Solace

Table Of Contents

Editorial Comfort Discomfort Peace

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

The Fahari Libertad presents the issue Solace this semester. We decided on choosing solace for the main reason of how much turmoil as a community we endured because of the pandemic. We wanted to highlight coping mechanisms that work for us and share that with the community so they can heal. Our Executive Board this semester is in a transition stage due to the inactivity of engagement during the pandemic and we felt that healing was the best way to convey our thoughts to the community. Lastly, The Fahari Libertad is a platform for many years that amplifies the voices of those who are unheard. We recognized that it is our duty to amplify the voices as much as we can.

Comfort to me is a place where I can express myself freely without the pressure of judgment.

Everyone is always passing judgments on others, and that’s okay! It’s what we as humans do.

But to be able to express your feelings without feeling invalidated screams comfort to me.

Growing up as a minority, expressing certain emotions was seen as weak. The opportunity to share my thoughts is very freeing for me.

- Anonymous

Comfort, the word that describes the feeling of home Comfort , the word you cry for when your alone A grandmothers touch is like warm bread on Sunday We all try to act tough but we all need this Some days - Kasseem Humphreys

Solace by Erma-Lee Williams Slipping softly into the deep warmth of my bed I imagine your fingers carefully caressing the curvature of my thigh.

When I turn to breathe you in and trace the contours of your face with my eyes, I am greeted by only the stiff darkness of my own shadow against the wall.

I long for you. You make me feel warm. Let me show you the comfort that you bring me on nights when sadness fills your vacancy.

Let me share with you the happiness I dream of when the coldness of reality creeps under my skin and into my blood.

I am getting too used to painting our oasis in watercolor blurred with the tears of many yesterdays. Filling up the pages of journals, line after line with love letters, trying to make the distance between here and there disappear.

But today, in the gray seas that are my sheets, let me give you the rays of sunlight that you gift me through whispers alone.

Because being wrapped in your arms feels a lot like melting slowly. Candles burning. You make me want to make you home.

Because you are my solace.

Nude (A coloration) by Justin Alexander Paulino Nude.

Oil on canvas.

You paint yourself white And fill up with noise.

Saturation.

A coloration of blurred lines.

Vulnerability Never has a defined face, Because, it’s in all of us.

Attachment mistaken as attraction Pain disguised as beauty.

You are not bulletproof, You are a child.

Nude.

A coloration of frail masculinity.

Because to the man in the audience Who feels strength in imposing Insecurity, projecting vile weakness Mistaken for Masculinity, You are just as vulnerable as I. And you.

You bring those around you down.

You let your beauty rely on the Acceptance of others, kicking other Voices and women in the gutter.

Especially black women.

But it doesn’t matter. Even if I am nude, You are just as nude as I. My beauty is disgusting, vile, Colorful, entrapped by my walls, Protected from your arrogance.

You will never see me.

I am a coloration of blurred emotions and beauty.

Nude.

Papa’s Pound Cake Jacquelyn Cox Ingredients: 1 lb powdered sugar 1 lb flour All-purpose flour, use 3 ¾ cups Cake flour, use 4 cups 1 lb salted butter (4 sticks) About ½ tablespoon of vanilla extract, but this doesn’t have to be exact 6 large eggs Tools: Stand mixer or handheld electric mixer Large bowl (if using a handheld mixer) 12 cup Bundt pan Oven Directions: Preheat the oven to 325º Fahrenheit Add butter to the mixer or bowl and cream until soft.

Add powdered sugar to the softened butter and cream together until fluffy.

Gradually alternate between adding the eggs and the flour to the mixture (some flour, one egg, more flour, one egg, and so on). Do this until both components have been fully incorporated.

Continue to beat the mixture until the batter is smooth and creamy. This should take about 5-8 minutes. While the mix is beating, add in the vanilla extract.

Oil the Bundt pan and dust lightly with flour.

Pour cake mix into the Bundt pan.

Bake cake in the oven for 1 hour and 15 minutes.

After baking, stick a knife into the cake. If the knife is clean, your cake is done.

Set the cake aside somewhere to cool. After this, flip the cake out of the Bundt pan, then serve and enjoy!

My father was an avid cook. Daddy cooked all his dishes well but there were some that were outstanding such as his collard greens, cornbread, and pound cake. His grandchildren call him Papa. Papa made his infamous pound cake every holiday.

The smell of baked vanilla and butter officially proclaimed the holiday season, and it also signified warmth and comfort. We would wait with anticipation to have a warm slice of Papa’s pound cake.

Morir Sonando for Two by Nancy Rosa You need Tropicana Orange Juice, ice, and sugar. And yes, you need milk! You would need, say, 8 ounces of Tropicana Orange Juice. And take two tablespoons of sugar and six ice cubes. Put it in a cup with a lid and shake. Or, if you have a blender like my daughter does, put it in that. You want to make sure that the orange juice is nice and sweet, and cold. Yeah, because you need to cut the acidity of the orange juice or it’ll curdle. Mixing the milk after is better. After, you can put half a teaspoon of vanilla extract in your cup. Once all of that is in the cup, then add your milk. Put two ounces of milk. You don’t want it to be too milky. It’s up to you, but you just need to shake it, shake it, shake it. Put cinnamon on top if you choose. Yeah, that’s it

Sinigang Recipe by: Eunice Ledres Sinigang soup base 1lb milkfish 3 cups water 1 pc small tomato - quartered 1 pc small onion - quartered 2 cups kangkong (water spinach) 1 cup daikon radish - sliced 2 large bok choy 2 pcs finger peppers Fish sauce to taste 2 pieces gabi (taro) - thinly sliced Salt milkfish and let it sit for 15 minutes.

Heat oil in a pan and fry fish on both sides until golden brown then set aside.

In a cooking pot combine water, onions, tomato, radish, and soup base. Bring to a boil.

Add other vegetables and let it simmer for 40 minutes. Add fish sauce to taste and lastly, the cooked milkfish! Serve with white rice.

Sinigang is a popular Filipino soup dish. Every time I take a small “higop” (sip in Filipino) it brings me back to my grandma’s house when all my cousins and I were called to have lunch after a long day of playing. It’s a burst of flavor with its super tangy and sour soup base. It is known amongst Filipinos that the more sour, the better! Despite the strong flavors, it is one of the most comforting and soul-healing Filipino dishes. A lot of the ingredients can also be substituted with whatever vegetables you have. You get to make the dish and recipe your very own.

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

MEDITATION

MUSIC

How do you stress or unc TV SHOWS

EATING WALKS

SLEEPING

DRAW

u cope with certainty?

FUNNY VIDEOS MOVIES

DND

Justin Paulino Notes on transition: don’t fear it - the cycle repeats the birthing of a child is so beautiful something so pure and innocent put into a world drowned in chaos and hunger. despite death and violence they bring hope and nostalgia back into the world. because everything was easier when we were babies. happiness flourished and my parents were never as powerful to me. but that happiness was endearing pain with innocent aloofness. the world seemed so grand and we had all the time in the world. but as we grow sleep becomes weak loneliness bites away and death ticks slowly waiting for our time to run out. but shit don’t have to be that deep. cause with birth comes aging, with aging comes death, and with death comes a new life. when I move on, and when you move on, the grass will keep growing the birds will keep singing and life will prosper. death is inevitable but it doesn’t matter the cycle always repeats...

Seth Davis- Dispirited Time Clock ticking, time fading, as I am with it.

Time is no prisoner to me, but I am to it.

A new hour, a new day, same problems.

The minute hand strikes noon, my time ending soon.

Not today, maybe next.

Iftime is all 1 have, The clock must be broken.

Or is it I? Wind blowing effortlessly through me.

A carcass in the wind, foreign to my own body, Wishing to be anybody, but me.

Yet time continues, the clock ticks, time fades.

Or does it grow?

Clock ticking, time changing, as I am with it.

Time is no prisoner to me, nor am 1 to it.

A new hour, blessed with another day The minute hand strikes noon, change is coming soon.

Not today, maybe next.

I have time, The clock wasn’t broken, I was.

Who Were You? by Jennifer Poroye Who were you?

Before they told you who you were, And before you started believing it?

Who were you?

Before the rain started to pour And blur your vision? what could you see in yourself when you closed your eyes, When you shut out the noise Who were you, Before they broke your spirit?

Before reality took root?

Before your thoughts blurred with theirs?

Remember who you were.

Hold on. Hold on tight.

I know you’re still there Somewhere.

​​Justin Paulino “talking back”: an ode to bell hooks and K.Dot “I’ll beat your ass...” is a statement that was felt often without a sense of questioning throughout my childhood, but also felt by my peers in our surrounding communities. It’s not only the parents who twist your ears, tell you “watch when we get home” or that hold a belt over their child with theimplication of fear as the motive, but also the institutions surrounding black and brown youth. These institutions are created to destroy the youth; the innocence. To maximize their endurance and capabilities to a level of inhumanity masked as progress.

“Why don’t you listen to me...” because it’s the teachers, parents, authoritative figures, government officials and more that don’t listen to the innocence, mistaking our aloofness and unawareness as something self inflicted rather than externally imposed. “Why don’t you listen to me...” because talking back is bad. It doesn’t matter the content of what you have to say nor the impact it may leave on your family, the concept of talking back in a black or brown house is taboo. I say black or brown house because the majority of white youth do not have to experience the oppressive systems in which are constantly at surveillance on black or brown innocence. Our steps must be articulated, slowly placing every step on a minefield, waiting to be activated.

You know my patience running thin” because you contain no patience. Not for me nor my identity nor my ideals. I am simply a continuation of the oppression you endured, had witnessed or could have inflicted upon previous generations. But pain should not be hereditary. You would think that pain is a non tangible force that can not be transferred but when the pain of groups of people is felt for 400+ years on the vast bodies of land on this planet, you understand that this extends past the non tangible. My voice is given the same emphasis as a passing by conversation, because “I don’t know any better”. You gotta deal with the consequences of your actions, a thought constantly placed on black and brown innocence, often not reciprocated through white peers who know nothing but to create defenses; barriers to absolve their innocence.

“You gonna fear me if you don’t fear no one else” Fear. An abundant currency in the United States but always felt by those colonized by the powers that reigned and reign to this day. Our talking back is not disrespect nor a lack of care. It is our form of survival, of expression, of identity, of voice, of purpose, of life. We have no form of release at times, yet we’re expected to be at the same level of our white peers. But it’s alright.

We all struggle in life, don’t we? It’s a potluck of pain, come choose your dish, it tastes good I swear.

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Lynette Muniz instagram: @lyncreativ

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

What does your perfect world look like?

Toa: It looks like being able to get up in the morning and not worry about anything except creating. Living in the city, everybody tends to be a busy body and the moments that I get to myself are spent to rest my mind and body. I work everyday to make sure I attain the lifestyle I want to ensure I can get up everyday and do whatever I want

What brings you peace?

Kena: Spending time with those I really care about. My friends make me feel the most comfortable because they are more understanding than my parents are. I can confide in them.

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Karina Zaya: “Recently, I have been creating art pieces as a method of dealing with stress. I’ve had a really tough year and I’ve been struggling. When I find myself feeling depressed or anxious I try to take a break from what I’m doing. Art has really helped me to relax and feel better about myself. I hope others see this piece and know that they are not alone. I encourage everyone to take small moments out of their day to be creative.”

What does your perfect world look like?

Christian: In my perfect world, everybody would be equal no matter what background, or degree we hold, we all have a heart and brain.

No reason why we aren’t 1.

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Lynette Muniz: “Art is my solace” / Instagram: @lyncreativ

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez

Photo by Gabriela C Gomez