Allegorical Athena
Spring 2014 - Volume 19 The Center for Womenâ€&#x;s Studies Annual Literary Arts Magazine Colgate University - Hamilton, New York
Locked Structures By Hannah Oâ€&#x;Malley
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Thanks to Our Sponsors!
Classics Department Dean of the College Division of Arts and Humanities English Department Office of Undergraduate Studies University Studies Writing and Rhetoric Department
Thanks to all who submitted pieces! We appreciate your courage and creativity!
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BabyMaker By Xavia Publius
Colgate University’s Women’s Studies Magazine A collection of work by students, faculty and staff
Editor: Lindsey Hope Skerker „14 Spring 2014 Volume 19 Allegorical ~ 30 ~ Athena
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#BreakingTheSilence By Lindsey Skerker
Athena
On April 21, a group of students organized a silent protest in front of the chapel to bring light to the problem of sexual assault on Colgateâ€&#x;s campus.
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Dear Black Woman By Stephanie Nabine Dear Black woman,
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
that think over there ain‟t attractive cover it up make sure that before you walk in the door, it is well hidden because that ain‟t attractive that why you still single ain‟ it, that why no man has ever knocked on your door don‟t you feel sorry for yourself, all your friends all with their boos you sitting in the dark and absorbing the blackness into your skin no wonder you are this way you know they how they like them light, barely there, kissed by the sun, glossed by the moon not like you you know I am telling you the truth that why you still single that why I never came to you and on top of that you are loud, aggressive and a whole bunch of things
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.
that‟s why I choose her instead of you with her golden skin as bright as the moon her green eyes as vast as the sea
Athena is usually accompanied by an owl and a serpent, which is frequently found at the base of her staff.
her soft hair that does not make my hand bleed, as though I am running my hands though air so cover that up cause nobody wants to see it
Source: Goddess-Athena.org
you hear?
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Dear Readers,
Art by a Feminist
I proudly present the 19th annual Allegorical Athena! Created in 1996, Allegorical Athena is a yearly gender-oriented magazine sponsored in part by the Center for Womenâ€&#x;s Studies. Submissions come from many members of the greater Colgate community and this volume contains artwork, photography, poetry, and prose.
By Valerie Garcia
Collectively, these literary and artistic contributions address issues that inform people of all genders, and provoke thoughts about gender, sex, body, social, and intersectionality issues. It is my sincere hope that readers can relate to a number of issues brought to light in this edition, and that they can in turn embrace and reflect on them. As always, the ideas, words, opinions, and images portrayed in this edition do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the editor, 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. With that, please openly embrace this magazine. Consider the words and images of your fellow members of the Colgate community and allow yourself to evaluate and further question the reality that surrounds you. Read, think, and most importantly, reflect on what you will find inside. I know you are bound to enjoy it!
All the best, Lindsey Skerker
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When I Knew By Anonymous That moment when we finally hooked up. Not the sex, but when we were laying in my bed and I was so nervous and new to this gay thing--that's when I knew. It was after a Saturday practice. We had spent the entire day working together and had flirted so hardcore that even other people had noticed, and I didn't even care. Only a few hours before I had found out my mom had cancer and so I fell into him. Collapsed. I've never had a day as high and as low. That day was the day when I finally knew. When I finally realized that this was right. That being like this was okay.
...Contents... The Politics of Puberty: A Case Study by Mel Grover-Schwartz............8 Inflating Bubbles by Hannah O‟Malley........................................................9 Tonight I Will by Adrielle Jefferson........................................................10-11 Valiente (image and poem) by Anna Ríos-Rojas.....................................12-13 I laugh so carefully by Caitlin Whittemore................................................14 Sunday by April Bailey...................................................................................15 The Cells of Henrietta Lacks compiled by Priscilla Van Wynsberghe....16 A Haiku by Whitney Robbins.........................................................................17 Trapped in the World’s Stage by Hannah O‟Malley................................17
Preserve It
Low Tolerance by Hoa Bui..........................................................................18
By Hannah O’Malley
My, Your, and Our Words by Ryan Orkisz ........................................20-21
Latina Feminists compiled by Valerie Garcia & Natasha Torres...............19
Blue by Michelle Cao......................................................................................22 How are you? by April Bailey......................................................................23 present. by Chantel Melendez .................................................................24-25 When I Knew by Anonymous.......................................................................26 Preserve It by Hannah O‟Malley..................................................................26 Art by a Feminist by Valerie Garcia............................................................27 Dear Black Woman by Stephanie Nabine.................................................28 #BreakingTheSilence by Lindsey Skerker................................................29 BabyMaker by Xavia Publius ………………………………………………...…………. 30
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The Politics of Puberty: A Case Study
8:15 am
Mel Grover-Schwartz
“Snooze”
I was thirteen when you
Linger (like remembering, but more artificial) On wardrobe cleanses and gift-giving holidays
developed a sudden, unbecoming,
White, hard-paper boxes cradle sweaters in evoking colors White, hard paper boxes cradle outfits, predetermined
ferocious interest in me—a carnal taboo of middle school politics.
Cute, but passed overhead from a loved one to a stranger standing just behind 8:55 am
And so I was knock-kneed when you
“Cringe”
asked if, perhaps, I‟d be interested in
Because do dogs ever say, “I am dog?” Given they are dogs, evolutionarily speaking
kissing. Pulling from piles
And they are even dogs, hypnagogically speaking
of valentines
(They have rather doggish dreams)
and elementary
And they are called dogs, and assume the tone and cadence of dogs in existential conversation with, say, cats Do they ever think, “I am dog?” to their selves,
sweethearts,
And if so, does it come off as a reminder I agreed to meet in the peripheral gymnasium
“Note to self: I am dog?” Do they have to be a dog to be? Do you have to be a _____ to be?
after snacks, soliciting the finest in sartorial elegance: pink camisole sprouting from a violently green miniskirt slice by threequarter sleeves. Your
“Note to self: I am.” All this to say that it is 9:03 am, And you are avoiding full consciousness, While you listen pointedly to the murmur of morning activity, of toilets flushing and doors slamming and alarms sounding of now, fading Someone else says, from miles outside yourself, “Time to make myself presentable.”
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present.
t-shirt was stained in grape jelly. Your impish grin
By Chantel Melendez and lilting inflection signaled 7:55 am
the unfeeling cogs of
“Snooze” Dream of closet doors (open), and open doors closer,
puberty—a second taboo of middle school politics.
and 9:20 outfits as endearing as they are Undetermined In a hypnagogic cover of reality, you forget that to be seen is not to
Breasts small, eyes round, lips parting with a sigh, with my
being as „x‟ is to expression, so
naïve understanding of love, in this moment
Walk out the door with an impression of transferring weight, existing in relation to other things being
I love you completely
Echo in imagined airs down empty stairwells at 8:63 AM Absorb through boot soles the confidence of concrete steps Feel your self as it reverberates through the palms of your feet
Inflating Bubbles Hannah O’Malley
Witness it in the windowpanes with a glance through mascaraed lashes And wake up to cellphone melodies and wake up to 9:20 outfits, undecided and wake up to thoughts of your skirts curtsying to an admiring and featureless self, left waiting in the pause of confusing difference between names and introductions
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Tonight I Will … Adrielle Jefferson Tonight is the second night I‟ve jumped out of my sleep after having called out your name in my dreams you never answered If I told you I write you a love poem every night, won‟t allow another man to place his lips on my skin because your name is tatted on my heart it feels wrong to love someone who doesn‟t love you I think I‟m addicted to the hunger pains In the middle of the night knowing that your lover has invested himself in someone else Invested himself so deep the name she‟s screaming out is the same one you‟re waiting to pop up on your caller ID Tonight is the second night, I‟ve paced my hardwood floors in your t-shirt trying to decide whether or not to call you
How are you? By April Bailey
„I‟m FINE!‟ Freaked out Insecure Neurotic and Emotional FINE So I sat down, lay down on my spine Lay flat on my back on my living room floor The carpet swung up to meet me I was light-headed and sore The floor had no impact, no damaging stroke I was already down, there was nothing else to provoke And I felt safe As my grandma used to say: Safe as in Abraham‟s bosom, between his breasts‟ gentle sway Close to the heart that beats so close to god‟s The floor felt solid beneath me More solid than manna from the sky More solid than recognition from on high More solid than homemade pie More solid than a lot of things More solid than promises of success, than his good opinion, than promises of love The floor felt solid And I felt solid pushing down on it I‟m fine.
you never answered
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Blue
By Michelle Cao
If I told you I reread our old texts like they are hand written love notes, that when Lauryn croons I‟m only thinking about you it feels wrong to love someone who doesn‟t love you I think I‟m addicted to impossible things knowing that I will starve before the seeds I‟ve planted take root knowing that when I‟m staring into the darkness, thinking about the way you held me that night in the park, under the trees, under the stars, under God, you have forgotten me it feels wrong to love someone who doesn‟t love you I am a good time. You are a good friend. I am in love. You are just having fun. I write you poems, love poems, every night, sometimes they don‟t make it to paper, sometimes they are quiet whispers, sometimes vengeful tears because I don‟t want to grieve anymore for a love I could not have lost because it never belonged to me anyway tonight I will try to remember I am a good time. You‟re a good friend. I am not in love. We are just having fun.
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Valiente By Anna RĂos-Rojas
She must have known that she was associating foolishness and idiocy with a human being. That as she uttered the word in front of her students and in front of her children, she encouraged the consistent debasement and degradation of the mentally and physically challenged. She should have expected my outrage. Even if, I was just one of her students. Even if, it was said in the comfort of her home. But she did not, because she didnâ€&#x;t know how wrong it was. As a society, we have yet to recognize the detrimental effects that we continually inflict as we incorrectly use and tolerate others usage of retarded as a meaning of stupidity. With each utterance, we solidify its cultural importance in dehumanizing a community of individuals. So often it is claimed that we are seeing the last great civil rights movement in this country. But what about their protest, when will it begin? When will we understand the misuse of retarded to be as insulting as so many slurs largely banished from societyâ€&#x;s vocabulary? When will we regard these individuals as members of society, deserving of respect, concern, and humanity? When will you begin to speak out? Will it be today? Can it be today?
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My, Your, and Our Words By Ryan Orkisz
I wonder if he thought about it: what would happen when he called me a faggot. He must have known that I would not be able to speak. He must have known that I would be glued to my seat, my muscles tightened, too rigid to move. That as the he uttered the word and threatened to kill me in the pizza place, I would not feel safe to leave my dorm after dark for two months. He should have expected their outrage. Even if, lowly first-years canâ€&#x;t talk back to a junior. Even if, in the end, I would silence their voices. Because each of us knew how wrong it was. I wonder if I thought about it: what would happen when I called her that word. I must have known that it was marred with racism. I must have known that I was explicitly betraying and demeaning her. That as I uttered the word in my dorm room, I would tarnish our friendship in the worst way. I should have expected her outrage. Even if the comment was made in jest. Even if she could forgive my moments of ignorance. Because each of us knew how wrong it was.
Valiente By Anna RĂos-Rojas Soy valiente. I am brave. I take refuge in my books, my theories, my hard-core idealisms. I perform, I pretend, I pass. I smile. I smooth. I slip. I self-sabotage. Porque soy valiente. Because I am brave. Soy valiente. I am brave. I pretend you are not there, fear. I snub you, sadness. I mingle. I manage. I minimize. I laugh. I lacquer. I leap. I limp. Porque soy valiente. Because I am brave. Soy valiente. I am brave. I say that I am a strong-willed Latina, a warrior like my Inca ancestors. I blend. I bridge. I break. I bleed. Porque soy valiente. Because I am brave.
I wonder if she thought about it: what would happen when she told me I looked retarded. She must have known that the Batman cape strewn across my shoulders was not an insignia of a physically or mentally impaired person. Allegorical ~ 20 ~ Athena
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I laugh so carefully Caitlin Whittemore
We Are Latina Feminists Compiled by Valerie Garcia & Natasha Torres
Fixated on the red cone of desire I spin like a broken wheel Throwing shade at my old flames It‟s a dragging thief who can control you A dead, dead bird so sublime I wander on dark clouds And face the cold, cold night Wonderful how you allow me in Cracking my deep, smoky mind Licking my thoughts like lead scribes Thanks for the invite, baby Would you like to see how I kill time? Bare lips on a crusty map Aimless wandering in an unplanned trap I laugh so… carefully Feeling like public property again I love the feeling you force on me All I yearn for is not emphasized It‟s fine, it‟s FINE. Allegorical ~ 14 ~ Athena
“Difference is not a mask that can be put on or taken off; it forms the basis of who [we] are in the world” (The Latina Feminist Group). There is no common Latina face or experience. Contributors: Marielba Casabona, Cindy Gaete, Melissa Melendez, Giselle Perez-Leon, and Paulette Ramon
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Sunday
Low Tolerance
April Bailey
By Hoa Bui
You expect me to be demure and sweet Serving you food, bow down, and kiss your feet, Looking at me, You see, A potential. The Potential to become a professional hooker! Oh! You nice kind-hearted colonizers You want me to be oppressed by my own culture So you, with your white horse and armor, You can release this wild creature The beast That Asian men have failed to feed? Thank you! But no, thank you! I can be demure and sweet, But I am also mature and I hate feet! Oh, In Calculus, I got a B, This is an Asian B, just like a Caucasian B, Or a Latino B, or an African American B. I hate Math, Just like I hate Chemistry, Anthropology, History, Or missionary, doggy, or lazy Suzy
It‟s morning you‟re asleep dust motes shuffle through the sun a water drop plinks on porcelain nothing needs to be done its so still the moment holds its breath, waiting to be shattered the silence before the clatter the perfection before the tatter but it isn‟t Ten heartbeats pass… and it still holds. holds the dust gently whirring, holds the drops gently slurping, holds my thoughts gently stirring, holds strong. And you are strong like the stillness As you sleep you breathe it into you there is a chemical reaction, and you distill it down throughout the day, as you chatter away, the calm leaks out of you it holds me still holds strong And I begin to float, like a dust moat, basking in my sun
You don‟t wait to know me to call me a whore You know my Asian body in porn before Know too well, indeed. But you should know more about your own bullshit Because I have a low tolerance for it.
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The Cells of Henrietta Lacks Compiled by Professor Priscilla Van Wynsberghe
A Haiku
By Whitney Robbins I am a Princess I‟ll kick your ass and wear pink Now prepare my throne
Trapped in the World’s Stage By Hannah O’Malley
The HeLa cells above are from Henrietta Lacks. She died young from aggressive cervical cancer, but her cells live on in labs across the world, including at Colgate. These cells were stained with different dyes to visualize different cellular components. Pictures courtesy of: Julie Falotico, Clare Schneider, Maya Srivastava, and Lily Trytten from the Biology of Women First-Year Seminar Course.
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