest people I knew. A lot of people didn’t think she was that funny cause she’d make a joke, and we’d all be like “Erin, that’s so corny.” But then you’d sit back hours later and think about what she said and you’re like, “This girl is hilarious.”

She had this huge, massive hair. That was how a lot of people remember her. One of the things about her that I always admired was the way that she reclaimed her relationship with her hair. When she was younger, she’d straighten and bleach it all the time. As she came into her black womanhood she embraced her curls and embraced how big it was.

KB: What was Erin like in school, Charcoal, and beyond?

AT: She had incredible ambition and spirit. She was a brilliant writer, and I mean brilliant. I remember I read her this poem that I wrote one day and asked what she thought. She was like “It isn’t good” and I replied, “What do you mean it isn’t good?” She stated again “It isn’t good” but I asked for her opinion, and one thing about Erin–she was always going to give you her honest opinion. She was an incredible writer and could easily identify incredible writing. I think that’s why she was so sharp with the work she did in Charcoal, especially during her tenure as Managing Editor.

1

She cared a lot about how she presented in the world, naturally, by being a journalist. Elaine Welteroth, the Teen Vogue editor, is one of her idols and I could tell because they’re so similar. Elaine’s really spunky, yet collected. She was the first Black editor of Teen Vogue, and an overall cool and down-to-earth person. Erin was the same way. You’d look at her and think she was this very prim and proper woman which she was, but she was also so complex. She was always asking questions that would challenge you to think a little bit differently about something, but she wasn’t this goody-goody two-shoes that people sometimes make her out to be. I don’t say that in a bad way; Erin had grit and this edge to her. Sometimes in the narratives people tell about her and her passing, you’d think she was this fragile, perfect, the-world-couldn’tget-to-her type of person–but no. Erin had hustle, grit, and this fire that I can say all of my Possemates had.

KB: Was there an expectation or a feeling you had fulfilling the Editor-in-Chief role after Erin’s passing?

AT: It was a choice. It was a radical choice. I think it was one of those moments where I thought “Okay, I’m here, I’ll do it.” If I remember correctly, there wasn’t much of a feeling behind it. I was just like, “Ah, man this is all terrible, but Charcoal has to go on. It has to continue.”

I wanted to make sure that Charcoal existed.

Community is the most important part to me [about Charcoal]. A whole community despite what the tangible product may look like. To me, the magazine was always going to be there, but it became a matter of making a community where people felt safe and invited. I think that approach helped sustain Charcoal.

Charcoal is something beyond the tangible product.

KB: Do you regret your choice to become Editor-in-Chief?

AT: I have no regrets about it. Honestly, I have no regrets about anything in life. I believe the things that happen are supposed to happen… I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

KB: How do you think you’ve grown since your time in college and Charcoal?

AT: In a lot of ways. I think I’m a little bit more patient with life taking its course now. I think that’s partially because now that I’m not in school, I don’t have any strict deadlines for sections of my time. In undergrad, it’s as if you have these four years to go and figure stuff out. Now, I have a good job, I live in a cool place, and I get to figure out what I wanna do next.

KB: What is life like for Archelle Thelameque nowadays?

AT: Life is full of bliss. I think life is full of appreciating moments, the big and the little moments. Life at BU was really really busy, almost chaotic, and really complicated. Life can still be complicated, but I just appreciate it so much more. Life is incredibly still, and I didn’t know I needed stillness until I got it. Now I just want it forever.

KB: What is your best piece of advice?

AT: Be kind. It gets you so much further than not being kind.

Kiara Bennett (she/her) is a junior majoring in psychology and minoring in deaf studies at Boston University. Although originally born in Bristol, she feels most connected to her parent’s homeland of Jamaica and is highly influenced by her culture. Kiara loves to tell a story and believes there is no better way to do so than through films, which played a large role in the development of their piece. Kiara is inspired by the community she’s found within Charcoal and all of the stories from people she’s met in her journey through life.

A radio show centering woman/femme voices broadcasted from Boston University’s WTBU radio station.

2 Posse Foundation works to bring diverse groups of talented students together to serve as catalysts for individual and community development.

I II III IV V VI

New blood riddled with love and drive is hard to hold back, especially when the sky’s the limit. But At What Cost does one reach for the stars? We may land in a fantastical new realm, one where we are the champions, but as we turn around we can ask: who did we leave behind and how wounded did we end our journey?

Inspired by Issues 6 & 8: Fuse & Climax

Echo was a very sentimental issue for me because it required us to look at the facets of our lives that have helped shape who we are today and how that’s echoed throughout who we are. I had difficulty in my classes and with having to pay for school myself, so I found myself floundering. Developing Echo by organizing the launch party, building the concept, and coordinating with the HTC, gave me a sense of purpose. While reflecting on my echo, I was creating a brand new wave. The work ethic and drive I developed, and the relationships I formed, while working through this issue is something I didn’t foresee happening. I found myself becoming more involved in the creative process of how the issues come together. I also became passionate for the magazine and the team in ways I hadn’t before. -Thalis Perez

This was a tough time because there weren’t many events nor in person meetings. I was just getting started using Adobe, and I was really nervous about not seeming like an amateur (I def was). I was grateful to have a creative outlet and something else to work on besides school during the peak COVID era because a lot of other things were super stressful! -Abby Gross

Fuse was the first full issue that I worked on from beginning to end. Things were still a bit rocky for us considering most activities and meetings were online/reduced in numbers for COVID safety. Even though I was new to Charcoal, I could tell that this time period was unique to our operations—we had staff meetings online, attempted online photoshoots via zoom, and ended up publishing our entire issue online. It was admirable how Charcoal as an organization adapted to the challenges of a global pandemic, and how we came together as a team when certain areas were lacking. I remember taking on more than my normal role for this issue, such as putting together an entire spread and designing the back cover, despite no previous design experience (LMAO)! There were many nights of laughter as Archelle and I would sit on zoom and just work, something that I know many Charcoal folks are familiar with. It was also during this time that many of my best relationships and friendships inside and outside of Charcoal were formed— this is when I met Chike! And for that, I’ll always be thankful to Fuse. -Jessica Zheng

The only feeling I can recall was regret. During this time, the pandemic completely changed the way Charcoal functioned. As a Production Assistant working from home, I was unable to help, which left me with a lot of regret and frustration. -Irvin Alonzo

Oh wow! It was stressful for sure, but I was so excited to be a part of the work. I was working with great people, and was always met with excitement. I wasn’t scared to show up because even if I had messed something up, I knew we would move forward in some way or another. I knew that the work came from a place of care and creation, which all stemmed from love. I learned a lot about not just selfmanagement, but about my attitude toward the work as a designer, team leader, and fellow. -Gladys B. Vargas

Empowered -Archelle Thelemaque

Working with Charcoal on Fuse such a breath of fresh air. I remember being so inspired by Archelle (editor at the time) and the other writers as we pitched our pieces. Charcoal gave me a space to main creative community in the height of quarantine. -Ireon Roach

Hopeful -Chike Asuzu

Climax was the first photoshoot I ever participated in. The theme for “Rooted” was so bold, expressive, and physical. As a new model, it was daunting. I felt pushed and exposed, but in a good way. It was the kind that forces you to step outside of your comfort zone and grow. -Safiya Umrani

I was excited, but also nervous, as it was my first semester in Charcoal. I didn’t know what to expect, but by attending the photoshoots I knew Charcoal was a community I wanted to be a part of. It honestly felt pretty prestigious to be a part of Charcoal, as the theme itself was secretive and I felt like a part of something bigger. Charcoal Connect was the first time I wrote narratives about myself to be publicly shown and it felt freeing. It was so freeing that I changed my major because I knew I didn’t want to be stuck doing something I didn’t

Climax was a novel experience for me, so it ignited deep motivation and excitement. I was fueled to create and found meaning and passion in something for the first time. I felt like I was blessed to have the opportunity I was given and strived to do justice to the mission of Charcoal. However, a lack of support systems made it difficult to execute with a sense of safety and reassurance and instead created more challenges than necessary. So I look back at Climax with a sense of bittersweetness. I found family and community but the memory is riddled with many memories of anxiety, pressure and forced vulnerability. -Gauri Nema

Girl.... Climax was crazy. That’s honestly it. I think it’ll take me maybe 5 more years to actually grasp what happened and what to make of it. If you look at the stats, Climax is the issue where Charcoal exploded, where this upward trend of Charcoal’s growth really started. I think what a lot of people don’t know about Climax is that the end result was very much so planned, but also unplanned too, meaning we didn’t expect it either. I remember Sham, Chike and I zooming throughout the summer of 2021, planning and discussing the long-overdue structural changes Charcoal needed. We looked at where Charcoal had been, the stories we had told, and the people that made us who we are. We looked at the present and to the future. We asked— What does our community need now, and how can we better serve them? We had set our goals on the big picture. We wanted Charcoal to be badder and bolder, but hadn’t necessarily set a specific number (this shows how even we could not predict how Fall 2021 was going to go for Charcoal). We ended up with double the size of staff from the previous year, tripling our attendee numbers when it came to events, and amassing a huge following on our social media and website. Of course, we could have only done it with a team that trusted us, and for Charcoal to be flexible and adaptable, embracing all the opportunities and experiences that came with multiple creative projects going all at once. I won’t lie, Climax was tough for me. I think the feeling that comes to mind is stress and fear, but in an exciting way (hear me out). Climax felt like the first issue where the sky truly was the limit. We finally had the manpower, the energy, and the support (more or less) to pull off our true fantastic visions. I think we all pushed ourselves as artists to the limit with Climax, and I think the issue came out as beautifully as that. -Jessica Zheng

I was nervous throughout that time. I reapplied for two positions, one which I was very much familiar with and the other I had absolutely no idea about. I took this leap in hopes of improving and finding myself. I can happily say that through the people I met in Climax, I constantly found myself loving the creative process. Despite all the fun, I couldn’t help but feel nervous about everything I did. It wasn’t until the end of Climax, when Sham and Chike offered the position of Marketing Director, that I felt everything I did was noticed and I felt very proud. -Irvin Alonzo

Climax was the first issue I worked on, and the first time Charcoal had a fashion stylist. It definitely felt like a lot of pressure since I was the only one at the time, but it was way more fun, if anything, to be that creative and figure out a system for styling. -Immanuella Gabriel

I feel as though I was in such a wonderful community full of people who had a passion for what we created. We really put our hearts into Climax. Especially being more involved in the creative and design progress, I found that my own passion and drive to create was amplified by those around me in Charcoal. It’s wonderful. -Drew

Climax felt a bit like my climax during my time at Charcoal. I was able to photograph the cover for a photoshoot concept that was very near and dear to me. It felt like the perfect time to process that because I had the ideas, energy, and time. This was one of my favorite issues that I played a role in. I also made some really close friends from the different experiences I had while working on this issue. -Isabelle Yap

I

fish (that’s so cheesy sorry), but it was so great to watch. -Jacqueline Santoyo

I M XA L

Demeterio.

love. -Skye Patton

During this time, I became more proud of being in Charcoal than any other time because I witnessed so much creativity and great work. -Patrick Eteng Udeh

I was overwhelmed with my responsibilities, but joyful to be part of something larger than myself -Annika Pyo

I felt nervousness, care, freedom, pride, liberated. -Rafeeat Bishi

Transformed, supported, challenged -Mira Elzanaty

I felt excited coming into this new space. I wasn’t too sure what to expect as a PA in Charcoal but I trusted the process and the end result was my own personal climax of the semester. -Maria Natividad Niño-Suastegui

experienced so many firsts at this time. This was my freshman year first semester, and Charcoal was just starting to become a part in my life; I was starting to be a part of a community. Climax was such an involved project, and it made me feel like I wanted to be involved in so much more. -Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza

A frenzy. I entered Charcoal halfway through the semester, and there was so much going on around me that I got whiplash. But in a good way. There was a buzz in the air and I knew this was something special. When I stood off to the side, I felt too still. Everyone was moving around me like a school of

Adventurous -Chike Asuzu

A Gift To Us Part I

Written by Us | Layout by Ebony Nkrumah & Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza

Written by Charcoal’s staff to our future selves, “A Gift to Us” is a collection of Charcoal’s promises, hopes, and dreams for the future of this publication and the people that are keeping it alive. We hope these fortunes can act as a time capsule of this publication and the people who hold it dear. May it remind you of the people before you 10, 15, 20... years from now.

Remember the beautiful days you currently have a bad one. — Mya

Unapologetically own your identity.

— Ruofei

You still have time to live like you want to be alive. — Gaby

Dont think too much. — Rayne

Dont take life too seriously--we arent here forever. — Uni

Let your passion drive your purpose. — Erin

Making space for recreation and rest is a radical act. — Isabella

Let your wishes be the advice you see in your vision. — Mateen

The boundaries in your life are only visible to you--once you remove the importance of,they dissappear. — Melanie

Let your heart become fond of the embrace of love.

— Ben

Individually we grow and together it will show. Kritika you the shit, bitch.

— Gloria

Lucky

Seek freedom in your life. Hunger for it and create it by all means. — Chike

In a world that continues to oppress, the best repsonse is to be unapologetically you. — Kasandra

Give yourself time to grow.

— Madison

Don’t let strange inputs from others stop your “strange” output into the world. — Matthew

Be intentional and remember creativity exists in everything. Carry that. No matter where you go. — Izzy

You are your own universe! Love every bit of you. — Emmy

I will find myself through Charcoal.

— Shre

Everlasting prosperity will grace all those who dream. — Adiera

Love is always the answer!

—

Brenda

The way you treat yourself is the standard you set for everyone else. — Ashley

No matter where I go in life, I will have modes of expressing myself creatively.

— Raniya

You will eventually work towards creating something great, but dont worry about that now. — Ramsey

Tomorrow will be okay even if you are scared of it. — Audree

Photography by Jennifer Perez | Modeling by Charu Tiwari, Julian X, Miyu Nakajima and Tyler Best |

Layout by Annika Pyo and Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza

Makeup By Juliana Sena | Styling by Janelle Williams , Tony Zhang, and Immanuella Gabriel

I wish that every person can find home wihtin themselves and spread kindness around them.

— Huley

The path you follow should be one that makes you want to keep going. — Aman

Don’t overthink things.

— Tiffany

Don’t let “what ifs” stop you from pushing past your comfort zone. — Emily

Sometimes you must wander through space to find the galaxy you belong in. — Skye

Charcoal will continue to pervade the world with it’s message, mean the world to so many people, and open a new world to those in the dark. — Ebony

Don’t be afraid to be authentically you. Regina

Guiding with empathy will create space to express the most creatively free and authentic self.

— Anne

Word to Miley Cryus: There’s always gonna be another mountain, I’m always gonna wanna make it move, always gonna be a uphill battle, sometimes you’re gonna have to lose. It ain’t about how fast I get there. It ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side. It’s the climb.

— Rafeeat

All of the love you need is inside of you.

— Charline

A bad chapter doesn’t mean your story is over.

— Andrea

Don’t force things that aren’t meant to be and learn to let go. — Maika

Be easy on yourself and it’ll invite others to do the same. — Torin

A Gift To Us Part II

The things I want are within my reach but, the things that I need are right in front of me.

— Kohana

When you love yourself, you’ll never feel alone. — Brianna

Don’t let the nasty Boston weather keep you from being great. — Nyayian

What’s meant for you is already yours.

— Shay

Dont be afraid of your own vulnerability.

— Esther

Whoever is reading this, you matter in the world, and care about you. — Brianna

Don’t force things that aren’t meant to be and learn to let go. — Maika

Let your heart become fond of the embrace of love. — Ben

Imagine your higher self then start showing up as them. — Olivia

Being able to study abroad in Korea over the summer. — Angel

I II III IV V VI VII

When asked what makes us who we are, we told a story of choosing to break down the dam that kept us from embracing the very real humanity in each of us. It was and continues to be a collective effort in which each of us show up to chip away at the wall and let the river flow.

With the floodgates open, we present to you who we’ve been And Who We Are. Shedding away any abstraction and pride, we offer ourselves to remind you–this is Charcoal.

Inspired by Issues 9: Ego Death

Although my (official) time with Charcoal was short lived, finding myself in community with so many wonderful creatives (of color) was so healing to me as someone who was relatively new to campus and to Boston. I had some creative struggles (and personal struggles), but having all of the sides of me I feel are unappreciated, as I navigate my schoolwork, my makeup, styling, graphic design, and visual art, celebrated so loudly was so healing. I vividly remember Chike, Sham, and Jess welcoming and celebrating me at last year’s gallery. To this day, I still have so, so much love for them for doing that for me, as I was so scared and hurt from things happening around me. -Katarina Quach

Wow, this was a crazy issue. I took the first semester off in this school year because of my work and school load, and when I rejoined I really felt the difference in Charcoal compared to the pandemic times. There was such a sense of camaraderie and people just all wanting the best for this issue. The fashion show changed it all, I remember getting goosebumps seeing my friends walk down the runway and just marveling at how this community is full of insanely talented and beautiful people. This semester I worked on the marketing team, and let me tell you, being a senior working with a bunch of excited and motivated underclassmen was so fun!!! Our marketing team bonded so hard and I felt so supported with trying new things creatively to show our team for feedback without fear of judgment. I was so sad to leave but I know it was all just getting started. I can’t wait to scope and see all the crazy shit that everyone does for this next issue. -Abby Gross

My experience with Charcoal during Ego Death was eye-opening in so many ways. I had never imagined that I’d find a community sans white people at Boston University (or anywhere for that matter), but I was so excited to be a part of it when Jess mentioned the opportunity to me. I was surrounded by so many kind and funny people who were also passionate about uplifting the voices of BIPOC through vulnerable, beautiful creative outlets; this helped me to understand myself more deeply. I’m inspired to create and search for more like-minded communities once I graduate, but Charcoal forever holds a special place in my heart! -Emmy Ma

Ego Death came at a time that really resonated with all of the tumultuous changes in my life. It was my first semester at BU. I was able to publish my own poetry pieces online. I was able to create new relationships and let go of others. Ego Death ultimately gave way to a metamorphosis and rebirth. I felt like Ego Death made me look at many things with wonder. I felt like I was looking at everything with new eyes. The Fashion Show was so elevated. It really felt like Charcoal was really producing something so monumental, not only on paper, but in enabling everyone to uplift each other in spirit. I will always look back on Ego Death with awe and appreciation. -Sara Diaz

I’m proud of the growth I’d gained in Charcoal and the confidence in my artistic vision and voice. I was inspired by the writers I worked with, wanting to learn more from the individuals that make Charcoal possible -Annika Pyo

Ego Death showed me how extravagant Charcoal can really become and how excited we can all get to share a space and raise the voices of people of color. It was a lot of hard work and it prepared me to be the director I am today.

-Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza

During the Ego Death era, I experienced an instant, non-hesitant alignment with the community, the energy, and the spirit of Charcoal. Before I first worked in this space as a copy editor, I already felt an overwhelming attraction to this beautiful art of storytelling fostered by the many Charcoal voices; I felt this as solely a witness to the creative excellence. However, when interacting with this space as a staff member during Ego Death, I actively gained more respect for the highly-particular, special work we did. -Stacey Dubreus

Throughout Ego Death, which overlapped with the fashion show, I got much more involved in Charcoal as a whole and met so many more members. Tackling the concept of ego death itself was a challenge, but very rewarding. This issue felt like such a collaborative effort, from promo, to finding materials, and to organizing huge 15-20 person shoots. It truly was, as we have been told every semester, a labor of love. -Safiya Umrani

Renewed, appreciated, loved -Mira Elzanaty

Newfound comfort in the uncomfortable. -Maria Natividad Niño-Suastegui

Working on Ego Death with Charcoal’s team was a great creative experience that allowed me to think outside of the box and see my work as a part of a bigger vision.

I felt like I was building a foundation of where I stood in Charcoal, and I even got to help newcomers in navigating the Marketing team and Web team. I felt more assured in my position in Charcoal and more confident in giving my own ideas and making my own mark in Charcoal. This is also the time I got to hear more personal stories from many people in the Web team, and it helped me realize that I wasn’t alone in my struggles.

The Marketing team also had a stronger bond during Ego Death, so the Ego Death era was really when I felt like I belonged in Charcoal and I was convinced I made the right choice coming to BU. -Skye Patton

Same as my response for Climax, I found people’s energy fueling my drive, but with Ego Death, I saw people get raw, personal, and even more involved with the work that we put out. It made me realize how connected we all are in what we do. -Drew Demeterio

Working in Charcoal was pretty daunting and confusing at first, but once I got into the groove of things and made friends, it became much more fun and ended up being very rewarding. -Angel Cisneros

Ego Death was a period of uncertainty. Not only was it my first semester in Charcoal, but I also had very little experience doing makeup on other people. But once the shoots were done, all I felt was excitement. Excitement for the reveal of Ego Death and what was to come next for Charcoal Magazine. -Nyayian Biel

Despite feeling accomplished from Climax, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with the work. The expectations I set for myself didn’t make it any better either. I was struggling to grasp what it meant to be a leader. Questioning myself is all I did throughout the process. However, it wasn’t until after the Fashion Show where I began getting the hang of things, and it was all amazing from there. I learned a lot throughout Ego Death, and I am proud of the person that came out through that learning process. -Irvin Alonzo

I was also in my ego death era in regards to my personal life. It was kinda like my hand was being held. That issue really got me through my grieving process (metaphorically, nobody actually died irl). I look back at Ego Death with somberness and a bit of wistfulness because of my personal ties to it, but I also feel growth and completeness. -Jacqueline Santoyo

I loved working on Ego Death! My work within that issue was my introduction to Charcoal, so it was all a very exciting time for me (and still is!). It was wonderful to be able to work so closely with so many creative minds. My favorite part was probably seeing my work as a stylist come alive on the magazine pages. Nothing beats seeing the fruits of your labor live and in action! -Monfaye Nabine

I felt extremely empowered during the time of Ego Death. With all the shoots, there was this sense of power everyone felt, and I think it really showed in our ability to work as a team. -Jaden Bridges

Ego Death was such a gift because it was high-concept. It was abstract, it was radical, and it was open. I love that we challenged ourselves in communicating it to other people, and that we respected our audience, knowing that they would understand it and approach it in unique ways. I loved working on the concepts of Ego Death with the Charcoal community. -Gladys B. Vargas

As a photographer for “Ebb & Flow”, I felt seen for the first time in a long time, not just as a creative, but as a POC. I saw a community work together to fill buckets, to help each other deal with the cold water, to support, and to give words of encouragement. I barely knew everyone but at that moment, I felt like I could trip and fall and anyone there would be willing to pick me up. -Elizabeth Natalie Ng

I joined Charcoal in the Spring of 2022, and Ego Death was the first issue I worked on as an Editorial Staff Writer. I remember feeling extremely nervous at some of my first meetings. I was coming into this new space where I didn’t know anyone, but I was also feeling intimidated to match the creativity and talent I saw across all the staff. However, many of these feelings of uneasiness and intimidation faded away as I worked with my team and my Managing Editor Raksha Khetan. They really helped me get settled into the Charcoal fabric. Towards my first ever Charcoal piece, “What Broke The Diamondback,” I held a lot of feelings during my writing process, but the strongest one was my fear of being vulnerable. My poem talks about a difficult time in my life when I had to reconstruct my entire self-perception, an incredibly difficult process to experience. Talking about that period so openly was something I struggled with writing my piece, but it’s the vulnerability and open admission of my emotions and struggles that strengthens my piece. I also feel grateful to both my editor Stacey Dubreus and Raksha for guiding me toward that vulnerability. Once we finished Ego Death, and I got to read my piece in the magazine, I just felt this overflowing rush of pride, just because I got to see the product of all my hard work inside a Charcoal issue, somewhere I never thought I would end up. No matter how many issues I work on in Charcoal, Ego Death will always hold a special place in my heart. -Esther Besson

Ego Death was my second opportunity to be a stylist, and it was definitely easier and more fun, as well. I think I was able to be more creative than before and unlock more of my own sense of styling. Working more with other stylists and the Creative Directors definitely gave more opportunity for a collaborative effort! Ego Death in particular felt really special because I really felt like I had made a lot of progress from Climax. -Immanuella Gabriel

I mean... Ego Death changed MY life. I’ve never felt so moved by a Charcoal issue theme before, partially because I did go through Ego Death that semester, like most of us did to simply create the book. It was my last issue at Charcoal and my last semester at BU, and I would say that I learned the most about myself in these last few weeks. Ego Death was the first time where I confidently and wholeheartedly saw myself as an artist. It was the first time I started to evaluate the work habits I had that weren’t always beneficial to me or my community. Even though I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone else, my ego was going through this cycle of death and rebirth throughout this issue, but at the end of it I truly feel more connected to my spirit, my soul, more than I ever have. With every Charcoal issue I was part of, I always found myself secretly feeling like an outsider looking in, but with Ego Death, it was personal and raw. Ego Death being the issue to cement my transformative Charcoal experience is so fitting, and an inspiration that I look back on now as I apply for jobs in the creative field (something I didn’t ever think I’d do!) -Jessica Zheng

This was a challenging issue to be a part of because of the abstract nature of the theme. I loved the challenge. The issue challenged me a lot, but I grew from the experience immensely. It was so fun to play a role in one of Charcoal’s biggest photoshoots to date. -Isabelle Yap

Working on Ego Death with Charcoal’s team was a great creative experience that allowed me to think outside of the box and see my work as a part of a bigger vision. -Blanca Isabella

During the creation of Ego Death, I definitely experienced feelings of having found people who share my same interests and would encourage me with all my crazy ideas. Charcoal became a kind of safe haven during my freshman year, even in the midst of all the chaos. -Torin Harris

Ego Death in its entirety was a challenge, one that was healthier than Climax. I had a more holistic sense of my work and the community I was a part of. I found myself able to better navigate my responsibilities. Yet, I remember still feeling quite isolated as many of these challenges, I had to take on more or less alone. Despite how much I felt myself pouring into, and at times draining into Charcoal, I had never felt more grounded in the work I was doing. Exploring the thesis of Ego Death reminded me of the collective I was a part of. Leaving Spring 2022, Ego Death as an experience sparked a desire within me to see a more collaborative Charcoal if I was invited back as Creative Director in the Fall. In hindsight, it was a time of growth as well as attrition, whereas I truly was left thinking about what structurally and fundamentally worked at odds with our mission, and conscious change. -Gauri Nema

Ego Death gave me a very familial feeling.

-Patrick Eteng Udeh

Exhaustion, triumph, fear, hope. -Rafeeat Bishi

Determined -Chike Asuzu

Happy Endings

Written by Charline Ochang | Edited by Gloria Ampadu-Darko | Designed by Felix Huang

Charline Ochang (she/they) is a second year Film/TV and Philosophy double major at BU, and this is her first semester writing for Charcoal. They grew up in New York, raised by a Zambian mother and Kenyan father. Charline’s greatest passion is storytelling; she is a writer and filmmaker with aspirations to own her own film and television production company, producing independent films and television series. When she isn’t writing or partying with friends, Charline loves to binge movies by her favorite directors and read books recommended by her younger sister. Ego Death especially resonated with Charline and their unique journey through adolescence. Happy Endings was a call for Charline to look inside themselves, with positivity for once. It takes what people think they know about them, and reiterates what it took to get there.

To the girl who laughed at her own jokes in the mirror; who had to choose not to be serious because she wasn’t taken seriously; who mistook her anxiety for an aching belly; who grew petrified of the meanings of every pinch in her abdomen; who had holes in her heart of varying shapes and sizes; who filled those holes in her heart with more holes to be made; whose hobbies were obsessions; whose friends were extensions of her being; whose love was oxidizing; whose only goal in life was to be liked, to be loved; who still held the hands and wiped the tears of those who mangled her mind; who built a world inside her head meant only to house peace; who splattered paint on her dull, gray bedroom walls hoping it would do something for her dull, gray mind; who fought with her own body to love itself; who starved herself for colorless validation and had to learn that she couldn’t starve herself of color; who once hid her father’s drinks before hiding her drinks from her father; who craved the crumbling burn she felt in her lungs when she smoked because it meant she was still alive; who still loses her voice from the throaty screams she forced out to be heard; who was unheard because her audience knew only of being unheard themselves; who had never broken a bone, but knew what it meant to be broken; who understood life as the acceptance of pain rather than the pursuit of happiness; who perceived every offer of true love as another intangible promise; who wrote a little bit of herself into every character, setting, and line in her stories; who preferred sad endings, accepting them as the inevitable and calling it her philosophy:

I’m sorry. You’ve climbed mountains of hot coals and swam through tar filled seas, yet your heart still glows, luminescent. You can rest now.

To the woman who held her face up and smiled before it fell in the mirror in front of her; who saw the beautiful in the grotesque and humor in every hateful remark; who put love into every loveless hug she received; who scraped up what was left of her deconstructed being to refute her self-doubt; who encouraged herself to distinguish between passion and addiction; who still craves crumbling the burn she feels in her lungs when she smokes; who still held people while they cried, unjustly or not; who choked on her tears before she dare let them fall from her eyes; who motivated herself to eat until she knew what an appetite was; who rehearsed the glares she’d throw at every opposition she was met with; who took advantage of her impulses and went after her dreams time and time again; who fills the holes in her heart with pinterest boards, screenplays, and paint splatters; who found the voice to finally say, “fuck it;” who matched her neon green shirt with cerulean-blue sneakers and bright purple eyeshadow; who thickened and darkened her eyeliner to ward away the tears; who tied her shoes together to make herself laugh when nothing was funny; and wove pinks and purples into her hair to add a little more color into her life; who finally fucking cried after running from the pain for two years:

Thank you; the story only ends if you put down your pen.

And Who We Are

Chike Asuzu Editor-in-Chief

Anne Joseph Director of Operations

Maria Niño-Suastegui Community Relations Director

Stacey Dubreus Managing Editor

Skye Patton Acquisition Editor

Atiyyah Mayale-Eke Creative Director

Gauri Nema Creative Director

Gabriela Garcia-Mendoza Art Director

Irvin Alonzo Marketing Director

Shamayam Sullivan Editor-at-Large

Photography by Leah McFarlane, Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie and Ruofei Shang Modeling by Us | Layout by Vincent Liu and Chike Asuzu c

Huaixuan (Ariel) Shao Head of Finance

Emmy Ma Senior Administrative Assistant & Layout Designer

Rafeeat Bishi Community Relations Manager

Fréhiwot Bayuh Editorial Associate Editor

Brianna Altman Online Associate Editor

Ng Shi Qing Elizabeth Natalie Director of Photography

Hannah Dedji Modeling Manager

Arianna Bravo Head of Makeup

Immanuella Gabriel Fashion Editor

Jaelyn Carr Fashion Editor

Rayne Schulman Art Production Manager

Angel Cisneros Marketing Manager

Nick Bates HTC Interim Director

James Eddy HTC Assistant Director of Thurman Networks

Stacy Alabre HTC Assistant Director of Marketing and Communications

Melanie Menkiti Director of Videography

Alexandra Bradley

Photographer

Allyson Imbacuan Model

Aman Shahzad Production Assistant

Amanda Siow Online Copy Editor & Layout Designer

Amisha Kumar Online Photojournalist

Amy Kim Makeup Artist

Andrea Peña Production Assistant

Andrea Regina Esperon

Videographer

Angie Zeng Content Strategist

Anita Emokpae Graphic Designer

Annika Pyo Layout Designer

Ashley Facey Model

Audree Damiba Editorial Copy Edtor

Ava Moran Layout Designer

Ayan Patel Videographer

Adiera Beyene Administrative Assistant

Benjamin Fang Model

Brenda Gonzalez Model

Brian Bazan Model

Brianna Anderson Production Assistant

Brittany Hoskins Online Staff Writer

Charline Ochang Editorial Staff Writer

Charu Tiwari Model

Christine An Videographer

Ebony Nkrumah

Layout Designer

Emily Wu Editorial Copy Edtor

Erin Cheng Administrative Assistant

Esther Besson Editorial Staff Writer & Model

Falan Walker Model

Felix Huang Layout Designer

Gloria Ampadu-Darko Editorial Copy Editor & Model

Grandee Rafael De Guzman Model

Hailey Wang

Layout Designer

Hector Rivera Jr

Videographer

Hope Myers Fashion Stylist & Hair Stylist

Huleymatu Sow Editorial Staff Writer

Irene Kim Content Strategist

Isabella Abraham Production Assistant

Isabelle Yap Photographer

Jacqueline Santoyo Content Strategist

Jaden Bridges Model

Jahiem Jones Online Staff Writer

Jennifer Perez Photographer

Jessica Muchiri Online Staff Writer

Juliana Sena Makeup Artist

Julie Lee Graphic Designer

Kate Seo Model

Kiara Bennett Editorial Copy Editor

Kohana Bondurant

Online Staff Writer

Kritika Iyer Editorial Staff Writer

Leah McFarlane Photographer

Lorenzo Mendiola Content Strategist

Madison Lloyd Production Assistant

Maika Takemoto Model

Mateen Bizar Model

Mateo Daffin Online Copy Editor

Megan Balani Online Staff Writer

Miyu Nakajima Model

Monfaye Nabine Administrative Assistant

Morgan Jenkins Online Copy Editor

Mya Turner Model

Nicole Agwu Content Strategist

Nyayian Biel Production Assistant & Makeup Artist

Patrick Udeh Model

Puturen Sungti Amer

Videographer

Rachel Lin Insight Strategist

Rachel Nozaki Production Assistant & Layout Designer

Ramsey Khalifeh

Photographer

Raniya Delil Model

Regina Wang Production Assistant

Ruofei Shang Photographer

Sage Gunning Model

Saharah Harris

Hair Stylist

Sandra Kyaw Fashion Stylist

Sara Diaz Online Staff Writer & Model

Seyun Om Layout Designer

Shaylon Walker Editorial Copy Writer

Shre Venkatesan Editorial Staff Writer

Sirena Lopez Production Assistant

Sue Kim Content Strategist

Suhera Nuru

Editorial Staff Writer

Sushmita Udoshi Online Photojournalist

Symone Pettis Model & Makeup Artist

Tami Gordon Editorial Staff Writer & Model

Thuy Anh Nguyen Model

Tiffany Hoang Layout Designer

Toni-Marie Gomes Model

Tony Zhang Fashion Stylist

Torin Harris Production Assistant

Tyler Best Model

Uni Valdivieso Wooldridge Fashion Stylist

Vincent Liu Layout Designer

William Chapman Production Assistant

Yaxin Mao Videographer

Yoko Zhu Online Staff Editor

Yuka Masamura Layout Designer

Zaari Isabella Colón Model

Here you are. At a conclusion, but a beginning all the same. As the golden wheel begins a new rotation, there is an endless amount of possibilities for the future stories told within these pages.

Consider them all with unbridled joy.

You need reminding.

Of where we’ve been, the way things were, at what cost, and who we are.

An instruction of sorts to you, from us, on how to truly take in the preceding pages. Consider each and every person it has taken to make Charcoal throughout the years. From a team of eighteen, to well over one hundred, the spirit remains unbridled with joy. Yet, you need reminding that we have been here. We have made a golden-toned narrative around the ever-present implications of history. We must stay open to where we can find community, the way things have been in our hardest times, and the cost we are willing to pay to keep this publication alive.

And of course, who we all are. The people who choose Charcoal in whatever way they can.

With five years behind us, there are an infinite amount of possibilities for the future of this publication. The power to shift course has always been in the hands of the people flipping these pages. So we pray, and we hope, and we dream that we never forget the steps we have walked to get here. We pray, and we hope, and we dream that we never forget the steps that walked first and guided us here.

But with the end of a cycle, it’s time to face the fear of moving forward. Let’s take this newfound imagination, and make our next set of printed worlds.

Happy Birthday Charcoal.