May 2018
COLOUR
Issue no. 6 | The Galaxy Issue
colour Editor in chief Editor Creative Director
Head Graphic Designer Graphic Designer Writer Photographer Model
Bryan Okelo Chanel Lynn , Le’Aysha Pearson, Sydney Tucker Justyn Higgins, Tiffany Hill, Jelani M-Anderson, Daelen Morris OnYou Kang Seulgee Lee, Maya St. Clair Rob Hall, Helen Li, Sarah Martin Kiki Ogino, Brandon Wilburn Mohammed Alshamsi, Asheley Ashittey, Christopher Blake, Jonathan Bridges, Millyn Brieschke, Reana Elder, Ali Elganzouri, Mireille Gerdes, Delores Hanson, Taylor Harris, Drew Hubbard, Jamar Macdonald, Chudi Mbanefo, Mirai Patel, Rachana Reddy , Kristen Walker, Joie Zhang
COLOUR is a fashion & lifestyle magazine that highlights the narratives of people of color created by students at Washington University in St. Louis.
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Day & Night Shift
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Stop Rewarding Abusive Artists by Rob Hall
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Extra Terrestrials
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An Ode to Black Women’s Interiority by Sarah Martin
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Ashoka
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My Black Hole is a Place Where I Dwell by Helen Li
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Cosmobiology
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Day & Night Shift
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Stop Rewarding Abusive Artists Rob Hall
Supporting music artists who are known sexual / domestic abusers promotes rape culture. By denouncing them and choosing to not listen to their music, we effectively can strip the power away from the abusers and empower victims instead. We must stop being complicit with abuse if we want to create a safer, more accepting environment for everyone. colour | 11
In light of the extensive amount of allegations of assault and abuse against celebrities, it’s time to talk about ceasing to support of music artists who are known abusers. Famed recording artists such as Kodak Black, XXXTentacion, Tekashi69, Chris Brown, Trey Songz, and many others have had multiple allegations of sexual assault and domestic abuse against them (and some have been convicted). However, despite their malicious tendencies being known, these artists careers continue to be successful. XXXtentacion’s recent album hit the #1 spot on the Billboard 200 charts, Chris Brown and Tekashi69 (who both were found guilty on charges of
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domestic abuse and sexual assault, respectively) both have multiple songs in the Hip-Hop/R&B Top 40, and Trey Songz just finished a nationwide tour. We as a society have become complicit with abuse to the point that those that cause anguish upon the innocent are allowed to continue to be successful. We need to counteract this. By banding together to stop supporting abusers and denounce their actions, we will empower victims, encourage more survivors to come forward, counteract a pervasive rape culture, and disallow the success of the malicious. It’s not that difficult to stop supporting abusive artists. In 2018, the main means for
large music artists to profit is through streaming and shows. Every time you listen to a song or attend a show, you’re putting money into their pocket. Every time you listen to the music or attend the show of an abuser, you’re putting money in their pocket. We live in the internet age, and it is easier to access music than it’s ever been before. Spotify, Soundcloud, and Apple Music all hold the music of thousands of recording artists across the world. Because of this huge amount of music and ease of access, substitutes can be found for almost any recording artist that you like. While it may not be the exact same, it is worth it to avoid listening to problematic artists; fans
supporting their art is what supports their lifestyle. Do we really want to let malicious sexual and domestic abusers continue to be rich and successful? Not only does supporting problematic abusers allow them to continue to be successful, it plays into rape culture. Rape culture is defined as “a setting in which rape is pervasive and normalized due to societal attitudes about gender and sexuality.” This includes victim-blaming, misogynistic power structures, and downplaying the amount of harm that abuse does. All three of these things are promoted when we continue to support abusive music artists. Oftentimes,
celebrities are able to walk free after committing assaults because they are in positions of power and influence. They defame the victims by saying they just want money, hire expensive lawyers, and use their large followings to attack the victims. Because of this, along with how difficult it is to prove abuse and sexual assault in the court of law, it is extremely difficult for victims to come forward. When we support abusers and allow them to continue to be famed and powerful, we further sustain a culture that disempowers survivors. By denouncing abusers, avoiding their music, and ceasing to attend their shows, we effectively take power away from them and
redistribute it to the victims of these crimes. This creates a culture of safety and responsibility, which is better for everyone. Many people argue that it is simply too difficult to avoid the music of abusive artists, and that their individual doesn’t actually do anything. Furthermore, some argue that they don’t know the specifics of the allegations against artists, and thus, cannot yet stop supporting them. These stances are irresponsible and lazy. If everyone has the mindset that they as an individual cannot make a difference, then society as a whole will stay complacent. If we work together and decide who to support
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as a culture, we can effectively strip power away from those who harm others. With regards to being unknowing of the specifics of allegations, we are in the age of the internet, and almost any information is accessible in seconds. Read the cases. Make your own judgements. But, do not argue that your ignorance isn’t by choice. With information so easily accessible, staying blissfully ignorant is a decision - an arrogant and harmful one. If you think it’s difficult to stop listening to a famous artist, imagine how difficult it must be to bring allegations forward against one. In lieu of the #MeToo movement, we must ban together to actively counteract sexual assault, domestic
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abuse, and rape culture as a whole. We can do this by ceasing to support artists who are known abusers, and denouncing them to others. It is just as harmful to be complicit with within a culture of abuse as it is to participate in it. If we collectively decide to take the morality of an artist in consideration when deciding whether or not to support them, we will effectively be able to create a safer, healthier environment for everyone.
Rob Hall
“Think about it. R. Kelly never went to jail and he’s a fucking child molester.”
-Vince Staples
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ExtraTerrestrials
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An Ode to Black Women’s Interiority Or Why I Refuse to Share my Black Girl Magic with the Academy
Sarah Martin
I remember it was lightly raining outside, and I was cursing myself on the inside for once again forgetting to bring my umbrella. I was grateful for the rain though, especially the pitter-patter noise the rain produced when it hit the window sill; it distracted me from the here and now, which I was desperately trying to avoid. My black female professor sat across from me. Her arms rested casually on the desk before her—one arm
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parallel to the desk; the other arm perpendicular. One hand was tucked beneath her neck, and her shoulder blades were pushed forward, which I assumed was her way of saying she had my attention. Her casual body language put me at ease, but her piercing eyes forced me to keep my guard up. I could never discern what her eyes were trying to express to me—pity, disappointment, comfort? Every time I was in her office,
I wrestled internally with which emotion she was trying to convey from her eyes, but I could never settle on one. The content of conversation that day was like most conversations I have had with her in that office. Essentially, we loosely discussed my academic progress (or lack thereof) and brainstormed ideas for my future post-graduation. As always, I was grateful for her help, but I was also relieved when the conver-
response to my professor’s perplexing comment, but I do remember thanking her for her time and promptly exiting her office.
sation was beginning to wind down, which was my signal to leave. As I began to pack up my belongings, my professor sighed, which caused me to look up and face her. There was a moment where no words were exchanged between the two of us, and then my professor said with noticeable hesitation, “Sometimes, I feel like there is a wall around you, Sarah.” Her comment caught me off guard, which prompted me to laugh nervously. Picking up on my uncomfortable body language, my professor quickly backpedaled and said something along the lines of, “But that’s alright, maybe you don’t want to show that part of yourself.” I cannot remember exactly what I mumbled in
Ever since my professor made that comment, I have been ruminating over her words and trying to find meaning behind them. Ultimately, I think that “part of myself” my professor was referencing was my interiority—black interiority, the part of my black that makes it magical. To unpack this, I would like to turn to a passage from a book I read last semester for my Black Lives Matter class. The book was titled, Sovereignty of Quiet: Beyond Resistance in Black Culture by Kevin Quashie. In the introduction to the text, Quashie lays out his central argument, which is essentially that the framework of resistance, often formed and articulated in public, has become the primary analytic through which we understand black culture. Quashie urges black cultural scholars to adopt new frameworks. Indeed, the analytic Quashie suggests is that of “quiet.” According to Quashie, “Quiet is a metaphor for the full range of one’s inner life—
one’s desires, ambitions, hungers, vulnerabilities, and fears. The inner life is not apolitical or without social value, but neither is it determined entirely by publicness. In fact, the interior, dynamic and ravishing—is a stay against the dominance of the social world; it has its own sovereignty. It is hard to see, even harder to describe, but no less potent in its ineffability.”
I think my professor was encouraging me to bring my full self to the seminar table. Quashie’s shift to quiet is at once a shift to interiority. Ultimately, his theorization of quiet helps me make sense of my professor’s comments and the voluminous pause that separated them. I think my professor was encouraging me to bring my full self to the seminar table. This suggestion did not particularly surprise me, because many of my classes allow for this possibility. Most of my classes are cross-listed under the Women, Gender, and Sexuality studies and African and African American studies departments, so it would incredibly easy
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for me to speak on my lived experiences and/or inner life during discussions with my peers in the classroom. However, there are stakes to doing this work, which I would like to think my professor acknowledged when she paused and somewhat retracted her comment. No words were exchanged between my professor and I to lead me to this conclusion; but her hesitation coupled with her parting comment leads me to believe this is true. After all, my professor, like me, is a black female navigating a predominantly
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white institution, but unlike me, as an employee of the university; I am sure she is all too familiar with what it would mean to bring one’s full black, messy, self to the table. Besides, I have heard of black students who have brought their full, black, messy selves before the university’s faculty, and the administration had all too willingly encouraged them to take medical leave. I know this because that student was once me. But just in case I am not being clear enough, let me
tell you what bringing my full, black, messy self to the table would look like in one of my classes this semester. Take, for example, my women and prison class, which is mostly—although not exclusively—comprised of well-intentioned white feminists. Last week, we had a unit that focused on the intersection between women of color and prisons, which confused me, as I felt that race should always be part of conversations on the prison industrial complex. That day our conversation was a loosely
about how shitty racism is; which then spiraled into a bunch of anecdotal accounts from white women in the class about how their white female privilege allowed them to get away with *insert traffic violation* after being pulled over by a police officer.
That day, like most days, I learned that hiding the most precious parts of myself from this “table” is often an act of self-preservation. So, for this class, bringing my full black, messy self
to table would have meant airing my frustration with the trajectory of our conversation. Bringing my full black self to the class, that day, would also have meant not hiding the fact that I rolled my eyes when Becky to the left of me was making connections about the continued legacy of sexual violence against black women from a text she read in another class, because I am all too familiar with that history. It would mean pushing my classmates to draw conclusions from the text beyond the, “it must suck to be a black person in America” narrative. It would mean getting up out of the desk and screaming to the top of
my lungs, because I desperately wanted to add to the conversation but do not want to expand the mental and emotional labor to do so. That day, like most days, the act of not bringing my full black, messy, self to the [seminar] table was intentional. That day, like most days, I learned that hiding the most precious parts of myself from this “table” is often an act of self-preservation. So, in response to my professor, I do not intend on sharing the most precious parts of myself with the university, because the academy does not deserve my black girl magic.
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Student Group Spotlight:
Ashoka Ashoka is South Asian Student Association at Washington University in St. Louis. Their main goal for the community is to promote the understanding and appreciation of South Asian culture with several events and activities throughout the year. Join Ashoka as they celebrate South Asia on our campus through cultural shows, formals, service opportunities, and more!
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For the photoshoot Colour partnered with Ashoka and recreated photos from Indian fashion designer Sabyasachi Mukherjee’s summer 2018 collection. Rachana Reddy, one of the members of Ashoka came up with the idea of the collaboration.
We believe that it is a great way to celebrate and promote another cultural student group as a magazine that is all about bringing minority students to the forefront. 36 | colour
My Black Hole is a place where I dwell Helen Li (‘19)
(Dwelled? Am dwelling? I don’t know. Tenses in the following will not matter.) The first time my Black Hole announced its arrival explicitly
with a dash of anxiety, a panic attack,
the world closing in on me
alone in my apartment bedroom, off campus
Breathe in deeply, breathe out, meditate, but
no, more tears, more breath
the world could not better
whatever I tried
A wave of shame
I am supposed to be the person who counsels
other people about their problems. A friend
(well, a friend I guess I hadn’t spoken to in a long time)
A friend removed, she couldn’t see me like this right now, in this state.
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I called a Joe, the anonymous voice on the other end of the line keeps asking questions to help me reason out what is happening,
(but to be honest I didn’t like talking to this voice because
at that moment what I wanted so badly was for someone
to hug me.)
Hugs and emotion and sadness, all indicative of a weakness It’s an encounter with my Asian American identity—
SHS is full of professionals,
Who can help.
(I am scared of explaining how I feel because in my mind
unfortunately, I think they can’t fully know my version
and my lived experiences. I have become
tired
of always explaining my lived experiences to someone in the fashion
of “Previously on” soliloquies at the beginning of TV episodes,
playing catch up.)
No. It is not about race. Yes. These are trained professionals.
(but for too many times in this world I have explained my feelings
and the receiving end would not understand.)
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So, what makes this time any different?
The first time Courage to call mom on the phone to explain what was happening to me in her native language.
(Except, I do not know
the vocabulary words
to talk about Depression or anxiety
in Mandarin Chinese.
Because growing up Vocabulary just doesn’t include the word.
(Or the thought.)
It just includes the words “你没事儿”
(except mom, “我有事儿”.)
And the word “Depression” in English has never had the best connotation.
(Mom, I don’t know what is wrong with me.
I am crying a lot these days.
Wait no.
Sorry Mom, wrong information.
Please don’t worry mom. No, no, no, no, no.)
Father says that I am sick, But I have always been a healthy human,
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(sickness makes me sound like I am weak.
And then you go off and spread it around to family.
I don’t need you to spread it around,
because they will think I am weak.)
I. Will. Lose. Face.
Then came the indecision, My Black Hole thankfully doesn’t completely
pull me into the abyss,
as I try to resist.
Yet the vacuum doesn’t leave me alone either. Path A
or
B?
D or C? I’ll beat you to the top of the coconut tree. People tell me to weigh a pros and cons list
(but it does not help me at all to make such a list,
because each factor isn’t equal and what if,
just what if,
my emotions are affecting my decision right here, right now?
Then the decision isn’t accurate.
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No. So I’ll delay decisions.)
Alone in the B stacks of Olin library trying to make a decision and people told me to trust my gut. “What is your gut saying?”
(you see: my gut hasn’t been able to feel for a very long time.
I sit there,
stand there, pace there, lay there,
waiting for the universe to send me a signal,
but the light that is supposed to travel
3.00 x 10^8 meters per second just isn’t
up to speed lately getting to the planet I’m at right now
and I feel confused, disoriented. There is no GPS.)
Decisions paralyze, Assignments drag on my mind is not present
They say the present is a gift.
(the present seems evil and haunting,
and I don’t want to feel it, It is much much easier to sleep and escape.)
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Fear.
Fear of quitting, fear of being a failure,
Fear of failing others. Telling others.
Fear of fear.
Fear that if I tell someone, they will pity me,
Look at me differently. Spill my secret to someone else.
See me as weak, emotional, crazy, lazy.
Fear that I will never be that person
I once was proud to claim:
“Hello, my name is Helen.” Hands and feet are cold.
as I curl up in a ball.
Sleep is my best friend.
(in withdrawing from
the 7am to 1am
back to back to back university schedule of 19 credits, 5 extracurriculars,
I’ve isolated myself from my old friends. ...in a galaxy far, far, away. People complain about how stressed they are and how busy their schedules are. (Why does it seem like they have a purpose and I don’t?) This black hole. My Black Hole--sucking the light away,
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Stolen time, thoughts, passion, logic, reason,
And structure.
Oh structure.
(When was the last time I ate a proper meal or showered?)
Einstein’s Theory of Relativity— Relativity? Relative. Everything is relative, in comparison to something or someone else.
(And I am not measuring up.)
I feel like I got punched in the gut
and now I am behind.
Go, go, go! Pausing? No. That’s a delay to the road to wherever I’m going. (Wait, where am I going? Everything feels so hard, so. Out. Of. breath, So pointless.
Getting out of bed is pointless.
My Black Hole affects how I interact with my friends, “How are you?”
(Are you really asking me? )
How do I answer without burdening you with my problems?
“Fine” is the only acceptable answer as we are on our way
from Bear’s Den
to Seigle
to Rebstock
to the DUC and to graduation eventually.
(No, I can’t possibly say anything because time is valuable
and I don’t want to waste it with my problems
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when we need to fill out a Whenisgood.)
I shouldn’t assign blame to you or the WUrld, because this is my problem and I just need to
deal with it.
Nobody wants to be near a Black Hole either. A black hole can continue to grow and absorb its surroundings after a gravitational collapse. Information is lost within.
(I am feeling a bit lost within.)
Yet I continue working on finding myself. I keep trying, because fortunately, Black holes don’t last forever, They eventually evaporate, even if it may take what seems like an eternity. This too shall pass.
Cosmobiology
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