Ethos Magazine Fall 2018

Vol. 11 Issue 1

Fall 2018

Breakfast Boys Local Eugene and University of Oregon graduates, fund their first tour along the WestCoast.

Trust & Trauma

The bond between victims and their traffickers

page 10

Time For the Anagnorisis Ecuador’s dance with time

page 20

A City Made of Dust

BRC welcomes 70,000 people to turn the dust into nine days of music, dance and art.

page 30

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CONTENTS Vol. 11 Issue 1 | Fall 2018

Photo by Laura Groshans while reporting on New Zealand Conservation.

08

FOCUS

8 | A Fellowship Among Vendors: Spotlighting makeshift counters at a designated location 10 | Trust and Truama: The reality of sex trafficking in Portland

14

FEATURES

14 | Blanca López Fernández: A mother’s love 16 | Personal Touch: One profound touch severes emotional bonds

18

OPINION

18 | Sexism: A science behind the gender divide 20 | Time for the Anagnorisis: Bilingual account of a trip to Ecuador 24 | Unspoken: the Me Too movement with a male gaze

27

ETHOS WORLD

27 | The New Zealand Bush: A Journal on conservation

30

Arts

30 | Breakfast Boys: Two Broke Boys in a Honda Accord fund their first independent tour 34 | A city made of dust: A playground for grown ups.

Editor’s

Note

“Photographs lie. Even great photographs. Especially great photographs.” Tom Junod, wrote in the September 2018 issue of Esquire Magazine. The famous photo he is referring to is the Falling Man, taken on September 11th 2001. The visceral image of a victim of the attacks of 9/11, haunts many of us to this day. In the years it took to try and identify who the Falling Man was, the world had long developed its own variable perceptions of the photo. This cognizance grew into a negotiable reality and the truth was buried somewhere underneath. The covering of the truth is not always intentional, sometimes it’s based on perception, social compositions or even religious beliefs.

As creators and members of the media, we are regularly accused of a misalignment of the public’s perception, versus the story we are trying to tell.

Ethos is a place of vision; a place for connection and recognition. It emanates the importance of storytelling, the importance of truths and the alternative that is sometimes swept under the rug. When turning the pages of Ethos you are walking through a time and space that is beyond just the writers, artists or photographers. These stories are bright, brilliant and elucidate our world’s complexities.

In this issue, our writers focus on countering what many of us think we already know about an issue. By analyzing and addressing all sides, we’re providing a wider focal lens. Our writers build a connection by recognizing people and places that often stray from traditional subjects. This issue features a bilingual account of an experience in Ecuador; the convoluted reality of sex trafficking and how one male victim felt unheard during the #Metoo movement.

From a Burning Man to the Falling Man, the fall 2018 issue challenges our familiar thought patterns in the hope that it will evoke and promote other ways of discussing perceptions of our reality.

Ella T. Morgan Editor in Chief

ELLA T. MORGAN Editor in Chief EDITORIAL Managing Editor ZOE CRAIG Copy Editor SYDNEY PADGETT Contributing Editor OLIVIA SANCHEZ Writers: RENATA GERALDO, LAURA GROSHAN, MADDIE HORN, LUCY KLEINER, SYDNEY PADGETT, DONNY MORRISON, KEZIA SETYAWAN, KENJI SHIMOMURA, DANIKA TAYLOR PHOTOGRAPHY Photo Editor MARIN STUART Asst. Photo Editor MEGHAN JACINTO Photojournalists: LAURA GROSHAN, LUCY KLEINER, KEZIA SETYAWAN, KENJI SHIMOMURA, SARAH NORTHROP, ABBIE WINN CREATIVE Art Director BROOKE HARMAN Artists: MADDY WIGNALL Designers: WHITNEY MARKS, ALEXXIS ROMO, ALLISON TRUJILLO

Ethos is a nationally recognized, award-winning independent student-run publication. Since its inception as Korean Ducks Magazine in 2005, Ethos has worked hard to share a multicultural spirit with its readership.

Ethos recieves support from the ASUO. All content is legal property of Ethos, except when noted. Permission is required to copy, reprint, or use any content in Ethos. All views and opinions expressed are strictly those of the respective author interviewee.

Ethos is a publication of the Emerald Media Group.

A Fellowship Among Vendors WORDS & PHOTOS

| KENJI SHIMOMURA

Located on 8th and Oak in downtown Eugene, the Saturday Market is a fast growing community. With countless vendors stationed with products ranging from handcrafted goods to local produce, such a place is keenly unique to Eugene. The square, founded originally by Lottie Streisinger as the Eugene Craft Guild, was primarily a source for uniting locals to voice against the Vietnam War. Creating an event allowed community members to begin funding the phenomenon in 1969.

“All of this had begun in the Butterfly Court Parking Lot. There had been some who sold wares on blankets then,” Dana Bauman says, Eugene local and manager at Dana’s Cheesecake Bakery. Bauman explained that the beginnings were formed from a tight knit group of individuals. “Oregon had gotten out of a terrible recession which forced workers in lumber mills to become unemployed. This ‘move out’ situation forced workers to search for new jobs, causing some to begin vending here.”

This welcoming bakery stand had begun nearly 40 years ago. In 1979, Bauman starting with no more than $100, a true definition of a small start-up business, served customers nothing more than tea and pastries. With consistent determination, Bauman and his wife became working volunteers and their volunteer work lead to the couple becoming vendors at the Oregon Country Fair three years later. Since then the number of vendors has risen to over 150.

Today, the bakery has its own designated spot in the International Food Court with a large staff. Offering both weekly and seasonal specials, Bauman brings an array of options for customers who come looking for dessert. It is no wonder that this stand overcame the financial troughs during Oregon’s recessions.

After the owner handed down the business to Haven nearly two years later, experimentation was an emphasis. Balancing out her use of space efficiently and conceptualizing ingredients that could be bought fresh were recurring themes that challenged the business into what we know of today. Introducing maize and mushroom salad assortments first, she then decided to add on her grandmother’s Minnesotan Fish & Chips recipe. This, brought major success. According to Haven, “people don’t know how to make proper fish and chips.

The ‘double dipping’ method ensures crispy, golden flaked perfection onto the plate.” Shifting into seafood choices, the stand’s staple piece today and resembles the inheritance of her lifelong memories. Not only is Ms. Haven part of the year-long farmer’s market, but she also participates as a blowpipe artist at the Holiday Market.

Glass ornaments and other crafts of hers are showcased and sold during this brief, festive period. In order to fully prepare, however she closes up The Blazing Chef around mid-August to focus on her artwork. The wide range of interests from well-rounded individuals help the growth of the Lane County Farmers’ Market. Vendors adjust their shops weekly and seasonally, highlighting a true sense of artisanal locality that is not normally seen.

Neighbored to Dana’s Cheesecake Bakery is a more recent vendor; The Blazing Chef. Formerly known as Helen’s Roll-Ups, the small business has undergone many changes both on its signboard and menu. This primarily fish & chips based stand sustained its presence from the consistent work of Ms. Haven, the present day manager.

Those looking for a hearty, pub-styled treat will surely find their braised guilty pleasures here.

Alternative products had not been a primary focus until recently. Sandwiches, root beer and the apple ginger juice helped start off the deli-like menu. With neighboring competition, the seemingly regular stand spent long hours in its early vending days making business. Longevity became the main topic of concern and the fewer customers stopped by the more the concern grew. In the hopes to bring in more customers, the name was changed to Rosie’s Roll-Ups. It was then when potato fries were introduced by Haven and helped bring some light back into the business.

Warning, content contains sexual assault and prostituition

Trust and Trauma One life changing story of sex trafficking in Portland.

WORDS ART |

| RENATA GERALDO MADDY WIGNALL

S

ex trafficking takes on many different forms. Women from poor families fall victim and are kidnapped or sold into prostitution.

In the United States, prostitution and trafficking takes a different form. Trafficking happens through coercion and manipulation; a much subtler form that often gets overlooked. In Portland, many victims of sex trafficking are members of a community, according to Senior Deputy District Attorney for Multnomah County and part of the Human Trafficking Team in Portland, Glen JR Ujifusa.

This was the case for Andrea Benson, who was trafficked at 22-years old. Her life was steady, she grew up in a good home, and was raised Christian. She went to the California Baptist University, graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and with a minor in Global Studies. After she graduated and moved back home, her life felt incomplete. Almost everyone from her class was getting married or having kids. While trying to find what was missing, Benson signed up for a dating site in the hopes of meeting someone. She eventually found a promising match. He was nine years older, divorced, had three kids and was a web designer who worked from home.

This is where Benson met her trafficker “That’s how he recruits women to this day, [on] online dating websites,” Benson says.

He created a false identity and was “able to do this because he had a lot of money.” But instead of being a web designer, he was a trafficker; and instead of three kids, he had six.

Her parents disapproved of her boyfriend, but within two weeks of dating, he told Benson everything she wanted to hear. “It just escalated quickly. He told me that he loved me, that he wanted to get married.” Yet, her parents started cutting her “boyfriend” off from family events, and eventually cutting Benson off too.

They took her car and changed the locks.

Benson began to feel lonely and controlled by her parents. That was enough for her trafficker to start the grooming phase.

According to Joel Shapiro, a Portland attorney who handles cases such as Benson’s, sex trafficking involves three phases: the grooming phase, where the trafficker builds trust with the victim, followed by engaging the victim in sex with strangers and collecting the money, and, finally, buying victims goods to make them feel like they’re still loved by their trafficker, or pimp. The grooming phase is perhaps the most important. The trafficker explores the victim’s vulnerabilities, which builds a falsified bond between trafficker and the victim, similar to a trauma bond, according to Ujifusa. “Traffickers sell you a dream, that’s what they do. Every single time they’re selling you a dream, and so he sold me one too,” Benson said. Not yet aware of what would happen to her, she ignored her parents’ advice and the red flags.

Still believing he loved her and wanted to marry her, she continued her relationship. “I was desperate for a boyfriend,” she confesses. “I just laid my cards on the table, he picked them up and read them back to me.

Promised me everything.”

Traffickers are “pathological liars and narcissists,” according to Benson. Ujifusa, a prosecutor for these cases who has to deal with pimps in the courtroom, “traffickers in my experience, the ones who have been evaluated psychologically, many of them show high tendencies for personality disorders and high psychopathy.” Traffickers are also charismatic, and that often blinds the victims of their ongoing manipulation, making pimps seem trustworthy and highly reliable. Once the grooming phase is over the trust slowly develops into a case of dependence.

The manipulation intensified when Benson’s trafficker would bring women to their house, take them to the bedroom, and then claim he was their “manager.” Later, he would tell her he would be out of town with the same girls and she wouldn’t be able to contact him. Benson was jealous, after all, he was her boyfriend.

Her frustration worsened with the lousy excuse that her trafficker needed money. He would ask her for help to pay the bills knowing she did not have the money. Benson became increasingly frustrated with her predicament and jealousy.

He started suggesting coy ideas and Benson would push back. “But after a couple of months of that, I was tired of him going out of town with these girls all the time and not telling me where he was going and what he was doing,” she says.

“I finally decided, I love him, he wants to marry me, he wants to have kids with me, so whatever he wants me to do, it can’t be that bad.” She gave him her definite yes, still not knowing exactly what she would do. Benson was taken to their bedroom, where he took provocative pictures of her and put it online. He also gave information on what her limits were with the buyers; her “menu,” as Benson explained.

For her first John (buyers are also known commonly as “Johns”), she only gave a massage. However, in a room full of condoms and other tools, she knew something more serious would eventually happen. After her first John, Benson started crying. Her trafficker entered the hotel room, collected the money and started crying with her, claiming it was hard for him, too. She would no longer be giving massages when the next Johns came to her hotel room.

Benson’s trafficker was a “Romeo pimp,” the kind of trafficker who is sensitive and cries with the victim. Not long after he became more violent and blackmailed her if she ever tried to leave him. He could ruin her life, while also claiming he loved her. Benson was often told she didn’t fit in the real world and did not need a normal job, but he wanted to marry her and have kids with her. In times when Benson felt at her lowest point, he would buy her gifts and tell her she would only have to keep doing this for a few months; that day never came.

After four months, her trafficker was arrested. And since Benson’s relationship with her parents was damaged because of her “Romeo pimp,” it was hard for her to tell them that she had been a victim of sex trafficking. So, she got help from one of the sergeants who worked on her case. They set up a meeting with Benson’s parents, and before she went into the room, parameters were set on what they could or could not say to her. She told her story and was met with love and support from her parents. Her mother even helped her get a job.

While it’s hard for the family to take victims back, especially if they come from vulnerable areas, the hardest part about rescuing a victim is breaking the trauma bond between the trafficker and themselves. “The biggest challenge in these cases is helping a victim to understand that they’re a victim, and need to be willing to leave their trafficker, or

change what they’re doing, because many of them have been manipulated and brainwashed to think it was their idea.” Ujifusa says. “That’s how trafficking is set up.” But it is by working closely with support groups, non-profit organizations and networks of mentorship that this bond is broken.

Yet the path to get there is often very challenging.

initially thought it was her, and the case changed her, and the case changed something in Benson.

Besides her fear of getting killed, she was also suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts.

Benson decided it was time to stop, even if it meant having a difficult time mentally and financially.

“There’s not enough money in the world that could make those things go away.” She eventually stopped, “but it’s what kept me in it, it was just that adrenaline.”

Although it was hard for her at first to get out of that life, it was harder because her boyfriend was still involved in trafficking Benson had moved back home, got a and other illegal activities. Her job and her life seemed to be moving relationship lasted another eight along. But after a year and a half, she months. “The further I got away was fired and found herself back in from that lifestyle, the more I the sex industry. 95.2% of girls return wasn’t comfortable with what he to this life for individual reasons was doing.” Benson said. “It wasn’t after being released according to a exciting anymore having a gun in Multnomah County report. Benson the house, having strangers come felt she was not fit for the real world. over and all the different danger So, she found a new boyfriend who scenes that he was involved in, or was a “sponge pimp,” or “someone being worried about him going to who doesn’t care whether you do it or jail.” She broke it off and moved out not, they’re ripping the benefits,” she even though all the bills were in her explained. This time, however, her name, but she did not care about parents treated her differently. They the financial consequences. supported her decision to be with All that mattered was that she her boyfriend although they did not was done. So Benson got herself approve of him. a single apartment and a job. Her She went back to the life, but it was prostitution life officially ended on getting harder to do. She described it March 31st 2015, the day before she to be “disgusting and terrifying” when started the new job and her healing she opened the door to a different man, phase, which is still ongoing. For but she was addicted to the fast money many people who decide to get out and still believed she wasn’t normal. of the life, like Benson, the road is Besides, if she stopped, she wouldn’t winding. Safe houses for victims be able to see her boyfriend as much. in Portland are usually full, and “I made up every excuse in the world there is no emergency shelters. The for why I should keep doing it,” she lack of resources is due to a lack of confesses. funding rather than lack of intent.

The fear of getting murdered began “We are in need of emergency to haunt her. According to a 2010 shelter and quick drop-in centers, study, prostitutes have a mortality but it takes a lot of money, and it has rate 17 times higher at any given age. to be done right, and it has to focus Benson had a false sense of security on just trafficking victims, because every time she was with a client. Johns the dynamic of trafficking victims have stolen money from Benson and is so different than any other there was no recovering it. “Somebody victim,” Ujifusa says. Similarly, could’ve murdered me easily and the Cupcake Girls is a non-profit there’s nothing [my trafficker] would dedicated to providing resources have been able to do, he didn’t even for sex workers with no judgement carry weapons on him.” She also did or coercion. Amy-Marie Merrell, the not want her family to go through this, city manager for the non-profit in especially after a wake-up call when Portland, says there were several another girl who was being trafficked, occasions when they have had to named Ashley Benson, was murdered transport victims of sex trafficking by a John in a hotel room. Her family to safe houses as far as Kansas or

“Traffickers sell you a dream, that’s what they

do.”

Bend, Ore. because safe houses in Portland are usually full, and there are no emergency shelters.

According to attorney Joel Shapiro, there has to be “traumainformed care” for victims, basic resources and security. Shelters are also more expensive to fund, so the state of Oregon has a bigger focus on homelessness and drug addiction. But the ideal scenario for Shapiro involves emergency shelters and multiple safe houses throughout the state instead of just Portland. According to Ujifusa, the internet is spreading the occurrences of purchasing women rather than having one “high-vice area,” a term used to describe places where prostitution happens in plain sight. Now it is easier to purchase sex anywhere.

The recruitment often happens online, and the pattern continues with the sex purchasing phase. Before, Johns would find women at NE 82nd Avenue, a “high-vice area” in Portland, which is still a well-known spot for sex trafficking and prostitution.

But with the internet playing a major role since 2010, “has been the primary way in which trafficking is done.” Ujifusa says. “The internet is the most prolific [platform]. Anyone who has a smartphone or a computer can find someone to purchase in a matter of minutes.” Still, its proximity to Interstate 5 and the number of strip clubs, Portland is still a hub for sex trafficking.

And while it’s easier for Johns and traffickers to make deals online, it is harder for law enforcement to intercept these cases, especially when the number of people who handle sex trafficking in the city of Portland is low. “In the city of Portland there are seven people that are in charge of sex trafficking for almost the entire state,” Merrell says. Areas like Springfield and Eugene seriously lack an equipped team designated for sex trafficking.

There have been online cases such as Backpage, a website where Johns could easily purchase sex and the adult section on Craigslist that have been successfully intercepted.

While it was important to take down Backpage, Johns will find other ways.

Either through social media or smaller websites, Shapiro says.

Whenever Johns are caught buying sex from adults, they are charged with misdemeanors. To avoid recidivism, the John’s School, a government project, created with the intent to educate first-time buyers. According to Ujifusa, who was one of the creators of the project, the John’s School, or also called Sex Buyers Accountability and Diversion Class, is an eight-hour class where different people related to sex trafficking tell the attendees of their experience. Subjects vary from reproductive health, how trafficking affects live of victims, and how victims observe the issue. The goal is to educate men who often do not know the consequences of buying trafficked persons on an personal level.

For Benson, who speaks openly as a survivor at places like the John’s School, being able to tell her story played a big part in her healing. Another important factor that led to this process was having strong relationships with the people who helped her get out of the life completely.

“I’ve got a lot of people who would make sure that would not happen [again] even though there are times that I want to go back because maybe I’m stressed about finances or I’m stressed about my job, or I just feel really uncomfortable and like I’m not normal,” Benson says.

Along with telling her story for empowerment, Benson’s mission is also building awareness. The goal is that the numbers of sex trafficking decrease, since girls who are aware of the problem are in less risk to be recruited. That’s the Youth Ending Slavery (YES) mission, according to Gwen Kaliszewski, the non-profit’s president. Instead of working with survivors, like the Cupcake Girls, they target kids around the age of 13.

YES often organizes documentary screenings, guest speakers and walks in Downtown Portland. “Awareness is the first step to change,” Kaliszewki says. “High school students have a lot of passion and drive and can actually make a change, [they] are very passionate.”

Benson’s positivity and strength are vibrating in her personality, but a few lapses prove to be difficult at times. She developed a complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). “When you have complex PTSD is when you’ve been raped over and over and over again,” she says.

One of her triggers is seeing her first trafficker, who was released from prison on probation. “My trafficker lives really close-by and he’s tried to stay in contact. He’s joined my gym four different times, at one point he moved two blocks away from me. He only has to be 1000 feet away, so he moved 1200 feet away.”

Besides the stalking and psychological trigger, her trafficker also represents a setback that happens to her in many occasions and in different relationships, which is when someone doesn’t believe her story. If that happens, Benson likes to look back on her case to remind herself it happened to her. But her trafficker de-legitimizes her at every opportunity.

His side of the story is that it was her idea to sell sex, and he only helped her because he loved her. His goal was to keep her safe. But his story is a lie.

“Unfortunately, there were six other victims, and he’d been doing this for three years before he even met me,” Benson said.

In order to keep herself safe, Benson has different types of security devices, such as pepper sprays and assault alarms. She also has nailed wood to all of her windows. She is in close contact with her trafficker’s parole officer. Her employers, family and friends have knowledge of her case, and security at the building she works at have his picture and know his face.

Although Benson is now empowered and continues her healing process, she is prepared for the worse. “Every little thing helps.”

Sex trafficking is not about a woman being tied to a bed. It is about a woman being mentally tied to a promise and to her trafficker, or having “chains to the brain,” Ujifusa says. Sex trafficking is not always about a smuggled undocumented immigrant. Girls apart of a community are recruited from a high school party, a football game, a bus stop, or the internet. Shapiro describes trafficking as a brutal way of living, led by “interplay of force, fraud and coercion used by traffickers to isolate victims,” as stated by the Multnomah County.

“There is no silver bullet to end this problem,” Shapiro says, just like the problem of drug addiction or homelessness. Some think that demand plays a big role, intensified by the internet as a safe way for Johns to reach pimps. Others, like Kaliszewski, believe that building awareness to a younger audience that has passion is key for change. For Merrell, the lack of resources is where the problem lies since the trafficker can explore that by creating a debt bond. So, tackling that with services that are probono prevents the trafficker to offer something that they cannot refuse.

The problem is still unsolved, and like Benson says “it could happen to anyone.”

A Mother’s Love

WORDS & PHOTOS

T

wo beads of sweat drip down the curlers in Blanca’s hair, brought on by the laborious preparation of beef Wellington and a particularly brutal heat wave in central Spain. The iron behind her calls out for attention with an impatient geyser of steam, filling the kitchen with yet another unbearable breath of heat. But despite the heat, Blanca maintains focus, carefully laying out cheese and the chorizo she knows her son loves so much on the handmade pastry.

In a trance, she glides across the steamy kitchen to stir the beans that have been soaking since last night. In step with her mixing, she hums the prelude to Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” - the hymn to the European Union; like breathing, she seems unaware of the tune as it emanates from her exhausted breath.

In accordance with the unspoken clock that guides her day, she places two pieces of toast and a cup of coffee on the kitchen table just in time for her husband, Fernando, to nibble and chug before heading to work.

With a mouth still swelling with crumbs and a single drop of coffee escaping his lips, he kisses Blanca’s forehead, “Adios mi vida”, and slams the door on his way out.

The house returns to silence but the kitchen reverberates with life. Six hours until lunch, five until her son and his girlfriend arrive, and four until her midday music lesson - Blanca López Fernández almost forgets to take a bite of toast and to light a cigarette before tackling the pile of clothes hanging outside the window.

| SYDNEY PADGETT

Below, the city is waking up. Relative to Madrid, its neighbor just beyond the mountain, Segovia is a small city.

But its proximity to the capital and medieval landmarks of incomparable origins make the pueblo a popular tourist destination, meaning the cobblestone streets are almost always as packed as Blanca’s to do list.

Like Blanca, most Segovian residents have lived in the city their entire lives. “This city nurtured and raised me and I love it for that. There is a very distinctive rhythm of life here; there is always music in the background,”she says.

Indeed, the music never seems to cease in Segovia.

No matter the hour, melodies fill the streets and concerts echo throughout the plaza. And in the background, if one listens closely, distant and wanting melodies can be heard from a tucked away studio in a dark and humid apartment.

For Blanca, music is a way of life, a melody that connects people and perspectives. It brought her to Fernando, a sarcastic and bold Basque man with enough bromas to make a nun laugh and an unquenchable sweet tooth. When he moved to Segovia with his family, boasting a singing voice that could be heard from the other side of the mountain and distinctive bushy Basque eyebrows, Blanca’s friends knew they were meant for each other and would not rest until they went on a date.

“I admit, he was one of the most handsome men in Segovia, but I was not immediately impressed. In the end, his shared love for music and that magnificent voice won me over,” she says, smiling at Fernando’s surprised grumbles from the family room. Music connects Blanca to her two sons as well.

“When I was pregnant with José Félix, I was working on a Vivaldi composition with one of my students for months.

And it is curious because, when he was born and he heard me playing the same composition, he reacted to it very strongly, as if he had heard it inside me. Since then, he has always had a very strong sense of rhythm.” Now a DJ, José Félix says the only time he has seen his mother upset was when he admitted he did not respect classical music.

But Blanca’s personal connection to music is much more profound and it defined a decision she made years ago that would determine the monotonous and unchangeable course of her life.

The night Blanca was born, one of the first days of May, a gentle snow storm covered the ground in a delicate powder and led to her fairly unusual Spanish name. She was the only girl of seven boys: Juan Francisco, Miguel Angel, José, Alfonso, Luis, Ignacio and Javier. Her father was the heir to a lineage of prominent Segovian citizens, his family known for his father’s political stance and wealthy business.

One of the wealthiest families in the city, Blanca does not recall an abundance of love on her father’s side of the family.

Memories of laughter and reunions are shrouded by fights and bickering about materialistic goods.

She began taking music classes as a young girl, a common leisure activity for wealthy families, she explains.

“But it was just that - a leisure activity, never a viable career option,” she says.

Nevertheless, Blanca’s musical talent was undeniable and her wicked knack for piano composition brought her to the Madrid Royal Conservatory of music, her first step beyond the walls of Segovia. Studying under some of the most well known contemporary composers, such as Carmelo Bernaola, her affinity and her talent as a composer blossomed. Blanca was a brilliant musician and her dexterity did not go unnoticed. Just a year after studying in Madrid, the young Segovian was invited to perfect the piano and study composition in Vienna.

“It was the opportunity of a lifetime, almost incomprehensible,” she says. “My world had never seemed so large.” But just as quickly as her world was magnified, it was once again contained. Her father refused to let her go.

Aside from his conservative viewpoints and lack of respect for the musical profession, Blanca explains that her father feared losing his only daughter, or perhaps the duties necessitated by his only daughter. Clearly having wrestled with his decision for decades, Blanca can only presume his intentions, and attempting to answer the question of ‘why’ silences her story for a couple of minutes, lost in thought.

Fernando interrupts and reminds her that the couple had just met. “She stayed in Segovia for the love,” he says, drawing out the last word until his lips meet Blanca’s forehead.

Whether it was because of the apprehensive protectiveness of her father or the love that had recently blossomed in Segovia or even an ancient and enduring set of gender norms, Blanca did not go to Vienna. Shortly after she turned down the invitation, her father became ill and Blanca returned to Segovia to help her mother care for him. From there, the machine of Spanish conservatism caught Blanca, almost as if stepping into her first Segovian apartment with Fernando was like cuffing her ankle to a corner of the kitchen.

It is important to note that Blanca does not regret her decision to leave Madrid. Here, in this kitchen cramped with humidity and the delectable smells of beef Wellington,

Blanca feels fulfilled, giving her all to this life that summoned her. “I would have loved to have studied music.

But it is a very demanding career. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything else.” With that, she gestures at the kitchen and the pile of clothes behind her. “There will always be things I need to do: cook, clean, provide economically for my family, but if I didn’t have to, I would have loved to have dedicated myself to music completely.”

In a way, she gave up her life of music to be a mother, and an incredible mother at that. Blanca explains that she takes after her own mother, “an extraordinary woman with a lot of courage.” It is with this immense amount of pride in her mother’s strength that she is “the most complete and most profound mother to everyone,” her youngest son, Fer explains.

“There is a very distinctive rhythm of life here,”

Beyond her own two children, Blanca has been giving music lessons for twenty years to what must have been “half of Segovia”. And to each of her students, she offers more than her own musical expertise, but her perspective on life and her friendship.

Similarly, it is hard to sit down with Blanca for more than an hour without an interruption from one of her brothers, searching for the love and support they have been missing since their mother’s death just two years ago.

And, of course, her unwavering willingness to take in foreign host students as her own, like me. For me, Blanca offered a level of cariño - love and compassion - that I struggled to define. She does nothing unintentionally, but it is almost always effortless. She never cries and she rarely smiles, but her every move is smothered in love and purpose.

Blanca gave up everything for motherhood. When she first told me her story, I comprehended it in the context of Spain’s false progressivism, a facade that appears to be politically enlightened but still clings to age-old conceptions of race and gender. Indeed, her path was constrained by the beliefs of her male counterparts, but it was paved by Blanca nevertheless.

“For the life that I had, sickness, children, economic problems, I would have loved to escape in music, but had I chosen music, I wouldn’t have been able to care for anything or anyone else,” she says, sensing my skepticism.

After living with Blanca for two months, I only heard her playing piano once. I recognized the Beethoven Sonata, a sad and rhythmic piece, faintly emanating from her closed studio doors, so early in the morning, it was still cool. On my last day in Segovia, I ask her if she will play for me. She sighs and ashes her cigarette, examining what remains of the beef Wellington. Shaking her head and apologizing, she tells me her back hurts.

PERSO NAL TOUCH

Warning, content here touches upon sexual assault and suicide.

WORDS & PHOTOS

| KEZIA SETYAWAN

I

don’t like touch. There are only five people who come to mind that I willingly initiate hugs for. Through the years, I’ve learned how to deal with other people’s expectations of shaking hands, pats on the back and whatever else people want to show affection with me. Passive touch is okay.

I’m fine jostling with others for over an hour in a hot and sweaty trotro or moving through crowded events. I’m not to used how casual and expected touch is in Ghana, and it’s been one of the hardest things for me to adjust to.

I always jolt when there’s a hand on my back moving me aside, or people reaching out to grab my arm. Marriage proposals and catcalls are nothing new and most of the time I’ve been able so shake it off with either a laugh or by ignoring them. A side note, the best thing about not even being viewed as an American is here I can pretend my English is bad.

However, as the days count down, I’ve been reflecting on all the unwanted advances made to me by people here, almost exclusively all men.

Do not hold my hand tight five seconds after I’ve met you asking to be my friend, and then demanding me of my number, saying that you want to hear my “pretty” voice later. Do not tap my back and give me a wink when I’m literally just listening to the live band at a restaurant. Do not put your arm around me as we’re walking to the trotro. Do not leer and stick your finger out trying to touch my colleagues and I when we were just trying to walk into a store. Do not greet me, and then as a stranger, place your hand on my thigh proprietarily.

I wonder how I would’ve experience Ghana if I was in a body that was male-presenting, tall, and taking up a lot of physical space. I think I would feel invincible. I dream about walking down the streets of Accra near dusk alone, when the sun isn’t showing its oppressive heat. That will never be a reality for me. I’m tired of men taking up space on my body like they’re entitled of something from me.

At Wli waterfalls, I was sexually harassed by the tour guide. When we reached the foot of the falls, he approached me, repeatedly saying how nice my appearance was, how we should exchange numbers since I did take photos of him explaining different plants, but also just to stay in touch.

I shrugged it off, annoyed but this was no different than other previous incidents.

I wanted to swim, and shortly after got into the water the tour guide went in as well approaching me, grabbing my arm saying that he wants to swim with me. I yank away. He grabs me again, so I dive, kicking away, the brown muddy water blurring my vision. In my head, I wonder what if I just drowned here to get away. I surface, and he tries to grab me one last time when I say I don’t feel

“Here are things I wished never happened.” like swimming and leave.

I’m angry at myself for leaving my peers in the water, not telling them about him, as a threat to safety until after. How hypocritical of me to leave them vulnerable, and that they don’t deserve to have similar experiences to mine. I’m grateful that Sonny told him to leave the water after I told him what happened.

However, I’m disappointed about his return when we were walking back to the bus, and how so many people stayed with him under the shelter as heavy rains came down. I couldn’t stand to be in that space anymore, so I walked alone, trudging through water above my ankles.

Ghana, I love you, but I need to leave, at least for a little while. This incident eats at me, it makes me irritant at my coworkers, ruder when I walk through town, and I feel as though I’m constantly on edge about to cry. Right now, for myself, I need to stop putting down my experience compared other people who have also experienced harassment. I need to allow myself to take time to see how this has traumatized me and work through it with support. It’ll be nice to decompress and be back in a place where I’m not as overtly seen as a foreigner, where I can navigate through daily life without being pointed out as “other” every 5 minutes.

So this is to you Charles, the Wli waterfalls tour guide, congratulations on harassing me and making all my peers uncomfortable. I hope you die in a ditch.

Battle of the Sexes A science behind the gender divide WORDS | MADDIE HORN ART | MADDY WIGNALL

O

versaturated advertisements, billboards and commercials are filled with the faces of women representing the entertainment industry. Who are the women who speak for the industries not caught on camera? Female representation in science, technology, engineering and medicine careers is seldom discussed in the era of third-wave feminism and gender-binary progressivism. 47% percent of United States jobs were held by women in 2015 and only 24% fell in the aforementioned STEM fields. According to the United States Department of Commerce website, women constitute a little over half of the college-educated workers, yet remain significantly underrepresented.

Revolutionary women in contemporary science like Cori Bargmann - a prominent neurobiologist paving the way for knowledge in genetic and neural circuit mechanisms of behavior - and Cynthia Kenyon - a molecular biologist and biogerontologist uncovering aging myths through genetic dissection - are only two of a few women who work in the science fields for other women to look up to. Jess Thompson, a sophomore at the University of Oregon studying physics states that “the only way for our generation to increase female representation and decrease gender bias and sexism in the STEM industries is for more women to fight to become a part of it.”

This so-called “scientific sexism” originates from preconceived gender norms and stereotypes that go so far as to stigmatize the color pink as feminine and the color blue as masculine. Robyn Burch, a practicing nurse of twenty years from Santa Clara, California, began her career applying for a lead-nurse position based on merit and ability. After five attempts, she

was finally chosen over her male counterparts. “The hospital board always seemed to think that I was unfit for a position with this much responsibility because I could ‘get pregnant at any moment’ and let them down, or that my empathy towards others would get in the way of the hard parts of the job,” she says. “Not only was that almost laughably false, but it was also serious sexism.”

This discrepancy of bias in hiring practices has not diminished over the years, but the voices of women speaking out against discrimination and speaking up for basic human rights have not gone unheard.

From the ratification of women’s suffrage in 1920 to the social media #MeToo movement nearly a century later, the voices that have cracked this glass ceiling need us to finally shatter it. The Association for Women in Science is the leading mass advocate for women in STEM and works diligently to help women reach their full potential in science; breaking down systematic barriers and pushing for increased awareness of unfair wages and work climates. The organization Million Women Mentors is calling for women and men in science fields to act as a mentor for female students aspiring to study STEM with over 230,000 pledges already. These organizations, among so many others, are committed to equal women representation in all aspects of society and encourage involvement from all walks of life. If we go out into the world and be our bravest selves by saying the things we want to say, marching in the marches we always see and holding the hands of those who make us feel free, we will fully understand that empowered women empower women.

Time Es Tiempo For the Para el Anagnorisis Anagnรณrisis WORDS & PHOTOS

| LUCY KLENIER

Time is universal. It is not necessary to travel to every corner of the world to understand this concept - we all know this. Although time passes uniformly in every country, the relationship each person holds with time changes drastically when we cross a border.

During my five months in Ecuador, my perspective on time has evolved, and each day it changes more. Before my first steps in the southern hemisphere, I had plenty of expectations before my first steps in the southern hemisphere. I have’ve been dreaming about Ecuador since I was nine; I had plenty of expectations and I thought I was well equipped for this experience. I read countless books about the country, watched dozens of documentaries and studied the government and social norms. In a waysome ways, I thought I already knew what I was going to experience. Of course, my expectations hardly compared to met the reality; this country has much to offer to those who wander into its land. From the classrooms to the Andean cliffs, it is difficult it’s impossible to tally the lessons Ecuador has taught me.

What has surprised me the most during my time here, is what I have learned about time itself.

The people I have lived with over the past five months have not only taught me about the Eecuadorian relationship with time, but also about the relationship the people of my country have with time. This lesson was my anagnorisis, and living within this culture, so different from my own, will alter my personal relationship with time, no matter where my travels take me.

The “sobremesas,” (a spanish word that literally translates to “table tops,” but actually refers to the in-depth post-meal conversations that meander from politics to poultry) in Ecuador are amazing. I love to sit and listen to the conversations that my host family has after our tea every night, the conversations that often last for hours.

During these hours, you can almost see a physical bond being tightened like a spider web across the table, the family web that pulls everyone closet to one another.

When I first arrived, I thought it was important to sit down at the table immediately when my host mom told me it was time to eat. Now, I have learned that, if I want to show the respect and gratitude that I have for my family, it is more important to stay for the conversations after the meal is in our stomachs. It’s not the minutes, it’s the hours.

A week ago, on a five-day backpacking equirsion in Quilotoa, a crater lake in the heart of the Andes mountains.

When we first saw the trail’s directions, we were scared, and to be honest, we were a little angry. The map said things like “you should walk thirty or forty-five minutes, and then turn left.” This could mean anything!

What I learned during those days, however, is it really doesn’t matter how many minutes you have to hike before taking that turn. What matters is the time we spend together, disconnected from the world’s chaos, simply talking and, more importantly, listening.

“What matters is the time we spend together, disconnected from the world’s chaos, simply talking and, more importantly, listening”

Time, quite literally, is simple.

There are sixty seconds in each minute. Sixty minutes later, you have one hour. Each time twenty-four hours pass, the day changes. When you think about time in this way, everything is clear;, it’s uniform. We learned this in kindergarten.

My anagnorisis occured the second (pun-intended) I realized minutes are valued differently in both countries.

In the United States, we say “every second counts.” The difference between a meeting that starts at 2:45 pm and a meeting that starts at 2:50 pm is huge. It is disrespectful to be late for anything, whether it isit doesn’t matter if in a class at the university or a movie at the theater.

In Ecuador, minutes aren’t nearly as important as hours. It took me less than a week to realize that when the schedule says class starts at 8:30, this means you should be ready to go at 8:45. When an Ecuadorian says that the hike will last about 50fifty minutes, well, I still don’t know what this means. The hike may take thirty minutes, or one hour,... or three. I’ve walked all three scenarios.

Here, in Ecuador, these missing minutes seem dispensable when you’re looking at the larger picture - they just aren’t that important. Here, what matters are the hours.

When the family has a meeting, no one is upset when Tia Maria arrives five minutes late. What matters are the hours the family shares.

I don’t mean to say there are no positive traits in the mindset “every minute matters.” (Or that there is no need for detailed maps.) I just want to share that I can now see the value hidden among the hours that do notsimply cannot exist in the minutes.

I once inattended a philosophy class,. The professor spoke for hours about abstract concepts like: what is the meaning of an idea and, what is the relationship between love and fear., etc. He told us time is a social concept, that it doesn’t exist without people who think it exists. As I sat in that class, I had no comprehension of what my teacher meant. Now, more than three years after that lecture, I may be starting to understand.

It only took more than 4,000 miles and 163 nights in the Southern Hemisphere to start this process of understandinge understanding process.

Time has to do less with the measurements: seconds, minutes, hours and more with the relationships we form within those measures.

El tiempo es universal. No es necesario viajar a cada rincón del mundo para entender este concepto - todo el mundo sabe esto. Pero, aunque el tiempo pasa al mismo momento en cada país, la relación que cada persona tiene con este cambia mucho cuando alguien cruza una frontera.

Durante mis cinco meses en Ecuador, mi perspectiva del tiempo evolucionó, y cada día cambia más.

Antes de mis primeros pasos en el hemisferio sur, tenía muchas expectativas. Como he sonado sobre Ecuador desde que tenía nueve años, pienso que me he preparado muchísimo. Había leído un sin fín de libros sobre el país, mirado muchos documentales y estudiado el gobierno y las normas sociales. Entonces, pensé que ya sabía lo que iba a experimentar. Claro que estos pensamientos eran completamente equivocados, nadie puede predecir todo lo que este país tiene para enseñar a sus estudiantes internacionales.

No es posible contar todas las lecciones que he aprendido aquí. Pero, lo que más me ha sorprendido, es todo lo que he aprendí sobre el tiempo.

He aprendido sobre la relación que los ecuatorianos tienen con el tiempo, pero la lección más inesperada es que aprendí mucho sobre la relación que la gente de mi país, los Estados Unidos, tiene con el tiempo.

Esta lección era mi anagnórisis, y ya puedo ver que vivir entre esta cultura completamente diferente de la mía va a cambiar mi relación personal con el tiempo en cualquier parte del mundo.

El tiempo, literalmente, es simple. Hay sesenta segundos en cada minuto. Sesenta minutos después, ya tienes una hora. Cada vez que veinticuatro horas pasen, el día cambia. Cuando piensas sobre el tiempo en esta manera, todo es claro, es uniforme. Un niño de kindergarten ya sabe todo esto.

Mi anagnórisis es cuando me di cuenta de que los minutos son valorado de diferente manera en los dos países. En los Estados Unidos, tenemos un dicho “every second matters,” o cada segundo importa. a diferencia entre una reunión que empieza a los 14:45 y una reunión que empieza a los 14:50 es enorme. Es irrespetuoso llegar tarde a cualquier cosa, no importa si en una clase en la universidad o una película en el cine.

En Ecuador, los minutos no son tan importantes como las horas. No demoré más de una semana para entender que cuando el horario dice que una clase empieza a los 8:30, esto significa que debes estar lista para empezar a las 8:45. Cuando un ecuatoriano dice que un camino va a durar unos cincuenta minutos, pues en realidad todavía no sé qué significa esto. El camino puede demorar treinta minutos, o una hora, o tres horas. Los he recorrido todos.

Aquí, en Ecuador, estos minutitos desaparecidos no son tan importante en el panorama general. Lo que es más importante son las horas. Cuando la familia tiene una reunión, a nadie le molesta cuando Tía María llegó unos cinco minutos tarde. Lo que importa son las horas que la familia comparte.

Las sobremesas en Ecuador son impresionantes.

A mí me encanta sentarme y escuchar las conversaciones que mi familia anfitriona tiene después de nuestro té cada noche, las conversaciones que muchas veces demoran horas. Se puede ver, en estas horas compartiendo juntos, las relaciones fuertes que constantemente afianzándose.

Cuando llegué aquí, pensé que era importante sentarme en la mesa inmediatamente cuando mi mamá me dijo que era hora de comer. Ahora, he aprendido que, si quiero demostrar el respeto y agradecimiento que tengo por mi familia, es más importante quedarme por las conversaciones después de la comida. No son los minutos, son las horas.

Hace una semana, fui a caminar por cinco días en el Quilotoa. Cuando recibimos las indicaciones para el camino, tuvimos miedo. El papel dijo cosas como “debes caminar treinta o cuarenta y cinco minutos, y después girar a la izquierda.” Esto podría significar cualquier cosa.

Pero, lo que aprendí durante nuestra caminata, es que realmente no importa exactamente cuantos minutos debes caminar antes de girar. Lo que importa es el tiempo que gastamos juntos, en la naturaleza, conversando y escuchando. No quiero decir que no hay aspectos positivos en el pensamiento que cada minuto importa, solo quiero decir que he aprendido el valor escondido entre las horas que no existe en los minutos.

Una vez, asistí a una clase de filosofía. El profesor habló por horas sobre conceptos abstractos: cuál es el significado de una idea, cuál es la relación entre el amor y el miedo, etc. Todavía recuerdo que hablamos un poco sobre el tiempo. Nos dijo que el tiempo es un concepto social, y que realmente el tiempo no existe sin las personas que piensan que existe. Cuando estaba sentada en esta clase, no entendí para nada lo que mi profesor quiso decir.

Ahora, más de tres años después de esta conferencia, estoy empezando de entenderle.

Solo tomó más de 4,000 millas y 163 noches en el Hemisferio Sur para comenzar el proceso de comprensión.

El tiempo tiene que ver menos con las medidas: segundos, minutos, horas y más con la relación que tenemos con estas medidas.

Unspoken Truth

After getting dressed and lacing his new Vans, James prepares for a long trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

It’s a 30 minute walk from his apartment to the train station, and a 33 minute train ride to the airport. Despite the distance, James is looking forward to visiting his girlfriend.

During the time spent with his girlfriend James laughs while holding hands blissfully. Although his girlfriend helps him to forget his troublesome past, some days are harder to handle.

What seemed like a social media phenomenon back in fall of 2017 originates to over a decade ago when Tarana Burke, a black female activist from Harlem, New York, began the MeToo movement. The movement was created to support underprivileged women of color.

It started after a young girl shared her story with Burke while she was a youth worker, but at the time sent the girl to another specialist whom she thought could handle the situation better. “I could not muster the energy to tell her that I understood, that I connected, that I could feel her pain,” Burke said in her original MeToo statement in 2007 when founding her company Just Be Inc.

The importance of MeToo was implicit in its beginnings: Survivors needed a place where they not only felt heard, but could find others who shared a deep understanding of their pain. There was a need for a movement that would embrace the women and men who had been turned away.

The movement that began with Burke was lost overtime. It was reignited via social media by actress Alyssa Milano in October 2017 after she encouraged people to change their statuses to “me too” in order to reveal the magnitude of sexual assault. The response was overwhelming and provoked endless investigations, support, and justice.

This movement became a platform for not only female but male survivors as well. And while most of the voices we hear are women’s, a man’s voice in the movement is just as significant. Ted Bunch, activist and co-founder of A Call to Men, knows men are vital to change, “The overwhelming majority of violence against women discrimination and harassment against women and girls is men’s violence, but the overwhelming majority of men are not violent, but we’re silent about the violence other men perpetrate, and that’s as much of the problem as the violence.”

Men are an important aspect to a movement where the majority of victims are women because their voices, as allies, often carry farther than their female counterpart.

If men didn’t speak up in support of female victims, there would be a lower chance of tangible change. Not only is there a need for advocacy, but there is also need for a space where men can confidently speak about their own sexual

A story of sexual assault WORDS & PHOTO

| DANIKA TAYLOR

abuse.

Actor Terry Crews is a standout voice, he spoke about his experience being groped by a Hollywood executive and his tribulations when it happened; “‘240 lbs. Black Man stomps out Hollywood Honcho’ would be the headline the next day,” Crews wrote on Twitter regarding his fears of coming forward and being ostracized from where he had made his home and career. In coming forward Crews’ hopes are to deter predators and encourage those who feel hopeless.

In order for the MeToo movement to continue to gain traction and bring justice, voices, whether celebrity or otherwise, are paramount. James’ story, now more than ever, is an important progression in the revealing of unspoken truths.

Not all of James’s relationships have been like the one he has with current girlfriend, easy and supportive. Prior to now, he was in a relationship that degraded him. James was a victim of sexual assault, and it took a long time for him to open up about that abusive relationship.

This is not uncommon, only 16% of men with documented assaults consider themselves to have been sexually assaulted and even fewer men come forward. A 1998 study reviewing research on male childhood sexual abuse concluded that the problem is “common, under-reported, under-recognized, and under-treated,” and yet there has not been a comprehensive and new study on male sexual assault since the late 90s.

The relationship began just prior to James’ 17th birthday. It was his first relationship, and much of the language used between himself and his girlfriend he perceived as normal. He didn’t see it as manipulative, but rather how a relationship with traditional gender roles should function. His girlfriend would say things that would make him feel like he wasn’t a man or a proper boyfriend if he didn’t do something in a particular way. “It didn’t hit me until we had broken up that all the language she was using was very manipulative, especially in the sexual realm,” he says.

Society has a hard time understanding male victimization due to a pervasively toxic culture and hegemonized gender roles. “There was a lot of disbelief among my friends that I confided in when I had discussed what had happened,” James says. “There were a lot of excuses made just because it was a relationship.” However, relationships are not a protective shield when it comes to sexual assault. In a study regarding sexaul assault, it was found that 16.2% of the men reporting being raped and/ or physically assaulted since age 18 were victimized by an intimate partner.

Not only did his close friends question his experience, but James had self-doubt too. “I didn’t want to believe that it was sexual assault.” A large part of his disbelief stemmed from his identification as a male. Living in small town Sisters, Oregon influenced how he was raised, and it formed the orthodox gender roles he learned to adhere.

Romance novelist Santino Hassell suggests that men often learn they aren’t allowed to be the victim, “If you call yourself a victim, you’re acknowledging that something happened to you that you couldn’t control.”

Luckily, James moved away from his small town, the confining views on masculinity, and his ex-girlfriend when he went to college in Seattle, Washington. At first, it wasn’t easy to cope. “She had made me feel so low and small,” James says. He finds it surprising that after four years, it still affects him.

While in college, his experience had changed how he approached friendships and in gauging whether he could open up to new people. After finding the right friends and a remarkable girlfriend, he finally felt he could move on and tentatively come to terms with what happened. “For a long time, I thought I was the one doing something wrong, but now I know it was her,” he said.

Even though he is coming to terms with his trauma, day-to-day comments and jokes from his housemates have an uncontrollable effect and cause anxiety. He often felt that he couldn’t say anything. “I always thought it would circle

back around to that male stigma,” said James. “And it’s really hard to talk about.”

Even though the MeToo movement primarily has an emphasis on women and sexual assault, it has allowed space for men to be open. James likes to give credit to the movement for allowing him to feel comfortable with his past, but still has reservations about sharing his story in such a public setting based on how his friends reacted with the news.

James agrees that if the culture of male silence were to end, he would feel safer to share his own story. He knows it is important for men to come forward in order to empower other men.

His experience with sexual assault was the reason he decided to pursue psychology as a major. Being in the classroom, learning and understanding the science behind the trauma, helped him better comprehend what happened to himself and what others go through.

And while there are far fewer men than women involved in the movement, James thinks MeToo is valuable.“It’s important for any and all survivors of sexual assault to feel like they can stand up, have a voice, and call attention to something that has been happening in this society for generations,” he says. “I personally hope it continues to build even more until we realize that sexual assault is a serious problem that has barely even been touched.”

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NEW ZEALAND BUSH WORDS & PHOTOS

| LAURA GROSHANS

2 MARCH 2018:

After a day hike to Roy’s glacier in Mt. Aspiring National Park, we returned to the parking lot around half past five. Mt. Aspiring National Park is located on the central West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand, about an hour away from the town of Wanaka. March in the Southern Hemisphere is comparable to our lateAugust-early-September “Indian summer” in the States.

Another important side note regarding terminology: hiking is referred to most commonly as “tramping” in New Zealand. If you are partaking in any sort of long hike or backpacking trip in the New Zealand wilderness, you may be referred to as a “tramper”, and it is not an insult.

It had been getting dark around 7:45 PM, so we figured our best bet was to trek to Aspiring Hut while we still had some daylight. Shortly after we began our walk, fog rolled into the valley and was soon accompanied by torrential rains. Our morale was still in good shape as we waded through upwards of twenty river-crossings in inappropriate footwear and accepted our fate of indefinitely being human raisins.

Upon our arrival at Aspiring Hut, it became apparent that the hut was already occupied by approximately 17 eleven-year-old girls and a handful of tightly wound birthday party chaperones. It was not looking good for our “cozy night in the hut” that had been giving us our will to live for the entire journey. As we were weighing the pros and cons of trying to hike out in the dark, an older gentleman infiltrated our huddle and informed us that he was the hut warden.

He made sure to notify us that there was only room for four more in the hut. We had a group of five.

The warden continued to tell us that there was a covered picnic table one-hundred yards away where the other people who failed to plan ahead would be sleeping for the evening. We could join them for a small fee of five New Zealand Dollars--which equates to about three dollars and twenty-five cents in the States.

We were cold and wet and relatively out of options, so we shelled out the five dollars each and lugged our soggy bodies over to the covered picnic table where we found twelve other unfortunate souls from our university.

One of the great parts about being young and unprepared is that you tend to still have the ability to laugh at your circumstances and remain relatively unjaded. You also have the ability to drink large quantities of rum and coke and play cards until 4 AM.

We slept in sardine formation under the picnic table before peeling ourselves off the wooden platform and trekking out of the valley the following morning.

After a couple days, our bodies finally dried out and we were able to once again, join regular society.

3 APRIL 2018: We made our way up to the North end of the South Island to the paradise: Nelson, New Zealand. After stocking up on peanut butter, tortillas and dark chocolate, we were ready to begin our three day excursion through Abel Tasman National Park. The track was a mixture of traversing through extremely dense rainforest and walking on golden beaches for kilometers at a time.

New Zealand is located almost directly below the hole in the Ozone Layer, making for an intense

ultraviolet experience. After a full day of exploring the New Zealand bush under the Southern Hemisphere sun, we set up camp at the Anchorage hut. The hut and neighboring campsites are nestled in the foliage with several small sand paths leading to the bay. We immediately began exploring the shoreline, jumping in the ocean to watch the sunset and rinse off the day. It took only a few moments for us to notice the starfish of all shapes and sizes resting on the seafloor.

The following morning we got up and drank coffee in silence as we watched the sunrise and wondered how we ended up in such a perfect place. After a few hours of drinking coffee, it was time to resume our journey. We started the day by taking a “low-tide only track”, having no idea when low-tide was or what would happen if the tide began creeping in on us. Spoiler alert— as we made our way through the low-tide route, the tide was eerily moving in. We waded through thigh deep waters filled with stingrays and quicksand. Luckily we made it through that section of the track without getting swept to sea or dragged to the core of the earth.

We were in no rush for the remainder of the day and took our time finding our next camp, Onetahuti Bay. We were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves on the beach almost completely alone, with only one father-son kayak duo camping down the beach from us. We still had a few hours of daylight when we arrived, so naturally we spent the afternoon lounging around on the shore and eating the finest peanut butter tortillas ever seen South of the Equator.

In the morning, we continued up the coast to Awaroa Bay where Simon, our water taxi driver, was scheduled to pick us up. A popular way to complete the Abel Tasman Coast Track is to hike the trail all the way up the coastline and then instead of walking back the same way you came, taking a water taxi and seeing the track from a different perspective. There is no greater bliss than zooming around on a boat, salt spray hitting your face while being chauffeured by a kiwi man named Simon.

Simon was a fabulous tour guide, he took us into some enchanting sea coves only accessible by a catamaran, schooner, kayak, canoe or of course water taxi. When we returned to our starting point, Simon pulled onto the boat ramp and hooked our boat up to a John Deere tractor, then began driving us around in the boat on land with virtually no communication about what was happening. A small disclaimer— this sort of lack of communication is not incredibly uncommon in New Zealand. Not knowing what is going on around you from time to time is a cornerstone element in the New Zealand tourist experience.

The New Zealand Department of Conservation is a government agency devoted to preserving and sharing quintessential New Zealand natural spaces and national historic heritage. The Department of Conservation carries out a number of conservation projects, routine trail maintenance, and facilitates the backcountry hut system on both islands.

The Department of Conservation looks after over 900 rustic cabins that ornament the country’s backpacking tracks at varying levels of remoteness. The general format of each hut is dependent on location and accessibility. Typically, the more difficult and obscure

the trail is, the smaller the hut will be because it does not require the same carrying capacity as a hut on a heavily trafficked route.

When you enter a DOC hut, you typically find a woodstove, a sink, bench-style tables, bunks, and an assortment of magazines and games left by past backpackers. To stay in a hut, you can book ahead of time online or at a Department of Conservation office in the nearest town. Fees for the huts range between 10 to 35 dollars a night during the busy season and usually 15 dollars or less after the Easter holiday as the islands transition into the winter season. The hut system opens up the New Zealand backcountry for those who may stray away from traditional backpacking and also enables trampers to access these trails in less than perfect weather conditions.

The Department of Conservation also maintains nine trails that are considered the country’s ‘Great Walks’. The Great Walks are designed to highlight the most unique landscapes on both islands. All of the Great Walks are exceptionally well-kept and designed to be completed in three to six days. Although the Great Walks are designed to be multi-day tracks, a lot of trampers choose to complete sections of the trails as day hikes and are not discouraged from doing so. Additionally, these

tracks are entirely free to access in hopes to encourage more tourists to learn about the unique biodiversity on the islands.

Along the Great Walks, there are a variety of facilities made available to the public by the Department of Conservation. Fresh drinking water, restrooms, and occasional free-standing shelters can be found tucked along the sides of the trails. All available amenities are posted online for each track and hut, creating a user friendly system for groups of trampers requiring specific accommodation.

The Department of Conservation encourages kiwis as well as tourists from overseas to appreciate the natural wonders of New Zealand via ecotourism.

Ecotourism is essentially the practice of traveling without having an unnecessarily large impact on the environment. Tourist destinations around the world have traditionally consisted of slightly different genres of massive hotels with fine dining and luxury treatment with little regards to what is being harmed in the process. New Zealand as a country is relatively remote and most recreation is based around outdoor activity.

Because of this, New Zealanders place extreme emphasis on preserving the environment and supporting the Department of Conservation.

Breakfast

BOYS

UO graduates in a Honda Accord fund their first independent tour | DONNY MORRISON PHOTOS | SARAH NORTHROP WORDS

O

utside of Luckey’s Club, a local Eugene bar known for live music and antique pool tables, a group of mostly young people are smoking cigarettes and talking loudly at each other. Blanketed behind a dense layer of smoke, a speaker radiates music from inside, which at the current moment sounds like an improvisational jazz set. Loud horns and keyboard strokes merely act as background music for lazy conversation and audible exhales.

A loud voice emanates from the speaker, cutting through the music and the nondescript bar chatter. “Where’s Brax? Brax comes to the stage.” The voice is melodic, as it rides a wave of instruments. One by one everyone begins to shuffle inside. Half-smoked cigarettes are put out early and hidden along the side of the building for later, others are tossed in the street or stuffed in purses and pockets.

Spencer Smyth, a local producer and hip-hop artist who graduated from the University of Oregon this past year, holds steady in the center of the stage. His blue button-down reminds me less of an MC and more of an insurance salesman. Yet he doesn’t look out of place. This past year, Smyth has been a staple at Luckey’s Wednesday night funk jam, a night where local musicians and MCs sign up to take the stage to perform music in a collaborative setting. According to Blake Boxer, who works the door for Luckey’s, the Wednesday night funk jam has existed in various forms for over three years. Most of the musicians that participate know each other and fall into a comfortable groove. A smile covers his face as Brandon “Brax” Parry moves towards the stage.

Both Smyth and Brax represent a loose collective of artists operating under the Breakfast Boys Leisure League Moniker. Recently, Brax released “Self Help Book,” his debut album, executive produced by Smyth. Their relationship is intensely collaborative, which in and of itself, goes along to help encapsulate the overall mission of the Breakfast Boys.

“When I first started it, it was supposed to be a tool of anonymity and a way to try to divorce ego from the music,” Brax says. “But it was also supposed to be a collective of sorts. A banner for any of my artist homies to put shit out under.”

According to Brax, Breakfast Boys

will eventually encompass art from all mediums. Whether it be film, writing, music, or digital arts. It’s a place where anyone with a likeminded appreciation of independent content can share their material with a community behind them. It’s the same sort of vibe provided by the Wednesday night funk jams and the local open mics that both Brax and Smyth have been known to habitat.

On August 24th, Brax and Smyth began their first out-of-state tour. The “Spinitch’ for Breakfast” tour would take them from Eugene to Portland, where they’re not exactly strangers to the local music scene. The pair will then head south through California’s Bay Area and end back in Eugene on September 15th for the homecoming show at the Freedom Thought Fest.

Having played every venue there is the play in and around Eugene and the university campus, this tour is a large step in broadening their scope as musicians.

I won’t quit. I want to make a living from music, so I can live to make music.”

Artists who perform in the same venues for the same crowds of people week after week, you can get a sense that the city might be too small for them. The stages which once housed unique experiences begin to crumble with familiarity and as Eugene’s population consistently recycles itself, so does your fan base.

The tour came at a perfect time for both artists. Smyth is transitioning out of college and returning to his hometown of Portland. He’s even turned the basement of his mom’s house into a studio. Brax just put in a two-month notice at his job with plans to move to Portland. To them, it feels like a “now or never” moment, building off the momentum they have from “Self Help Book” and the litany of live shows they’ve played locally on a weekly basis.

For the past two years, both artists have cultivated a stage presence built almost entirely on improvisation.

They have been seen around the Eugene area, accompanied by a slew

of Jazz musicians or freestyling over the sounds of UO math rock band Spiller. Sam Mendoza, who’s both a guitarist and vocalist for Spiller, has a long history of collaboration with both Brax and Smyth.

“I was able to pass on general advice about the realities of touring,” Mendoza says. “We’ve got mad love and respect for each other’s music and try to attend as many shows as possible. We did one show as a full band with Brax for the Self Help Book release party.”

Smyth having officially graduated in June will begin the daunting task of managing work while also attempting to give one hundred percent to a slowly growing hip-hop career. It’s easy to be creative at a university that encourages art. If you’re privileged enough, these four years of your life are practically reserved for exploration and self-expression. For many people, graduation can act as a reality check.

A time to buckle down and focus on landing a job with stability and structure. However, the decision to devote himself to hip-hop was never a tough choice for Smyth.

“Music and collaborating has consumed my life for the past two years at least,” Smyth said. “And as the stakes get higher, the amount of time I spend producing and growing as an artist will only increase. I won’t quit. I want to make a living from music, so I can live to make music.”

Brax, who originally asked to keep his first name out of the story, seems to be content with letting the music speak for itself. “Self Help Book,” doesn’t stray from the autobiographical, but it does require some searching if you’re going to piece together the personal life of a man who knowingly hides behind an encyclopedic knowledge.

It’s a well-thought-out maze of obscure references, managing to feel intensely personal and anonymous at the same time.

After graduating high school in 2010, Brax took an entirely separate road to arrive at the same conclusion as Smyth. While Brax has never stopped writing and consuming music, he explains how he’s quit rapping around four separate times.

“My relationship to music is similar to a smokers relationship to cigarettes.

I want to quit but I can’t,” Brax said.

After college, Brax was too consumed with surviving to focus on living through hip-hop.

“It’s not easy being a rapper with a full-time job. I was making beats and whatnot, but I had to buy groceries. I sold my beat machine for groceries. The laptop I used for school broke.

I still haven’t gotten a new computer. I just didn’t have it in my head that I wanted to be a rapper,” Brax said.

A large amount of Brax’s inspiration comes from relationships he’s built with his collaborators and friends. It was a combination of feeling unfulfilled at various jobs and the constant badgering of a few good friends to come and perform at Lucky’s funk jam, that helped Brax get out of his own funk and began placing value in the creation of art and hip-hop again.

“All of my close friends have always had a passion for hiphop or music of some kind. It’s second nature to me. It’s not something I want to do, more so something I have to do. On most days I can’t imagine not writing something down. It’s cathartic for me,” Brax said.

There’s no guarantee that music will pan out for either Smyth or Brax.

He knows this intuitively, partially due to a built-in skepticism, but also from experiencing first hand what it feels like to be poor. The idea of the starving artist is nothing new. It’s attractive when someone chooses art over society. A feeling over necessity. But even a starving artist will tell you, the goal is to have both.

The thing I love about Brax is this whimsical pessimism; even if his glass is half empty, he’s still having fun drinking it.

In contrast to Brax, Smyth exudes positivity. It’s the logical conclusion of someone who is riding that feeling. It’s the feeling you get when music gives you chills and you can’t quite explain why. It’s what happens to your body when a song reminds you of someone you’ve loved. Except I get the feeling that Smyth feels this about hip-hop in general.

Smyth, whose collaboration with Portland rapper Este came out this past January, belongs to a class of MC who still places value in the art of freestyling, managing to incorporate the unwritten word in nearly every one of his shows.

“Freestyling is in my blood and that is both literally and figuratively a part of 95% of my shows,” Smyth said. “I want every show to be different. It just doesn’t feel right to do too many of the same rehearsed theatrics from show-to-show.”

Listening to Smyth’s music is like stepping into a time machine and travelling back to the mid-90’s, where New York boom-bap reigned supreme and the MC’s had to be skilled enough to ride the drums. Auto-tune hadn’t been invented yet and rappers who dared to sing their own choruses got roasted for lacking the masculinity to ask Ashanti or Jennifer Lopez to do it. Smyth’s music is infinitely rewarding, he’s constantly referencing and sampling artists who have influenced him. Even his T-shirts are designed after the 1983 film Wild Style, a film that captured a moment in hip-hop history in an unprecedented way. The film

showcased not only music but art, dance and fashion. It showed hip-hop as a way of life.

“I think a certain amount of obsession is healthy for an artist,” Smyth says. “And I’ve been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to be surrounded by people who genuinely accept each other’s unwavering passion for music.”

Smyth has a wide range of inspirations, from early soul band Earth Wind and Fire, to Steely Dan and all the way up to Aesop Rock. But he’s also inspired by things like Nature and socializing. He’s a person who recognizes that every small interaction can be turned into inspiration. For Smyth, it’s almost as if nothing is ever not about music. “I’m always working on a ton of different projects,” Smyth says. “Most of my close friends are collaborators, and it’s not like that’s a requirement for friendship, but it definitely has worked out that way in the past. I’m attracted to people who love music.”

When not working on music, Smyth spent his time at UO double majoring in Spanish and ethnic studies.

Outside of class, he took advantage of the many music opportunities that UO offers, including being a weekly DJ at the university radio station, KWVA. “I loved DJing at KWVA because it was a space to play anything I wanted and discover my passion for records and live mixing on turntables,” Smyth said.

“I met so many musically inclined people that I’ll probably know for the rest of my life.”

It was at KWVA, that Smyth met Brax. They instantly connected through their knowledge of hip-hop culture and random sports facts. Nearly every facet of this tour and these artists history together can be traced back to the UO. UO has always been a spot where artists could meet and have not only the space for artistic expression but also a platform to display it. The name Breakfast Boys is even inspired by Brax’s brief stint as a host at The Glenwood, a local campus breakfast spot. The contacts that book shows for the tour came from a UO band who they met at local shows. The community fostered around campus was arguably more important as the educational aspects of attending school.

On the way to California to perform the first out of state shows of their career, Brax’s 1998 Honda Accord struggled to make it over the winding hills that separate Oregon from the Golden State. Smoke and ash from forest fires created a grey filter, which consumed the otherwise green and vibrant plant-life that surrounded the highway. Throughout the trip, Brax and Smyth received conflicting information regarding whether not the interstate would even be open for use on their way back to Oregon.

The first three shows of the tour happened in Oregon: Eugene, Corvallis, and Portland. The Portland show was unique because nearly every MC featured on “Self Help Book,” was there to grace the stage for the rare live posse cut “Couldn’t Do It.” It would prove to be one of the best shows of the tour, easily attracting over 100 people in one of the larger venues Breakfast Boys has ever played. It was a proper send-off for a tour that became wrought with unpredictable attendance and last minute cancellations.

The first two California shows took place in Berkeley. Known for being the birthplace of the 1960’s free speech movement as well as the hometown of rapper Lil B, Berkeley has a long history associated with freedom of expression. There seems to be a never-ending series of shows happening every night of the week. Through personal connections, it wasn’t hard to book the venues and get paid small amounts of money for performing. It was the first instance, but not the last, of venues underpaying their performing artists.

“I wasn’t surprised,” Brax says. “I didn’t really have expectations for the shows since we’d never been there before. We definitely weren’t there for the sole purpose of making money either.”

According to Smyth, the shows on tour were slightly more planned out than the shows they were used to performing in Eugene.

“We came into it with a little more of a plot than usual, but still wanted every show to be different,” Smyth said. “For us right now, some shows could have 15 people, some could have over 100, so I think it’s beneficial to go into each performance with a malleable-energy — a willingness to vibe differently on any given night.”

In-between songs, Brax and Smyth displayed a playful chemistry usually reserved for best friends or siblings.

They could often finish each other’s sentences in a way that was neither rehearsed nor predictable.

The effortless banter makes you feel as if you’ve been let in on a little secret, one you expected to be true the entire time but needed it said to believe it.

It’s this relatability that attracts fans of all genres of music. Not to mention that UO band Laundry opened for Brax and Smyth, more than once while in California, always inviting them up to freestyle over guitar riffs and heavy drums. Laundry’s guitarist and vocalist, Riley Somers, jumped at the opportunity of touring with the Breakfast Boys.

“We contacted Breakfast Boys through Facebook earlier this year. They offered us the gigs and got us on the road,”

Somers said. “At every California show, we had Smyth and Brax spitting bars over some of our funkier tunes. We love meshing genres and jamming on the spot.”

The San Francisco show was held at the Honey Hive art gallery on September 9th. Known for their intimate performances and a smaller venue, the room felt oddly full by the time Laundry finished their set.

Smyth took the stage to begin setting up his equipment. Tucked away in a residential neighborhood, the Honey Hive was strict about the music ending by 10 pm. Breakfast Boys were late to go on and weren’t able to play their full set.

“It didn’t bother me,” Brax said. “I’d

rather keep it short and have people wanting more as opposed to playing too long and having people get bored.”

The best show on tour happened on September 12th, in Chico, CA at the Naked Lounge. By the end of the show, people were approaching the merchandise table and asking Brax and Smyth to sign yellow Breakfast Boys T-shirts that they had purchased after their performance. The foster father of 17-year-old rapper Apollo Snow, who played after the Breakfast Boys that night, came up to Brax and Smyth after the show to tell them how important they were to the genre. Apollo Snow, who’s music is incredibly indebted to the Soundcloud rap that came before him, sounded sonically different from Breakfast Boys but reminded me of the similarities between the two acts.

The Soundcloud rapper is content with taking a minimalist approach to making music. A hot beat, an extended chorus, a catchy phrase, or accompanying dance is, theoretically, all one needs to approach the hedonistic brand of modernday radio rap. Unsurprisingly, this simultaneously excites the younger crowd while infuriating the older generations. The pairing of Brax and Smyth doesn’t just bridge the gap between 90’s boom bap and contemporary swag rap.

Both on and off stage, neither artist is comfortable attempting to be something they’re not.

Any shameless bragging is accompanied with a healthy dose of self-deprecation.

The journey of Brax and Smyth is far from over. They have unreleased collaborations with each other as well as artists loosely connected to both. Their experiences rapping and travelling together has only reinforced the feeling that it’s now or never. As the venues change, and the crowds begin to blend together, the mission statement remains the same.

“I want to make music with as many people as possible. Brax said. “I’m just trying to do all the weird art stuff with my friends before I die, or before the world blows up.”

A City Made of Dust:

BLACK ROCK WORDS & PHOTOS

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| ELLA T. MORGAN

s the sun sets and the days dry heat is blown away by the evening breeze, burners wrapped in dustcovered blankets howl at the mountains swallowing the sun. To the North, the Playa awakens. Art installations come to life and in the far distance, engines rumble and speakers boom with more EDM music. Throughout the city Burners drink and finish the last of their meals before they make their way to the Playa to watch the burning of The Man. Every year in late August, over 60,000 doers, dreamers and wanderers turn Nevada’s Black Rock Desert into a city filled with art, music, and community. This has been the tradition for just over 30 years. Larry Harvey founded Burning Man in 1986 in San Francisco. Each year for four years a small community would come together and assemble a wooden structure in the shape of a man and burn it. When the burning became a hazard to the public and Harvey agreed to no longer burn the man in the city.

340 miles North-East of San Francisco is the Black Rock Desert. Located in Nevada BRD is a rather desolate area.

In the late 90s, Harvey co-founded Black Rock City. With nothing but dust beyond what the eye can see, mountains in the distance, and the blazing heat, the Playa became home to Burning Man.

From music performances to the large-scale and abundant art installations, to the wild parties in the middle of the desert Burning Man has developed quite the reputation.

The festival reaches all kinds of people — not just nostalgic, pot-smoking hippies — it brings families and CEOs like Elon Musk in 2016, Mark Zuckerberg who attended in 2012 and even actor Will Smith who attended in 2014.

Since its founding Burning Man has evolved into more of an experience rather than another music festival. Each year has a different theme and brings new art and music to match. This years theme was based on Isaac Asimov I, Robot science fiction short stories. The theme urged burners to consider the role Artificial Intelligence in their lives, and to ask themselves “who really has control?” Man or machine?

Burning Man featured music producers and DJs like Diplo, Skrillex, TOKiMONSTA, and ZHU. In addition to some of the top music names, featured art that exudes the machine vs. man experience. From Copenhagen, artists Bjarke Ingels, Jakob Lange, and I, Orbot brought a giant inflatable Orb to the Playa. It functions as a point of direction and is visible from all areas of Black Rock.

TOP LEFT | Hair pick at sunset by Frank Willis Thomas TOP RIGHT | Bjarke Ingels & Jakob Lange’s Orb RIGHT | Jean-Pierre at camp BOTTOM | Mutant Vehicles at sunset

Hank Willis Thomas, an artist from New York, brought a larger than life Afro pick, which is an emblem for companionship and community. From on top of the pick, you can see most of the playa including, the RadiaLumia.

Burners meander through the art-filled Playa on bikes and on mutant vehicles: art cars. Lavishly decorated vehicles drive around the Playa often from sunset to sunrise stopping twice an hour to pick up Burners and musicians for a funfilled drive with dusty views and dancing. The Janky Barge, from San Francisco, is one of Burning Man’s most known music cars. With a DJ tower, embedded LED lights, and a booming sound system, you can hear Mr. Janky from the far reaches of the Playa.

Virgin Burner who goes by many different names including Q, Quintin, and Douglas is a 23-year-old DJ and musician from California’s Bay area. Commonly called Jay, he was given the chance to come and experience Burning Man for the first time with his older brother and group friends -- members of the Janky Barge camp. “I didn’t know what it was and when you ask people you get such broad and different answers,” Jay explained. Coming to Black Rock debunked any preconceived notions Jay had about Burning Man. “I like the overall unity of the people,” he says. “There is an actual city here and everybody takes care of everybody.”

Not only was Jay able to come and experience and tell his own story, but he was also able to play a set one of the late nights on the Playa, not an opportunity granted to all aspiring DJs who come to Burning Man. A place for music and the arts is what drew in Jean Pierre, Jay’s older brother. As a first time Burner, JP was motivated by the endless artistic possibilities and opportunities. “You can’t imagine most of the shit that’s out here,” he says gesturing to his brother to pass him another carton of coconut water.

“The pictures and videos and what-not don’t do it justice.”

Most of the expectations first time Burners and returning Burners have are seemingly always surpassed by the reality.

For Matt, who is from Reno, Nevada was attending his seventh burn. With each passing year, Matt says he’s learned to expect nothing. “The first time I came here in [20]11, I was so overwhelmed, all the folks I met were just so f****** exciting,” Matt says. Every year since his first burn the festival and the people have changed. “The Playa really humbles you and you are forced to let other people help you and in return, you wanna help too.” Matt laughs when he talks about how much he loves The Burn. While reminiscing, Matt’s neighbors are bursting with laughter at their camp as they discuss the strange yet, exciting happenings from the night before.

Freddie, 28, from Germany and Ryan, 32, from Australia are virgin Burners who have been living out of their van since they met. Since the time that they met in Canada, the couple has been travelling around the North American continent. “I hear there were a lot of sex parties,” Freddie says, barely containing her excitement. Like many others, Freddie’s expectations of Burning Man were quickly negated. The couple not only found wild and playful parties but befriended Matt and two 20-year-old Virgin Burners to make a giant camp. Likewise, they were also gifted bikes to get around BRC. “People are so nice here,” Freddie says. “The rest of the world is not like this.”

Gifting and trading is a large part of the Burning Man culture.

One of the 10 Burning Man Principles is decommodification; unmediated commercial sponsorships, transactions, or

advertising. Likewise, the handbook strongly discourages brand name items in Black Rock City. In the gifting economy, Burners provide “goods” or “products” for the enjoyment of others. Before their time on the Playa experience, Burners have to purchase food, water, and other supplies they will need to survive on the Playa since there are no stores inside Black Rock.

Still, in the event, you are caught in a dust storm at four in the morning and your mask is at your camp 7 miles from the Playa, you can surely find help from your fellow Burners.

In the same way, volunteers are welcomed and encouraged from setting up, to tearing and cleaning to helping out other camps, mutant vehicles (art cars) or BRC events. “It’s cool, you are just with some cool people listening to music and making sure everyone is feeling good,” Jean Pierre says. As a member of the Janky Barge camp, JP had one shift from 3 a.m to 9 a.m walking alongside the Janky Barge, making sure no one climbs on or falls off while the vehicle is in motion.

“

Everybody takes care of everybody.

”

Burning Man and Black Rock city have so much to offer, the city provides a space for the first time and returning Burners to express themselves and explore a different kind of festival. Even though the blazing heat, dehydration and hard ground are far from what most of us are used to, it’s an experience worth the tenderness.

Despite what you think happens at Burning Man, it’s not just a chaotic, desert party for 20-year old, tree-hugging hippies. It connects all peoples from all walks of life. The Playa is a spiritual place that conditions you to be resourceful and appreciate what you have. It’s a city and a community and Burning Man is what you make of it.

As Burners make one last ride out to the Playa, on our second to last day, the wind blows another, familiar thin layer of dust over the crowd, fire dancers light staffs, fans and pois in preparation of the burn. Now that all of Black Rock is surrounding the man fireworks begin to go off and the show has begun. The flames engulf The Man, and before we know it, The Man is a pile ash. The art cars wait not a moment longer blasting music and giving burners one last dance before the end.

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NEWS • CULTURE • S

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