The Radical Issue (Fall 2017)

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Letter from the Editor President Emily Caroline King

Editor-in-Chief Emma LaPlante

Visual Editor Ed Lim

Design Editor

Yena Jeong

Senior Editors Eleni Andris Swetha Nakshatri Lauryn McSpadden

Public Relations Alicia Zhang

Treasurer Alicia Yang

Social Chair Lauryn McSpadden

Dear thoughtful readers, In this new American era of marches and protests, sign making is relevant again. We’ve seen big signs and small signs. Cheap cardboard signs and signs that are works of art. Signs stamped with MLK quotes, puns about pussycats, and the powerful Black Lives Matter emblem, a black fist raised in solidarity and power. But few signs have been so instantly iconic as the one carried in New York by Jim Crocamo in November 2016, which read: “NOT USUALLY A SIGN GUY BUT GEEZ.” Crocamo’s catchy sign, which has been replicated many times since it went viral, articulates an experience that countless Americans have recently experienced. Affronted, flustered, and a little lost for words, thousands have taken tentatively to the streets and the phone banks, trying to make a difference—or at least to atone for the political laziness of liberals and moderates that allowed Donald Trump to become president in the first place.

It is by no means radical to attend a rally protesting President Trump. We do not intend to glorify or romanticize such protesters, who should only receive so much praise for doing the barest minimum to express their discomfort with our current political regime. But for every Jim Crocamo dipping his toes into sign making, someone else is wading even further into the activism waters. People are organizing and educating themselves.

They’re getting angry. They’re becoming more radical. Of course, the word “radical” is multifarious: it can refer to a protester who commits violence, a domestic or foreign terrorist, or a neo-Nazi marching in Charlottesville.

More innocently, it can refer to a surfer catching a sweet wave. It can refer to math.

At Issues Magazine we decided to tackle this slippery topic head-on. For the RADICAL issue, our writers, artists, and photographers confronted such diverse issues as “woke” fashion, ancestry, religious taboos, and etymology.

We have tried to engage as authentically as possible with what the radical is, what it is not, and what it could be, and we have asked whether the radical is something to which we should aspire. We came up with no easy answers, but we have a lot of thoughts.

We hope you enjoy this issue. We think it’s pretty rad.

— Emma LaPlante

Issue 14 November 2017 Washington University in St. Louis

02 The Jew with the Dragon Tattoo 06 Reading Meanings of “Radical” 10 Open Doors 18 Fossil Fuel Divestment: Radical Questions & Answers 20 Do Not Take My Radical 24 I March 24 Radicalism for Moderate Results 30 Signs of Change 36 When Radical Becomes Fashionable 42 On Radical Exclusion 44 A Black Woman and a White Woman Go to a Protest 46 A Treatise on Radical Self-Love 49 Palmistry 50 The Protester’s Palette 52 Mission Statement

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In this ISSUE

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The Jew Dragon Tattoo I grew up Jewish. This doesn’t necessarily mean going to religious services every Saturday or knowing what the heck is coming out of my mouth when I do occasionally go to services (which are run in Hebrew). It also doesn’t mean understanding every tradition Jews follow. What it does mean is being culturally Jewish. This means wanting to have Shabbat at home every once in a while, using Yiddish words such as “mensch,” “tuchus,” “shtick,” “schmutz,” and “schlep” on a daily basis, butchering the Chanukah prayers because I don’t recite them enough, begrudgingly admitting that as the youngest I technically have to sing the four questions, and more. I also have to follow many rules, such as, “Do not put your purse on the floor or you will lose all your money” (courtesy of Mom) and “Be sure to bring home a Jewish partner” (thanks Grandma).

However, one unbreakable rule still stands out to me: “DO NOT GET A TATTOO—if you do you won’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery.” (Which in reality is just a way for Jewish parents to scare their children into not getting tattoos.)

Written by Emily Alpert Illustrated by Ed Lim

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“The dragon tattoo goes against my very being and one of the rules of Judaism, but at the same time it expresses exactly who I am and who I want to be as a Jewish person — caring, loyal, hardworking.”

005 And then I did the one thing I was not supposed to do: I got a tattoo.

And then I did something worse: I told my parents. They really didn’t like the fact that I got a tattoo. My grandparents don’t know yet, and I’m hoping they don’t find out.

The truth is that I have wanted a tattoo since I was thirteen. And I knew I wanted a dragon for many different reasons. To me, the dragon represents who I want to be. A dragon is wise, cunning, brave, and loyal, qualities I strive to embody. I wanted a constant reminder of what I aspire to be on my body. So, I got a dragon tattoo. Even now, I see the tattoo as a form of radical self-expression. The dragon tattoo goes against my very being and one of the rules of Judaism, but at the same time it expresses exactly who I am and who I want to be as a Jewish person—caring, loyal, hardworking.

Trying to reconcile my Jewish faith with my want for a tattoo was hard. For over five years I struggled. Do I rebel against my Jewish identity to truly express who I am? Does that hide a part of my identity? Will I still be Jewish after getting this tattoo? Will my family accept my tattoo?

Then, this past summer, I saw a video on Facebook saying that getting a tattoo was no longer against Jewish faith, and that in fact I could be buried in a Jewish cemetery. I even did my own research and found that since the second century CE tattoos have been legal in Jewish tradition. So, I became The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (which I really need to get around to reading), when I really want to be the girl with the Harry Potter-esque tattoo. And then, two days after I got my tattoo, the rabbi at Hillel burst my bubble when he let me know

that, as of 1997, tattoos are still illegal in the Jewish faith. However, I can still be buried in a Jewish cemetery.

This now brings me to my current dilemma: do I turn my back on my religion and decide that I can still rock this tattoo? Or do I attempt to reconcile the two sides of me? Do I tell my grandparents (probably not)? Do I decide that I can choose what to make of my religion?

As someone who grew up in a non-religious household who still identifies as culturally Jewish, these questions are tough. Even now, a couple of weeks after getting my tattoo, I still struggle to figure out the answer. Do I believe that I have sinned? Is it too late to go back now?

I have decided that I am the one who can choose what to make of my religion. Just as humans evolve, religions should too. In a world where tattoos and piercings are much more common, Judaism should adopt a new principle in which tattoos are okay. 1997 was twenty years ago, before my lifetime. Even though twenty years is not that long in the grand scheme of things, in terms of societal evolution, it is. Tattoos are becoming much more accepted in society as the manner in which people receive them becomes safer. People use them as ways of defining who they are and what they value. Tattoos today are also used to represent objects or people of importance. My tattoo is as meaningful to me as being culturally Jewish is. I don’t need my religion to change its stance on tattoos because I have my own stance on tattoos. While this decision might not appear radical to others, to me it is incredibly different and new. I had never truly had to reconcile my religion with my life, but now I have. All thanks to my tattoo.

Reading Meanings of “Radical,” Through History and the OED

Written by Maisie Heine

When most people think of the term “radical,” they immediately think of it in political terms. Media is saturated with instances of the word in which “radical” means being politically different, against tradition, or extreme. Typically, it is used to qualify views, policies, and movements such as the radical left, the radical right, or, most controversially, “radical Islam”—a phrase that prompted innumerable debates between Democratic and Republican candidates during the presidential election and continues to be a source of contention today.

At first glance, it seems that the controversy around the phrase “radical Islam” centers on its latter half: “Islam.” In discussing terrorism, Former President Obama does not use the phrase “radical Islam” because he sees it as incriminating to the entire religion and its more than 1.6 billion followers. On the other hand, President Trump sees Obama’s refusal to use the phrase as a privileging of political correctness over more pressing issues. But the “radical” half of the equation presents its own set of theoretical issues; specifically, which followers of Islam does the phrase consider to be “radical”? Where does one draw the line between radical and non-radical practices? And who has the authority to draw that line?

As Max Fisher, a writer for the New York Times pointed out in an article exploring the controversy surrounding the phrase following the 2016 shooting in an Orlando nightclub, “radical” seems to serve only as a “vague modifier”1 that, rather than bringing clarity to the word being modified, calls for a series of conflicting interpretations.

The issues surrounding the phrase “radical Islam,” then, do not only revolve around the invocation of Islam, but also the nebulous parameters that the preceding term introduces but does not delineate.

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Indeed, the vague way in which the word frequently emerges in political and social discourses is exactly what Fisher describes.

When so much seems to be at stake in a matter of semantics, the act of looking back at the history and origins of the terms we use becomes especially pertinent. We must measure the historical weight of our words in order to fully grasp their implications in discourse. Of course, some words are weightier than others. Most people recognize “Islam” as a word that is dense with historical, political, and cultural signification. “Radical,” though perhaps not quite as loaded, is heavier than we may initially assume.

While we mostly associate “radical” with the political context in which it is frequently invoked, the word has a multiplicity of meanings that span across many disciplines. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest reported use of radical was in 1398, when the term was mostly used to refer to something “Of, belonging to, or from a root or roots; fundamental to or inherent in the natural processes of life.”

Fascinatingly, “radical” was used to qualify what was essential or fundamental to the human body; it was designated to the humours and moistures that people believed were necessary conditions to the body’s vitality. Without radical heat, radical humour, and radical moisture, the human body would not be able to endure. Entry 2 in the OED similarly defines “radical” as “Relating to or forming the root, basis, or foundation of something; original, primary.” In linguistics, a “radical” is a word or part of a word that cannot be broken down into simpler elements. All of these definitions point to a similar understanding of “radical” as something that structures and sustains organization of society and the self.

Max Fisher, “When a Phrase Takes on New Meaning: “Radical Islam.” June 16, 2016.

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What does it mean to be “radical?”

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This understanding of “radical” may seem distant from the way we tend to associate it with something fringe or extreme on the political spectrum. But these diverse interpretations of the word inform each other. Political radicalism, after all, looks to alter societal structure and value systems in fundamental ways. In entry 7a. of the OED, “radical” means “going to the root or origins; touching upon or affecting what is essential and fundamental.” In the political context, it is “Advocating thorough or far-reaching political or social reform; representing or supporting an extreme section of a party.”

One difference in how the word is used in political versus other contexts pivots on whether action is involved. Here, as opposed to former definitions, radical means to go, to touch, to affect—to do as opposed to to be. “Radical,” then, shifts from being something characteristic of or vital to structure to something suggesting an agent at work. The “radical” person in the political sphere is not defined by what is fundamental to his or her person, but rather by the actions that he or she takes to alter or uproot fundamental structures— perhaps that very structure which the other definitions of “radical” regard as necessary to sustaining vitality. It is the act of going all the way to the root of the issue that seems to give radical its synonymy with extremism. It is also what gives “radical” its exceptional or uncommon associations, as, in another entry, it is “Characterized by independence of or departure from what is usual or traditional; progressive, unorthodox, or innovative in outlook, conception, design.” Here is the indication of the “radical” existing in a marginalized, outlying space. To be radical indicates separateness from the mainstream.

Can these two senses of the word— radical as fundamental, and radical as a fringe element acting to uproot the fundamental—coexist? When “radical” means acting to change the basic structures, can we still consider it a basic unit of that structure?

While the term “radical” is no longer used to describe the biology of the human body as it was in 1398, perhaps today it applies to another kind of body: the political body. I would like to suggest that radical elements, the peripheral uprooters of tradition and basic structure, are actually essential to the wellbeing of the political body.

Such is certainly not the case for our understanding of the word when it is used in phrases like “radical Islam.” Indeed, “radical” sometimes carries a negative connotation, suggesting that which is extreme, violent, and destructive. Yet, by appealing once more to history, we find ample instances in which movements and people once labeled as “radical” have proven integral to the advancement of democracy and justice. As one article in The Guardian points out, “it was ‘radicals’ who were responsible for sowing the seeds of two of America’s most important social movements: worker rights and racial justice.”2 The labor movement, which secured minimum wage, the 8-hour day, and other concessions for the working class, was at its conception labeled radical. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was also called a radical in his day. Only over time have these people and movements once deemed extreme been integrated into the mainstream, such that we forget that they began as outliers.

Their “radical” acts of uprooting fundamental structures and beliefs were responsible for establishing the core values and policies of today.

2 Fitzgerald, Andy. “Being labeled a ‘radical’ is meant to be an insult. History tells us otherwise.” 20 January, 2014. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/jan/20/we-needradicals-for-social-change

Of course, this is not to say that everything labeled “radical” is beneficial to society. Movements we have called “radical” have also caused loss of life and have used violence to an extent that, no matter the end goal, is unjustifiable.

This forms the crux of the issue: the same modifier can be used to describe both Dr. King and acts of terror. The many definitions of radical— which overlap yet diverge from one another in important ways—inform the too-frequent abuse and imprecise use of the term. The relationship between the word, the sign “radical,” and what it signifies is conspicuously arbitrary. Because of its slipperiness, the word does not lend itself well to communal understanding.

Consequently, whenever “radical” is invoked, we are left to depend on our own independently formed assumptions and associations with the term; we are left to create our own parameters. As a result, one person’s misinterpretation of an instance of the word can be easily replicated by others. It is unlikely that the word’s definition will become more stable

in the future; rather, it will evolve to acquire new meanings, new associations.

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In these instances, radicalism seems to function as a part of the system of internal checks. The “radical” elements check and question our basic assumptions, ensuring that we never grow too comfortable with our assumptions of what is best for our society. The radical is vital to the health of today’s political body, just as people in 1398 thought radical heat was vital to the health of the human body. Sometimes, for our own improvement, radical steps must be taken.

In any instance when “radical” is invoked, we must recognize its inherent instability and the way in which isolated uses of the word ignore the word’s greater complexity and range of meanings.

As best we can, we should try to unhook the word from its subjective associations, opening ourselves up to its various interpretations.

And when we choose to invoke the word, we must be conscious of the risk involved. The ways in which others interpret our words might be radically different from what we intended.

question our basic assumptions, ensuring that we never grow too comfortable with our assumptions of what is best for our society.

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Open Doors: The Wash. U. CoOp Written by Ashley Holder Photographed by Ashley Holder

013 At their fall retreat in September, the twentyeight members of the Washington University CoOp traced their hands on a large sheet of paper to create a loop. Inside the ring they inscribed the values and community standards they hoped to live by in the coming year. On the outside, they wrote ideas they wanted to keep out: phrases like “body negativity,” “microaggressions,” and “systems of oppression.” An “intentional living community” committed to community decision-making, inclusivity, social justice, and good food, the CoOp is more than just another form of offcampus housing. It’s meant to be a radical departure from other types of residential communities, dedicated to being a space for those who may feel uncomfortable or isolated elsewhere on campus. Shared chores, communal meals, and community meetings stimulate community building and encourage unique conversations.

The CoOp grew out of two students’ determination to redefine the typical college experience. Chloe Byruck and Dan Koff (both Class of 2006) were drawn to Wash. U.’s architecture program because of courses like Bob Hansman’s Community Building, but they became frustrated with studio courses that focused on aesthetics and treated social conditions like an expendable variable.

During their sophomore year Chloe and Dan switched out of the architecture school and created their own major, Social Design, based

on the educational values of Community Building, Environmental Sustainability, Social Responsibility, and Healthy Living. They started the CoOp the next fall—a group of fifteen people living in an apartment building owned by the university with a shared common space, chore schedule, and set calendar for making meals together. Remodeling began in the summer of 2005 as the students sought to transform a generic apartment building into a space designed to foster community. Though professionals did certain things, such as electrical work, students undertook the majority of the demolition and construction work using materials salvaged from dumpsters and Goodwill. Chloe and Dan eventually submitted a book about the development of the CoOp and the remodeling process as their senior thesis. In the conclusion of their book they write: “Our neighborhood is dramatically shifting away from a family-oriented and diverse community to a district of wealthy university students. We hope that the students in the Co-op will seek to break down the boundaries between locals and students, and fight to maintain the character of the neighborhood.

We hope that the Co-op’s involvement in St. Louis will give all Washington University students an opportunity to step out of the bubble, and for St. Louis locals to take a peek inside. The Co-op’s community spirit could spread through expanding the meal plan to neighbors, throwing block parties, or hosting

Andrew Friedman: free day care for local children. The Co-op could thereby provide a way for Washington University students—individually transient—to become a stable force in St. Louis.”

Over a decade later, the CoOp has expanded to fill two apartment buildings and residents still strive to maintain the values of Community Building, Sustainability, Social Responsibility, and Healthy Living that the community was founded on. However, Chloe and Dan’s radical visions for free day care and neighborhood meal plans did not materialize, and CoOp events are almost exclusively attended by Wash. U. students. In the pursuit of deciphering what it means to be “radical,” I interviewed current CoOp residents about their experiences and asked if they feel that the CoOp is living up to its radical origins.

“The CoOp was designed to be a stronger community than the dorms…I think the dorms at times can feel segmented and don’t foster interaction. The CoOp is radical in the sense that intentional living, communal living, and eating together isn’t really valued in our current society. I think there’s something radical about the way we make decisions—as a group, making sure every voice is heard, and ensuring that the CoOp is a space for people with marginalized identities to know that they have a voice.”

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Aitan Groener: “I think of the CoOp as a refuge from all of the shitty or frustrating dynamics that affect you in the rest of the Wash. U. community and the world. I like to think of the CoOp as a bridge between Wash. U. and the city of St. Louis, and I think it’s important that everyone is aware of what’s happening in the community. It may be a space where we can be activists, but also this is a living space…it’s more about incorporating those values into the way we live our lives and making sure that our meetings are run in a way that facilitates justice and equality and love and family and all those good things.”

“The way I think about the term ‘radical’ I think is influenced by my parents—they were both anti-apartheid activists in South Africa.

And what my mom taught me about the word ‘radical’ is that in her community, calling yourself an ‘activist’ was like calling yourself a hero. Other people can call you that, but…it’s a little bit self-congratulatory to say it about yourself. I feel like ‘radical’ takes on similar connotations. I want to see a lot of change at Wash. U., and in St. Louis, and in the world, and I’m doing what I can.”

Yuwei Pan: “I think the CoOp has definitely evolved through the years, I think it used to be more of an activist space but now it’s a living space with activist tendencies. A former CoOp-er used to use the term “vanilla radical” …it’s really hard to describe because it’s more like a feeling, but I think because of the limited energy we have as college students, sometimes it’s hard to act like full time activists…. it’s more about doing all the things we can and participating in activism but not necessarily organizing them.”

“To be radical you don’t have to be risking your life and giving up a lot of your time, it’s more a way of thinking of breaking out of the norm and not being afraid to do the things that other people are scared to do. I think another thing about being radical is about having hard conversations, and being brave enough to have those conversations.”

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Jeffrey Kahn Blackman: “I joined the CoOp because I wanted to get out of a toxic community. I was drawn to the CoOp for the communal aspect, so that I wouldn’t just be jumping from a community where I had been established to nothing. I feel like hookup culture, intoxicating substances, and social media aren’t as present here as in other communities on campus, so maybe in a sense that’s sort of radical. I think a lot of people living in the CoOp are just regular Wash. U. students who just wanted a space that was more conducive to being a safer and warmer atmosphere.”

“I think being radical is ignoring what everyone wants you to do and what everyone has set up as the collective goals and just sprouting something completely new and being different on purpose.”

Claire Elias: “I feel like radical is a very broad term. I feel like it’s almost trendy now, and it’s been mainstreamed and capitalized on. I guess the concept of the CoOp is radical, but to be honest I don’t really know because I don’t know how to define the word ‘radical.’ I guess we’re really involved in social justice, we organize groups to call our senators or go to protests. I think we would do more but we all get so busy as students.”

“I feel like in a way we can be radical in contrast to how the majority of Wash. U. is engaging with St. Louis and in particular the Skinker DeBaliviere neighborhood. Wash. U. gives us grants to go to local events, so we go to a lot of things and meet our neighbors. If I had to pick yes or no [about if the CoOp is radical] I would say yes, because I don’t think I vibe with the rest of Wash. U. and I wanted more space and time to be my own person, which I’ve found here.”

Fossil Fuel Divestment: Radical Questions & Answers

Written by Allie Lindstrom

I’m trying to decide whether to radicalize.

Rather, Fossil Free WashU is attempting to find a path forward after playing by the rules. We wrote a petition, gathered signatures, educated the community, and met with administrators, yet we were told that progress will never be made. We were not only told that fossil fuel divestment isn’t feasible, but that our paradigm of change, our method of action—using the endowment to make political and economic statements—is not an acceptable form of university influence. Some expect that we’ll just give up or move on, while others are anxious to see what we’ll do next. Continuing the campaign now, which entails requesting a reluctant audience, seems like a radical act— or perhaps just stubborn. Isn’t the next step to escalate immediately?

To protest, to demand that our voices be heard and the issue at hand taken seriously? That’s what the activist community would encourage—it’s the norm, the natural arc of a campaign, and we’re missing our window of opportunity.

Somehow that narrative doesn’t seem radical so much as obligatory.

We aren’t challenging the purpose of our actions if we just barrel ahead without hesitation. So, here we are, questioning everything.

I’d like to find comfort in the possibility that pausing activity is a radical act in and of itself.

We’re taking the time we need, despite warnings externally and internally that we’re losing steam and relevance. We’ve spent hours simply discussing why we’re at the table to begin with. At first, I thought that letting our momentum fizzle was the easy way out. But it’s harder than anything we’ve done before. Petitioning, demanding, reacting with disgust and disbelief to the world around you—that’s easy. The first semester of our

re-launched campaign was full of joy and adrenaline. Sure, I lost lots of sleep and put in the sweat and tears, but I dove in headfirst. We didn’t question much because we were too busy doing. “Radical” was used to describe our actions—it was used as internal praise, a badge of honor, a way of labelling the energy of our campaign and companions.

The pause we’re in feels like deradicalizing under that definition, because I no longer operate under such assurance, and I’m exhausted having accomplished much less. I’m exhausted from asking the question of the year: Are we relevant?

Meeting with the administration is unlikely to change anything.

We’re guaranteed a wall every time we bring up our agenda. So why do we keep pursuing that route? Is challenging Wash. U.’s investment strategy the best use of our time?

Does it have the kind of effect that other goals would have? Couldn’t we just build a windfarm? That’s been suggested to us, and it’s a fair point—there are so many impactful things we could ask the university to do, rather than singling out the bad. It would probably result in more concrete change, and wouldn’t require mass, radically loud action (if noise and conviction are what radicalism consists of).

As someone who isn’t here for the glory of a sit-in, I’ve struggled a lot with these questions. The goal of divestment is to create positive environmental impact. Shouldn’t each student maximize the four years we have here? Many people whom I respect a great deal have told me that I’m wasting my time, that the fight isn’t worth it, that we’re creating an impossible choice for the administration. We make environmentalists uncomfortable as much as we do administrators.

Because windfarms aren’t radical.

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Fossil Free Washu “We ask that the university divest the Washington University endowment from the top 200 fossil fuel companies by greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions, as indicated in the attached Carbon Underground 2016 report, by December 31, 2021.”

—Ask given to Chancellor Mark S. Wrighton

Divestment is.

Divestment isn’t radical because it’s some convoluted thing we’ve decided to tackle. It isn’t radical because we’re fighting the hardest battle we can pick. It’s radical because we’re challenging the paradigm through which the university community views environmental work. Each time the Chancellor explains why we don’t need divestment, he lists with pride a series of positive initiatives that already exist on campus.

Divestment, however, is built on accountability, pointing out where the lapses in action and justice are.

We’re not asking the university to do something we can celebrate or be proud of; we’re demanding that Wash. U. does what is morally imperative. We are suggesting obligation rather than choice. It is wrong to invest in climate change, in injustice. We shouldn’t benefit from fossil fuel profits. We have a duty as a renowned research institution, as humans, to challenge climate injustice. It’s not something we get to decide to care about. We’re

1215 students have signed the student petition between Spring - Fall 2017.

defining and refining rights and wrongs, something a solar panel can’t accomplish.

Fossil fuel divestment is inherently

“We’re not asking the university to do something we can celebrate or be proud of; we’re demanding that Wash. U. does what is morally imperative. It is wrong to invest in climate change, in injustice.” radical because it fundamentally changes the playing field, regardless of whether the end goal is accomplished. Along the way, we’re challenging the university to constantly justify areas of inaction, to slowly unravel the ways in which

Highlights: March 24, 2017 Hosted an environmental teach-in about the intersections of environmentalism and social justice October 20, 2017 Given a verbal commitment to Wash. U. endowment transparency by Chancellor Mark S. Wrighton

environmentalism has been built to pat ourselves on the back. We’re infusing the process with concepts of justice, of urgency, and most importantly, of duty. We must divest. We must do so much more.

I’m not here to overshadow the importance of renewable energy and campus sustainability, but to require it.

Becoming louder, bolder, and more demanding isn’t what makes a campaign radical. It’s owning up to the purpose of our movement—one that extends far beyond Wash. U. It’s accepting that we are right, that we are presenting a case that is worthy of our time and the campus’s attention. The radical is the selfpermission to continue despite the questions posed, despite the doubts, despite the confusion of our peers. Radical work stems from the fundamental change it brings, not the noise it creates. Just by existing, we are radical and impactful. The courage to continue is in accepting this responsibility and forging ahead, fully aware of why our voices matter.

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Do Not Take My Radical Written by Anna Lin-Schweitzer Illustrated by Ed Lim

The radical symbol portions a given number, x, into equal pieces (roots). When these roots are multiplied back together, they produce that number, x. While you can find roots to infinitely small degrees, the lone radical without a superscript takes the square root.

This gives you one of two options: √x or -√x.

But because the radical sign (√) is a function, it must return a single result.

Yet the root of this word, “radical,” has ambiguities that its own mathematical function would frown upon. Some believe it was adapted from the letter ‫ج‬, the first letter in the Arabic word ‫رذج‬‎, which means “root.”

Others think it originated from the letter “r” in the Latin radix, radic-, which also means “root.” Perhaps both are true. Perhaps neither.

Regardless, its roots are in “root.”

I will not pretend to be qualified to teach you about numbers, but I can tell you about words and letters. I resonate with the x—I want to find my roots with straightforward certainty, to determine the single answer to one of the questions most frequently asked of me: What Are You? I plug myself into the function and begin to solve.

Solution 1: √x = Half-Asian For two summers, I cashiered at a coffee shop in downtown Boston. One quiet Saturday morning, I served a half-Asian family, the only customers in the store. My co-worker and I loitered behind the counter, waiting to be useful while they sipped on their drinks and ate their croissants. When they left, my coworker turned to me.

“Half-Asians are always so beautiful,” she sighed absentmindedly.

Her comment was suspended in the air between us, and though the statement did not warrant an answer, I felt the need to take it and put it in its rightful place.

Yet where was this place? Was it next to an expression of gratitude on behalf of my race,

drawing attention to the fact that she had inadvertently paid me a compliment? Or should I attempt to navigate the unsteady line between appreciation and narcissism, setting aside my half-Asian identity and pretending to agree with her as a fellow outsider?

Or should I place it within a confrontation, standing up against racial stereotypes: no, you cannot make such sweeping statements.

The moment passed as a new customer approached the register, so I placed her comment in the back of my mind and let it haunt me. Who does she think I am? I asked myself. Who do I think I am?

Solution 2: √x = Half-Chinese For many years, I felt resentful towards my father for not teaching me Mandarin. My limited language set made me feel culturally ignorant, as if I were somehow less Chinese.

Had I been bilingual, I thought, I would have been a more perfect half.

Yet when I had the chance to learn Mandarin in high school, and then again in college, I did not take it. I felt that the language of my blood should be innate; that, like with English, I should not have to learn it consciously.

But I was also afraid. I feared that to be bad at Mandarin would prove me an inadequate Chinese.

So I cling to my “Lin,” just three narrow letters, through the Chinese traditions my dad preserves: long noodles on birthdays, red envelopes on Chinese New Year, and mooncakes at the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Although these traditions are few and far between, I won’t let them slip away.

Solution 3: √x = Half-Chinese, Half-British “Oh my god,” said my friend when she met my mother, “why didn’t you tell me your mom has a British accent?”

It took me a second to think of a response.

Why had I inadvertently withheld this significant aspect of my heritage?

Because my whole life I’ve interpreted the question “What are you?” to mean, why do you look the way you do? What makes you not

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Like many mathematical functions, the radical symbol signals incompletion. Simplify! it cries.

Reduce me! Resolve me! Return a single result!

quite white?

Because when I say, “half-Chinese, halfBritish,” I can see people lose interest once I’ve passed “Chinese,” anticipating a grocery list of barely applicable identities. It is easy to assume my mother’s whiteness is a baseline, a neutral, a palette on which my father’s foreignness was transposed. But my father has been in the U.S. ten years longer than my mother. My father now votes in elections, while my mother still holds a green card.

Because even “half-Chinese, half-British” does not get at the full picture. My mother was born in Germany and raised in Wales, but her father is German and her mother is English. To simplify her to “British” cannot do her justice.

Solution 4: √x = “Half-Chinese, but my dad grew up in Taiwan, and half-British, but my mom was born in Germany and grew up in Wales.”

The radical is meant to simplify, but here my solution is more complicated than the original problem.

Yet it is not simple to explain that my father’s mother fled China from Japanese invasion during World War II, eventually finding refuge in Taiwan where her husband—my grandfather—had gotten a job running a sugar cane factory. That she returned to China only a few times after her move to Taiwan, because daughters run in my father’s family and she did not have any brothers to take care of the family finances. That my father left Taiwan for the U.S. in 1980 and has not returned since 1981.

It is no more simple to explain that my mother’s father was a half-Jewish boy who hid in a Berlin basement during World War II; that a year after the war ended, he moved to England at the age of 15 not knowing a word of English and with barely any money. It’s not simple to tell how he ended up at a school in Scotland through friends of friends; that when he met my English grandmother at an airport many years later, he knew in that moment that he was going to marry her; that many years later they settled in Wales to raise their three children.

None of this is easy to explain. Still, I have left

out too many important details. I have not done justice to either experience, nor to my other two grandparents whom I have barely mentioned. Is it better to rest in half the truth, or to labor an eternity giving it in full?

Solution 5: √x = (cauc)Asian or Cauc(asian) In second grade, a girl mistook me for her Japanese friend and began speaking to me in fluent Japanese. My freshman year of high school, a friend on the cross-country team was shocked to discover that I am not fully white.

I have been able to pass as either, but never to pick which I represent. When we visit my dad’s family, he speaks Mandarin with his sisters as they catch up on years, sometimes decades. My mother, my sister and I enjoy the music of their subtly fluctuating tones, feeling thoroughly CAUC(asian) in their entirely Chinese household. Yet in the small, predominantly white Welsh town in which my mother grew up, I feel glaringly (cauc)ASIAN. This amplification exists even in last name— the consonant-heavy “Schweitzer” dwarfs the three-letter “Lin.” I could have been “Anna Lin,” short and sweet, exactly half the length my name is now. But that is not my name. My hyphen is important; it symbolizes the equality between the two parts. Southwest Airlines does not accept the hyphen in their system, claiming every time that I have “entered an invalid symbol.” So when I book flights, I create a new name for myself: Linschweitzer. I will not create a hierarchy between the two pieces that make up my last name. Instead, I blend them the way I am blended. *** For my final project in my drawing class, I drew a triptych: my mother’s face on the left, my father’s on the right, and in the middle, I blended their features into a new face. The result was shockingly similar to my own.

I have spent countless hours trying to dissect my face into “Asian” and “Caucasian” features.

Caucasian eyes, Asian eyelids. Caucasian smile, Asian eyebrows. For every thick, dark hair on my head passed down by my father, I can find a fine and pale hair from my mother. I have some of each side, but do I fully count as either?

I hesitate to call myself a woman of color;

I’m not quite colorful enough. Yet I do not consider myself white. What, then, am I? What are my roots, and how do I express them?

I turned to mathematics to provide a clean solution to this question. In math, you identify the problem, then apply a methodical set of procedures to determine the solution.

You simplify until the plainest form of the expression remains, stripped of any complicating features.

But I don’t like to simplify. I’m not a number

and my identity is not a function that will spit out a single answer. I cannot sit passively under the radical sign and wait for other people to define me.

I want to tell you the complete story, to paint myself as a whole person, not a face of composite parts. Each part intertwines inextricably with every other, and I cannot talk about any piece of myself in isolation. I am made up of races and places and stories—we all are. Do not tell me your roots. Tell me your stories.

I March Written by Taylor Harris

I didn’t check the news. another black man sentenced to death by a cop who was his judge, jury, and executioner. the crime: existing while black.

I didn’t check the news. I didn’t need to. another “not guilty” verdict, because taking a life only matters if it’s not a black one, and besides, “he was just a thug.”

I didn’t check the news. I didn’t need to. I already knew.

Anthony Lamar Smith, 24-year-old man from St. Louis, Missouri, Murdered in cold blood by police officer Jason Stockley on December 20th, 2011.

A life interrupted, his legacy tarnished by mention of his criminal record As though it would excuse the fact that Stockley’s prints Were the only ones on the gun he claimed Smith possessed; His murder, explained away by a history of drug dealing When just last year, Dylann Roof, who had a prior history of arrests— the same Dylann Roof who brutally took 9 black lives at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, the same Dylann Roof who was, conveniently, white— Was taken into police custody alive.

Remember, "An urban heroin dealer not in possession of a firearm would be an anomaly."

This time, I’ve decided not to be sad.

This time, I won’t just stand up.

This time, I am angry.

This time, I march.

Radicalism for Moderate Results Written by Rachel Hellman Illustrated by Ed Lim

027 Radical activism is a scary concept to many people; it brings images of protest, disobedience, and maybe even violence to mind. Radical activism often intimidates not only regular civilians but also moderate activists who argue that radical tactics detract from the movement. Many people assume that radical activists are pursuing radical goals, and for some activists this is the case. However, many political actors see radical activism as a way, and possibly the only way, to achieve moderate results, especially in our polarized political environment. This activist philosophy has roots in the 1960s Civil Rights Movement, as the tactics used by activists competed with and informed each other.

Radical activism is a critical element to any activist movement for four reasons:

1. It allows for a diversity of tactics to reach the same goal;

2. It allows moderates to seem more reasonable;

3. It creates crises that authorities seek to quell through concessions and moderations; and,

4. It offers protection for more moderate activism, thereby allowing the nonviolent actions to continue.

Diversity of tactics is a philosophy which claims that the most effective way to create change is to use a variety of civil disobedience tactics. These strategies range from sit-ins and marches to the occasional use of force for

disruptive or defensive reasons.

In a speech called “The Black Revolution,” Malcolm X endorsed this idea: “Our people have made the mistake of confusing the methods with the objectives. As long as we agree on objectives, we should never fall out with each other just because we believe in different methods or tactics or strategy to reach a common goal.”

In other words, radical activists have the same goals as moderate activists—they just see disruption and force as valid tools in the larger toolbox of activism.

Another reason why radical activism can be a critical element of a moderate movement is that it allows moderates to appear more modest in their requests.

Jo Freeman first called this phenomenon the “radical flank effect” in 1975. Freeman noticed that moderate black organizations saw increased rather than decreased funding as the radical black movement emerged. The activism of radical feminist groups in the 1960s and 1970s had the same effect, making reformist women’s groups seem more moderate and reasonable. Many were quick to write off the feminist movement as the crusade of braburning, man-hating women, not a legitimate call for equal rights. By appearing to contrast with those seemingly outlandish women activists, the moderate activists of the feminist movement gained legitimacy and power.

This pull-and-tug of legitimacy is

028 seen through a variety of modern activist movements; as radicals use extremist means towards the same goal, moderate activists are given a voice they may not have had before.

Similarly, the tactics employed by radical movements often create crises that authorities then seek to quell through concessions and moderation, which leads to moderate results.

Herbert H. Haines stated in his book Black Radicalism and the Civil Mainstream,“The turmoil which the militants created was indispensable to black progress and indeed, black radicalization had the net effect of enhancing the bargaining position of mainstream civil rights groups and hastening many of their goals…[this finding] has implications for any social movement which is composed of moderate and radical factions." As Haines explains, these crises can be clearly seen in the American Civil Rights movement, but also in many other countries and social movements. During anti-apartheid activism in South Africa, radical activists caused billions of dollars in damage to the government, and in doing so they created an economic crisis that white leaders could not ignore. The boycotts and radical measures employed by these activists played a pivotal role in bringing about apartheid’s end, backing up Haines’s claim that public crises caused by radicals can lead to concessions from those in power.

Finally, radical activists often provide protection for their moderate counterparts from repression, which allows the nonviolent action to continue.

Radical activists often have both the means and the resolution to defend peaceful activists. Radical black groups protected Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and others marching at the peaceful March Against Fear 1966 demonstration.

Despite much debate about tactics, The Deacons for Defense and Justice from Louisiana provided armed protection for the nonviolent groups that marched.

In many cases, moderate leaders would not be able to protest safely were it not for the presence of radical activists willing to use extremist means of defense. In this way, radical activists support and protect their more moderate counterparts, which ultimately furthers their movement.

Radical leaders may at first seem extreme and threatening in their actions and beliefs. But when we allow ourselves to zoom out and understand their actions in context, we see how radicalism is a critical element of successful social movements. Without it, moderate activism usually gains little to no traction, and the voices of minorities are left unheard. Radical activism allows these voices to rise above the noise of oppression by employing sometimes extreme, but necessary, tactics.

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Photographed by Chenyu Zhang

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Radical

Written by Swetha Nakshatri Illustrated by Yena Jeong

Everyone wants in on radicalism, including people who have benefited from systems created to marginalize the very founders of radical movements. These are privileged individuals, ready to show that even they, born and bred in power, are willing to subvert the norms. They are determined to project “woke” personas, but in doing so they often borrow rhetoric and ideas, without giving credit, from independent radical movements. For example, the everpresent phrase “The Future is Female,” now printed on sweatshirts, buttons, and even onesies, is a product of the lesbian separatist movement of the 1970s. While authentic radicalism still exists, much of it has become subject to commodification, swallowed whole by industries made for and run by elites.

This corporate co-opting of radicalism is particularly evident in luxury fashion, an industry with a unique mystique of beauty, art, money, and power. Very few people can break in, and the image it projects to the outside world is carefully curated. The fashion industry’s veneer of polish and poise is the polar opposite, I would argue, of the visceral and emotional conditions that give rise to true radical movements.

Radical movements are born in response to injustice, bringing together groups of people historically silenced

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In certain circles, it’s always been “cool” to be radical. At its best, being radical means being part of the fringe, challenging the system, and shaking the foundations of institutions. Radical movements have created spaces where the vulnerable have been given a voice in the fight against traditional power structures. None of this is new, but never in American history has being seen as “radical” been so trendy. We see it in women and men proudly wearing the word “feminist” emblazoned on their clothing. We see it in celebrities accessorizing couture gowns with ACLU and Planned Parenthood pins.

And we see it, day in and day out, in the ubiquitous political opinions that college students plaster across their social media pages just as frequently as policy makers do.

by power and connected by mutual anger. On the other hand, the fashion industry deliberately separates itself from the masses through power based on wealth. This power has enabled the industry’s dark history of exploiting foreign factory workers and models, as well as its lack of diversity in race, class, and body type. Practically by nature, luxury fashion is exclusive. So how wildly inappropriate is it for Dior to sell “We Should All Be Feminists” t-shirts (available exclusively in high-end boutiques) for retail prices of $710?

Fashion is art. It has always broken boundaries and challenged notions of femininity, sexuality, acceptability, and the avant-garde. But it can also be insular and inaccessible to much of the public, dominated by elites who mainly occupy white, wealthy, and heteronormative spheres. At its best, fashion can start cultural conversations surrounding the role of art and clothing in the realm of social justice. At its worst, fashion can be grossly out of touch, printing glossies and hosting runway shows while the world continues to heap injustices upon the beaten down and marginalized for no reason other than their inherent identities.

Recently, many prominent designers and luxury houses have used their platforms to address political and social issues, designing collections such as Prabal Gurung’s “Revolution Has No Borders,” Christian Siriano’s “People Are People,” and of course, Dior’s new feminist line under the guidance of its recently appointed creative director, Maria Grazia Chiuri.

During the Fashion Month that recently came to a close, tremendously influential designers showcased their Spring 2018 lines in New York, London, Milan, and Paris, and the world got a glimpse of the latest trends, as determined by industry experts. With its major visibility and media exposure, Fashion Month is a time when designers can project images and statements that are meant to influence. This year, that meant selectively embracing the fashionable “radical” in a way that was fawned over by elites but largely

inaccessible to traditionally radical and marginalized communities. Dior continued its trajectory of fashion for the “woke” woman, staging a show in a mosaic of mirrors at the Musée Rodin gardens and complementing that opulence with a copy of art historian Linda Nochlin’s 1971 manifesto, “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” on every seat. However, despite this message, the clothes were more of the same: available exclusively to celebrities and the wildly wealthy, gaudy in a way that bordered ridiculous, and showcased by a cohort of models who looked nothing like most modern women. The New York Times’s chief fashion critic, Vanessa Friedman, expressed that despite Nochlin’s message of rejecting rules created by the patriarchy, “Ms. Chiuri is not rejecting clothes dictated by the patriarchy.”

Many other fashion lines that responded to the politically charged atmosphere surrounding last November’s election by showcasing lines of “radical” clothing in their Fall 2017 shows have largely abandoned the cause. Instead, they are reverting back to more traditional and blissfully unaware shows, focusing on artistry and femininity rather than politics and feminism. This abrupt and rapid shift is as much a cause for question as the previous overt co-opting of radicalism.

Did being a feminist not generate as much profit as expected? Are elites done praising themselves for forward thinking and ready to embrace elitism again? Is radicalism just another trend that went out of style?

There is nothing wrong with being proud of one’s progressive views and actions. But an industry of elites patting each other on the back for engaging in occasional political “activism” is not radical; in fact, it reeks of hypocrisy.

Fashion has often embraced radical artistic visions, but rarely has it extended the same warmth to politically marginalized people and radical outsiders. The industry is still the source of gross human rights violations in its mistreatment of workers and models as well as its facilitation of sweatshop conditions in developing

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041 countries. It is still guilty of racist and classist thought and action in its advertising, casting, and marketing strategies. We must ask ourselves, what did it really cost to make that feminist t-shirt? And if Dior’s Ivanka Trump-esque version of female solidarity is the future of feminism, is “feminist” really something we should all strive to be?

Although many of the proceeds from sales of luxury “radical” apparel are reportedly donated to a variety of charitable efforts, the price point and visibility of such political statements raise concerns and questions. Since the 2016 presidential election, factions of radicalism have been created or reinvigorated in response to what many see as an infringement on the rights of minority groups by the Trump administration.

However, accompanying these key radical movements allowing the marginalized to express their fear, anger, and discontent is an influx of people co-opting symbols of revolution for branding purposes. It is now trendy to proclaim yourself a radical thinker, a feminist, a Black Lives Matter ally. The fashion industry capitalizes on this, asking its customers: What’s the point of being progressive if no one knows it? And what better way to proclaim your wokeness than by wearing it

on your body, preferably with 86% pure cotton?

Sometimes there are successes, blending luxury fashion with an actual perspective from activists who have spent their lives fighting the power for radical causes.

Mara Hoffman of REVOLVE opened her Spring 2017 show with a manifesto on intersectional feminism, delivered by the cofounders of the 2017 Women’s March on Washington. When viral Teen Vogue writer Lauren Duca asked Prabal Gurung about his use of radical rhetoric on merchandise, Gurung answered by highlighting his policies of environmental sustainability and equal opportunity hiring and the alignment of radical messages with his values. For all of the critiques of her work, Chiuri at Dior remains consistent and committed to her feminist message. We must hold other designers to similar standards. We must question their hiring practices. Push them to promote women. Condemn sweatshops and mistreatment of models and workers. Demand that they commit to sustainability.

We must also ask: Is the fashion industry’s performative “radicalism” truly radical, or is it just a form of social currency? And will it last?

C A L?

042 “I want to start looking at exclusion as a conscious and conscientious lifestyle, a deliberate choice, a radical form of self-care.”

On Radical Exclusion Written by Eleni Andris Ex·clu·sion: the act of shutting or keeping out

something to warn our children about.

Exclusion gets a bad rap— too many associations of being picked last for gym class and not getting invited to a birthday party. Most people understand it as the antithesis of inclusion, as if the two couldn’t possibly coexist in the same sentence or the same value system. Inclusion is widely celebrated, touted as something good people should engage in. And while encouraging inclusion is important, exclusion needs an advocate too; it’s widely misunderstood as a social ill to be eradicated, a tendency of the bully, a symptom of toxic institutions, and

But I want to present an alternate reading of the word, to start looking at exclusion as a conscious and conscientious lifestyle, a deliberate choice, a radical form of self-care that can exist harmoniously within a person who promotes inclusion for the sake of bolstering justice and making the world a more equitable place but who also wants to take the time to be their best self, which fundamentally requires excluding some things.

So here are a couple ways to feel fuller by embracing the act of emptying:

Clean out your real and figurative closets

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Say “no” more often

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Quit things that don’t add value to your life

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Ditch quantity for quality

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Figure out what meditation means to you and do it regularly

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Let yourself deliberately ignore your phone if doing so facilitates being present in a conversation with a friend or in your own nonsensical day dreams

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Cut people out of your life who don’t make you feel whole

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Feel comfortable letting wilted friendships go to make room for new ones to take root

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Drown out superfluous noise with music

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But also forgo headphones from time to time to revel in the unregistered background noise

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Distinguish idleness from laziness

XII View the act of exclusion as the creation of intentional absence, not void.

Be your own arbiter of what’s important and what’s not—

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If it’s not, scrap it

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And then change your perspective.

A Black Woman and A White Woman Go to a Protest Written by Taylor Harris I hope I packed enough water and bandanas for everyone— I’ve heard the combination helps with tear gas.

I’m going to try to get out before that happens, but I’ll still bring them, just in case.

I’m glad I let my parents know I love them.

I know they’re proud of me for standing up for my beliefs, but I also know they don’t want to see my name on the 11 o’clock news.

Sandra Bland was found dead hanging in a jail cell.

I think I have enough friends here who can remember my information in case I get arrested— You know, just in case.

The beat of the drums pierces the air like the arrival of a cavalry.

And really, aren’t we fighting a war, anyway?

A lot of people think this war is against the police— how funny.

I’m tired of explaining to them that it’s against the institutionally-supported violence inflicted upon Black people; the presence of thousands of black bodies that lie buried beneath the foundation of this country (re: racism), in graves dug by the Law which was never designed to protect them.

Black Lives Matter.

I wonder if the other protesters know how scared I am even as I shout these words, afraid that my skin color and my worth are mutually exclusive to the police whose eyes follow me when I walk on by.

Black Lives Matter.

I know that not all police kill.

Most of my interactions with them have been positive.

But Sandra Bland was found dead hanging in a jail cell.

045 Written by Emma LaPlante It’s a good day to rage against the racist police state.

Do I drive or take the Metro?

What if someone breaks my windows?

They wouldn’t break the windows of a fellow protester, would they?

It’ll be fine. I’ll drive.

How nice that they provide water bottles! Do I take one?

Or are they for the hardcore (real) protesters?

Okay, I’ll take one.

I’m glad I wore black.

I wonder where they want the white people— The young white women, especially.

Cops wouldn’t touch me; To the front of the line I go.

That’s where my body can do the most good, right?

Isn’t that why I’m here?

Should I have brought a sign?

These chants are dope as hell.

Whose streets? Our streets.

Am I being too loud?

Black Lives Matter.

Empty restaurants, empty streets.

Downtown looks like a dream.

And so many protesters—I love this town.

Would it be wrong to stream this live?

God, should the cops get violent, (Am I just trying to be a hero?)

Teach me to use my body as a shield.

(Will people think I’m just trying to be a hero?)

Black Lives Matter.

There are so many reporters around.

I wonder if I’ll end up in their photographs?

Look somber. Don’t smile.

I’m here because people are being killed.

It’s a good day to rage against the racist police state.

Does my bandana make me look woke?

Radical self-love is an elusive creature. She moves through you in waves. Her clandestine beauty is often overlooked, undervalued. She glides, invisible, silent, but fervid. She dances freely on the edges of your peripheral vision, poised and graceful, your strongest weapon.

Radical self-love wrests you from the grasp of the BD allnighter you are about to pull and tucks you into bed. She shushes your protests that one extra hour of studying will prove more valuable than one extra hour of sleep. She says your eye bags will thank her later. She sings you lullabies until you forget gen chem exists.

Radical self-love attracts the kind of energy that makes the air around you less toxic. She does not make friends for the sake of making friends. She softly but insistently pushes and pulls people in and out of her life at will. She sifts through the sands and keeps the gems.

Radical self-love doesn’t wait for his call. She doesn’t message the fuckboi. She also knows sometimes it’s not that easy to be at the mercy of loneliness.

Radical self-love isn’t selfish. She radiates out of you. She places you at the center of your universe, so that you are better positioned to shine on others. She hoists you up

on the chariot and lets you take the reins. She knows that when you shift your world, when you restructure your priorities, the time you spend giving to others will be made more valuable by the time you spend giving to yourself.

Radical self-love puts on the playlist of embarrassing songs you loved when you were ten and full of hope. She harmonizes with you as you belt High School Musical lyrics and sends a silent apology to your next-door neighbors. She has a lovely alto range.

Radical self-love commands you to look in the mirror. She doesn’t command you to like what you see. She gently persuades you to accept what you see. She wishes the value of your existence would not be in direct proportion to the number of crinkles in the back of your thighs or the width of your nose. She understands those beauty standards, and she says they can go to hell.

Sometimes radical self-love leads you down a labyrinth and leaves you at a dark twist or shadowy turn. She leaves you lost. And these are the moments when you hate her the most, when you just want her here, when you just want it to be that simple. Self-love isn’t simple. Self-love has to be re-found, regained, revitalized, rescued. Self-love is as much a damsel in distress as she is a knight in shining armor.

Written by Helene Jow

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A Treatise on Radical Self-Love

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Radical self-love is lost through sadness. She is lost through heartbreak. It is you who loses her when you let her hand slip, when you neglect to nourish her. She is a succulent, one of those annoying houseplants you must water every day or else they will shrivel up and die. Most of the time you do remember to feed it, but sometimes someone or something convinces you that they are more important than she.

Radical self-love is understood through sadness. She is understood through heartbreak. When you feel like you’re not enough for anybody, that’s when you must invite her back into your body. In the battle against self-hate, the value of self-love becomes more transparent.

Radical self-love recognizes your identities. She comprehends the algorithm of you. She recognizes the pattern of genetics and stories and hatred and innocence and memories and layers and prejudice and stardust and strife interwoven into your existence. She doesn’t dismiss it – any of it. She reassures you that you are entitled to who you are.

Radical self-love is lost through sadness. She is lost through heartbreak...

Radical self-love is understood through sadness. She is understood through heartbreak.

Radical self-love is the innocent civilian casualty in the war of everyday life. Every little piece of self-doubt, of inferiority, of comparison, of intimidation, of devaluation riddles her with bullets. They tear at her noble limbs. She needs your help to stand tall against these threats.

Radical self-love is fiercely compassionate, and fierce compassion is innately courageous.

She understands the courage behind your 3 a.m. breakdown. She doesn’t reprimand you for falling apart; she doesn’t scold you for crying. She admires your brave tears.

Radical self-love reminds you that other love exists. She tells you to call your mom every week. She tells you to message your dad, to wish your little brother a happy birthday. She reminds you to do these things while you can.

Radical self-love embraces your limits. She adores your tender wounds. She knows all your weaknesses by name and cherishes each one like her children. When you try to exterminate them or shame them or hide them, she holds a shield above their weary heads and reminds you of their value to your experience, to your persona, to your life.

Radical self-love is never docile or idle or apathetic. She is an active choice to be made every moment of every day. This intense relationship with her, this undivided attention to her – they make self-love radical.

They force you to choose her again and again. They force

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you to choose yourself again and again.

When radical self-love wants to establish a relationship with you, you can’t be afraid of commitment. She is a needy creature – she needs to feel replenished, fulfilled, lifted.

She needs to be prioritized. She needs the romance, the candlelit nights, the long introspective contemplations, the reassurances, the compliments, the home-cooked meals, the bouquets, the deep talks about the universe, the Netflix marathons. She needs you to love yourself, and she needs you to love yourself first.

Palmistry Written by Emma LaPlante

Open up your palms— the two forked lines are arrows.

See how they point to your body?

Follow them to peace.

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The Protester’s Palette

Whose streets are these?

The ones filled with Black girls in yellow dresses Black girls in black leather Blacks fists lifted And black lips chanting that We always saw all the colors Saw how white turns orange turns white turns orange That red, white, and blue were always just orange Our streets That our mothers beg us to stay out of Mama says they’ll paint red our yellow dresses Says black face, gray pavement But let us go mama let us go Out to the streets that we own And we’ll promise to come back home We’ll hope the blue lets us go Whose streets did they expect them to be?

When they sentenced black to live on gray When they brought us here Did they not think we’d stay?

When they stared at the sunlight Dancing on black skin Did they not think the brown eyes Would look back at them?

Our streets And our daughters will know it Know the gray, every curve and crack We’ll teach them to see each shade To paint the town black Say go on child go Pray for them to come back home Just like our mamas did We’ll look into the pink of their mouths When those black lips open to say We always saw all the colors

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Written by Emily Caroline King Illustrated by Yena Jeong

Our Mission: Issues Magazine seeks to raise awareness of the intrinsic link that exist between art, design, and social issues.

The spaces we inhabit each day mold our experiences, both by fostering interaction and by building barrier.

Using the city of St. Louis as our primary lens, Issues Magazine will draw connections between both tangible and intangible aspects of the social environment. With both a print and an online version of the publication, Issues Magazine will reach out to a diverse readership, including students of Washington University and residents of the St. Louis region. By utilizing a wide spectrum of media, Issues hopes to inspire action as well as awareness about the intersection of design and social justice.

Stay in Touch with us: contact us issues.mag.washu@gmail.com read our articles online issuu.com/issuesmagazinewashu @issues.mag.washu

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Contributors: Emily Alpert Eleni Andris Taylor Harris Maisie Heine Rachel Hellman Ashley Holder Helene Jow Emily Caroline King Emma LaPlante Anna Lin-Schweitzer Allie Lindstrom Swetha Nakshatri Chenyu Zhang