THANK YOU TO OUR CONTRIBUTORS FOYINSI ADEGBONMIRE DANA APRIGLIANO HANNAH ARONOWITZ AMELIA BECKERMAN TESS GRIFFIN MAASAI JONES ROBERT KINNAIRD BRENNA LILLY MAIA LOY ANNA O’BRIEN ROBIN PEREIRA NATASHA RAPPAZZO SARAH ROBBINS SHARON RUS JULIE SMITH SUMAYYAH UDDIN REGINA VOLPE JACINDA WADWAI MARIA ZALDIVAR STAFF DANA APRIGLIANO HANNAH ARONOWITZ ERINN SLANINA REGINA VOLPE MARIA ZALDIVAR COVER ART Fishbait, Maia Loy (F) The Reverse Eve, Maia Loy (B)
ISSUE #2
Growl is a collaborative magazine presented by the Hofstra English Society and Campus Feminist Collective featuring student works of literature, artwork, and photography focused on social and political issues including gender, sexuality, race, and religion.
Amelia Beckerman
CONTENT WARNING: Pieces featured in Growl may be upsetting to certain readers
FALL 2017
The Ten Plagues of the Jersey Shore Sarah Robbins
I call them the Leather Ladies The Leather Ladies of the Jersey Shore In the sixties and seventies no one knew what sunscreen was, and these ladies never learned, so they let their skin sizzle under those bright, blaring rays They smoke cigarettes and gesticulate with left hands, complaining about all those problems those brown people keep causing. When we’re here we like to pretend that politics don’t exist (We fear we are outnumbered) I can’t decide if the problem is the renters or the year-rounders The thing is I can understand that living on this island would make you fall completely out of touch with reality. The first plague will be the jellyfish The second, the seaweed Third riptides, fourth stingrays, fifth, small children on boogie boards headed right for your goddamn head The sixth plague will be a protest. The seventh, a riot, one big enough to reach even this seemingly untouchable shore The eighth plague will be the revolution, a great shift, a new world, the future we dreamed of without believing we’d ever see it The ninth plague will be the flames that will burn the old world down The tenth plague is when the ocean finally rises up And swallows everything I have ever known. The Leather Ladies won’t know what hit them.
ISSUE #2
They said this could never happen, they said we could never do it. And even though I love them, this is the fate they asked for. I raise my staff and I part the Atlantic Ocean. The time to go is Now. I don’t move. There is no guaranteeing that the path before me will lead to anyplace safer than this tiny, fading island. So do I burn with the old world, or risk being burned in the new one?
FALL 2017
Blood-Battered Banner Foyinsi Adegbonmire
O say can you see by the dawn’s early light what so proudly they hail at the twilight’s last gleaming? Whose red stripes and white stars through the slavery fight o’er the bodies they hung, were so gallantly streaming? And the cop car’s red glare, the shots bursting in air gave proof through the game why Kaepernick knelt there. O say does that blood-battered banner yet wave o’er the land with few free and home with most enslaved. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore that the havoc of war with the body’s “confusion” a home and country shall they have no more. Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution. No refuge could save the trans and the gay from the terror of those who send them to graves. And the blood-battered banner in oppression doth wave o’er the land with few free and home to the enslaved.
ISSUE #2
Robert Kinnaird
FALL 2017
shunyata, Jacinda Wadwai
ISSUE #2
the self elemental brenna lilly
aeriform and breathy, stretching outward like a birch tree seeking light, i lean toward the luminescence of something greater than Just Me for a moment, asking the light for its wisdom and for all benevolent tidings. oceanic, swaying closer this way and ebbing further that, i coalesce, dually-bodied, like a sea turbulent, a mind unfettered, beseeching of the moon to cast me away in its womanish pull. built of soft clay and not yet put to the kiln, brushing softly against freckled skin, i rise above ground level, rooting myself like a pigeon on newly lain concrete, gently sticking and becoming, for a moment, before flying away, a piece of soft earth. standing over fire, heavy in its impact but weightless in being plasma, being bathed in ash, twigs and kindling burn at my feet. i am a salemite witch and no one has bothered to ask Me how to properly burn sage and where i buy my silken skirts.
FALL 2017
Thinking Face Emoji Natasha Rappazzo
My identity is something that really makes me think. I don’t really know who I am. Or what I am. There are a lot of labels I try to give myself, but none of them fully encapsulate how I see myself or how I believe others see me. I am Mexican-American when I am too lazy to explain myself. Latina when I don’t want to think about it. Hispanic on government documents. I am Jewish-ish. Mestiza when I feel close to my ancestors. Chicana when I feel comfortable and proud of my culture. Chingona despite my mom’s feelings about the word. Chonga in hoops and brown lipstick. I am not Brown, but I am not White. Am I White? I think I look White. I know I have privilege by being at the very least a light skin Latina. Still, this doesn’t make me feel more comfortable or safe surrounded by blonde heads and vineyard vines stickers in a classroom. I am biracial - two for the price of fun! I am a phoney for not speaking Spanish. I am ashamed for not wearing the clothes my abuela made me. I am angry that I don’t know what to call myself. I try not to think about it too much because when I do it’s a flurry of emotions and distress and disgrace for not fitting perfectly into each box society has created for me. Usually, I can push these intrusive thoughts out of my mind. After all, I am more than my ethnicity. I am a sister, daughter, friend, lover, feminist, activist, and student of life. I am a fucking vegan, for God’s sake! That’s what I want to talk about. But the feelings come racing back when someone who just wants to know my “race” asks, “what are you?” I don’t know.
ISSUE #2
Hannah Aronowitz
Amelia Beckerman
FALL 2017
sing,goddess, Dana Aprigliano
Sing wrath, goddess, For unceasing wrath may be the only thing you have For it was not Artemis who retired to her couch In lieu of slinging arrows and battling men So that she could hunt more profitable fowl Indeed, it was Agamemnon who shrank from the fight Keeping Chryseis then Briseis prisoner in his beached ship So that he could keep afloat what dignity he was convinced he possessed For it was not Athena, goddess of war, who ever let a challenge slide Even from the likes of her own kin, Aphrodite, So that she could possess the deepest love only for herself Indeed, it was Menelaus, and Paris, too, Who held back Helen in their desire for some perceived weakness of beauty So that they could have that illusion they created; for what, I cannot say May the Furies and Amazons forever remain vigilant, Slaying all those who mewl and mumble in the face of fear and horror And sing wrath, goddess, Rip open your enraged mouth, and howl.
ISSUE #2
Amelia Beckerman
Amelia Beckerman
FALL 2017
The following three works are winners of a contest facilitated by the Hofstra University Honors College. These submissions were inspired by Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric.
ISSUE #2
POP QUIZ
Sumayyah Uddin Instructions: Read each question carefully before proceeding. ANYONE CAUGHT CHEATING WILL (be shot)
IMMEDIATELY RECEIVE A ZERO ON THE QUIZ. (if you don’t look like you belong here you will –)
IMMEDIATELY RECEIVE A ZERO ON THE QUIZ. (IF YOU CANNOT FIT INTO THE NARRATIVE YOU WILL –) (immediately receive a zero on the quiz)
Thoughts I’ve Had Matching columns: Match the correct phrases to make a complete thought.
i love the black side of my family. i wish i wasn’t mixed
why don’t i take off my hijab in front of them? i feel broken, to tell you the truth i mean, i could just talk to my mom
isn’t it because they made fun of afros and i was just...silent? but she has so much on her plate, i can’t hurt her like this! it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone i can trust. why don’t I want my asian side to see pictures? maybe i would be prouder of myself.
FALL 2017
Questions I Have Multiple choice: Pick the best possible answer. QUESTION: why do you always pick invisibility as your superpower on quizzes? ANSWER: it sounds like an awesome superpower! ANSWER: i don’t see how it is when you’re already so lonely. ANSWER: to tell the truth? it’s because i’m so tired of having all eyes on me when i’m still so lonely. QUESTION: why do you close your eyes in history class? ANSWER: i’m really tired, haha – i stayed up all night doing the reading. ANSWER: that’s not true – why aren’t you answering any of the questions, then? ANSWER: to tell the truth? – it’s because i second-guess every face i see – i wonder: a. are they a racist? b. did they turn a blind eye to prejudice? c. did they see my ancestors and wish my past would (be strange fruit) a. swing b. from c. a d. tree? QUESTION: why do you sometimes wish you weren’t born? ANSWER: depression ANSWER: you’re still growing, you’ll figure it out ANSWER: SHOULD I TELL THE TRUTH? IT’S BECAUSE I WISH I WERE MIXED WITH A RACE THAT WASN’T SO HATED a. that’s not true b. that’s not true c. that’s not true
ISSUE #2
Dreams I Want i. have. a.dream. b. (maybe two) one is dark
1. (in this dream, i wear my hair big and curly 2. i tell everyone i’m half-black without worrying About the look they give me 3. in this dream i sit out in the sun without thinking it’s time to go inside, i’ll get darker 4. in this dream i watch the shadows in my corner creep up and tenderly take my brown hands as i lie in bed)
the other is white
1. (in this dream i straighten my hair. 2. say my dad’s bangladeshi and “my mom’s from here” [whatever that means] 3. in this dream, i get skin cancer. 4. in this dream i watch the shadows [in my bed] in my corner creep up and take me by the throat!)
Extra Credit 1. Remember that microaggression? Respond to them now, angrily, in a way that you didn’t at the time. 2. Remember when you told that girl you were mixed and she said you were a mutt? Snap back! 3. Say something back! 4. ANYTHING, YOU COWARD SOLUTIONS*** • no matter what you do you will always be an alien. • you’re fascinated with space because the swirling galaxies are mixed (like you) • you think that maybe that is where you will find yourself • because there’s no place this skin allows • there’s no place this hair would work • there’s no one that would love you • because you’re not a citizen of (america) the earth • you are not a citizen of the world. • you are not a citizen of the world. • you are not a citizen. • ***Odd-numbered answers only
FALL 2017
Niggers are mistakes Maasai Jones
Shadows stretch around me as I walk into the Sun. I notice because my eyes are glued to the ground. It’s easier this way. “Nigger!” t h e m u s i c p a u s e s I whip my head up to see Alex trip before catching himself. Did he catch himself? He looks around. “Shit Maasai. I didn’t know you were therefuck. My bad bro, it just slipped out.” Why did he say there? “All good. I’m not offended.” It’s easier this way. This is a college preparatory I’m numb to the subtext. Why even raise an issue? He keeps apologizing, but I get more uncomfortable the more he emphasizes how sorry he is It only makes it more apparent that he talks to niggers differnently than how he talks to his friends. I shrug. It’s easier this way.
Later that night he messages meA. Sorry. M. Sorry for what? A. Nevermind, wrong person. My bad. You’re good.
I debated pressing the issue, but...
ISSUE #2
Everything is good when I’m silent. Why do I want everything to be good? This is a college preparatory: good implies a good school implies a good life. I don’t show up to school for another week. It’s easier this way. When did it get so hard to speak? Why do they look at me when slavery is mentioned? Do they need my approval for this conversation? When did I become an NAACP spokesperson? Why am I at this school again? How many days do I have to miss before they kick me out? Am I overthinking this? My h e it’s a easier d this way
·
· What was I listening to again? Can we turn it up?
“Too black for the white kids, and too white for the blacks. From
honor roll to cracking locks up off them bicycle racks. and
I’m
where
I’m
decisive,
frightened, he
it’s
hiding
I’m
evident all
scatterbrained, in
them
them
icicles
eyes, at?”
FALL 2017
You Feel Most Colored Foyinsi Adegbonmire
You are thrown against a sharp white background. You are thrown against a sharp white background. You are thrown into a classroom of sixteen. You are seventeen years old. The class: Honors British Literature. You step in and sit close to the teacher, right at the front. Maybe somewhere inside you, you are trying to scream I am here. Color thrown against a sharp white background. Notice me. Do you raise your hand often for the participation points? Or because you want to show that you belong here? The only brown crayon in a box of pastels. You know you are rightfully here. You have the grades and the all-your-life-honors to prove it. The question is in their faces when you first walk in. Your head as high as the Little Rock Nine’s. Their discomfort is something you feel oh so heavily, like the textbook taking up the most space in your bag. You’ve ruined their idea of how the world works. You are being inducted into the National Honors Society. Seats have been arranged for nine others across the stage. Yours is the first name; You know it’s coming by the telltale pause and gulp before the stuttered attempt. The announcer’s voice grows stronger with each johnson and smith and brad and rebbecca as he moves through the list. Like the signal on your phone when you get closer and closer to the top floor of your house. You are asked to speak to prospective students. You are rolled into a tight ball of anxiety and thrown into a sea of milk. Does your professor want your presence there because you’re an exemplary scholar or to be the model black student? Show pony. Look, we at PWI University have diversity too. You are thrown against a sharp white background you are thrown against a sharp white background you are thrown against a sharp white background. The black typeface on this page. You are thrown against a sharp white background youarethrown against a sharp white background. Youarethrownagainstasharpwhitebackgroundyouarethrownagainstasharpwhitebackgoundyouarethrownyouarethrown.
ISSUE #2
Hannah Aronowitz
FALL 2017
Regina Volpe
ISSUE #2
Robin Pereira
FALL 2017
Period.
Sharon Rus I woke up this morning, and I thought I was dying before I realized —nah— it’s just a part of me flowing free. “What a waste of eggs,” my body whispered in my Babushka’s voice, “your mother was pregnant at your age.” Listen, I can barely bear the weight of my books let alone a child. A child? That’s me. Babies shouldn’t have babies. Let me bloody be.
ISSUE #2
Love me for a short time Tess Griffin
-Walk the line. Ask me to wear that. -大家likes to look, I don’t like to look. -colonize me, While I decolonize myself -enter my house, Take my stuff. -you love it, I love it too -Blend We don’t -we walk the line
FALL 2017
Tess Griffin
ISSUE #2
MeToo
Anna O’Brien metoo metoo metoo magnitude of the situation give people sense Tragedy Porn prove in numbers statistics en masse emotional labor Threshold of Survivors deeply flawed society or system metoo metoo metoo out yourself as a survivor we needed to Tired of Being Labeled if a woman woman woman their story A Good Thing systematic assault and harassment metoo metoo metoo posts would disappear never have started You are Not Alone re-scared re-traumatized re-remembering responding naturally Every New Status resilient and exhausted metoo metoo metoo killing me to this very day all those pictures Degree of Trauma engj shadow wharjbo drifting apart Why I Let Them to silence me metoo metoo
metoo metoo
metoo
metoo
metoo
FALL 2017
ISSUE #2
FALL 2017
A Simple Advertisement Julie Smith
Hey fellas, looking for a hot new toy? Looking for something that won’t give you grief for existing? Well look no further for a doll to enjoy She’s your girl and your lamb Turn her on and take her off, wring her all around Throw her on the ground or against the wall and she won’t make a sound. But touch her here and she will speak Touch her here and she will speak.
ISSUE #2
Questions and Confessions
Sharon Rus
I have a confession; I fell asleep in the back of class and only know the alphabet to Gimmel. To be fair, the lights were low, and I was tired of pretending I believed. Turns out, eight year old atheists aren’t popular. My sister still knows the prayers and the songs. She knows how to cook up mean latke. She knows how to tell a story so good you ask for a second helping. But I? I have a confession; I only wear a Star of David because it’s made of diamonds, and my mother bought it for me. I tug it under my sweater when I breeze by a Sukkot in case they’re judging me (or am I judging myself?). I have a confession; I am jealous of curly haired women with long skirts—the ones that come with ten children clinging on. I long to find myself in a world That has place and order. But I? I am too American for Jews and too Jewish for Americans. I know enough Russian to know I don’t know enough. I am straight hair and free falling, Attached to nothing but the wind.
FALL 2017
The Sunken Place Foyinsi Adegbonmire
Cut to: a black woman on a talk show. She admits she wouldn’t hire someone based on name. As if her own name don’t embody blackness. Scream target. Second class citizen. Negro. Cut to: a black man on a stage. He explains that hundreds of years ago people arrived to this country, this AmeriKKKa, on ships. Slave ships. Immigrants he called them Cut to: a black girl in her room. She stares at her reflection in concentration. Hair straightener glides as she smoothens every kink and coil into place. “When your hair is relaxed white people are relaxed.” Cut to: a black boy in his white girlfriend’s house. Her parents assure him that they voted for Obama. They’re close to their black neighbors in fact. And still, it’s better than being with a black girl.
ISSUE #2
Ni Una Menos, Maria Zaldivar
FALL 2017
Why We Consider It a Culture Foyinsi Adegbonmire
I. He must have heard “try harder,” “try again,” “convince me,” though I thought I’d said “no, thank you” “I’m not ready,” “Let’s slow down.” It seems that somewhere between leaving my mouth and entering his ears, my words got distorted. Mixed up and pretzelized until I no longer recognized them. This is not the first time. This is not the first boy. This is not. II. “I’d hit that.” “Wanna smash?” “I banged her last night.” “Y’all screw?” “She needs a good pounding” “You think you could nail her?” III. Impress me. Be the boy that knows how to take no for an answer. When I tell you I don’t want to do anything, move your hands away, move your self over, ask me why I believe that aliens must exist. Or why I’m not afraid of dying. Surprise me.
ISSUE #2
Amuse-Bouche, Maia Loy
FALL 2017