Flawless Mag Issue 12-Spring 2021
The Celebration Issue
Editor In Chief Niki Hester
Assistant Editor Valentine Carr
Layout by Flawless Writes Aiya AZ Nowell Kimberly Ndegwa Jalyn Cox Valentine carr Niki Hester Santana Teresa-Milagros Perez
Cover Shoot by Evonne Johnson
Flawless Brown Executive board spring 2021 Chair of Stage
Chair of Writes
Davante Jackson
Niki Hester
Chair of Sisterhood
President
Amali Dunmore
Jalyn Cox
Secretary
Vice President
Brianna Jackman
Alexandra Dudley
Treasurer Magenta Thomas
Chair of Comedy Hawa Kamara
Chairs of Radio Emilia Cardona Shruti Rakjumar
Letter From the editor Writes Always has been, and always will be such a bright spot in my life here at Emerson. As I’ve chosen our themes throughout the past few semester’s I’ve had the intention, above all else, to find a way to let us shine to our fullest potential . This is a group that is so spirited and resilient. This is a group that fills our spaces with warmth, support, and safety. This semester, I want to celebrate all of the things that make Flawless such a safe space. Celebration is a way of allowing ourselves to smile in a time when we have had to endure and power through so many difficulties. It doesn’t mean there isn’t anything left in the world to fight against, it’s just a way of letting in the light. Celebration can be recharging, it can be healing, and most of all, celebration feels necessary. We have absolutely earned the right to celebrate ourselves, each other, and the things that we love. This group is so full of passion and talent. I love getting to create alongside you, and forever grateful for the care with which we take in and build up each other’s art. I love that we get to be such a big part of each other’s experience here at emerson (i honestly don’t know how I would have made it through these past few years without flawless to look forward too each week) and I cannot wait to see what each of us does as we graduate and move through the world. we have such incredibly bright futures ahead of us, with so many amazing people cheering us on. I am more grateful than ever for the people involved in making flawless a place that feels like home. To Jalyn and the rest of the board, I look forward to seeing your faces more than anything, and I am so privileged to have you all in my life to learn from and grow with. To Valentine, thank you for being such an amazing associate chair, and overall such a fun spirit in every meeting you log onto. I’m grateful for everything from your willingness to learn, to your passion about shrek 4. I hope that this magazine feels like a smile in the hands of those who pick it up. that I think, would be something worth celebrating. With Love, Niki Hester
Letter from the Assistant Editor This academic year is the first year being part of Flawless Writes, and it’s been one of the best decisions I’ve made here at Emerson. Flawless Writes has been the highlight of my Monday nights, and I’m honored to be part of a wonderful community of women and non-binary people of color who I’ve grown fond of and learned more about over the months. Thank you so much to Niki for giving me the opportunity to work with you in putting together such a wonderful collection of art. The theme of “Celebration” is something we’ve needed for a little while. This year, as well as obviously the last one, there has been such a need for celebration of the things that do go right rather than the things that fall apart and go wrong. Just like last semester’s theme of “Resilience,” there’s been a need to bring out the good from the bad, and when there is a lot of bad as there is now, there definitely needs to be some good. I’m glad that this is one good that came out of such a tumultuous time, and I’m forever grateful to be part of it. Sincerely, and with love, Valentine Carr
Letter From The Advisor Hello, my dear dear Flawless Browns! The ideas of where to begin with this letter has escaped me for the past three months until recently as I pondered on the word Brown. What does it mean to be Brown in America and better yet the World? Why is it so important to remember that you are Brown? The thing I love the most about color, God made a wide variety of the same shade. You all come in different shapes, sizes, backgrounds, cultures, heritages, creeds, lands, but the one thing that binds you is the fact that you ALL have a shade of Brown in you! Even if you are self-identifying as Brown, you acknowledge that somewhere down your ancestorial line there has been someone in your lineage who was Brown. What a novel and yet rewarding concept.... recognizing you are Brown. The world will do its best to put you in a box. I encourage you to break that mold and shine out of that box. I encourage you to embrace your Brown in the best way you know how. When you graduate from this predominantly white institution you will be thrust into yet another world that reminds you that you are Brown. I encourage you to embrace it! Bring to light your intricacies and your passions that make you the beautiful Brown womxn that you are! Let no one tear you down and remember to always lift each other up. Take with you the love and the compassion you have developed as sisters of Flawless and never lose that focus as you get older and friendships start to change. Remember that no matter what you are ALWAYS Brown and you are ALWAYS Flawless! You are like a diamond found in the mines of Botswana Africa...Rare and Precious! Remind your daughters, nieces, stepdaughters, granddaughters, foster & adopted girls, cousins, aunties, mothers, grandmothers just how Flawless they are as well! Keep shining my amazing Browns...yes, I say my.... I take this position as your advisor very seriously and wouldn’t have it any other way! You inspire me in many different ways. I am in awe of your presence and your compounded creativity. You inspire others on campus with your melanin glow. You inspire men to want to do better by womxn and even work with them to accomplish this goal. You inspire younger womxn, whom you may not even know are watching. Continue Flawless Brown to ignite and inspire! Onward!
Nerissa Williams Scott ‘15MFA Emerson College Advisor Flawless Brown baby!!
Table Of 1 A Study in Two |Aiya Cigarette Smoke | Valentine CarR 3
4 Sweet Sense| Kimberly Ndegwa Living in Complexity | Jalyn Cox 5
7 Springtime | Ana Coste A Celebration of Life | AZ Nowell 9
15 My mythologized Domain | Santana Teresa-Milagros Perez the stars feel | Kimberly Ndegwa 19
21 Joy composed | Aiya Release | Niki Hester 23
27 Captured Memories | Jalyn Cox Tattoo Page | Flawless 29
31 Firefighter | Aiya Chocolate Kiss | Kimberly Ndegwa 33
Contents
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a study in two by Aiya On the day we married I cut class no need for anthropology when we were building a history of our own I’ve found happiness is keeping a promise two pacts outside our vows tore sacred than any certificate two terms that have carried us on and through
always, anything
The girl I met became the woman you are and the suffering I’ve shouldered let you take a breath Those words became two little beings
who rely on Us more than we ever have People still ask are you happy? married so young… how can you be? missing opportunities... They ask the wrong things Remember the woman who said give it two years when we were already at three? The questions should be what brings you joy? what makes you happy? And the answer Is broken into every part of you
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cigarette smoke by Valentine Carr i love breathing in your jacket when you say goodbye, it smells like you the most. you smell like roses and cigarette smoke. i wear that smell home sometimes, mixed into my clothes and hair, after spending hours in your arms. my mother asks questions about the smell, but i never give her an answer. she wouldn’t understand what it means to me. our love is between you and me, a little secret whispered into collarbones in between kisses. it’s whispered between i love yous. you made me a necklace with flowers you picked, and i glued together some cigarettess to make you a crown. the flowers wilted, and you smoked all the cigarettes, but i remember that they were lilies and pall malls. our youth will be gone one day, and we don’t know if we’ll see each other then, but right now there’s light in your eyes as i hold your hand, cigarette in your smiling mouth, as we talk of a future we’re not sure will exist. until the day we know for sure, i will never stop murmuring “i love you” into your tobacco-tasting mouth.
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Sweet Sense By: Kimberly Ndegwa
I like to pretend I’m immune to all sweet things. But your taste is within my senses permanently ingrained When you smile my world stops and I swoon for seconds. Then your voice brings me back to earth and I can’t believe I exist at the same time as you do. My heart beat stops whenever you look at me I’m rendered speechless when I’m next to you. Tell me why I’m being like this I hate it but I can’t let you go I hate that you make me weak I hate that YOU are the last thing i think about before I sleep the first thing in my mind when I wake up. I’m drowning in a sea of unfamiliar emotions but all I know is I want you.
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Living in Complexity BY JALYN COX BY JALYN COX
I hold a lot of feelings towards Kamala Harris. The first Black and South Asian woman to be Vice President. That is a call for celebration, right? As a young mixed woman, seeing a strong woman, who reflects parts of myself, within a position of power that has yet had the privilege of having a woman fulfill the role is radical, wild, and inspiring. I preface this essay by saying, oh Joe. This article is not about him because there is no point in picking apart the flaws of an old white man that’s far too embedded (and benefitted) by white supremacy. He is a white cis gendered man with allegations, and that just about sums up my thoughts on that. This is what I have come to expect from the United States’ president and any other men that have copious amounts of power. However, Kamala, oh Kamala. Oh Kopala! I think the most difficult part for me, is that she is everything I love and hate balled up into one. She is a strong and driven woman of color. She knows what she wants. She goes after it. She gets it. She is a leader, growing through a system that inherently resents and dismisses her. However, the pit of my stomach tightens when I see her. I cannot help but see the history that follows behind her. Harris’ past within the criminal justice system leaves me so disappointed in her and also the system that knew she, above other more progressive candidates, could beat 45. A system that chose her because she was the most palpable running mate for Biden. She was able to step into a role where moderate democrats could feel as if they were “woke” through voting for not only a woman, but a woman of color. She is more than qualified for the position, but like Vice Presidents before her, she doesn’t represent the change that people are crying out for. She actually represents and grew into prominence from the same system that is murdering her own people.
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Do I have unrealistic expectations for politicians? Yah, probably. However, I cannot help the personal tie I have to Kamala Harris. I acknowledge I hold her to a standard that she’s had to deviate from to be able to hold her past positions. However, there is a beautiful struggle that comes along fighting and demanding change amongst folks that have a collective understanding and love for your own individualized experience. When anyone works against this struggle towards liberation, empathy, love, and understanding, they are dangerous because they most likely are benefited by the very systems that prey on Black, Indigenous, and folks of color. This doesn’t leave me feeling good towards those who actively work against us. So, seeing someone, who looks like me, represents me, identifies closely to me, finally gain a position of power through their own history of upholding a police state, hurts beyond belief. I don’t even know what the feeling is that I feel. I do know that there was a feeling of immense relief and even victory that came with beating 45. However, there was also the imminent aggravation of knowing the amount of work that still needs to be done that is (at least currently) being overlooked by our new President and Vice President. I remember the morning of the Inauguration. I was at unease. This is just another time I am reminded at how slow change moves. I feel almost dispirited for having so much hope, but I know I am not alone. There are so many folks like me, that time and time again find themselves so extremely hopeful to then being forced to be grateful for the inch that we’re given. It’s hard. I am given so many moments where I am reminded at how slow the world changes, I never feel like celebrating. I was reminded of something auntie tamia jordan had brought up during a Tough Topic Tuesday at Emerson College. She spoke of holding space for complexity. In giving myself permission to be both critical and celebratory, I am freeing myself from believing one singular truth - a characteristic that stems from white supremacy. In stepping out of the collective’s polarization of right or wrong, left or right. I step into my own power of conscience outside the bounds of labeling something as right or wrong. I am able to celebrate the history that is being made, and I am able to deeply celebrate this kind of history that further creates space for others. Kamala Harris is the first woman Vice President, and the first Black and South Asian woman Vice President of the United States. Holy shit, that’s huge. I am also able to celebrate the fact that 45 is booted and perhaps impeached (*edit: 45 was acquitted). I am also able to be critical while feeling my own discomfort. Kamala is one of the most moderate democratic woman of color within politics, and that makes her the most palpable. Her record as a District Attorny and Attorney General reflects her pushing programs that are violent to Incarcerated people and perpetuate the prison industrial complex. This idea of holding space of complexity has helped me navigate many of my feelings in difficult contexts since.
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"Springtime" Anna Coste
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A Celebration of Life By: AZ Nowell
When Julia woke up, she was at peace. As her eyes fluttered open and she saw the soft grey light filtering in through her window, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It only took another moment for the sadness to crash into her like a flood. As the vestiges of sleep melted away, the dark cloud that had been hanging over her for the past few days returned, weighing her down and making it hard to breathe. The light on her phone screen was blinding as she checked the time, her heart sinking even further when she read the date. Today was the day she had to say goodbye to her best friend. She thought she should have been all cried out, her tear ducts long dried after days of use, but the tears still came steadily. She pulled herself back under her covers, screwing her eyes shut and willing herself to go back to bed. These days, her dreams were the only place where life didn’t feel as heavy — her dreams were where Chelsea was, so she took as many opportunities to slip into oblivion as her body would allow. It was becoming steadily easier, her slumber eating away more and more of each day. She was okay with it though, the waking world was too difficult to handle. There was a soft knock at her door and Julia groaned. Sleeping the day away was no longer a luxury she had, at least for that day. The real world was calling to her, as much as she had been trying to ignore it. “Sweetheart, it’s time to get up.” Julia’s mother said softly from the door. Light seeped into the room as the door widened, and Julia forced herself further beneath her covers, reeling. “We have to start getting ready for Chelsea’s celebration of life.” Her mother had been so careful to not call it a funeral since Chelsea died — partially out of the request from her family, mostly for Julia’s sake. Julia knew this, but still, the words put a bad taste in her mouth. “What is there to celebrate?” Julia had asked when she first saw the invitation with the all-too-happy words printed across it. Chelsea’s family had them made and sent out so quickly — Julia thought that there was no way they hadn’t been made before Chelsea was gone. It was an admission of the inevitable, all they had to do was put the date at the bottom. Julia wasn’t ready to accept it. Looking at it became painful, so she let the hand that held it fall listlessly at her side. “Although she lived a relatively short life, it was a happy one,” her mother had said, “You, of all people, were the one who really understood that. Don’t you think that’s worth celebrating?” Julia’s jaw clenched.
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“Chelsea was robbed of her life, Mom. Pretending that this...” she waved the pamphlet angrily above her head, “... is a happy occasion that isn’t going to fix anything. I’m not going to pretend like the rest of you are.” Julia threw the invitation on the kitchen table and ran up the stairs. Now, Julia peeked out from under the covers, watching her mother’s concerned face. “I don’t think I can do it,” Julia admitted, her throat tightening as more tears spilled onto her cheeks, “It’s too hard.” Her mother was across the room in two strides. She sat on the edge of the long unmade bed gingerly, rubbing Julia’s back through the covers. “Don’t think of it as doing it for yourself,” her mother said, her voice calm and soothing, “You’re doing it for Chelsea.” The reframe made the events of the day seem more doable. Just a little bit. Julia was willing to do anything for Chelsea. That didn’t change, now that she was gone. “Okay.” Julia said. “Okay.” Her mother smiled weakly, “Do you want to try putting on the dress you picked out?” Julia looked at the bright, flowery dress that hung on the back of her door. She couldn’t take credit for picking that dress out. Chelsea had chosen it, over what seemed like an eternity ago. The memory was clear in her mind. When Chelsea was diagnosed, Julia was the first one she told. As soon as her family returned from the doctor she walked down the street to Julia’s house and let herself in with the spare key Julia’s family had given her ages ago. Upon hearing the news, Julia panicked, understandably, but Chelsea approached it with a wave of humor. “I’ll be fine, Juju, I promise. Don’t worry about me.” Chelsea jumped onto the bed and wrapped her arms around Julia’s, which were pinned to her sides. “The doctor said it’s totally treatable. Just a few rounds of chemo and I’ll be all set! No biggie.” “You’re oversimplifying it,” Julia said, struggling not to hyperventilate, “Chemo destroys people, I’ve seen it. I don’t want to see you go through that. I can’t—” “Don’t finish that sentence.” Chelsea said, cutting her off, “I can’t have your negative energy throwing off my healing process, okay? We caught it early, I’ll be fine. The doctor said so herself.” “Are you absolutely sure?” Julia said. “One-hundred percent.” Chelsea answered, and then paused, “But if I do end up dying, you gotta promise me you’ll wear that one dress at my funeral. The A-line one, with the lace and the pink and blue flowers.” Julia gasped, “Don’t say that!” Chelsea laughed, a bright and happy sound that always made Julia smile, even if she didn’t want to. “What? You look good in that dress! Maybe my cousin you’ve had a crush on since first grade will finally notice you at the wake. It’ll be my final gift to you.” “First of all, I don’t like thinking about having to go to your funeral anytime soon, so shut up.” Julia fought off a smile, trying to push Chelsea away. Chelsea only hung on tighter, giggles erupting from her mouth.
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“Second, I do not still have a crush on Jason, so shut up again.” Julia continued, “Lastly, that dress is not a funeral kind of dress at all. Aren’t you supposed to wear black?” Chelsea rolled her eyes, her face falling a little. “Please. Wearing black at funerals is so depressing. I don’t want that. I don’t want people to be, like, sad.” Julia got quiet. “You’re talking about this like it’s actually going to happen.” In an instant, Chelsea’s smile was back. “Obviously I’m talking about the future, Juju. Don’t overthink it.” Chelsea grabbed Julia’s face with both hands. “You’re going to have me for a long, long, long time. You got that?” “I better,” Julia had said, “Because I don’t know what I would do without you.” As much as she hated it, Chelsea continued to refer to the dress as her “funeral dress” in the months that followed, always accompanied by a playful laugh. It seemed like the natural choice when the time came a lot sooner than anyone expected. The memory made Julia’s heart squeeze. Her mother was right, she had to do this. Not for herself, but for Chelsea. Julia’s mother left her to her own devices to get ready for the service, and Julia took her time. Getting out of the bed was its own trial, the air in her room was uncomfortably cold and the warmth of her bed called to her as soon as she left it. Her movements felt foreign, Julia hadn’t thought about or tried looking presentable since she received the news. Her body ached from the days of inactivity, of crying, of grief. Still, she forced herself to slip the dress on and control the wild mess on top of her head. What normally followed was her makeup routine, but she didn’t have the energy. She figured she would be okay without it, Chelsea always told her that she liked her natural face more anyways. She hoped that the dark circles that had developed under her eyes weren’t too noticeable. When she came downstairs, her parents and her older brother waited for her on the couch, ready to go. “How long were you waiting for me?” Julia asked. “Not for long.” Her father smiled back at her, “Don’t worry.” Her family had been walking on eggshells around her since Julia first disappeared into her room the week before. She appreciated that they let her take her time in processing what happened, but she couldn’t help but wonder how long they would let her keep it up. However long that turned out to be, she knew it wouldn’t be enough time. There wasn’t enough time in the world. Eventually someone would come into her room, rip open the blinds, and tell her that she had to move on. She wasn’t sure if it would ever be possible. The weather matched Julia’s mood as they drove to the church — dark, gloomy, quiet. It seemed that the world was also mourning the loss of her best friend. It provided her a little comfort. At least now, it was easy to pretend that the rest of the world had stopped moving while hers crashed down around her. When they arrived, Julia immediately felt everyone’s eyes on her. The other families gave her looks that were meant to be sympathetic as they walked, but it took all of her strength to stop herself from running back home and crawling back under the safety of her covers. When she walked through the front doors, those sympathetic looks became words of encouragement, soft pats on the arm, and awkward hugs.
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Julia felt like she couldn’t take it. Her thoughts must have shown plainly on her face, and before long her parents came to her rescue and guided her to their seats towards the front of the sanctuary. It was no secret how close Julia and Chelsea were — they had been inseparable since the womb. Their parents were friends long before they were born, and when their mothers became pregnant at the same time they spent all their time together. Everyone who saw Chelsea proudly entering a room always saw Julia following close behind. Chelsea’s absence made Julia feel off-balance, and if something knocked her over she wasn’t sure if she would get up again. As Julia sat down in the second row, behind Chelsea’s family, her eyes landed on the casket at the front of the room. Her heart seized, knowing that her best friend was inside. It was hard to imagine Chelsea, who was always so full of joy, who lit up every room that she walked in, who played such a large role in Julia’s life, could fit in something that seemed so small. Julia was grateful it was closed, though. She had only seen Chelsea alive, and intended to keep it that way. Julia’s last visit to the hospital wasn’t something she liked to remember, but as she stared at the polished wooden box, the memory forced itself to be seen. No one outside of Chelsea’s family was allowed to visit her in the last week of her life. The doctor recommended limiting her contact with other people as much as possible since her health was declining so quickly. But knowing how close the two of them were, Chelsea’s parents told the nurses that Julia was Chelsea’s cousin. Therefore she was the only one of their friends allowed to come visit. Each time Julia went to the hospital, Chelsea looked a little worse. Julia tried her best not to acknowledge it, treating each visit like any other time the two of them spent together. It was the least she could do, Chelsea was adamant about not letting anyone treat her like a victim. “I know I’m dying, as much as people keep trying to hide it from me. Like I can’t fucking tell for myself.” Chelsea had said, “Everybody else is being so weird about it, and I can’t handle it coming from you, too.” Julia really tried to honor her request, she had gotten used to putting on a brave face for her. But on that last day, seeing Chelsea in that bed — weak, small, and hooked up to a million machines — Julia almost couldn’t correlate her with the warm, bubbly, and strong person she had grown up with and loved. Seeing Chelsea like that scared her, but she still tried to keep it from showing as she knocked on the door and entered the room. “Juju!” Chelsea said weakly, stretching out an arm to her, “My favorite person in the whole world.” News had been spreading about how Chelsea was doing and the room was filled with various bouquets of flowers, colorful balloons, and get-well-soon cards. Julia had to move a few unopened cards off of the chair next to the bed to sit down. She took Chelsea’s hand. “Hey Chels. How are you doing?”
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“Fantastic, now that you’re here.” There it was, that familiar sparkle in her eye. That was something that the cancer couldn’t take away, as much as it tried. “Any updates from the doctor?” Julia asked, as casually as she could. The brief silence between them was deafening. Chelsea turned her gaze to the tiles on the ceiling above her, unable to look Julia in the eye. “It’s not looking good.” Julia’s heart quickened, but she held Chelsea’s hand tighter. She opened her mouth a few times before she actually spoke. “How much time?” Julia had been dreading the question, but she had to know. Chelsea sighed heavily and Julia could see her eyes shining. “A few weeks, if I’m lucky.” Julia sucked in a sharp breath and looked away from her, biting down on the inside of her cheek to stop the sob that threatened to escape her. A few weeks. Her body filled with rage at how unfair all of this was. A friendship shouldn’t have a deadline, especially a friendship as important to her as this one. “Hey, look at me.” Chelsea said. Julia forced her gaze back towards her. Chelsea looked at her earnestly. “I’m not gone yet. Don’t start spiraling. Be here with me while I’m here, okay?” Julia laughed, freeing a tear or two from her eyelashes, “I can’t believe you’re the one literally on your deathbed and you’re comforting me.” Chelsea returned the laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough. Julia rubbed her arm until it stopped, wincing at the sound. She resisted the urge to knit her eyebrows together into what Chelsea called her “concerned look,” which was always followed by a soft finger trying to rub away the crease that formed between them. When Chelsea caught her breath, she continued. “Being there for you is my job, Juju, and I’m going to do it as long as I’m able to.” The hours that followed strangely felt like old times, despite being confined to Chelsea’s hospital room. Chelsea cracked a few jokes until the knot in Julia’s throat dissipated. They spent the morning laughing at overly dramatic characters on the soap operas that were on a constant loop on the TV in the room. Sometime during the afternoon Julia made a cafeteria run and grabbed all of Chelsea’s favorites, which she could only eat a few bites of before she said she was too full. In the evening, they chatted with Chelsea’s parents who checked in on them every once in a while. Julia eyed the nurses carefully as they came in to check Chelsea’s vitals throughout the day, fighting off the endless questions she had about avoiding the inevitable. She tried to be in the present, as Chelsea asked her to do. She tried to be her normal self, because she wasn’t sure how much time she had left to be that person. Even then, she didn’t know what would happen to her when Chelsea was gone. Julia stayed with Chelsea until visiting hours ended, and an apologetic nurse came in and told her it was time for her to go. As Julia hugged her goodbye, Chelsea held on tight. “Julia,” Chelsea said, suddenly serious, “I love you more than anything on this planet. You know that right?”
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“Of course I know that. I’ve always known that.” The knot in Julia’s throat returned. “I wouldn’t be me without you, Chels. I love you so much.” Julia pulled away from her, so she could look Chelsea in the eye. “But this isn’t goodbye, okay? Don’t give up. I’ll be back as soon as they’ll let me.” The corner of Chelsea’s mouth lifted, but it wasn’t a full smile like usual. She nodded, but pulled Julia into a hug again and held on a lot longer than usual. Julia tried to come back the next day, but when she called Chelsea’s phone her mother, Diane, picked up. “I’m sorry, Julia, Chelsea fell into a coma this morning.” Diane said, her voice thick, “I’ll let you know if she wakes up, but it might not be possible for you to come today.” The word “if ” made Julia go cold, but she still tried to sound cheerful as she thanked her and hung up. Chelsea wasn’t as lucky as they all hoped she would be, and two days later, she was gone. Someone rubbing Julia’s back softly brought her back to the present. When she opened her eyes, she discovered that she had leaned forward in her seat and put her face in her hands, fresh tears slipping through her fingers and onto the dress Chelsea had picked. She looked up, and saw that the hand that touched her belonged to Diane. The gaze that met her own was familiar, but in a new sense. For the first time, she saw just how much Chelsea looked like her mother. There it was, that radiant smile. As she watched Diane’s face, Julia tried seeing herself from Chelsea’s eyes. She wondered what she would say about the person she had become in the past week. Julia knew it would make Chelsea feel horrible if she knew what her death had done to her. Chelsea wanted nothing more than for Julia to be happy, and that didn’t change now that she was gone. Chelsea would have wanted her to make the most of the rest of her life, to take the happy memories that they shared together, the lessons that she learned, and remember those things instead of wallowing in the loss forever. Those were the things Julia shared with the crowd gathered in Chelsea’s memory. Chelsea always told Julia she would never make her speak at her funeral, and when Julia arrived at the service she was sure she wouldn’t be able to. But in that rare moment of courage, her fear melted away, and she found herself approaching the stage. Once again, Chelsea brought her strength. The service was truly beautiful, and was exactly how they had described it — a celebration. The stories other people told were all happy memories, moments of when Chelsea had been there for them, how she had touched them, how if it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t be the people they are today. Julia realized that Chelsea wasn’t truly gone, her legacy would live on through these people, through Julia. She was determined to make it so. As Julia stepped out of the church at the end of the ceremony, the sun finally broke through the clouds and brilliant glimpses of blue sky started to peek through.
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Domain of the Sacred Sisters To the marginalized, ostracized, demonized, to my brothers, sisters, and siblings, I welcome you. This is a place made for us. A realm of radical self-acceptance ruled by icons of virtue and vanity. Queer virtue. Fat vanity. Divine feminine fury. Revel with me in the aesthetics not made for us. Adorn yourself in silk, velvet, gold, and glory. Join me in making of ourselves a pantheon worth praying to. Embrace every intersecting complexity that forms your whole. Refuse to make yourself consumable.
A word of advice from the guardian of their gates: know what you deserve before you seek their blessings
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Petition for Guidance
Far-Seeing Sister, Guide us through The labyrinth of life Gaze upon us With searching eyes That do not judge. Lay bare the paths Before us, the roads We have walked, and Chart for us the Rivers, streams, tributaries Of time. Give us the knowledge We need To be the masters Of our fates To weave bridges Across uncertain waters.
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Petition for Bounty
To the Abundant One, Bursting forth in soft, Curving glory; Adorn us with reserves of flesh to withstand Illness and hardship, Embrace us With your body Broad yet yielding. Grant us the confidence To take our fill Of food, Of space, Of love, Joyously.
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Petition for Protection
To the Daughter of Dread; Ever vigilant, protective, Persistent, guard us, Your sisters, From those who seek our Destruction, depression, Despair. Remind us to Hold our rage tight That we may burn With fury on Our own behalf. Shine upon the shadows With the light of Your blade Grant us the strength To stand our ground.
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THE STARS FEEL By :Kimberly Ndegwa
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Have you seen the stars? they wish to be held If they are just balls of gas? then you’re just a body A body with no soul, no substance They shine for us every night asking for affection but we, ever so oblivious, continue on The flowers look up to the sky day and night Blinded by the sun all day, blessed by the stars from twilight The daisy with her heart open to the world sees them She lets the wind blow her pollen towards the sky hoping that one day it’ll fly high enough to reach them Can you hear me? You’re a star and I’m the daisy ever so trying to get to you but if not a single grain of my pollen reaches you tonight I hope my words do.
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joy composed by Aiya her joy was impalpable it was a secret, tucked into the barest corner of her smile subtle marks, secluded from her being and mind she greets joy like a spirit wild, with caution runs the back of her hand down its warm side feeling for tension, fleeing in this near, glorious being she thinks it’s the universe aligned until joy rises up stretches shakes off her self imposed lines freed of beast and briar come with me, they say it doesn’t matter where or how we go because we’ll have joy joy composed
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Release
By Niki Hester
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Scientists say that no energy is ever created or destroyed. I don’t
know if I understand the science behind that. I do know that those words have stuck in my mind. Every tear that those who have come before me shed is still within me, and every smile that they let slip through in quiet moments of joy shines from my face when that joy makes its way to me. I think I harbor too much of an instinct to run from their anger, their pain, and their frustrations. I don’t want to let those things blossom inside of me. I’d rather hang onto moments of happiness with an iron grip, and hide myself away on days when the last of those moments slips away. I realize now, that there have been times where I’ve been running too fast from these difficult things, to let any of the good catch up to me. I know that those before me basked in love in the ways that I long to be able to do. I feel it in the smiles I leave on the faces of those that I love. I feel it in the way my heart soars when the sunlight caresses my cheeks and warms me from the inside out. I feel it in moments of complete silence and stillness that seem to be becoming few and far between for me. I’m learning that I want to chase those moments, instead of running from the results of feeling too much. Feeling too much is not the curse that I have let myself believe it is. The tears of far too many broken hearts are not a plague, not a sign that I’m meant for a solitary life. They are a reminder that the love I am willing to give out contains so much that I must, at times, let it pour out of me to make room for all that I’ve yet to create. It is a reminder that those who cannot hold that love within themselves, and share that energy with me are not those that I must continue to pour myself into.
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I have loved so many people, and long after their names and faces are gone from my mind, that feeling is still there. I will have pages of
late-night poems scribbled onto tearstained paper, long after I have any tears left to cry over their subjects. I think that I am learning to remind myself that permanence is not the ultimate test of worthiness for those in my life. I remember the loves of my childhood, like the nameless little girl that kissed me on the forehead one day in class, and left me so awestruck that I was convinced her kiss had left a mark everyone would see as I made my way home after school. I forgot her face a long time ago, and her name even farther back, but I hold that feeling close. I like to think I’ve left traces of warmth like that in those I’ve given pieces of me. I like to think there are childhood friends I’ve long let go of, who think back to sunny days at recess and can feel the smiles I put on their faces, even if they’ll never remember where they came from.
Slowing down is how I am learning to celebrate this life and the energy within me. I am like a plant that is constantly twisting and turning towards the sunshine. I think of the moments when I have felt most at peace. I remember summertime when all I wanted was to feel the touch of those that I love, and I learned instead to find a way to be full from the touch of the sun above me and the grass below me. I remember quiet afternoons, the blanket beneath me and the softness of it against my bare legs. I remember taking in the scent of the incense smoke drifting towards me and washing over me, and the smell of freshly cut grass surrounding a tangle of limbs. I remember favorite
songs playing, music that makes me feel instead of think, smile and not feel the need to listen closer. I remember the quiet laughter shared with someone who has always held my heart as gently as I needed her too, and the tips of our paint stained fingers passing food back and forth. 25
I think of how I have always had people that make me feel like this, and the way that I have let them become overshadowed by those that wrung the warmth out of my heart and hoarded it within themselves. I hold these moments, gently gathered in the palm of my hands, and I promise to let them take up space. I think there is so much to celebrate within me, in my ability to love, and my learning to let go. In the moments that I feel as though I am ripping apart at the seams, and the moments that I feel complete in the warmth and glory that the universe coils within my chest. I deserve each of these moments. I think I am learning that I celebrate the things that bring me joy more than I realize. I will not be embarrassed by being fanciful anymore. I won’t cringe looking back at diary entries, and waxing poetics about days that have slipped from my memory. I will not be skeptical of my tendency to instill moments with romance and imagination before capturing them and putting them safely away to visit on cloudy days. I will not stop the next time I catch myself rambling to myself out loud over my morning coffee. I think maybe celebrating myself starts with allowing myself to move through my days unimpeded by what I think I should be doing instead. I think celebrating myself is happening the way that I allow myself to feel things in the moment, and then again and again in my mind until I’m ready to put the memories down. I think I’ll let it be.
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captured memories...
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When I think back on summer, I think of the longing to be somewhere else. I look back on these photos, and I see these moments where I found peace. I think about being surrounded by my family. Memories are not just black and white, good or bad. We make room to hold multiple truths all at once. These snippets of memories hold moments of joy, beauty, and meaning in a historically dark time. jalyn cox
We have a running joke that we like to make to each other during meetings when we read a line from each other’s work that really sticks itself inside our minds, and we decide that it is so impactful that we want to permanently ink it onto ourselves. It has become a way that we communicate to each other what the work that we share means to us. It is a part of the safe space that we have created, and most importantly, it is a way that we celebrate each other, and ourselves. Collected here is a few of these quotes and our thoughts.
“You’re a star and I’m the daisy ever so trying to get to you” -Kimberly Ndegwa
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“our love is between you and me, a little secret whispered into collarbones in between kisses.” -Valentine Carr
“I am protected and I am protecting” -Niki Hester
There have been so many points in my life where I have not been protected, and it has made me the kind of person who is always searching for others who need the protection I didn’t get. I feel protected by my Flawless sisters, and I hope they feel protected by me. - Santana Coste
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Firefighter
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by Aiya dear You you know the one who cursed me (it didn’t take)
it reminded me how much I missed gardening, sun soaked earth books, imagination inked and solid, glorious messes
I came out of your dam and smashed it apart faced the rubble of what, was, when
I tore down everything you gave and built a sky of constellations from old hopes mistakes wrong directions
forced through and made a place for my self on the rim of your restrictions perspectives, doubts I tossed out all the bones you shuffled from your closet to mine (sorry, but I have enough) I wrote, the end on the day I called it quits (yes it’s finished) the chapter I’d been trapped in four years I left the universe you crafted (quite skilled to convince me it was real) and touched the ground (remember how you said it was dirty?) it was (I loved it)
I set aside your somber perfection
In the garbage
with pencil shavings and qualifications (remember the kind?) a smogless smoke mistaken for oxygen
lies
you warned me against playing with fire but forgot to mention the hot coals that dropped from your mouth disguised as
good intentions
they burned everything down (but this final line) 32
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Chocolate Kiss Brown lips Brown eyes Brown skin Dark hair That smile I just can’t get enough of you I can’t get you out of my hair Is it too much to ask you to stay One more night So I can feel you again You’re gaze is enough to stop time But whenever I look in your eyes eternity feels too short Too short to take the long way so please just one more kiss, one more touch before we part
by: Kimberly Ndegwa 34