issue 2
editor-in-chief of green
John Corredor co-presidents of B.E.E.
Thea Farber & Will Palauskas
the art team
Thea Farber Maria Garin Hannah Davis John Corredor
the write team
the edit team
Dori Davis John Corredor Maddy Garfunkel Will Palauskas Anna Campbell Talia Smith Kelsey Marlett Carrie Cullen Laura Rodgers Nicole Lawrence Will Palauskas Johanna Stiefler Johnson the design team
John Corredor & Will Palauskas
from, the presidents
We’re writing this letter as a marker of our movement forward as an organization.
Environmentalism is threatened from almost every angle as the media and politicians question scientists. Yet at Emerson College, a new movement of environmentalists is growing louder and faster than ever. It seems like the more people we talk to, the more amount of hope we gain for the future. Emersonians are becoming greener than ever before and we all have so much to learn from one another. Education has been our main focus for green, and we have learned many valuable lessons along our educational journey. As presidents, we’ve strived to create a positive, collaborative, and creative learning environment for people of all skills and backgrounds. Without the incredible members of BEE and green, none of this would be possible. The amount of passion and commitment from our peers has inspired us tremendously as leaders, and we couldn’t be more thankful.
This second issue of green is primarily focused on forest conservation, but we firmly
believe that as environmentalists we can learn something about all forms of conservation through this lens. As we move forward to become an official organization, we’ve begun to make the necessary steps, including drafting a constitution, finding an advisor (Nejem Raheem), and discovering what issues need our help in our community. Together, we make Emerson more sustainable and environmentally conscious. Keep the bees, save the trees, clean the seas!
Thea Farber & Will Palauskas co-presidents of B.E.E.
from, the editor-in-chief
This issue brings up the topic of forest Conservation. We at BEE recognize the
importance of all evironmental causes, and with the recent developments of wildfires in the Western United States we thought it best to start the conversation here at Emerson with our fall issue of green. All semester we were tring to figure out how we were going to go forth as a publication and stay true to our environmentalism. Many publications wind up directly bennefiting lumber and paper companies, and finding out what percentage of total paper used in the publication process comes from sustainibly sourced lumber can be quite tricky. We were origionally going to use recycled paper and soy ink in this issue to best match with the theme of this semester’s issue, but instead decided to release the Forest Conservation issue of green as a digital only edittion.
I’d like to personally thank everyone that contributed to the production of this
magazine. We couldn’t do it without your help and genuine care for the environment. It’s a lot easier to destroy the environment than it is to take care for it, which is why every every single person reading this is responisble for being the change they want to see.
Here’s to Emerson’t comitment to be carbon neutral by 2030 and to our success in
advancing the divestment movement here on campus.
Always remember it’s not barking up the wrong if it’s for environmentalism.
John Corredor editor-in-chief of green
five way to contribute to forest conservation as a college student By Talia Smith
As young working college students, it’s easy to believe that something as large as forest conservation can seem overwhelming and even impossible for just one person to achieve. But, by taking these 5 small and easy steps, you can be made better aware and more environmentally conscious of your own impact on the forests around you, and act in a small way to create a big positive impact on the world. Encourage those around you to live a green lifestyle This could be in your suite, in your dorm room, in your extracurricular clubs, or just within your group of friends and peers at Emerson. Encouraging those around you is the best way to start a positive chain reaction without your community — not matter how big or small that community is. 1.) RECYCLE! Every Residence Hall at Emerson has a recycling room and a trash room. Make sure you know what to recycle and what to throw out— and encourage those around you to do the same! Recycling paper contributes to less of a need for deforestation to produce more product. 2.) Buying products with the FCS logo promotes use of sustainably harvested materials as opposed to deforestation! 3.) Print less / avoid printing At only 5¢ a print, it can be tempting to use up all the paper in the printing machines offered at Emerson for readings or course
assignments. To be more environmentally conscious and thoughtful of our forests, opt for using technology to complete your assignments — or buy a ‘decomposition’ notebook from the Emerson College Barnes & Noble! 4.) Promote and support local forest conservation organizations This includes volunteering with local conservation organizations, donating to organizations that protect and provide for forests near you, and advocating for additional help from peers who live around you and understand the importance of environmental conservation. A list of forest conservation organizations can be found at https:// w w w. m a s s . g ov / g e t involved and http://www. eco-usa.net/orgs/ma.shtml 5.) Cut down on food waste. This can start with shopping realistically for your hunger and consumption while in college and while at home! Avoid buying in bulk at The Max, Roche Bros, or wherever you do your grocery shopping. Try to only fill your plat at the DH with what you’ll actually eat, and remember you can always grab more when you finish! If you overbuy and/or don’t finish your food, save your leftovers and actually eat them. Remember to store food where it’s supposed to be stored— meaning don’t leave items that are mean to be refrigerated just sitting on your desk!
five ways to reduce your plastic waste as a student
By Anna Campbell
Did you know plastic never truly breaks down? Instead of biodegrading back into the environment over time into natural compounds with the help of bacteria, plastic needs the help of UV rays, which breaks it down into smaller particles or “microplastics” which are exactly what they sound like, mini pieces of plastic. Microplastics then absorb into our soil and water and remain for humans to unconsciously consume [2]. Kind of horrifying right? Of course there’s very little that us as individuals can do to extract these microplastics from the environment, but there is a simple solution to stop plastic from going out into the environment in the first place: stop using it! This may seem a little extreme, but hear me out. 50% of plastic waste in the US is used once and then thrown away [3]. But what many don’t realize is that it is actually pretty easy to avoid single use plastics! If you want to begin reducing your plastic waste, implement some of these tips into your lifestyle today! Always carry around a reusable water bottle It’s such an easy switch! Save money on bottled water by filling up your own. Americans throw away 35 billion plastic water bottles every year [1]. Be a part of the change and utilize the excellent tap water that Emerson students have access
to! Some reusable water bottle brands I recommend: Hydro Flask, Klean Kanteen, Nalgene, and S’Well. Refuse plastic bags and carry your own reusable bag! When grocery shopping or even buying some snacks at the Max, refuse the plastic bags and use your own! And if you happened to forget, just carry the items yourself or even using paper is better than plastic. Get into the routine of carrying at least one reusable bag with you wherever you go. Most grocery stores sell reusable bags in the checkout aisle for less than $5 or check out this awesome brand, BAGGU that sells super cute and colorful bags that fold up easily and are super lightweight! Bring your own coffee cup This is one of my own personal favorite tips. As a coffee lover myself, I bring my reusable Hydro Flask coffee mug with me everywhere for coffee on the go! Bringing it to Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts or any coffee shop in the area is super easy as well. Just give it to the barista when you order and BOOM, you get that same amazing coffee that will most likely stay hot or cold a lot longer than those disposable plastic and paper cups. Pro tip: buy a reusable cup that is equivalent to a medium or a large, when you go into any coffee shop and ask for a small, they’ll fill it up to the top anyway!
Refuse the straw! The “no straw” movement has definitely been picking up speed lately which is great! Take part in the movement by politely refusing the straw when eating at restaurants or ordering coffee. And if you’re the type of person who just loves drinking through a straw, buy some reusable straws and carry them with you! Metal, bamboo, silicon and glass are all great options, available on Amazon. Buy glass over plastic Plastic packaging is a huge contributor to the plastic waste in our oceans and landfills, much of which can be avoided by consciously choosing products packaged in glass or paper over plastic. Both glass and plastic have a longer recycling life, plus old glass jars can be easily reused for food storage! Sources https://www.ecowatch.com/22facts-about-plastic-pollutionand-10-things-we-can-do-aboutit-1881885971.html https://science.howstuffworks. com/science-vs-myth/everydaymyths/how-long-does-it-takefor-plastics-to-biodegrade.htm h t t p s : / / w w w. e a r t h d a y. org/2018/03/29/fact-sheet-singleuse-plastics/
the loon By Laura Rodgers
The old man rubbed away the steam from the mirror, revealing his wrinkled face. The glass was cold underneath his sun-spotted palm. He peered at himself closely. His eyes were the color of dirty ice, like muddy snow that is too stubborn to thaw in the spring. They were the only thing he recognized about himself anymore. His cheekbones were thin and his eyelids sagged. His head was shaved but white pricks were beginning to hug his ears. Hell, it felt like his hair decided to stop growing out of his head and switched to his nose. The mirror was cracked in the corners and hung above a pink porcelain sink. The bathroom had barely enough room to turn around. If he wanted to, he could have gone to the bathroom and brushed his teeth at the same time. It was almost 4am and sleep was like a siren’s call to his heavy eyes. He quickly dried himself and pulled on his one-of-two pairs of jeans with a plain, white collar shirt. He had almost forgotten a belt again, but his wife had made sure he packed it. He slipped it on, the well-loved grooves making it easy for his shaking hands. Parkinsons be damned, he would always be a fisherman. The man entered his two room cabin and pulled on his waterproof fishing boots.
The twin bed had a multi-color quilt laid on top with two lumpy pillows. The lamp on his bedside table had cobwebs along the bulb and the two windows had holes in the screens. There was a wood stove in the corner next to a pile of rotting wood. The pungent smell of mothballs overrode any potential scent of pine from the trees outside. He wouldn’t trade it for anything else. The trees outside the window looked like dark ghosts as he pulled his antique bamboo rod from its metal casing. The sole red cotton armchair coughed dust as he sat down. The rod was divided into three parts and had to be gently pieced together. He unwrapped the end of an old wax candle and gently rubbed a protective coating over the wood. The wax prevented too much friction which could cause it to snap. He pushed and gently twisted the pieces together to create a nine-foot rod. He attached an antique reel on the handle and threaded the line through the guides up the pole as softly as a lover buttoning their partner’s shirt. He could do the process in his sleep. Once the rod had the reel weaved through the guides all he had to do was attach the fly. He took out his plastic case of organized fake flies; all were various sizes, shapes, and colors to
appease different kinds of fish. He chuckled as he remembered how his granddaughters only chose pink flies when they were children. Now they were in college in a city far away, their fishing roots dormant but not forgotten. One only needed to smell the sweet water again to be reeled back into the serenity of the lake. He plucked out a bright yellow Wulff. His eyes weren’t what they used to be and he had to use a tiny lense to make the end of the plastic line visible. Once he had a knot the size of a gnat tied securely around the fly he clipped the excess off. Finally finished, he hooked the fly on the bottom of the pole so it wouldn’t swing as he walked. He swatted a mosquito, grabbed his other fishing gear and left the cabin. He meandered down the main road, the gravel crunching under his feet and rod bobbing against his shoulder. He had been coming to this fly-fishing camp for over fifty years. Sometimes he brought his family and dogs, sometimes it was just him. Over the past ten years, once he reached eighty years old, the camp had begun to degrade. The wooden boats leaked and were cheaply repaired until they broke again, the food quality had plummeted, and the old timers that had been regulars for generations were being pushed
out for a more appeasable ‘familyfriendly’ audience. Jungle gyms had replaced fish cleaning stations and rabbit pens were scattered down the dirt road while the ten cabins along the waterfront crumbled. There was no cell service for almost five miles and the nearest town was a forty-five minute drive away. There was nothing out here but forests, the lake, and the loons. Many couldn’t appreciate the silence of the docks or the aggressive three course meal they served at the dining hall. The camp owner was trying to sell a small fishing camp in Maine to young parents and children who had the whole world at their fingertips through tiny black screens. It made an old man’s heart ache. The stars weren’t visible anymore but his eyes slowly adjusted as he reached the docks. The dock boys were nowhere in sight. Typical. Their only job was to help load older men into their boats and pass them their gear. No other fishermen were near either, meaning they were young fathers sleeping in until breakfast, or even more of the older generation stopped coming this year. The slapping water sounded weak and lonely, like the lake missed having groups of fishermen explore her before the sun came up. He thought about getting email addresses from his niche community to stay in touch,
but he didn’t want to hear about the funerals. Dawn would be approaching in an hour. A faint loon call echoed off the water. There were no sounds of people and the nearby cabins were dark. He could almost hear his son, almost fifty years old now, saying that he should wait for someone to help him into the rocking boat. Well, he was never one to wait. He loaded his depth finder first, an expensive machine that showed him how big the fish were underneath his boat. The other geezers stuck their noses up at such technology, saying he wasn’t a real fly fisherman, but he didn’t care. He knew all the best spots on this lake to catch salmon and trout. The others be damned. A chill off the water went right through his fishing vest, shaking him to the core. The blood-thinners he’s been taking after his second stroke always made him feel like he was in Antarctica. He lowered his rod next to the motor like he was laying down a newborn babe into a cradle. His knees protested and he felt stabs of pain shoot up his lower back. What would his younger self say if he saw his state now? His hands were doughy from years of office work and his greatest enemy was falling into a body of water. With a small smile he remembered how he used to steal corn from nearby farms in Massachusetts then spark a fire with his friends
in some secluded area, cook and eat the corn and be back home before dinner. Now there was a list of foods he couldn’t even sniff or his doctor would throw a fit. He stood and stared at the chipped green and white paint on the boat. How many more years could he do this? He shook the morbid thought from his head. He only had to get into the boat. He gripped the corner post with his right hand and placed his left foot on the boat’s bottom floorboards. The boat rocked from his weight, but he balanced himself. With experienced agility he simultaneously pulled the boat toward the dock, let go of the post, and swung himself onto the main seat. His breath came in wheezing gasps, but he was safe. A flash of fear came over him when he realized that no one would have been around to help him if he had fallen and hit his head. But thinking about fears never got him anywhere. He untied the rope from the post and tossed it next to his feet. There was already three inches of water along the bottom. He sighed. He started up the motor and jumped from the noise. It sounded like an intrusion on the silence of nature, a man-made growling that smelled like gasoline. He could feel the pollution leaking into the air. God, did he fear for the future. The water looked like onyx-
colored glass as he made his way across the lake. He was careful to drive the boat at an angle with the waves so the boat wouldn’t flip. There weren’t any white caps to worry about, yet. He made his way to a small cove away from the wind. The water was settled and he turned his machine on. It beeped for a few seconds and various dots appeared. He grinned. Take that, shitheads. He unhooked his fly and pulled a few feet of line from the reel. He stood still, but relaxed, so that the boat didn’t rock. He could smell the algae on the water and the clean scent you can only get on the edge of a lake. He scanned the water to see any fish rises. A gray blanket had taken over the sky, tucking itself in at the horizon. He cast. The process of drawing his right arm back, whipping it forward without too much force, and letting his arm follow through on the swing was almost like a dance. He could see the small yellow spot on the silver water about thirty feet away. Every seven seconds he gently tugged the line so that the fly appeared like it was jumping on the water. It almost fooled him too, sometimes. A mist slowly spread to him, which looked beautiful but made his yellow fly hard to follow. Recasting was the only thing that separated time on the water. It lulled his mind with each swing of the arm. Crickets chirped on the shore and occasionally the water splashed when he got a bite. After
each fish he caught, he had to dry his fly by putting it in a container of salt and shaking it. The water would be absorbed and then he would recast. The air was warming and his shivering almost stopped. He was about to find a different spot when the fly was sucked underwater. He straightened his arm up immediately. The rod snapped to attention and the battle began. The repetition was a dance of respect; if you pulled too hard your rod could snap, if you were too lenient the fish would cut the line. Let it go, reel it in, let it go, reel it in. It took a few minutes of fighting but the fish began to tire. He was in the last stretch and got his large net ready. The fish bobbed on the surface and he scooped it out of the water. It was a bright silver salmon, reaching about fifteen inches long. He took his forceps and removed the hook and fly from the fish’s mouth. The fins were flailing and it struggled against his firm grip. At least it wasn’t a foul hook and the fish wouldn’t be in too much pain. The belly had yellow spots that trailed along to the gills. He cursed. It felt like no fisherman could pull up a fish these days without some parasite on them. He felt water coming up his shoes and had to empty the leaked water for the fifth time. This tiny corner of the world was being lost to time and sickness. Acknowledging it, unfortunately, didn’t make him feel any better.
A splash on the water made his head turn. A loon was coasting on the waves less than five feet from his boat. They loved to wait until fishermen caught something, then dive under the water while they were fighting to snatch it up. “Why didn’t you fight me for it?” he grumbled. “You have as much a right to it as I do. Well, here.” He returned the fish to the water and it dove to the safety of the dark depths. He never killed the fish anyway, loon or not. It wouldn’t be fair for him to take so much from the Earth while giving so little back. The loon stared at him, it’s beautiful green neck twitching. The white dots on the animal looked like jewelry. It flared its wings. The man began to feel the first rays of sun on the back of his neck. His stomach growled, and he knew he should head back to the camp soon. He stole another glance at the majestic bird. “It’s past my time,” he said. “You’ll have better luck stealing food when everyone else is out here.” It was a survivor, just like him. It cooed back to him. He wondered what it was saying. For some reason, the heaviness in his heart was lessened. With the sun on his back he turned on his motor and headed back for the docks, a white river of bubbles sputtering behind him.
earth fever By Kelsey Marlett
am i wasting this? i plunged a thermometer into the backyard, and the earth has a fever. dosed in hallucinations, sweating and twisting beneath my shoes, the earth has a fever but i go back to bed. am i wasting this? i wake up and plunge white fencing into the backyard. the earth has a fever but i dress in dark colors. i’ve been told i would look good in suits and oil bathtubs. i plant myself in pavement and turn my tie-dye into tapestries for someone else to study. am i wasting this? the earth has a fever, but i go back to bed. the news clambers across pulsing headlines. the grass shrieks sickly laughter against smoky rain kisses but still i sleep and drink out of a plastic bottle. the earth has a fever but i’m no doctor anyway
vegan cooking holistically
By Dori Davis and Maddy Garfunkel
In the past few decades rates of depression and anxiety have skyrocketed in the general population. More close to home, 1 in 5 college students have these conditions, too. Regardless of the causes and amount of stressors in our lives, finding ways to heal and cope can be a saving grace. The reality is that
toxins (all those ingredients you can’t pronounce) and by stress your neurotransmitters change their levels. We all know that low serotonin, (happiness transmitter) and dopamine (pleasure and reward transmitter) are the imbalances that lead to anxiety and depressive feelings. Serotonin is a chemical nerve
vegan meals allows you to get as creative as possible with many ingredients that may be new to you. With new ingredients comes trial and error, and being able to create a new meal that you worked hard on is rewarding. We, as vegans with mental illnesses, have also found that consciousness
psychiatric conditions aren’t limited to just our brains, and our society doesn’t treat them as holistic conditions. Stress shows itself in fatigue, irregular sleep patterns, and for us; our digestive systems. Your gut is the home to many important neurotransmitters, dopamine, glutamate, norepinephrine, and nitric oxide and about most importantly 90% of the body’s serotonin. Your gastrointestinal tract (GI tract) and your brain do a lot of communicating, and when one goes out of whack the other soon does too. This close relationship is called the Gut-Brain Axis and is very important in understanding psychiatric conditions like depression and anxiety. When the GI tract is disturbed through eating foods high in sugar, carbohydrates and
cells produce that sends signals between your nerve cells. Serotonin is found mostly in the digestive system, blood platelets and throughout the central nervous system. Serotonin impacts every part of your body, but is looked at as mostly a natural mood stabilizer and is known to regulate anxiety and happiness. We often approach mental health as just being in our brain, but as we zoom out to the whole body we see it show in many different symptoms. If your knee is hurt, it will affect your hips and your feet. Same goes for a mental illness affecting all parts of the body. Therefore the healing process must be one that treats the whole body. We have found cooking as tool to heal the gut, and exercise the brain. Cooking
about our food allows us to feel better. In general, it is important to have awareness of how your food gets to your plate, and it’s even better to have control over it. Cooking vegan meals gives the chef total control over what they are putting in their body, and knowledge of how that food was raised and produced. When feeling low and unproductive, sometimes helping a cause is an extremely effective way to feel better about yourself. Having a cruelty-free meal allows you to indulge while helping the causes of; animal cruelty, climate change, pollution, deforestation, water scarcity and so much more. Veganism is the single best way to help the environment while helping your own health three times a day. Creating and eating a vegan meal, does no harm!
Press pause the negativity of your day. Anxiety and depression can throw you into a cycle of damaging and negative thoughts that can feel impossible to get out of. We won’t pretend it’s easy to have an appetite and eagerness to eat, but changing your mindset surrounding meals can be effective in facing these conditions. Make grocery shopping, recipe finding, and making a meal a space to step away from your negative feelings to create something healthy for your whole self. Let your brain use itself differently by stepping out of negative patterns. With anxiety and depression your brain falls into repeating patterns of negative and destructive feelings. Remember your brain hasn’t
lost its ability to be creative, productive and positive. Allow (maybe force) your brain to use itself for creating good. This change in pattern is healthy for your psyche, and creating a healthy meal is good for your whole body. Creating a goal that lets you get outside of negative mental and physical space you’ve created. Anxiety and depression can also make you want to stay in your space and not leave. We know with our experience, it is easy to not go out if there is nothing driving us to do so. Making a grocery list for example, creates a goal and driving force to get outside of your normal physical space. Going from your room to a kitchen space to create a meal is a goal you can achieve everyday.
Create a reward through the creative and constructive process. When experiencing anxiety and depression, it is extremely easy to fall into a negative headspace. It’s easy to tell yourself that there is nothing productive happening while experiencing these feelings. Being able to cook and create something good and ethical, and helping the environment in the process, makes the process even more rewarding. Good food, good mood. As we explained before, healthy food is vital to your mental health and holistic body health. Knowing the food you create and consume benefits yourself and is the best choice for our planet is as good as it gets.
where i come from and where i reside Dear Earth: The snow has mostly melted, which leaves the ground sticky under my Nikes. Emma’s paws are black, but her tail wags high as her nose sniffs the dirt. Off the Skyline Trail on the Middlesex Fells Reservation, I decide to take the unmarked path branching off; the road not taken just so I can feel like a symbolic fuck and make Frost proud. I see a natural glow warm across the dirt and I smile (inside), loosening my spirit. With the heavy white blanket gone, the Earth reveals the spoiled leaves from the previous fall—only here does death smell so sweet and alive… I’m stuck pacing back and forth staring at my wooden floor. Voices, scratch in my head like dogs at the front door—only the thick slab of wood divides the two worlds. I want to punch my head through that door, to quiet the noise (just for a moment). My phone buzzes with a text, reminding me my partner is reaching out. After two nonstop days, we find time to speak. Moses types out, “how are you?” but I can only manage “good.” I feel invisible. I hear myself think it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s really really fine but I’m not sure I believe myself (deeper down, I don’t). The voices shriek like demons in the Pit—I guess the urban legion is true, “redheads are soulless.” Some of the shrieks aren’t vocal. They’re feelings—mosaic memories of old disappointments, (firm) fabricated fears of unworthiness, cycled and
recycled. Nothing tangible or visible, only the swelling in my soul and sweat in my palms. The vocals don’t stop after, lazy, stupid, you did this to yourself, what’s even the fucking point? Daze through a red gaze and disheartened to the core, I’m belly up like a bagged goldfish— tired and succumb to the outside world’s thrashing. The “to-do” list is growing before my eyes, but I look past it like the tear smudges on my glasses. Part of myself has been left behind somewhere; how could you be so reckless? I look out my narrow window, open to let in something fresh. Houses, inches apart, are the trees in my new backyard; purple, blue, yellow, brown, and mint green on the corner turning down the street. This is where I’ve planted my roots, right in between the slabs of Boston’s concrete. …The trees behold fresh buds, reminding me of baby Brussel sprouts. The trees slip their white coats off, shedding pounds in seconds. Their trunks stand tall and the bark is breathing— crackling into happy faces. Emma stops at every single spring patch, vibrant with new blades of life… Dear Wind: …The air is different in the forest. Not so thick that it will suffocate like smog but not so thin that it will go undetected—it’s layered. It’s pure. It’s umami with mulch and freshly oxygenated. A quick burst and the chill revitalizes the pep in my step, refreshes my dehydrated hope. Inhaling freedom away from the toxic air, I close my eyes and allow myself to be still as the
breeze builds within itself. The goosebumps pop from the surface of my skin—the blonde hairs always stand straight in response to the Earth’s breath. I whisper sweet seductions, asking the Wind for a dance. She say yes… What I’m(they’re) thinking might hurt someone—scratch that, it will…(or will it just hurt me? Has it been hurting me?) I’m hearing excuse after excuse after excuse, after excuse. I grab another American Spirit from it’s teal box, my third that day. It’s not an ideal solution, (it’s not a solution at all) but I’ve just canceled my therapy appointment to have enough time to get all my work done. Instead I just sit in my bed, coughing while I inhale embers of motivation. It helps with creativity. It helps with productivity. Then why am I here paralyzed by the weight of expectations—the world demands far more than anyone is capable (how did it get like this?) My face tightens into a knot, eyebrows tangling in contemplation. Have we always expected this much from existence? What does life owe us? Nothing. It bore us. Humanity acts out like a greedy child, upset their Mother said “no.” But, I’m just tired and need a rest. I’m beaten and bloody, all on the inside. I need some time. Time away for myself, and time away from myself. The Wind can come carry me if she so chooses, and I wish she would. Trapped in my room, I can’t reach the key hanging above my door, the solution hovering my head. Like a
By Nicole Lawrence cat who swats at colorful feathers and catches them only to let go and repeat the vicious cycle. I can hear it coming (is it for me?) like the howling of the hellhounds before it’s time. The forces’ paws pound the concrete but sing through the barren branches, up and over the apartment. I guess it’s not my time. …I hear chirping in the air but not just from one—several. They’re back, marking spring and soon to be summer. For now the air stretches out it’s arms across my face, the first morning stretch. Quick quivers from the chill, but I don’t think to zip my jacket. My hardened frown turns upward, and creates cracks in the smooth mold; air gathers up like a wave and blows some crumbling bits free from my face… Dear Sun: …I praise the long missed sunlight, basking in warm wavelengths. I watch a bee (enjoying the day no doubt) dance around the tiny tulips; colors of deep violet, lavender, and snowy white. Maybe a bumble bee, I answer my own question. I can’t really see though. The Sun greets me warmly and (like the Mother she is) insists I take my jacket off and kisses my head, soothing my frazzled mind; I just want a simple life… The apartment next-door blocks out ninety percent of the access to sunlight in my room. The only bit of light comes rolling down the roof of my neighbors building, illuminating my room for a few hours (most of which I’m gone for). Emma moves with the small patch of Sun to keep her back warm while she takes her
morning nap. Maybe she’s on to something, maybe I should sleep in Sun patches. But you have too much to do, you don’t have time for sleep! Quit bothering me, I need to think. I need to focus. Two fruit-flies keep fluttering in front of my face, like baby hairs that always fall free. I move only my eyes, using the early morning sunlight to spot my victims. Found the first one, and I follow it with my eyes as it loops back around in my direction. SLAP! Got it. I smile at the blood on my hands, one less noise—one less disruption. The second one doesn’t seem to notice the absence. Closer towards my head, I snap my hands too late, and miss the fly. I follow the fly out of my room to notice the door hanging off it’s hinges. The wood is decaying, the paint is chipping, and the frame is rotting. The screw holes from years of in and out are gapping and struggle to secure the screws in place. I try to push the door back onto it’s hinges, the weight pulls the screws out of their lose sockets. I panic to screw them back in before I become just like Flat Stanley. Fumbling through my hardware drawer, careful not to break any bulbs, I find the screwdriver. Even as I screw them back in, it seems the screws need to go in further (than they can) to actually hold the door. So I just leave it loosely screwed in. …The Sun displays the bee’s shadow as it lands inside a purple petal and crawls to the fruitful nectar. The Sun rays disappear and the Wind gives way to the chill. The clouds, white with grey
bellies, roll past the Sun without a care for the flowers, the bee, or me. Trying to elongate winter, the clouds engulf the Sun and threaten a storm with rapid Wind and a churning sky. But spring is still coming. Even with a thin grey veil, and a nip in the air. The Sun will break through… Dear Moon: …The sky is brighter than usual for a winter night. In the passenger seat (back to Boston), sinking into every high-speed turn and into my seat belt when the jolt of a sharp stop snaps me forward. I take notice of the Moon, she captivates me from the moment I lay eyes on her pearl complexion. She presents a performance to me; starring husky and lavender hues with a countenance like eggnolk, a golden cream. I don’t realize I’m hanging half way out the window, taking her in, until the car resumes it’s speed from stopped and my skin grows with goosebumps… I want to lash out and scream at someone. I want to shake shoulders, look them dead in the eye ‘cause my heart is stone and is sinking. I feel anger (the mother) and frustration (her daughter) poisoning my lungs—exhale for relief only to inhale the grief. Triggering lazy, stupid, you did this to yourself, what’s even the fucking point? Going in circles and circles and circles. Down the rabbit hole I found Alice, but maybe I’m just mad —I wish a screw would just fall loose. So I can have proof (finally). Maybe that’s all I’ve ever been searching for. Proof. The
only proof I face are the pieces in my hands; I pull at the dried glue to reapply more. The Sun runs away from me, I don’t know how I let it out of my sight. Apollo must be tired (but I don’t even believe in the gods). The Moon’s opaque hue haunts me and even as sleep walks through the front door—takes its shoes, its coat off—the Moon chases after rest like a rabid dog. I scare myself when I bring that hound to life with fogged eyes and vertical pupils, tufts of matted midnight fur, and teeth a disturbing contrast of brilliant white. Where’s my stash? The Moon rays lay still against the pine wooden floor, and hush across the hieroglyphics engraved by Emma’s nails. Once (I think) I helped her scratch some of the stories—too much detail for one consciousness to articulate. Time climaxes to a slow crawl; the part of the film where the director contrasts fast paced shots with a slow motion montage of the main character all distraught and a hotmess at the party. I feel like some student’s indie film project. Fucking Emerson College. You’re so messed up (was that me or them?). I inhale a pipe and pray to a past life, someone I once was long ago when I fostered my inherent connection to the Moon. I pray to this as my goddess, for a moment of rest. For one night of undisturbed REM, one night where I feel the Moon wrap herself around me as a blanket, one night where I’m safe from the dark growling static in my mind, overflowing as it seizes, running fluid everywhere. …“I didn’t realize the Moon was going to be full tonight,” I stammer to Moses as I pull myself inside the car—rolling the window up. “I’m pretty sure it’s a super Moon tonight, I saw that on Facebook.” My
eyes haven’t left her sight, I prop my head up with my hand and elbow on the arm rest. Moses, with his right hand free from the wheel, searches for my hand to hold. Red, another stop light. His thumb sweeps the surface of my hand, and I look to him. He has been staring—my heart starts the beats for a tango. “What’s on your mind duckie?” (this nickname always warms my belly). “I wish I felt the connection I have to the Moon.” I wish I knew her better—I wish she knew me better… Dear City: …I put the cigarette down on my mother’s mantle and return to saging my room. “Let this space be a space for answers…and questions that don’t hurt my head.” The cigarette burns a layer of waxed sheen off the mantle. It’s last embers sizzle orange, then black, then ash. The sage and cigarette smoke twirl together—partners promenading around the room and out the open window. Placing the sage on my silver trimmed incense leaf, I push the butt end of the cig into my ash tray, a reused candle holder— always checking (1, 2, 3 times) that it’s fully put out. One can never be too careful… My sister introduced me to saging. I had visited her, she was a postgrad having freshly moved into New York City, and she saged her new little home with me. We were raised Catholic, but never followed through past 10th grade—so the world of sage, incense, and the universe as “God” was something entirely new to me as a sophomore in high school. Finally freed from Catholicism, I still felt there was a larger existence. I just wasn’t sure where I fit into it. After saging the apartment, she saged me. Renée explained that
sage smoke cleanses any space of negative energy. She took the bound bundle of sage, dried and white, and lit the end on fire with a pink BIC lighter. The ends withered brightly and gave way to hazy smoke, thick in front of me but vegetal in my lungs, soothing my body. Renée made smooth rings of smoke to hover above my head, like a flowering crown. “What you want cleansed from your life, hold it in your mind—hold it in your heart. I ask the universe to take what needs to be taken, and give what needs to be given for the here and now.” She brushed my aura with the sage and reached my heart to paint it (1, 2, 3 times). A rush of catharsis cascaded from what (feels) like the fountain of youth swelling inside me. I saw the colors pour out of me; ash, snow, crimson fire, forest green, burnt gold, sky blue, then lavender. Tears that once were untraceable, now cleansed and healed old wounds. The tears plopped between my toes, and the smoke cleared my foggy mind. My eyes opened to a new understanding of the universe. …I light a new cigarette while I try to take a shit, but I’m always constipated when shit hits the fan. Peak into the bowl between my legs—nothing. My mind can’t stop listing off all I have to do—the papers, the readings, a group project, presentations, laundry, dishes, clean the bathroom, vacuum the carpet, sweep the floors, pay rent, pay bills, check money, groceries, have a life, be an artist, write—but I’m too tired for that. A heavy sigh and drooping eyes, I bring the smoke to my lungs and pull my panties up, flushing an empty toilet.
interview with asheville bee charmer By Dori Davis
The Asheville Bee Charmer is a company that sells skin care, infused honey such as chai, cocoa,and their famous Sourwood honey in Asheville, North Carolina. I spoke with the owners of the company Jillian and Kim about having a business surrounding bee education! 1. Can you briefly explain the purpose behind the Asheville Bee Charmer company? To expand the general public’s knowledge about the plight of bees, understanding the difference between white refined sugar, agave and raw honey. 2. Why is Asheville the location for your company? While visiting Asheville years ago, we fell in love with the mountains and community. We decided to downsize our life from a large city like Chicago and have a longer beekeeping season. 3. How do you think you are contributing to the future of knowledge about bees and the future of bees with the creation of this company? Helping people to understand how to cook with honey and reduce white refined sugar, please don’t spray your yard, weeds are food for bees. 4. What is one fact that you wish people knew more about bees/beekeeping? You don’t have to be a beekeep-
er to help save a bee. 5. What is your favorite type of honey that you sell in your store? Sourwood, it’s also our number one seller. 6. How important was community when you were thinking about creating your business? Working within a community has always been part of our goal, not just for honey but for working with local people who have a theme that fits our store and including them to be able to showcase their products as well. Joining bee clubs and helping other beekeepers earn a fair value for their honey is extremely important. Local honey is a big part of our business here is western NC. 7. How easy was it to incorporate Kim’s love for fashion and Jillian’s love for cooking in the process of expanding the company? Easier than we thought. Kim has expanded further into purchasing and has helped cultivate new contacts in the retail field. Jillian has expanded their honey line by infusing natural herbs and spices not just for tea but for cooking as well. 8. Which came first, your love for honey, or your love for beekeeping/apiology? Love for honey and reducing white refined sugar. I realized
early on that real raw honey is expensive because bee keeping is expensive. 9. What is something that you learned while creating the Asheville Bee Charmer that you will always remember in terms of working in the apiology field/creating a business in general? The bees come first. We make sure that the bees always have enough of their food and remain healthy. Test the honey to make sure it has not been tainted and we can stand by our product. Customer service is right up there on top of the list. We want to make sure you have a great experience in our store and hope you will continue to visit our online store to take a piece of Asheville home with you, and follow us on social media for new items, events and sales. Website: www.ashevillebeecharmer.com Facebook: https://www.facebook. com/AshevilleBeeCharmer
Warning! Vegan Propaganda! Some omnivores love to accuse vegans of being propaganda-spreading extremists. According to them, while we vegans are entitled to our own (absolutely ridiculous) opinions, we should stop forcing them down the innocent throats of meat-eaters. Well, all of these accusations are without grounds. First, propaganda is exactly what companies selling animal products rely on. Take dairy products for instance: companies depict cows and calves grazing in open green fields beneath endless blue sky, and adopt names like “The Laughing Cow” and “Fair Life.” But these animals’ lives are anything but fair. From the moment they are born, they are subjected to endless abuse until they meet their bloody end. A female cow is repeatedly inseminated in a contraption known fittingly as a “rape rack.” Just like a human mother, she spends nine months bringing her baby to term. But unlike a human mother, her baby is dragged away from her within hours of birth to be slaughtered for veal. Her udder bulges painfully, as biological manipulation has forced her body to produce 12 times the amount of milk she would need to feed her baby. A machine latches onto to her udder to suck out the milk for humans, a process repeated so often that she most likely lives with mastitis, a painful infection that causes inflammation, swelling, and bleeding of the udder. This cycle of “forced impregnation, perpet-
ual lactation, and near-constant confinement” takes a toll on her. Her overworked body starts producing less milk when she reaches 4 or 5 years; in natural conditions, she might grow to be 25. But she is no longer useful to the dairy industry, and she is slaughtered. Her time of suffering finally ends when she is ground up to be somebody’s hamburger. Second, when has the word “extremist” ever been used to describe someone who didn’t want to abuse and kill animals? Society has been brainwashed to the point of absurd defensiveness on this issue. You are not like a lion because you don’t get excited at the sight and scent of blood; nor do you kill your food with your teeth and eat it raw. You balk at the mere idea of someone hurting or—God forbid—eating a dog, so why is a vegan an extremist for feeling the same way about someone hurting and eating a pig, cow, chicken, sheep, or fish? If we have a choice between food that causes lifetimes of suffering to animals, and food that doesn’t, why is there even a discussion about what we choose? Finally, there’s the idea that vegans are just forcing their opinions down everyone’s throats. “You’re entitled to your view,” say many omnivores, “and I’m entitled to mine.” But yours can no longer just be an opinion when it has a victim. Would you make the same argument if I liked to adopt animals from shelters to kill and eat them? Dogs and cats taste the best.
It’s just my opinion. Stop shoving your views down my throat! You stand up for whales quarantined in aquariums, elephants forced into circus acts, polar bears in zoos, but what about abuse that occurred to produce the milk in your coffee? The cheese on your pizza? The pork in your dumplings? The eggs in your pastry? Vegans simply extend their desire to end animal suffering to include all animals, even those that have always been considered food. Now let’s say you don’t care about animal suffering. You’re the top of the food chain and all other organisms must submit to you and all that. Animal abuse aside, ethics and morality are still deeply involved. That’s because the animal agriculture industry is destroying our planet, and if we don’t do something about it soon, we are all doomed. To demonstrate this, I’m going to refute a few arguments I hear from omnivores all the time. For example, But what about the land used for soy? According to a lot of ill-informed people, veganism would kill the earth with the amount of land needed to grow crops to support a plant-based diet. But in the U.S. over 67 percent of crops—especially soy!—are fed to livestock, and only 27 percent are fed to people. Meanwhile, 46 million people still depend on the Feeding America network annually. So millions of people go hungry to satisfy a demand for meat that hogs over two-thirds of U.S. crops. Furthermore, livestock and livestock feed
By Johanna Stiefler Johnson occupy 45 percent of the Earth’s total land; every minute, seven football fields worth of land are bulldozed to make room for them. This system is grossly inefficient. For instance, 100 calories of grain are needed to produce just 12 calories of chicken, and just three calories of beef. That’s a 97% loss of energy! Overall, animal agriculture is the leading cause of deforestation, desertification, habitat destruction, and ocean dead zones. Imagine how much energy and land would be saved if we cut out the “middle man” and simply ate the plants ourselves. If we have the option to do so, what ethical argument do we have against it? The answer is we don’t. The planet is deteriorating. But what about the water used for almonds?? I’m not going to deny that 1.1 gallons of water to produce a single almond is a little excessive; a handful of almonds might require 10 or 15 gallons of water. But consider this: a single hamburger requires 660 gallons of water, a gallon of cow’s milk requires 880, and a pound of beef requires a whopping 1,800. A pound of chicken requires 468 gallons of water, which is 71 percent more than a pound of soy. A single egg requires 53 gallons of water. Meanwhile, 56 percent of freshwater in the U.S. is used on crops to feed animals. Not only does animal agriculture use up a ridiculous amount of the world’s freshwater supply—it also contaminates it. One-third of U.S. rivers has been polluted by agriculture runoff and
animal excrement. In the world, 2.1 billion people lack access to safe drinking water, and yet this is what we do with ours. But what about recycling??? A lot of people get defensive when they feel they’re being accused of unsustainability. I commend you for taking shorter showers and using a stainless steel straw! But sadly these efforts are completely overshadowed if you continue to consume animal products. Livestock and their byproducts account for 18 percent of all CO2 emissions. This is more than every single mode of transport combined—yes, even airplanes and rocket ships!—which account for 13 percent of CO2 emissions. So you may be biking to work, but the chicken in your Caesar salad is increasing your carbon footprint more than your car would. In fact, producing one hamburger requires enough fuel to drive 20 miles. Farm animals also account for 37 percent of emissions of methane, which has 20 times the global warming potential warming of CO2. Furthermore, one-third of all U.S. raw materials and fossil fuels are used in animal production. Instead of priding yourself in simply turning off the lights when you leave your room, pride yourself in making the switch to a plant-based diet. You will be part of something that is vastly more important than your love of meat or cheese, which have been engrained in you. By going vegan, you can reduce your carbon footprint from food by 73
percent. And alternatives to the foods you love are out there, improving all the time to meet vegan demand! It’s with absolute urgency that I tell you this: if we continue to consume animal products at the rate we are now, there is no hope for any of us. If you don’t trust me, trust the United Nations Environment Programme, which published a statement in September calling the animal agriculture industry the most “urgent” problem we face: “Our use of animals as a food-production technology has brought us to the verge of catastrophe. The destructive impact of animal agriculture on our environment far exceeds that of any other technology on Earth … There is no pathway to achieve the Paris climate objectives without a massive decrease in the scale of animal agriculture.” Nobody is going to save the world for us. We have to be the generation to do it. And our first step can be to prove to all those that came before us that we have the strength, determination, and compassion to end the animal agriculture industry as we know it. In doing so, we might just stand a chance against climate change. I know it sounds daunting. Maybe even impossible. But everyone thinks it seems impossible until they try it, and it’s not long before they’re saying, “Going vegan is the best decision I ever made.” I know you can do it. I also know you have to.
together written by Carrie Cullen
It was two years ago when I first heard it: “Not caring about the environment is my choice.” Often accompanied by a flick-a-cigaretteon-the-ground attitude intending to convey apathy toward the world, this line lives among “It’s not my problem,” and “It’s too hard.” These sentiments equate environmental action with being a preference. Except it’s not. Our very ability to consider the environment is a privilege. We are privileged to live our lives day by day without our survival being threatened by pollution and the effects of climate change. At Emerson we have access to clean water with the flick of a switch. The quality of our food is secure - say what you will about the dining hall, but whether or not we had a bad winter does not impact our ability to eat. Even with the air
quality at its worse, we still have full capacity to breathe. Climate change is impacting us all, but as a privileged urban community with access to resources, some of us are fortunate enough to still turn a blind eye. For those with less privilege, the severity of this situation is not so easily ignored. Climate change disproportionately impacts communities of color and lowincome. Countless people alive right now are so focussed on dayto-day survival that they do not have the privilege to consider the environment. Victims of natural disasters, climate-related diseases, drought, famine, and further environmental degradation no longer have this privilege. Ironically, it is those who have the lowest carbon footprint who are the most affected by climate change.
If you think climate change is not your concern, you are actively supporting a system of oppression that you are privileged enough to have the power to fight. This is our world, and it’s up to all of us to protect it. Apathy towards the situation accomplishes nothing beyond further isolating our community from the global human condition. Our actions have real impacts that extend far beyond campus. As students, we are the generation inheriting environmental crisis and we must be the generation to fight back. We must never underestimate our power as individuals to create change and inspire a movement. Not everyone has to be an environmental warrior - just be conscious. At Emerson, resources
to live sustainably and educate ourselves on environmental issues are readily accessible. Facilities staff on campus work hard to haul away and sort recycling or landfill waste, much of which is improperly disposed of by students. To put this into perspective our diversion rate, meaning the percentage of waste that is not landfill, remains stagnant below 30%. That’s one of the lowest rates in New England, and marginally low compared to schools of similar size. Being mindful is step one, acting is step two. I’m a senior at Emerson and have been working at the Office of Sustainability for three years. When I entered college the Eco-Rep position was just being introduced, the environmental science minor was just being offered, and the Green Gala was in its early years. We’ve made leaps and bounds in the last three years. I’ve watched students organize, fight, and overcome. I’ve sat with faculty and staff through determined conversations about the future of sustainability at Emerson, and have watched the Climate Action Plan transition from theory to action. Students advocated for divestment and won over the compliance of faculty after months of strategic work. Students have demanded change and organized to create it, starting movements anywhere from environmental clubs to
literary magazines like the one you are reading. As Emerson students, we’ve come so far - but we must go further. This action has inspired my work, but the biggest motivator is something insidious. It’s the general lack of engagement from the greater student body; the sense of apathy toward our world that seems to creep through campus closing minds and seeking to undo the careful advocacy of those passionate few. Not everyone has to be an activist, but we must all be advocates. The few seconds it takes to read a sign, walk a few feet to a recycling bin, or substitute meat with a plant based protein are moments of our daily lives where we all decide if we will be advocates or apathetic. Our individual behaviors have resounding impact as they are cumulative and contagious. One small action every day adds up over the course of a year, and being conscious translates to leading by example. By holding a mindfulness of sustainability, we can inspire our peers and community - eventually fostering a movement reaching far and wide. Imagine the impact of one person using a reusable coffee cup every day. That’s seven less discarded plastic cups a week. Now imagine that number multiplied by a year. Now multiply it by a whole community who were inspired to follow suit.
For many, sustainable options are not readily accessible and cannot afford to be a priority. At Emerson, The Office of Sustainability offers several resources on reducing carbon footprint in our daily lives on our website, Emerson.edu/ sustainability. For proper disposal of waste, there are signs around campus about proper sorting practice as well as a published recycling guide at the above link. For students with a meal plan, dining services offer a variety of options for reducing carbon footprint such as local sourcing and plant based options. Earth Emerson, BEE, Green Gala, and VEG are all wonderful student advocacy groups with incredible impact on campus sustainability and would welcome new members. The greater Boston community is teeming with powerful activist organizations such as Our Climate, Sunrise Movement, Better Future Project, Environmental Voter Project, and Humane League to name a small fraction. There are ways of varying scales that we can all have an impact, and the severity of the current environmental cannot afford inaction. Inaction is long out of style. Together we can fight for a safer future and a sustainable campus - but we must do it together.
“Not everyone has to be an activist, but we all must be advocates.” - Carrie Cullen
where to next? written by Will Palauskas
It’s on the news almost every night: “Wildfires are blazing in California.” “The Arctic is melting at a faster rate than ever before.” “The Endangered Species list is increasing at an alarming number.” As people, we’re often phased by these news reports only for a day or two. As environmentalists, we’re more concerned than ever before and we’ll stop at nothing to figure out a solution. That doesn’t mean that we don’t get jaded when trying to figure out how to put an end to these terrifying messages. Finding a solution is difficult and can take a lot of time. When something takes a lot of time, that can worry us even more as environmentalists. We don’t exactly have a lot of time to repair the irreversible damage that is occurring to our Earth. What I’ve begun to realize, however, is that sometimes the smallest actions can make a difference. When you learn a new species is endangered, tell two friends and talk to them about it. At our first BEE Meeting of the year, I let our members know that one of the first American species
of bumblebee (the Rusty-Patched Bumblebee) is going extinct. Tell your friends to tell their friends and so on. Communication is the first step in creating change. The second key step is developing action. Get to know local environmental non-profits and befriend members of the organization. Even if you don’t have the time to volunteer, they might always need an extra person to join them at a rally or just somebody to help them put together some posters for an event. Two of my favorite climate justice non-profits right now are the Sunrise Movement and Our Climate. Both are fighting for greener legislation and they’re making huge strides. It’s important to remember that we all live on this pale blue dot and we should all have some vested interest in keeping it blue. It was Lady Bird Johnson who said, “The environment, after all, is where we all meet, where we all have a mutual interest. It is one thing that all of us share. It is not only a mirror of ourselves, but a focusing lens on what we can become.” You
might have friends, neighbors, or even family members who couldn’t care less about the future of our planet. Encourage them to think differently! Share with them the same things that you might share with your more environmentallyconscious friends. Tell them about all of the change that you’re creating and why it’s so important that they get involved. Help them understand the satisfaction you receive from protecting our planet for generations to come. All of these things begin to plant the seed that maybe environmentalism doesn’t seem far fetched or radical. Instead, it’s something we all can get involved in. Next time, when you find yourself struggling to make a difference or if you simply can’t get a grip on things, don’t feel let down. Instead, ask yourself: “Where to next?” Imagine all of the possibilities that await and all of the things still left to do. As environmentalists, the work is never truly done. We’ve got a lot more work to do until Mother Earth is truly safe. So get to work!
For Thea Farber and Maddy Garfunkel: Thank you so much for providing us guidance, leadership, and strength. You both have given us so much wisdom and knowledge, and we’re so grateful for all you have done for BEE! We’ll see you soon.