Allegorical Athena
Spring 2011 Volume 16
Colgate University’s Women’s Studies Magazine a collection of work by students, faculty, and staff
Editrix: Xavia Publius ’13 Spring 2011 Volume 16
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Allegory the representation of abstract ideas or principles by characters, figures, or events in narrative, dramatic, or pictorial form Athena — Greek, virgin goddess of wisdom and the arts
Zeus, the king of the gods, chose Metis as his first wife. She was of all beings “the most knowing.” As she was about to give birth, Zeus swallowed her to prevent any descendants from robbing him of his kingly rank, for it was destined that the most brilliant children were to be born to the goddess Metis. With Metis nested inside Zeus, she gave birth, and the goddess Athena leapt from the head of Zeus, already adult, dressed with her armor.
In the most ancient account, the Iliad, Athena is the goddess of ferocious and implacable fight. She is also the goddess of Athens, the protectress of civilized life, of artesian activities, and of agriculture. Furthermore, she created the olive tree and invented the horse-bit, which, for the first time, tamed horses, allowing humans to use them.
Athena is usually accompanied by an owl and a serpent, which is frequently found at the base of her staff.
Source: Goddess-Athena.org
Dear Readers, I proudly present to you the 16th annual Allegorical Athena. Created in 1996, the Allegorical Athena is a yearly gender-oriented magazine sponsored in part by the Center for Women’s Studies. Submissions are provided by members of the Colgate community, and include artwork, photography, literature, poetry, and prose. Collectively, these literary and artistic contributions address issues that inform people of all genders, and provoke thoughts about gender, sex, body, and social issues, and the way these intersect with a multitude of other identities. I hope that you can relate to these purposes, embrace them, and reflect upon the issues that are herein set forth. As always, the ideas, words, opinions, and images portrayed in this edition do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the editrix, the sponsors, or Colgate University, but rather, the beliefs of the contributors themselves. This enables the showcasing of a diverse range of topics, as well as a multitude of unique, honest, and powerful voices. So, openly embrace this magazine. Consider the words of the Colgate community and allow yourself to evaluate the reality that surrounds you. Read, think, and reflect upon what’s inside. I hope you enjoy it.
Sincerely, Xavia Publius Thanks to Our Sponsors: Women’s Studies The Office of the Dean of Diversity Classics Sophomore-Year Experience ALANA Cultural Center Art & Art History The Office of Undergraduate Studies And thanks to all who submitted pieces!
Contents I Am...This Is Me by Letta Palmer........................................Cover Fan-Tiddily-Tastic! by Olivia Bioni..........................................1-3 My IOU by Anonymous.............................................................3-4 [Untitled 1] by Erin Lushefski....................................................5-6 The Cycle by Brenda Boyle........................................................7-8 A Forbidden Love by Lee Alexander.......................................9-10 Zombie by Xavia Publius.............................................................10 Starving Artist by Darius Robinson............................................11 Not Trash by Xavia Publius........................................................12 Virgin by April Bailey............................................................13-15 vertigoprint2 by Abi Conklin......................................................16 My Competition by Jackie Gerson.........................................17-18 70spaisley2 by Abi Conklin...................................................19-20 Non-Negotiable Penis by Caden Polk...................................21-23 Where Race and Gender Intersect by Elizabeth Agramont..24-25 All the Tweets I Can’t Stand by Yellowmani.............................26 Egg Painting by Erin Lushefski..................................................27 Sperm Painting by Erin Lushefski..............................................27 The Darkness by Brenda Boyle.............................................28-29 I Observed You from Afar by Jess Aquino............................30-31 Flip-Flop Alphabet Blocks by Erin Lushefski.......................31-32 Come Closer to Communicate by Rachelè Hatter.................33-34 No Binary to Define Me by Andrea Finley...........................35-36 Sir by Rachelè Hatter.............................................................37-38 Creation by Xavia Publius...........................................................38 Fade Under Fold by Amy Brown..........................................39-41 Ode to Brooklyn Decker by April Bailey..............................41-42 [Untitled 2] by Erin Lushefski................................................43-44 (lwl.lwl) by Olivia Bioni..........................................................Back
Fan-tiddily-tastic! Olivia Bioni Sometimes, I’m overwhelmed. I feel the emotions Turmoiling Tumulting Grand Canyon Rushing rapids Fighting lions Emotions inside me. They cannot be quelled. They bubble up and burst From my toes Spinning through my spine Hurtling through my heart Tickling my throat Mlamlaming into my mouth A giggle erupts. It cannot be stopped. I cover my face Automatically, Subconsciously ashamed of violating the social norms, But too happy to mind. That much joy cannot be contained by My mind. The joy nestles comfortably in my body Anywhere and everywhere In my very being. Reverberating in the air around me Cozy and tangible. Warm. Allegorical 1 Athena
I like a boy, But it’s more than that. This giddiness is exponentially greater Astronomically more Fan-tiddily-tastically ginormouser In part because I like a boy. Me. I’m happy because I can be and because I let myself be. Permission granted Real surrender At the center of all things. I spent a long time thinking I couldn’t be myself And be happy. My misguided teen mantra. For my 18th birthday I invited my friends to a park And we played Lava Monsters, kickball, Slow Motion Samurai. We talked about Pokémon, Yu-gi-oh! OMG Kid Pix! Our childhoods. It was 7-11 Free slurpees If you brought your own container Because they ran out of cups So we filled our empty water bottles. Drinking the blue dye sugar water We laughed from the depths of our souls. I thought, Allegorical 2 Athena
How is it possible to be this happy? But I am. I still am. How could I not be? With all of that on the inside And this boy on the outside You’ll have to excuse the uncontrollable giggles, Tee Deedle Lee Dee Dees. My joy doesn’t fit into Status quo Emotional expression. It’s illogical to some. It’s irrational to most. But it’s incandescent Like me.
My IOU Anonymous I owe you for not being present I owe you for being dry I owe you for being defensive I owe you for getting mad I owe you for being afraid, closed off I owe you for not being easy Right? When you spoke sweet words I did not let my guard down
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I did not agree to exchange my body and heart for temporary happiness Your love: ambiguous, indefinite, but amazing I enjoy it while I can Your voice, melodious when you comfort me Your tender touch, so soft and warm Your kindness You show me love You give me kisses You’re good to me You make me happy You want to know who I am and love how I am Everyday I feel guilt because with every nice gesture I feel a pressure to rid my debt. I want you to know that you will never know everything And although sometimes I feel guilty for not reciprocating what you give to me I also feel a sense of pride Honestly, You shouldn’t expect anything from me You shouldn’t think I’d be like you or everyone else You shouldn’t think I’d invest my trust into people so easily You shouldn’t think I’d revolve my life around you You shouldn’t think your feelings means more than mine You shouldn’t think I’d sacrifice a part of who I am for you You shouldn’t think I’d rely on your presence forever You shouldn’t think you’re an exception to my rules You shouldn’t think I’d be naïve enough to do that again You shouldn’t think I’d just give myself to you, let myself be so vulnerable You shouldn’t expect anything from me than what I give to you You should take me as I am I won’t feel indebted to you and you wont feel cheated
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[Untitled 1]
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Erin Lushefski
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The Cycle Brenda Boyle Stupid girl. Throwing it all away Pretending like you don’t care. Since when has forced, false ignorance Ever made the pain go away? You poke And scratch And dig To force your mind’s focus on the superficial pain But the pain deep inside still festers. This is your game of self-sabotage Your warped joie-de-vivre In which you indulge because you’ve never felt true joy And are too scared to try Because what if you never feel it? After all, you can’t fail if you don’t try. Actually you can, but at least then you’ll know why And Certainty is better than having no Control. Am I right? No, I’m not And you know it. So now The Question is: What path will you choose? Paralysis is a temporary stop-gap Allegorical 7 Athena
And the clock is ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Frantic, time is fleeting I’m staring you down Waiting for your answer But your mouth is choked, your pulse is racing, your heart and your brain and your body scream at each other and finally you break free from your prison and scream back: SHUT UP! You take a breath And will every fiber of your being to take a step forward And with that step forward You take a step back Into your true self Your unknown self Your yet-to-be-discovered Thrilling while terrifying Messy and beautiful Essence of you Self. You’re shaking But you’re standing On your own two feet. This is the cycle of living life To be continued. Allegorical 8 Athena
A Forbidden Love Lee Alexander It’s 12:50 a.m. I am sitting here still on the first page of 30 pages that I have to read for class tomorrow. I still have to do the readings for my other class. It’s taking me so long because I have been in meetings all day and just got in to do homework. I have a glass of Nuvo right next to me, taking sips here and there. I have my iTunes on with it on my Boo Time playlist. Right now, “Sex Therapy” by Rob Thicke is playing. Such a good song I think I will put it on repeat. I decide to take a sip of my Nuvo while checking Facebook—the Internet is such a great tool for procrastination. I look over in chat to see who is online—to my surprise I find you. You are never really on Facebook that much. Can’t pass this up—I send you a IM asking you how you are doing. I sit watching the screen , taking another sip of my Nuvo. I see that you are writing. You tell me you are doing well. We chat for a good ten minutes catching up until you tell me you are about to go to bed. I send you a ttyl and a heart and close my chat box. Looking up from my computer, I can’t help but smile. My next song of choice is “Only Girl in The World” by Rihanna (of course, I always change the lyric to only BOY in the world). I can’t stop thinking about you—never had. My friends say I should get over it, move on. They even ask “why him?” I tell them it’s just because there isn’t a little silly crush. But I know my heart won’t let me. I know why it’s you. I love everything about you from you sweet smile, to your corny jokes, to your mismatching outfits that you wear daily. I want you. I want to lay my head on your chest again and for you to stroke my hair. I want my ear to hear your heartbeat while I close my Allegorical 9 Athena
eyes and seek nirvana. I want to feel the warmth of our bodies together in love. I want all that, but you said no— let’s just be friends. Let’s be friends—the three words that crushed my heart and sent my world spinning. A tear rolls down my cheek and hits the page I have been trying to read for the past hour. I’m looking at your Facebook profile, wondering how such an authentic love shared between two men could be so wrong.
Zombie Xavia Publius I’m hungry for brains, Dragging my feet for so long. I search the living. I was alive once. Where did everything go wrong? Zombie-eaten brain. The flesh rots slowly, Has been rotting all my life. Let it melt away! I’m not my body. I am beautiful, but I am trapped in this corpse. This body will die. A new will grow in its place. Now, I shout: “BRAINS! BRAINS!”
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Starving Artist Darius Robinson
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Not Trash Xavia Publius
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Virgin April Bailey I have been raised my whole life to think of myself as a gift As a present Wrapped and waiting for someone worthy of unraveling my ribbons There is a story they tell us nice Christian girls A story about pearls How each of us has a string that curls delicately around our necks We give them out A kiss here, a touch there and ultimately of course, the biggest one‌
Vaginal Penetration. I used to call it sex but these days I’m more specific They tell us that we each have this necklace of pearls Given to us my our fathers They made me precious Clean and neat in cotton with my delicate pearls I was waiting They tell us a story. How one girl breaks the rules She plays the fool Starting with the little ones and moving on up She gives her pearls to each guy she meets The men crush them beneath their feet Allegorical 13 Athena
Moral of the story? Keep your pearls The whole string Wait until you have the ring And then give it …. Give it? Give it?! As if virginity is a THING that belongs only transiently to me Virgin - adjective not noun A state of inexperience I do not give to someone It is not an object I experience WITH someone Together I have been raised my whole life to be on guard Guard duty Guarding my jewels because even nice boys just want to take They told me “boys are just different April” You need to forgive them their lack of self-control Don’t flirt Don’t tease Don’t wear that skirt! Boys can’t control themselves Bullshit When I did start experiencing – just the smaller pearls My friends told me “barricade” Armor up because he will try to invade They said boys can’t control themselves Bullshit Allegorical 14 Athena
He bridles his desires more than I do Reigns in, pulls back There is no chopping at the bit, no sighs of resignation That would make me feel guilty and he doesn’t want that This story they tell us They tell us it’s a story about love It isn’t It’s about control. The most valuable thing about us isn’t ours Our fathers give it Our husbands take it We are simply stewards Guards Guarding a thing Well I’m putting down my weapons If I need to fight off the person I want to be with I don’t want to be with them I return the pearls to the sea Slip slide them plunk plunk into the deep They were never me
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vertigoprint2 Abi Conklin
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My Competition Jackie Gerson why do i stand here waiting on line? why the fuck do you get in while i remain, alone in a crowd? i am jerked forward, pulled backward by a soaring, mobbing crowd. we are 4.0 students during the day, drunkards by night. my foot is crushed, i feel it not; my body squeezed, i fail to flinch. i am immobile, just an object waiting its turn. and my turn is soon, for soon i will be judged. will i be worthy of entering the frat? is my hair stick straight, my skirt short, my face disguised by layers of makeup? but no, i must wait longer and longer. minutes pass as others enter before me; enter because they know some guy or they pout enough. and i; i remain. i who does not push and shove. i who awaits patiently my turn. i who only had one drink, not 2 or 3 or 4. i who am just me: just one ordinary sophomore girl. i am looked on by my peers and told if and when I am worthy of entering Allegorical 17 Athena
even when the party is clearly empty. i come to a high ranked school. i am an intellectual girl. i have friends. but yet i am judged. every weekend night i must try again and again to be able to enter. and still, i must be happy that i am a girl, and not that boy who is immediately dismissed. too many cocks screw a brother’s chances of getting lucky. we wouldn’t want to do that. no, no. so i must just wait my turn in a thrashing, throbbing mob of people who were once my peers, and now my competition.
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70spaisley2
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Abi Conklin
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Non-Negotiable Penis Caden Polk My penis is Gone Replaced by a temper and sensitivity Hurt Plastic and blue Moving to a different tune My tongue, my lips My heartbeat The fear of my fingers, replacing the irreplaceable The swing of my hips The smoothness of my words wrapping around through you Fear. Unbelievable. The best you’ll ever have, the last you’ll ever need Going to rock your body, twist you inside-out Unnecessary Necessary Beyond the reach of any being, stretching further than the sky and through the webs of mother earth A drum. A rhythm. A series of beats, It. The disappointment on your face when I say it’s only in your mind The size of your eyes when you see it for yourself. Confused Isolated Alone Making the space between my legs feel like the Grand Canyon when I want it to feel like the Eiffel Tower. Allegorical 21 Athena
Shy At home, sick. Call back tomorrow, or maybe in a few decades Not the empty space between tears, but the sound between imagination and realization, My thigh, depending upon the drunkenness of your touch. A bed, the caress of my hands after a tough night A gift requested from god that appears in the form of a hushed prayer, glued teeth and twisted fingers The force behind the removal of your clothes and the introduction of the pillow against your face Angry at being put into a lifetime of timeout My penis is ---_____ with envy Purple Blue Midnight-blue Yellow Pink Flushed Shaken Confined Fucked up Violent to my mind Threatened Bold Fearless Left behind Fast Unforgiving My penis needs Encouragement Warmth A nap Allegorical 22 Athena
Love A break Words. Thoughts. Song Rhythm Whey protein Air Clean dancing Smiles Stimulation A job Belief To empty Validation More space in my pants To be cleaned after each use‌ with your tongue More length More girth More confidence Prayer.
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Where Race and Gender Intersect Elizabeth Agramont As a female student of color, Black/Latina, it is hard to separate the interactions that one may face with regards to gender and race. In essence, both of these identities being Black/Latina and a woman are active in my life. They are a couple of the lens from which I see my environment and my environment see’s me. That said, I will describe the following incident that occurred on a given morning, a particularly snowy one, at the new Colgate gym. After my friends and I had worked out and prepared to leave the gym, a white man gave my friend and I one of the ugliest stares I’ve seen in quite a while. The look registered as “you’re despicable, and I can stand the sight of you” (though I’m just going to stare anyway). Ouch. Following the look from the man, my friend and I looked at each with the expression, “Oh my god that just happened.” We had an understanding that the man’s expression was a racist stare, which is completely conceivable in our minds; we just weren’t expecting it that early in the morning. Even if the stare wasn’t necessarily racist, (he could have just not like how we were dressed), nevertheless, it made my friend and I uncomfortable and not want to be there, and the feeling of not belonging there. Therefore, in a small attempt to stand up for myself and friends I said “Damn!” To let him know that I saw what he did and did not appreciate it. This leads into the following: He continued to walk in front of us, open the door, and say: “Come on ladies, I don’t have all day now!” I looked at my friends like “What the fuck! No, common on. I don’t need this fool to rush me.” Chivalry is dead by the way, as it should be. I’m more in favor of Allegorical 24 Athena
courtesy and respect. I’m all in favor of opening doors for people to be nice, to help them out. Not because of supposed gender role obligations. I did not need this man to open the door for me. I did not need this man to yell at me and make me feel guilty for taking my sweet time. Honestly, after the stare, I did not want anything to do with him. I wanted him to walk away and it to be over with. But probably as a result of his own guilt he decided to open the door and say what he said. Whatever. I hope this man learned the important lesson of doing the wrong thing and trying to cover it up by “doing the right thing�, which was still wrong and disrespectful. I hope he learns not to try to walk all over people because he sees them as inferior by race and gender. What does it mean that the man who said these things works at Colgate? What does it mean that other Professors have said or done things to make students uncomfortable? What type of role is Colgate playing to prevent these incidents from happening?
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All the Tweets I Can’t Stand Yellowmani Hey tweethearts I just ate a sandwich Do you think I should get highlights? I just woke up goodmorning tweoples I’m so tired ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Did anyone see #PLL? (Pretty Little Liars) I just took the biggest shit wait I should twitpic it My boyfriend (insert his twitter name) is such a jerk Omg if I hear one more thing about some trivial part of your day I am gonna scream. The other thing twitter does is reinforce compulsory heteronormativity with tweets and trending topics like Why is she such a #Ho? #HoeTwitterNames These girls out here would do anything for some dick #Thatssogay Why everybody #wannabe a lesbian now? These and a lot of other tweets reinforce the ideas that the feminist movement is trying to work against so I encourage all the feminists and womanists out there to join twitter and start writing feminist tweets so we can have a alternate discourse that can rival these heteronormative tweets. We can get our topics trending and create an alternative twitter discourse. First Twitter, Then The World
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Egg Painting Erin Lushefski
Sperm Painting
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The Darkness Brenda Boyle My friend, I would like to say thank you. Truly and deeply, Thank you. Why, you ask? You see, my friend, Sweet, delicious sleep gently tugs on my eyelids Pulling them down and pulling me to bed But I resist in my desire to delay the morning. It is in these hours that the perpetual march of time is suspended If just for a little while And I can pause And breathe And rest And delay the battles of tomorrow If just for a little while. A decade-old war wages in my head So I cherish this time of peace While the rest of the world sleeps And there is quiet And calm And darkness. The darkness. I am nocturnal only during the bitterest of battles Allegorical 28 Athena
Because I will only let the darkest of my demons out In the darkest hours of the night When they won’t and can’t be seen by others And when I no longer have the strength to rein them in. You see, my friend, I hide in the light of the sun A piece of my soul can only be seen under the cover of darkness, The darkness that is my refuge and my prison. Maybe, in another world, I could be Batman. But here, in this world, I am simply this. I am your daughter Your sister Your friend Your lover Your neighbor And there is a part of me that you will never know. So when you give me your love Your patience Your compassion Your embrace Your smile It helps me feel safe enough to close my eyes And drift off to sleep Knowing, that with your help, I will have the strength for another day and another darkness. So thank you. Allegorical 29 Athena
I observed you from afar Jess Aquino i observed you from afar they say you are a child, because you compare life to a peanut butter sandwich. he says you are woman because of how your hips tend to fragilely sway. she says you are man. man that can lift 40 lbs of Morton’s Water Softener, and still be able to open the door for the stranger behind you. but you speak of the delicacies in tree trunks or how thunderstorms remind you of your sister napping. you peek out the window as if waiting, and you wear a mask of nostalgia. suddenly you don’t look so young anymore. and I wonder, always do I wonder, what you are Allegorical 30 Athena
thinking you explain why i am a willow at fall and you, of all things, an onion. where is the man, the woman the child here? you’re made from the same brushstrokes as earth and the hues of Friday’s sunsets where is the man the woman the child here?
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Flip-Flop Alphabet Blocks Erin Lushefski
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Come Close to Communicate Rachelè Hatter and when i release, i hope it shakes your core ringing throughout your body waves bubbling over tiny reverberations echoing in every cell of skin i want it to spill into your lungs, shaking your exhales and filling ever instance with memories of the moment of the connection because i am what is constantly unexpected overlooked and mistaken for something ordinary passive it’s the smallness, i swear my inability to take up space it is well forgotten what is often said of small packages in me is this incessant swelling i am too much being i am not enough this chewing in my skull when i interact, it’s there wanting to grip you nails dug in, shocking you Allegorical 33 Athena
into realization but it shies away from the thought you’re too numb to listen information is free and overstimulating and in abundance knowledge is not my Words are not free but the labor of life in process so when i Speak i want every sound to reach you that space within you hidden at all times my Words are too fertile for dead minds.
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No Binary to Define Me Andrea Finley Choosing to accept myself has been the hardest task of all. Knowing that as I walk down every stair case, every side walk, That there is someone mistaking me for the stereotypes they have breathed. I understand that my gender in terms of how I dress, may very well confuse most of you, But for me this is the only authentic way That I know how to be. I’ve always chosen a pair of jeans over any skirt or dress you see. So on to the labels, the ones you’ve give me, Black dyke, you stud, you think you a man or at least you wanna be? No, that’s not my name, my name is Andrea and I’m a queen. So now you stare at me perplexed by my reference to me… Were you expecting a deep voice, or a macho attitude like I’m a dude? Queen? Yes I am a Queen A queen who will treat another queen with royalty. So allow me to explain, Understand that there is no binary that can define me I’m sorry for you because you choose to be defined by everything you see. Comparing your size to everything on TV, Lifting your weights so a set of eyes can meet yours in the desolate chambers of a young woman’s soul?
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Defining your very existence with a number on a scale, a number that hides your beauty and the curves you’ll never wear? Or perhaps you may say that I’m just confused… A female who just needs God to put her back in the right shoes… And to you I say this, For when God created me he created brilliance A female in every way that makes you question MY existence. But yet I’m right here, but where are you? Wrapped up in my words because you’re still confused? You haven’t gotten it yet, I’m here as a representation for you! Understand that just as you question me, you’re questioning the very person you wish you could be. You wish you could have my confidence, You wish you could have my faith, You wish you could realize that everyday you’re living for someone unfamiliar to YOUR own face. But you didn’t realize that, stuck in a binary that’s holding you captive. So you can look at me and say what you like, But every morning I wake up, face myself in the mirror and I understand everything that makes me me… Because there is no binary that can or will define me. So I challenge you today, To become the person you told yourself that you could never be, Because until then, you’re just another face, another body held captive to the binary we call society.
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Sir Rachelè Hatter Quick glance and polite words caught you, threw you off post-assumption left scrambling with apologies and that red oh-excuse-me-miss face Don’t worry I enjoy creating a little dissonance and waking you out of that business as usual stupor I hope you start to wonder about the disconnect and make a mental list that will convince I was somehow being misleading Was it the close-cut, kinky hair, my face unpainted and flat affect that’s somehow untypical for its kind? Could it be the sway in my step, the slouch in my shoulders, the lack of feminine curves that made you call me, “Sir”? Won’t you find it silly to think about these things, trying to figure out the answer to this question that you know has been taught. And you know it was well-rehearsed but still couldn’t manage to pass. Allegorical 37 Athena
It must’ve been something on my end, something wrong on my part that must be to blame. I wasn’t performing well enough, didn’t wear my markers bright enough to relieve you of the trouble of having to guess what’s between my legs.
Creation Xavia Publius Allegorical 38 Athena
Fade Under Fold Amy Brown “Well, she’s looking for bugs.” That is how my mother would respond if a neighbor asked why her sixyear-old daughter was frantically lifting rocks and logs, examining the dirt beneath. I told myself I was doing the insects a favor by exposing them to the world above the rocks. Sometimes, I sat silently and watched the damselflies and bees, flying among the dandelions and clover, resting on flakes of maroon paint peeling from the wooden fence. My closest cousin’s mother died during their annual weekend visit to my house when I was nine. Linda died just as her mother had, from a massive heart attack at the age of forty-five. At her memorial service, each person was given a folded piece of paper. The homemade envelope quivered, causing me to look up at my mother and squint my eyes, perplexed by the paper’s movement. My mother smiled tightly and Ric, Linda’s husband, said, “Today, we celebrate Linda’s determination and free spirit.” He slid his finger under the fold and pulled back the paper’s corners. A monarch emerged, shifted its wings upright, and fluttered them a few times, making sure they still worked. The butterfly flew off and the mass exodus that followed punctuated the blue sky with countless orange swatches. The sight nearly caused me to forget about the trapped butterfly in my own palm. As I opened the paper and extended my finger, the butterfly hesitated and then straightened its leg to touch my fingertip. It clung to my skin briefly and then took flight. The house I lived in during elementary school was built in 1913. Most of its features were original, including knob and tube electrical wiring, Victorian-style Allegorical 39 Athena
wallpaper held together with yellowed tape, lead-based paint, and poorly sealed windows. During the winter months, my brother and I checked the laundry room window frames for ladybugs, which entered through the cracks to escape the cold. They would cluster together along the sides of the window, legs clinging to the glass pane, the window sash, or the toxic paint on the windowsill. When we found ladybugs, they were usually dead, dehydrated from the dry winter air. Our small fingertips tried to pry their legs from the window, but their hard, shell-like wing coverings, called elytra, were often too slippery and as soon as the ladybugs detached, they fell to the floor beside the dryer. If they were alive, they roamed with the dust bunnies. If they were dead, their remains joined the dust bunnies. My sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Galizia, once asked me, “Brown, you want to study insects. Would you eat a bug?” When I went to the Museum of Natural History later that year, I purchased grasshoppers and mealworms encased in amber candy in the gift shop. Insects covered in sugar seemed like cheating, so I broke the amber, extracting the insect to experience its authentic flavor. My classmates crowded nearby as my tongue shifted the mealworm in my mouth. I cringed as I bit into it, unclenched my jaw and chewed again. “It tastes like an extremely thin no-salt potato chip.” I asked Mr. Galizia if he wanted to try the grasshopper. He refused. I wish I had a legitimate reason as to why I’m not going to be an entomologist anymore, such as a beehive incident or a mild case of West Nile virus. The reality is that bug-hunting is not socially acceptable for teenage girls. I still admire the insects I encounter, but I don’t pursue them with the same fanaticism that I once did. I didn’t let my dream of being an entomologist die; rather, it faded Allegorical 40 Athena
and deteriorated, like a butterfly carcass lying on the cloth shelf inside a car’s rear window. The sunlight bleaches the once-bright colors and the wings disintegrate into dust. The butterfly’s intrinsic beauty is lost but the cloth is slightly softer where its body lay.
Ode to Brooklyn Decker April Bailey I don’t get offended I don’t know what that means Sure, I don’t agree with things that people say I hurt Things hurt me But I’m never offended In that moment, I realized that maybe I should be She was golden. Like Aphrodite just from the water Her tanned smoothness glistening against the coarse sand She starred, daring me from the safety of an iPhone screen My male friends passed her around the table Saying, look Look how beautiful How skinny, how sculpted Parading before my eyes images of what a woman should be Of what they wanted their women to be Implicitly saying, look, do you measure up? At the same time they were excluding me from their conversation I became a wall flower Allegorical 41 Athena
A decoration pressed into the wall Looking on silent While the boys discussed I didn’t know how to respond If I’d complained they’d say Lighten up Be light and pretty and delicate They’d say, we weren’t serious They never are Well I am serious Stuff like that matters Our culture is what it is because of the huge mass of moments like that one My best friend sat across from me The bikinied women’s figure still leaking from the back of our retinas Like an apparition she hovered between us He glanced at me through her guiltily He knew that it bothered me but he knew that he wasn’t going to say anything They said this is beauty – it is white, it is tan, long, long hair, long blond hair, long legs, it is smiles and exposure, it is silent He knows that it bothers me, but does it bother him? Tonight when he whispers in my ear that I am beautiful I don’t know if I’ll believe that he thinks so Allegorical 42 Athena
[Untitled 2]
Allegorical 43 Athena
Erin Lushefski
Allegorical 44 Athena