Negro
for us
Sometimes you just want to put something good out into the world. You hope that when someone encounters it, they feel a sense of inspiration and community. It starts at an origin. That origin leads to a concept and eventually that concept turns into an action. Origin: Without trying, black people have cultivated ideas, events and actions. We do not wish to be celebrated. We simply live. Our lives are watched and our actions are intriguing. Those actions are often duplicated and, thefore, accepted. However, we as a people are not accepted. Why is that? Concept: Create a publication that is open and celebratory of what black people have done, who we are and who we can be. Showcase it. Exchange our culture and encourage honest acceptance. My action: Release the exchange and create Negro Magazine. Your reaction: Enjoy. (As always.)
Dairia Kymber PS: The cover image was pixelated on purpose and was shot by Laquann Dawson.
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We, the people portrait gallery of personalities my brother’s semantics 5 bl ack men share ignored emotions the positive pole three culturally-enriched runway experiences rebel threads denim, denim and more denim can i borrow your culture? the blurred line between cultural approproation and cultural exchange
ENTS
CONT-
a vibe
Photography: Cameron Blackshear Styling: Dairia Kymber Mimi Cherie Baptiste Model: Mimi Cherie Baptise
Inspired by African photographer Oliver Kruger’s series “Golden Youth”, Cameroon-bred Nelly Mirabel set out to recreate the photographic documentation of trends within black youth at Kent State University. Mirabel wanted to portray each individual personal identity, from their hairstyles and facial grooming, the choice of piercings, accessories and makeup.
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MY BROTHER’S SEMANTICS
The thought of being a black man in America evokes a moment of silence. The words, reactions and feelings can only be ushered by them. So, let’s hear what they have to say.
I died in September cried myself to sleep and drown in a river of blood is this what hell looks like? sad silent haunting
red red red
red
black black as my wardrobe black as me black as my darkest day and black as my daddy be
it took me two months to swallow the river (product of my sorrow) I went home Thanksgiving a new man and daddy asks “why do you dress like a vampire?” he’s on to me the next twenty days I fantasized revenge I read I practiced I wrote: “How to Swallow a Man After He’s Broken Your Heart” I died in the process I went home Christmas a dead man and daddy asks “whose funeral you going to?”
full
my hands my knees too
had I not seen so much I’d say my blood be
it would be a lie to say my blood not red as the letter on my chest red as the devil’s tongue down my grandmother’s spine red as black boys out of time do you believe in God? do they look like you? are their hands red like yours? and if Jesus be man were his sin vibrant as yours? daddy called on Easter and asks “where are you?”
mine
resurrecting
I buried my body at the bottom of my stomach killed the butterflies swallowed a photograph of the self I were planted flowers in my liver and poured 40s atop my casket till my stomach bleed
I dream of blood showers come night and I rise to nightmare turned reality
I tried to write a eulogy on the spot: fantasy of revolution cause my nose bleed Abandonment cause my wrist bleed Empathy cause my heart bleed Ambition cause my nail bleed anxiety tell body to turn bread and water to blood my stool red my eyes
a mouth full of iron a stomach full of men a heart full of nothing in a room warm and comfortable as hell my body pours red as I watch what little love be disintegrate from today evaporate into the past present in no one’s but mine my heart broken again and my fatal thirst return
Words: Laquann Dawson, 21
My ancestors names were erased from family trees but did well / at playing ornament to a white smile at a Jim crow picnic I want to romanticize my history / Rewrite my story into perfection / Make my skin easier to wear Assignments about my ancestry snap me back to reality This is to the Black boy / who writes poems about the Blackness / he still doesn’t understand Or to the poet / whose family trees never went past my grandparents / Still wondering what to put in the empty spaces / Envious of all the students / who could name what country they came from I wonder which parts of me are African / and which parts American / All of it 3/5ths what a human should be ? Blackness / feels like the hyphen Trying to forge a bridge / between two misunderstood identities A parent that sent me away /and a guardian that never claimed us The legacy of slavery still has a hold on me / How could I ever forget / When my last name reminds me /
“I belong to another family” Black / skin in America is the I love you that hangs alone in the air / unrequited always trying to prove Black / worthy The way Black / excellence is defined by how well you can dismantle white expectations And how much you can sacrifice / Become Crispus attucks / Smile in the process / God forbid you be angry and narrated into a monster Who will accept this Frankenstein of a body / A hundred west African / tongues mingle in my blood / And I still only know the language of my colonizer / I do not know what to call myself I am a Black man / most days Other times I am a void chasing an identity / What is this body really What is a Black body / where is it from / If you don’t know where you been / You can’t tell where your going? I guess I’ll just wonder aimlessly / Waiting to end up in the promised land
Words: Ephraim Nehemiah Butler, 25
Mirror -Words: J. Markell Cole, 22 It starts with a pupil. Taking a gander in the reflective state, realizing all that is has been staring at you for the past eight minutes. You begin to wonder: “Is this all I am?” With your skin like the breathtaking sands of Kalpana. Lips, plump and tender, like the aftermath of a vicious bee sting. Oh, and the nose - we seem to have forgotten about that. A nose, wide like the river basin that Moses himself rode upon. A deeper look and you’re nearly lost - beneath the iris and into your mind as if you deliberately took a trip there. Memories of a distant past straddle the lines in your thoughts, recurring nostalgia like a nightmare. “Why are you so -- black?” and “Your skin is so beautiful.” fight religiously in this place, doing all that confusion can do to you. Suddenly, you snap back into reality, glaring at the reflection once more. You then practice your facial expressions one-by-one, hoping that your smile will one day be recognized amongst the dismay in your head. As your face settles, you remember hearing “Men don’t cry” in the back of your
mind, recounting a tall tale from your childhood. Skillfully so, you remind yourself that you are a __ year old man with tears in his eyes. Well, isn’t that a lie. Recounting the days you sat in darkness about how your friend died, or when you were told you weren’t good enough for the job. Those same tears you were taught you aren’t supposed have are now flowing like the gulf stream, carrying every bit of coconut oil from your face into your favorite sweater. You heard the phone ring twice from the other room and the calls are back to back, so you figure it’s probably momma. “Damn, how long have I been in here?” you say to yourself, wanting nothing but to get back to that trance-like state you were in 5 minutes ago. This time, it’s beyond the eyes. You begin to admire your strong stature, wooly hair, broad shoulders and legs like a stallion. This must be what they see in me - right? “Nah,” you mind tells you. It’s all in your mind. You smile as you reach for the door. Another day, another dollar.
we keep finding blood I heard in a Black boy town / there was a pool filled / with red / and the white people loved / splashing in it / on summer days / I heard / last week the pool flooded / and the town was drowned / rumor is / there will be a day / named / in its honor / everyone will get monday off / I heard they are discussing / a parade / they want to line up all the Black boys / and make an aisle of police / ready with guns cocked / in salute / they say they’re not supposed to shoot / but you know / when they see brown hands / reaching for / wallet / phone / lover / the excuse is always the same / I thought it was my taser / I thought it was the hulk / I thought we didn’t care about them
Words: Matthew L. Thompson, 23
Black couples fall in love in the middle of war Kiss while dodging bullets Every bed made love on A battlefield Every round A riot A fuck you To every system of oppression Interlocking to stop our intercourse Black love is matter Black love is heavy Black love is the heaviest matter Black love is plutonium Black love is dangerous because Black love is the bomb And the bacteria that survive it Black love is immortal is infinite is orchestral Will murder you to music and make babies right after Black couples walk through disaster holding hands and giggling at each other about stupid shit
into a telephone pole tombstone Dont you know this city is a graveyard Black babies born here already buried People only come to mourn Perhaps we are made of mourning Maybe we only know the day when it is breaking So we burst into a billion pieces every time we make love we burn the atmosphere around us Blow everything the fuck up until there is Nothing left to burn Exhausts all the heat in the universe Freeze time At least we’ll know each other is still alive Black love Cannot say goodbye Without I love you And the most important part
To be Black and in love Is to face an army with no armor and an open heart enough ammunition in my peace To end a war or start an orgy
Be safe I love you
To be Black and in love is to have to be magic Is to know at any time your lover might disappear
Be safe No matter how many times we say it it still feels like we need to say it Try to speak something into being that does not yet exist
Fall through a trap door chalk outline transform
Be safe I love you
Every time our lover comes back through the door it’s a victory A battle won A breath we can stop holding hostage Our partners presence is ransom Black love be a spy for the resistance Gets swallowed on purpose Knows the best way to heart of this beast is through his belly can cook up a melting pot of revenge so good itll make him forget he eatin his own men Cold pistols baked into the cornbread Pigs feet served on a fresh badge of honor What a dish Black love be What a miracle be the way he fix her satin bonnet so it don’t fall off while she sleep Be the way she lets him pour his bottled up brown boy tears all over her satin pillow Be the night we watched Diamond Reynolds witness her Black love Get sucked into seven black holes And we sat amazed that she watched her lover die still had the courage to push play To fight for his justice
To make sure his voice became a river His blood streamed around the world reminded all of us who watched on our phones as he slipped through our fingers that We have a hand in this fight too Black love be like that Black love be the way we want each other to be free more than we want each other
Black love be like no other Words: Damien McClendon, 24
E T H I T S O P
V I
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Three black designers. Three culturally-enriched runway experiences. One ideal world. Stella Jean • Duro Olowu • Telfar Spring/Summer 2017 Reviewed by: Dairia Kymber Harvin NEGRO 43
Stella Scores Stella Jean
Stella Jean was inspired by soccer this season. Behindthe-scenes images on the label’s Instagram were heavy in mentioning the idea that each runway look and model was a part of “Stella Jean’s Soccer Team”. But, it’s not the player positions, the plays involved or the rules involved of the game of soccer that were highlighted, but the universal understanding and language of the game and, therefore, its ability to cross cultures. As always, Stella Jean wins every time she crosses barriers. This season she scored. So who’s the goalie on this “soccer team” collection? Social conscience is. Maybe that’s why the designer was also inspired by Aung San Suu Kyi, human rights activists and current Burmese State Counsellor and Leader of the National League for Democracy. Before these accomplishments, Suu Kyi was on house arrest for her involvement in the opposition to the military confederacy that ruled Burma since 1962. During her arrest, she wore traditional blouses and sarongs, the designer told WWD. These inspired elements carry
throughout the collection. In partnership with Adidas, the designer paired much of the bold wardrobe with soccer cleats. A green satin dress with colorful sea creatures embroidered on the bottom paired with a striped ankle length pencil skirt evoked a feminine silhouette that may not exactly match the game of soccer, but definitely matches the high energy. This collaboration of prints was a constant referencing the beauty of Southeast Asia. With a live cover of Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” played by a group under Cuban singer and violin player Lilian Cañizare, the models walked the runway and the collection called for a new nation to rise up. Whatever team you play or don’t play for in life, walk in your own identity and don’t be afraid to embrace others. Stella Jean consistently collaborates with the beauty of several countries altering their perplexed perception and emancipating our minds towards them…and she does this all through fashion. Goal.
Photography: Umberto Fratini
Influenced Harmony Duro Olowu
Vibrance has a home and it’s with Duro Olowu. The Lagosborn designer reigns in his ability to embrace all cultures, highlight their strengths and transform that into beautiful pieces of clothing. Olowu’s worldly attentiveness has even garnered the likes of First Lady Michelle Obama who has commissioned him both in fashion and in interior design. (He decorated the White House last Christmas.) This season emphasized the Olowu woman. She’s loud and she’s proud.
jackets designed in kimono shapes. Cropped trousers, floor-length gowns, statement accessories, unlikely color combinations and the aura of the 70s offer a jet-setter her luxury wardrobe. The textiles express individuality which is a constant theme throughout the designer’s craft. “I have always appreciated the ability to put things in a way that allows for them, no matter how different, to come together aesthetically,” the designer told Interview Magazine.
This is a collection which, in all senses, mixes ideas, eras and influences to create rich and stimulating silhouettes. Olowu’s love for art is apparent. If the clothes were laid flat or stretched and hung throughout a gallery, they wouldn’t just look like pieces of art because of their setting, they would appear that way because of their strategic, combined elements.
Statements like that truly encompass the resumé of Olowu’s career. His collections have shown the true power of what fashion really means. It has the ability to bring people together and promotes understanding and acceptance. This creates a level of integrity not only in who a person is, but what they wear. As abstract as these textiles are, their presence throughout this collection offers the modern woman a solid platform for her bold and confident attitude.
An occasional curator, the designer gathered global inspiration shown through a top featuring fringed raffia and
Photography: Luis Monteiro
Simple Complexity Telfar
Fashion designer Telfar Clemens consistently confuses the normal. Throughout seasons, he has extended the classic stripe pattern, elongated cardigans and changed the perspective of what the world deems as basic clothing into a luxury wardrobe. This season offered an extension of the designer’s purposeful twist to the conservative. Sometimes reinvention is all it takes to give old a new life.
Classic button-ups had been altered blurring the conservative tone attributed with them. A denim jacket was designed with its normal sleeves, but the sleeves were not meant for arms. Instead, they hung from the models shoulders like mini capes. Clemens branded some pieces with his logo which brought in the spirit of golf and authentic preppy culture, but somehow these pieces were less polished. The shapes were endless on “This collection was based on Clemens’ runway and this is twisting every single aspect due to his diplomatic approach of what I thought preppy to clothing. His sensitive culture was about and kind perspective to commercial of dissecting those ideas and fashion allows for a collection conflicting them,” Telfar told that is wearable, relatable visionaireworld.com. and full of character. “It’s like you woke up in the morning The conflict is the strength of and went to work and you’re the collection. Each model dressed conservative and then seemed like the coolest person you took your sleeves off and you want to chat up apart of the went to the gym and then you’re preppy clique that you’d find at wearing your workout outfit any function. A model walked and then you went to the club down the runway wearing a and got completely messy. It’s basic tank—only it was not so literally a full spectrum of a day, basic: one of the sleeves had but as an outfit,” he shared with been widened placing the collar visionaireworld.com. of the tank on one shoulder changing the basic tank to a Simple, yet complex: that’s half-sleeve tank…Its structure Telfar. was modern as was the entire collection.
Photography: Marcus Tondo
rebel threads Styling and Fashion Credits: Lauren Seymour Models: Alexa Hagens and Brooke Wyche Photography: Akshit Bhardwaj Hair: Lauren Seymour Makeup: Jesse Garcia
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Can I borrow your culture? The blurred line between culture appropriation and culture exchange. Words: Dairia Kymber Harvin
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IDEALIST | 61
Growing up as an African American female in the United States is one of the most rewarding and frustrating experiences. There is a huge sense of pride that comes from understanding the historical oppression of my race. Hardships faced were the gateway to an ambitious community, inspired intellect, rhythmic creations and a peculiar aesthetic. These characteristics are the foundation of our culture as African Americans. They are what makes us, us. With these characteristics come the behaviors and mannerisms that have been developed by our ancestors and continue to progress as our culture does. To see our behaviors adopted by cultures outside of our own can be seen as an embrace, but when that individual only embraces the culture and not the person, there lies an issue. During the Spring 2016 season of Paris Fashion Week, Valentino presented a beautiful collection that was heavily influenced by the refugees fleeing from Senegal, Nigeria, Eritrea, Mali, Gambia and other African countries. The designers told Vogue that the “message was tolerance” and that “beauty comes out of cross-cultural expression”. This may have been the intended message, however, the result begs to differ. The lack of diversity on Valentino’s runway counteracts this idea of “understanding other cultures”. Out of the 91 models that walked the runway, less than 10 of the models were of African descent. The majority that walked were white. It doesn’t stop there, however. The models all wore cornrows,
an ancient hairstyle descending from Africa, appropriating African culture. The antique component of the cornrow hairstyle is a clear example of how essential hair is in the black community. This year, Amandla Stenberg, Hunger Games star, delivered a crash course on black culture appropriation in a viral video entitled “Don’t Cash Crop On My Cornrows” discussing hair, in particular. Black hair requires specific attention, thereby the creation of hairstyles such as braids, twists, etc. In the video, Stenberg mentions the creation of hip hop music and describes it as an “affirmation of African American identities and voices.” Society has seen such hairstyles on many hip hop and R&B legends, and as their music became popular, black culture did as well. Stenberg revealed images of celebrities wearing cornrows, Miley Cyrus twerking with black models, Katy Perry eating watermelon and using “black slang”, models on the runway showcasing “high fashion” cornrows, and fashion media deeming these ancient hairstyles as a “new urban hairstyle”. The recreation of a hairstyle who’s inception dates back thousands of years shows a lack of originality and blatant disrespect to the originator. Black culture may be popular, but black people are not. Outside of the physical attributes, stereotypes against black people corrupt the minds of many, especially law enforcement. In today’s society, a black man can’t walk through a neighborhood without looking “suspicious.”
Take Trayvon Martin, for example. A 17-yearold boy who walked through a neighborhood on the way to his father’s house. During his walk, he was followed by neighborhood watch captain, George Zimmerman, because he looked “suspicious.” Afterwhile, Zimmerman got out of his car and proceeded to confront Martin even after the police informed Zimmerman not to. Martin reacted like any human would if a random guy followed them around in a normal truck wearing normal clothes, with fear and defense. The confrontation ended with the death of Martin who was shot by Zimmerman. This event took the media by storm and outraged the African American community. Zimmerman was found not guilty of all charges. This was the verdict that gave birth to the “Black Lives Matter” movement. This was the verdict that made African Americans question the authenticity of those who find black culture to be great, but not the lives of the people from where that culture derives from. It’s moments like this one that cultural exchange
should go beyond the aesthetic level. You can’t open your mind to dancing to black music and enjoying the lifestyle and then miss the opportunity to make real progress and change the world for the better. The world has to learn how to engage with the creators of the things that it loves so much. In today’s society, culture moves quickly. One of the joys of being a part of such a modern society is witnessing the constant exchange of ideas, styles and traditions. In an ideal world, we are all equal. We can adopt whatever behavior we want despite what history may be because we are open to an idea beyond the aesthetic one. We are open to the idea that we are people with our own stories and because of that, we don’t limit or judge based on what we see. It’s not about what you look like, how you wear your hair, what music is in your earbuds. It’s about you. It’s about the soul beneath the body. When the world can agree to that idea, it will be the truest form of cultural exchange.
“Black culture may be popular, but black people are not.”
orgeN