Lennon Wall - Fall 2017 | Issue II |Blue

Lennon Wall Fall 2017 | Issue II | Blue

Blue Issue Fall 2017 “I never get tired of the blue sky,” said Vincent van Gogh. Blue, the colour impressionists used for shadows, stirs imagination.

The year 2017 left behind a lot of blue feelings. Trump keeps the United State in a chokehold, the North Pole melts under our feet and depression crisis wreaks havoc across societies. On the smaller scale, for us, students, finals creep into the campus.

But, from oceans to the Star Wars lightsabers, blue also represents calmness, freedom, intuition and inspiration. Qualities seized by many a mind. As our issue reflects its hues on the following pages, the colour portrays more than the shades in the world.

“I never get tired of the blue sky,” said Vincent van Gogh.

Klara Chmelarova, Culture Editor

List of contributors Editor-In-Chief Chau Nguyen Section Editors Elizabeth Hwang Klara Chmelarova Martin Ranninger Valeria Novitskaia Proofreaders Benjamin Goings Ganna Zhadan Olivia Dom Website Editor Martin Ranninger Social Media Editor Leilani Mitchell

www.lennonwall.aauni.edu

Contributors Abby Zeugner Ganna Zhadan Jan Tompkins Klara Chmelarova Leila Mekhdiyeva Natalie Kejhova Olivia Dom Olivia Traversi Rita Puhto Sarah Abu-Sa’ad Layout Design Rita Puhto Front Cover Georgi Shillington Back Cover Anastasia Mezenina

Contents Spotlight

4 Czech Societal Stigmas: A Deterrent to Mental Health 6 Heroes Dare the Devil: Daredevil

Art 9 10 12

Our Blue Planet: Planet Earth II Wielding the Blue Ligthsaber Loving Vincent

Photography 14 16

Blue: A Boys Colour?

Focus: Out of the Blue

Opinion 20 22

US Post Election Blues Deafening Silence in the Social Media Era

Culture

25 My Bibi

Lifestyle 30 34

GoldFingers: Satan’s Ballroom in the Heart of Prague Blue Ocean

Czech Societal Stigmas:

A Deterrent to Mental Health Treatment By: Abby Zeugner.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user Victor

Approximately 1,500 Czech people commit suicide every year, exceeding the EU and global averages.

The public tends to blame the lack of medical resources for those suffering from mental health problems in the Czech Republic, according to multiple polls conducted by the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH).

But Petr Winkler, head of Social Psychiatry at the NIMH, says that cultural stigma is also to blame.

“We see stigma around mental illness all over the world, but it seems that in this region it is particularly high,” he said in an on-air interview with Radio Praha. “It’s kind of a heritage from communism, as well as lack of cultivated and intelligent debate about mental health.”

The NIMH is a research organization that focuses on finding treatments for some of the most serious mental illnesses: schizophrenia, depression, anxiety and stress-reaction.

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The Institute considers the available healthcare services for these illnesses woefully inept to treat them adequately.

Today, the most common patients in outpatient care at health clinics have neurotic, affective and organic disorders, such as anxiety and depression. Inpatient care, typically in large hospitals, treats people who require more medical attention, like those with psychosis.

“We have an average of more than 500 beds per hospital in the Czech Republic, which is the highest in European Region,” said Eva Tušková, researcher and anti-stigma specialist at the NIMH. This prevents patients from having any intimacy with their psychiatrist, and psychosis patients are often given medication and discharged before they can receive any long-term treatment. “We know there is not enough capacity of psychotherapeutic treatment and the outpatient psychiatrist can spend only a limited time with a patient,” she said.

In 2013, the NIMH introduced a mental health care reform plan to build mental health centers all over the country. The health centers will include a professional team of psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers and psychiatric nurses who will live with the patients suffering from severe mental illness and will provide acute care to them. There are expected to be 35 centers in the Czech Republic by 2018.

However, these health centers do not necessarily help dull the deeply rooted stigma against mental illness. In 2015, NIMH conducted a poll, revealing that 26 percent of people in the Czech Republic would end a friendship if they found out their friend suffered from mental illness.

“The images of what is going on in the mental health hospitals are, according to my view, mainly based on movies like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’,” Tušková said, referencing the 1975 film directed by Czech director Miloš Forman. “Everyone knows the movie.”

The film, based on the 1962 novel by Ken Kesey, depicts mental health patients as violent, unstable people and mental health professionals as manipulative and cruel.

Miroslava Janoušková, Doctor of Social Psychiatry at the NIMH, agreed with Tušková in an interview with Radio Praha. She says the news media often focuses on violent crimes committed by mentally ill people, despite the fact that these people make up less than one percent of violent criminals per year.

“From a sociological point of view the media construct reality,” she said. “So they create a virtual reality that suggests all people with a mental illness are dangerous.”

To combat the social stigma, NIMH has developed a program based on the “Time to Change” campaign in England and the “One of Us” campaign in Denmark, which provide multimedia programs to combat mental

health stigmas. NIMH’s program focuses on appealing to the younger generation in the Czech Republic. They organize seminars where people with mental illness can speak about their past, and work with the media to create videos about reducing stigma and distributing pamphlets.

“Although we prepared the videos specifically for young [people], they were very successful and got more than half a million viewings [online], not only by teenagers, but also by adults,” Janoušková said of the programming.

“We received very positive feedback.”

The program, currently called Beyond Stigma, Towards Equity, provides frequent conferences and seminars in Prague. On December 14, NIMH will hold a seminar open to the public on the most recent research studies conducted by the Institute.

A horned silhouette eavesdrops on two gangsters from the rooftop ledge. Moments later the phantom dives into the piss-alley.

Ribs crunch, jaws crack and blood joins the street muck. One junkie manages to plunge a knife into the masked man’s cheek. Bleeding through his teeth, he laughs and goes on punching. When the ruckus settles the criminals are crippled for life, but, alive. Matt Murdock won’t kill anyone. After all, he is a good man.

Daredevil (aka Matt Murdock) redefined the superhero mythos 53 years ago. Unlike any other hero before, he battled inner demons and searched for redemption. He also was blind

Heroes Dare the Devil:

Daredevil

In an interview for the 2003 documentary “The Man Without Fear: Creating Daredevil,” writer Frank Miller boiled Daredevil down to three sentences: “He can’t see. That’s his distinguishing feature. How many superheroes are known for what they can’t do?”

Created by Marvel Comics co-founder Stan Lee and drawn by artist Bill Everett, Daredevil first saw the light of day in 1964. Together with the X-men, Spider-Man or the Hulk, he marked the “Silver Age of Comics” which brought the trend of self-doubting heroes.

But, even there Murdock was the odd one in the crowd.

Blinded at the age of 9 Daredevil was off to a bad start. Yet, losing his sight in a freak accident - chemicals got splashed into his eyes during a car crash - also granted the young Murdock with inhuman senses. He became aware of temperature layers, shifts in balance, tastes and various smells in the air. On the top of that, he acquired a sonar hearing, navigating through space by echolocation.

By: Klara Chmelarova 6 Illustrations Courtesy of: Mobokeh

“It’s a paradox,” said Marek Ječmínek, a vendor at the Comics Point shop in Palladium. “He can’t use his eyes and as a

result has a far better vision of the world than anyone else in the universe.”

After New York mobsters murdered his father, Daredevil spent the rest of his childhood in an orphanage. Here he endured harsh training from a man named Stick while dealing with his hyper-senses. After Stick called him worthless and left, Murdock went to study law.

Getting the degree, he found out it wasn’t enough to stop the injustice. To release pentup rage he begun to stalk New York streets at night, beating any unlucky criminal caught in his way.

Lapsing into sadism and uncontrolled anger, Daredevil screamed villain material.

Yet, the blind Catholic lawyer, who put on devil horns, became a synonym of a flawed hero.

While most of the writers retained the basic origin story initially Daredevil suffered from a style schizophrenia. “He didn’t come out as often as the other books,” said Ječmínek.

“They even thought about canceling him. It wasn’t until Miller put himself into the story, that Daredevil became popular.”

The American writer, inker, film director, and screenwriter gained a reputation for his dark and violent stories. As such when handicapped vigilante landed on his table in the 1980s, Miller gave Murdock voice by dousing him in blood.

“I looked at the hero machinery. I took it apart and put it back together in a leaner form. So it was more pure.” Miller brought the fight to the streets, making the comics raw and real for the first time in history. “It was as if I brought whiskey into a playground or something.”

He dragged Daredevil through all the mud Marvel Universe had and then some.

“The winning idea was that I got rid of the costume for a good long time. He wasn’t wearing tights and you realized that the hero wasn’t the costume. The costume was just dressing around the hero.”

Miller didn’t give readers a concept. Daredevil was a man. Just a blind guy “trying to make his city a better place.” He didn’t need a cape to prove a point and pop culture got a new angle on heroism. It was ungrateful and far from pretty, a necessary evil rather than

celebrated cast and it required selfsacrifice. Bearing it, Murdock never complained, felt sorry for himself or gave up.

This everlasting conviction earned him emotional depth beyond most graphic novel characters. It also meant that the age of the sunny-sideup superhero was over.

Since then numerous writers, pencilers, and colorists had a go at the blind vigilante, however, they all followed the trend set by Miller.

Murdock’s latest appearance was in the 2015 Netflix series “Daredevil” starring Charlie Cox. Unlike the Avengers or Thor blockbusters, the show represents the grim side of the Marvel cinematic universe. “The street hero can only work on Netflix,” said Ječmínek.“If Daredevil would come to the films and beat someone to a pulp, everyone would be shocked since there is not much blood in the movies. It feels as if the Marvel cinematic universe documents its graphic novel beginnings and Daredevil once again brings in the darkness. So history repeats itself in a different medium.”

Maybe the down-to-earth demeanor and penchant for blood prevented Murdock from making it on the silver screen. Pressed through a superhero cookie cutter by the 2003 film Daredevil featuring Ben Affleck proved an outright disaster. But, just like discarding the cape Murdock doesn’t need a movie to turn heads.

The Netflix series with 98% rating on Rotten Tomatoes is enough.

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Our Blue Planet: Planet Earth II - Live in Concert

By Ján Tompkins Photos Courtesy of: O2 Arena In 2006, my little 10 year old mind was blown to bits at the sight of a pack of wolves hunting down bison on the frozen tundras of Northern Canada in the first Planet Earth series presented by the BBC. My tiny eyes were exposed to wildlife footage of raw animal instincts. This was certainly nothing compared to the innocent images of elephants and caterpillars in my school’s science textbooks.

II - Live in Concert goes on tour across 23 countries, bringing breathtaking 4k-Ultra HD imagery paired with a live music to Prague’s O2 Arena on March 28th 2018. The 80 member City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Matthew Freeman, brings Academy-Award winning composer Hans Zimmer’s unique cinematic score to life as the dazzling footage from Planet Earth II plays on the jumbo-screen above.

After ten years, the award-winning BBC Natural History unit is back and has revolutionized the nature documentary game again, exposing our world’s hidden wonders this time in Planet Earth’s 2016 sequel Planet Earth II.

I can promise you three things you will regret in life. One, not talking to that cutie in row five. Two, not telling your parents that you love them more. Three, not going to see Planet Earth II, live in concert.

The sequel, shot in 4k-Ultra HD over 2000plus days across 40 countries and with the help of advanced technological improvements to video capture devices like drones, telephoto lens, and high speed cameras to capture shocking new footage of the natural beauty around us on our blue planet.

Our jaws dropped at the monkeys leaping from branch to branch in the first film. Now get ready for round two as BBC’s Planet Earth

So, do NOT pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity for the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra to serenade you in sync with the stunning images of the natural biomes on this blue planet. Tickets prices range from 690 to 1,490 Czech crowns, which is almost less than the price of five Skinny Caramel Macchiatos at Starbucks. So my Ján-advice? Skip that sugary nonsense for a work week and put that good cash towards an experience that you’ll cherish for a lifetime!

Wielding the Blue Lightsaber

By Olivia Dom

“That lightsaber was Luke’s. And his father’s before him. And now it calls to you.”

- Maz Kanata, to Rey (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) The iconic blue glow of Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber has been the symbol of heroes since the 80s, when Mark Hamill unsheathed the lightsaber on screen of Star Wars: A New Hope.

Ultimately, the blue saber was lost in a battle, but then in 2016 was revealed again. This time the blue light radiated in the hands of a new hero: Rey. Rey (Daisy Ridley) is one of the three main protagonists of the current Star Wars trilogy, released 12 years after the last prequel (Revenge of the Sith) debuted. Abandoned on a desert planet for reasons not yet revealed, Rey is a daunting force wielder who is just coming to terms with her true power and place in the Star Wars universe.

Blue, as a color, is often analyzed as a symbol of wisdom, intelligence, truth, and heaven.

Blue is also associated with consciousness and tranquility. Today, it is frequently considered a “masculine” color, but back in 1918, infant boys wore pink and girls wore blue. The reasoning?

Pink was closer to red, and a “more decided and stronger color, […] more suitable for the boy” compared to blue, “which is more delicate and dainty, [and] prettier for the girl.”

(Smithsonian Magazine).

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In the world of Star Wars, a blue lightsaber represents protection, consciousness, and intellect.

Just before Rey used it, her companion Finn (John Boyega) had used the blue saber to protect Rey against the new villain, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), wielding a dangerous red lightsaber. The two colors - blue versus red- symbolized the endless battle of polar opposites for centuries. Water versus Fire, Heaven versus Hell, and now in Star Wars, Jedi versus Sith.

Rey taking up the mantle and wielding the Blue Lightsaber is more than just an homage to the previous movies and continuing the story. It is a symbol of change. When it was announced that the three main characters in this new trilogy would be a woman, a black man, and a Guatemalan-American man, there was a flurry of praise as well as a rising of “trolls” against the new diversity.

There were complaints of Rey being “overpowered with no training,” “not interesting,” a character written just for the “female audience.” There is a comparison between her and Luke, where (as far as we know) there is no similarity between them other than they are of the same age when they get thrust into their journeys to master the Force. But rather than comparing the two, the respect should come from how they are so different. Rey is not a copy of Luke, she is her own individual character who had to raise and train herself.

Star Wars completely transformed the toy industry from the moment it became a hit movie.

character of the movie is not well represented in what is clearly a huge piece of the Star Wars world in terms of merchandising.”

George Lucas, in fact, made one of the most brilliant business moves ever by keeping the rights to all Star Wars merchandise in 1973.

Thankfully, the industry took the hint, and now children can find Rey costumes, Rey action figures, and even now the blue lightsaber is marketed (at least in the American national brand, Walmart) as “Rey’s Lightsaber.”

But when The Force Awakens was released, the industry came under a tremendous amount of fire for not including Rey in the merchandise. Even JJ Abrams, director of The Force Awakens (and soon, the Untitled Episode IX), had to come out and say that “it seems preposterous and wrong that the main

By taking up the blue lightsaber, Rey has taken the Star Wars universe by storm. The world waits with bated breath to see what she will do next.

Photos Courtesy of: Darth Temoc & Lucasfilm

“Loving Vincent”: Artists Bring van Gogh to Life By: Natalie Kejhova.

Photo courtesy of BreakThru Productions Films The world’s first fully painted feature film to be screened next month in the Czech Republic.

Anyone who knows even a little bit about art has heard of Vincent van Gogh. While his name and paintings like “Starry Night” are very famous now, this Dutch artist was highly misunderstood in his lifetime, which ended at the age of 37 with a gunshot. His extraordinary story is told in the new movie “Loving Vincent”. The film will premiere in theaters on January 25th in collaboration with Bohemia Motion Pictures.

Polish director and writer Dorota Kobiela told Newsline that the making of “Loving Vincent” was a 10-year journey, but Van Gogh’s art inspired her to keep going.” The title is taken from the way van Gogh would sign his letters — especially to his brother — as ‘Your loving Vincent’,” says Kobiela.

“That’s how I think of him, as this person who suffered so much pain and sadness in his life but still was so full of love and the love for art that you can see in every one of his paintings.”

The movie’s screenplay, co-written by, British film producer, director, and screenwriter Hugh Welchman, is based on the 800 letters that Van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo where he expressed his struggles to survive on the little that he had. The film also explores the mystery behind his death, which was originally speculated to be a suicide. However recent research points out that, six weeks prior to his death, he wrote to Theo that he felt well and tranquil.

The movie is inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s paintings, and his most remarkable works such 12

as, “Café Terrace at Night”, are brought to life.

The film comprises of 65,000 frames of hand painted oil paintings, mimicking the painter’s post-impressionist style, which adds a very special element to the movie, guiding the viewer through the eyes of the artist himself. The team of 125 artists was also inspired by the artist’s portrait paintings, which were used to create the characters. These portraits include van Gogh’s portraits of the Roulin family.

Guiding the story is the post man’s son, Armand Roulin, who’s voiced by Douglas Booth. He’s sent by his father to Paris to deliver van Gogh’s last letter only to find out that Theo is dead too. He says, “I don’t see the point in delivering a dead man’s letter.” As described on the movie’s official website (http://lovingvincent.com), this character becomes reluctant to find out how a man can go from calm to suicidal. In attempts to figure out the mystery behind the two brother’s death this character earns his nickname, “the reluctant detective”.

Another main character is Adeline Ravoux, voiced

by Eleanor Tomlinsion. She is inspired by one of van Gogh’s famous portraits painted in 1890 of a young girl who worked at the Ravoux Inn where van Gogh lived at the end of his life in the town Auvers-sur-Oise, in France. Ravoux wrote at the age 76 in a memoir of van Gogh that her family never appreciated this portrait.

The lead role of struggling artist is brought to life

by Polish actor Robert Gulaczyk, who is adapted from van Gogh’s multiple self-portraits. Gulazcyk also provides the narrative voice for the film by reading out van Gogh’s letters.

The team of artists based in London would paint each frame while viewing footage that was shot on set of the actors; this was done using software Dragonframe. Then with 3D animation technology, animators worked on bringing the paintings to life. The whole process of painting and post production took over six years.

This journey took time due to the preciseness and type of animation technique used since it’s different from “2D animation”.

Welchman admitted that he didn’t have to go this extra step; however, he justified it with the importance of the movie being “truthful”.

Welchman explained to Variety why production took so long: “In painting animation, you are moving oil paintings across the set,” he said. “The big difference is the workforce, and also it’s a lot slower. It’s basically a stop-frame animation technique, just a lot slower.”

“Loving Vincent” will bring the viewer into the world of Vincent van Gogh, not only people fascinated by van Gogh and his art will find this film interesting but anyone who has struggled with sadness. As Kobiela says, “he kept going even with all the sadness he felt in his heart.” The breathtaking trailer, which can be viewed on the official website, gives a chilling sneak-peak of this movie exploring the mystery of this struggling artist’s life and death and the question of whether he died by suicide or murder.

The British producer, famous for his OscarWinning short animated film “Peter and the Wolf ”, explained that extensive amounts of research were done in production. Even 3,000 painted frames of “Loving Vincent” were re-done. This is because during production new research came out proving that the painter cut off his entire ear instead of just part of it.

Is blue a boys colour?

Rita Puhto

Blue is for boys and pink is for girls.

Why is it that these colours represent each gender? This has been a question long pondered by biologists, parents, sociologists and children too.

In the early 1900s pink was seen as a strong, masculine colour, thus meant for boys and blue more dainty was for girls. But even then, there was no strict outline to which colour was intended for which gender.

However this was reversed shortly after the second world war, when mass production began to rise and marketing became a more influential tool.

In order to increase sales of products to certain genders, they would claim that in order to be considered normal in their gender, they must buy either pink or blue coloured products.

BLUE: A BOYS COLOUR?

Some scientists claim there is a correlation between colour preferences with females and males due to the evolution of our huntergatherer past. Females thus prefer warmer, reddish shades, which would have been beneficial for gathering fruits and berries, while men are more attracted to greens, blues and yellows which are somehow relevant to hunting.

When I was around five years old, I loved the colour pink, but strictly changed my preferences to blue after turning seven. But I was never consciously aware that I had been influenced by some marketing tool, (honestly speaking, how many of us are?) I just enjoyed how pretty it was.

But instead of letting colours define our gender and letting money fuel our preferences, why not embrace the feminine and masculine energies in us and wear whatever colours we please?

Photos and Story by: Rita Puhto

FOCUS: OUT OF THE BLUE

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From right to left clockwise: Anastasia Mezenina, Olivia Dom, Hunter Andrews, Hunter Andrews, Georgi Shillington

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From top right clockwise: Rita Puhto, Hunter Andrews, Olivia Dom, Elizabeth Hwang, Hunter Andrews & Elizabeth Hwang

The US Post-Election Blues 20

By Olivia Dom Photos Courtesy of: Fibonacci Blue On Nov. 8, 2016, I have a vivid memory of a woman’s scream in another room as Donald Trump won the last big states. As the election news coverage began to announce his victory, I remember turning to my roommate, tears in our eyes. I remember hearing outside my door another girl calling her family, repeating over and over, “it doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t feel real.”

The 2016 election was unlike any other before it. In a world obsessed with information, the opportunity to sow confusion was seized like never before to overload the common citizen with so much information and fear that they walked into the voting booth with one overwhelming feeling, doubt.

In the days since the election, Trump and his administration have played a cunning and malicious game of shock and awe with the American people and with the rest of the world.

From “alternative facts”, to midnight votes on Health Care, executive ordered travel bans, the lack of aid to Puerto Rico after its devastation

by Hurricane Maria, twitter arguments, and continued investigation into Russian influence in the election. It’s no wonder the world feels like it’s been turned upside down.

For many, the election left them feeling helpless and hurt. Not just in disappointment, but experiencing real physical ailments.

There are many names for the collective fear/ anxiety/depression that is on the rise post-election: Post Election Stress Disorder, Group Collective Trauma and Post-Inauguration Depression Syndrome.

Signs of the unofficially named disorder can include: Broken focus, High levels of stress, Feelings of hopelessness, Depression, Loss of libido and Anger problems Therapists and online therapy sites have reported a significant uptick in appointments and requests.

One such website, Talkspace, had their membership increase three-fold post-election, and continued use remained high through January 2017. Talkspace also reported a rise in minority users, all of the groups that have been targeted by Trump in some way.

So what’s the cure for this? There are many schools of thought, one of which is a complete and total “Social Media Cleanse.” With threats of nuclear war being tossed around next to hashtags and gifs of kittens, it seems like the right thing to do - to not look at news drama just to try to pretend like things are normal.

But the current state is not normal.

Ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away.

In fact, that attitude has made most of our nation’s current problems much worse. While some people are taking a “breather” from the news and the politics, others are joining together to become more involved, hoping that proactive action will help the nation and their mental state of mind.

More women are running for office than ever before. Just recently, the state of Virginia voted their first transgender woman into their House of Delegates who ran against an openly homophobic and transphobic man.

Post-inauguration, on January 21, there was an incredible protest. As the largest singleday protest in U.S. history, with over 4 million participants, the Women’s March gave a sense of hope. No, the world wasn’t entirely crazy. There are still people out there who share the same grief and the same anger about the Trump administration.

Running for office, marching in protests, all of those things are active - choosing to be involved, to work for a cause, to run for office.

The stress is real, and the way forward is not clear. The only sense of clarity we have is that actions must be taken. That’s the cure.

Deafening Silence in the Social Media Era “We live in a society of victimization, where people are much more comfortable being victimized than actually standing up for themselves.”

-Marilyn Manson In the 21st century different forms of activism – regardless of whether it’s photojournalism, social-media movements or even outdoor protests – receive a lot of criticism due to a rather popular opinion that all of these are a substitute for action.

As many people tend to argue, writing a post on Facebook, sharing hashtags and changing the profile pictures, doesn’t make any good if not supported with donations and actual help.

However, does it mean that raising awareness and providing the marginalized with a voice makes no difference? In the age of the globe being divided into parts, where people are given a chance to speak out in oppose to ones where silence is encouraged by the government, it is important to understand why documenting war, starting online rallies and talking about various issues is more than just lip service.

For decades conflict journalism has been the only way for people to discover what other nations have to go through. In 2016 Nolan Peterson, The Daily Signal’s foreign correspondent, spent eight days embedded with the Ukrainian army, covering the situation in Ukraine. During his time there, Peterson had only one thought rushing through his mind: “Why does this war feel like a secret?”

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By: Ganna Zhadan Photo Courtesy of Lum3n.com In the age of severe propaganda and marginalisation, it‘s as significant as never before to tell people the truth about what‘s happening in the conflict zones.

As Peterson states, the most shocking thing he had to encounter was locals’ amuse that someone outside of their country – as far as in the United States of America – cares or even knows about their struggles. This clearly demonstrates how easy it is to pretend something isn‘t happening just because it doesn‘t affect you. Horrible situations in Ukraine, Iraq, Syria all seem to be mythical enough to convince ourselves that the peaceful, rather stable world we live in is something everyone gets a fair chance to experience. War journalists aren’t putting their life on the line to take a shocking morbid photo, which will make you uncomfortably flinch – they are there to make sure that people won’t turn their backs to strife,

“And unless brave men and women venture into war to tell us the truth about what is happening there, both the ugly and the beautiful parts of it, then the people who suffer and fight in wars will have no voice”.

- Nolan Peterson meaningless deaths and suffering. They are there to make sure we remember what our peace costs us. And as long as we remember, we still have a chance to make changes, speak out and find a solution.In the age of the modern technology, raising awareness is taking new forms – on a daily basis people use Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter as a chance to discuss struggles that, in

reality, affect each one of us. The new movement #MeToo appeared on the social media in response to the post by the actress Alyssa Milano, who suggested that if everyone, who has ever been a

victim of the sexual harassment, posted a status #MeToo, people would finally start appreciating the scale of the problem.

Initially, it was inspired by the numerous allegations against Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein but was prolonged with a huge amount of posts sharing similar but more personal stories. Even though this movement is most associated with feminism and gender struggles, the importance of it goes way beyond that.

The victims of the sexual assaults often decide to remain silent because they’re embarrassed, confused and scared that all blame will be put on them – “it’s your fault because you were not supposed to be at that time, at that place with that person.” You might argue that sharing a story doesn’t have any other connotation to it, but such movements as #MeToo, #NotOkay, #YesAllWomen and others are already making a difference. In the century, when the most empowered men and women are convinced that they can get away with anything because “when you’re a star, they let you do it”, it’s crucial to understand that you have a voice. Thinking that there is nothing you can do about it means that you’ve already lost your battle.

Raising awareness is major not only in the fields of war, crimes, and violence, but also in health.

On the 10th of October, the world celebrated Mental Health Day, giving the opportunity to bring attention to the mental health issues and share the ideas of what else could be potentially done to make this topic a concern of more than one suffering person. Since 1992, we continue talking about what life holds for people, who did not get lucky enough in their genetic lottery.

Even though it’s government’s responsibility to provide its citizens with a proper health care and qualified therapists, the reality is not so bright.

For example, as Miroslava Janoušková from the National Institute of Mental Health shares, “in the Czech Republic there are 12 psychiatrists per 100,000 inhabitants. And we have feedback from both psychiatrists and patients that they do not have enough time for therapy.” She also suggests that there is a certain stigma associated with the mentally ill people in the Czech Republic, which leads to “people being afraid to speak openly 24

about their problem and seek help.” The situation doesn’t differ much in other countries – according to the British journalist Richard Carlton-Crabtree, “one in four adults will experience a mental illness at some point each year in the UK. And we only expect to help 15 per cent of them.“ In this case, it‘s becoming each citizen‘s responsibility to provide all of these alienated, often discriminated and deprived of the basic kind of assistance people with the voice. Raising this kind of issue is not only a chance to supply aid, but also appeal to the government by talking about their failures in social policies. It’s also a way for the cultural shift to appear, making people all around the globe appreciate that there is no shame in experiencing mental issues, and there is nothing that should stop us from talking about it, and, of course, acting on it.

At the end of the day, raising awareness comes down to action, but there is no way to overestimate the importance of it. If there is no one out there taking war photos, sharing sexual assault stories, documenting adversity and misery, then no one will ever know about these matters.

No one will ever talk about them. No one will cry over them. People will remain silent, scared and angry – and we saw the outcome of this way too many times. Surely, sobbing about someone else‘s tragedy doesn‘t resolve the problem, but it brings us closer to it. It evokes compassion, unites the nations and reduces the tensions by making us understand that, in reality, there is something common that we all share – being human. And this is the first step towards working on finding a solution, and this is why raising awareness is so principal. The main purpose behind these inspiring photos and movements, which sometimes make you sick to your stomach, is in one crucial truth: you have a voice. You can speak out or remain silent. The choice is yours.

My Bibi Story and Photos By: Leila Mekhdiyeva

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was watching how Bibi was cooking one of the Azerbaijani national dishes, dovga, while in the background the TV was on. 20 January. It was one of the 365 days in a year for many people all around the world, but not for Azerbaijanis. That day, Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev ordered the troops into Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan, to suppress an independence rebellion. About 170 civilians were killed and approximately 800 were injured.

The man on TV was telling frightening stories of that night. For the whole day there were no other programs on any other channels besides. It was a pain that united Azerbaijani people: those who suffered, were killed or injured that night, those who lost their family members or friends, as much as those who lived in other parts of Azerbaijan and knew about it only from news. Even today, when Azerbaijan became one of the richest and the most developed countries of post-Soviet Union, they remember those tremendous events from the past that the nation had to go through to become independent.

For two years, from 1918 till 1920, after the collapse of the Russian Empire and before The Red Army entering Baku and Azerbaijan becoming a part of the Soviet Union, Azerbaijan was independent and was called Azerbaijan Democratic Republic.

It was the first democratic republic in the Muslim world, who granted equal political rights for women and men. The reason why Soviet Russia was so interested in Azerbaijan becoming part of Soviet Union was Baku oil. For the whole period of time the Soviet Union was using Azerbaijan to feed mainly Soviet Russia, which never was a secret, while in Azerbaijan people were living pretty poorly, being told that there was no history of

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independent Azerbaijan and there is no such nation as Azerbaijani people. Of course, it was an absurd that Azerbaijani people didn’t want to deal with anymore. So, in 1989-1990 Azerbaijan was one the first countries who started fighting for its own independence against the Soviet Union.

My Bibi was in mourning like many other Azerbaijanis that day. I called her Bibi, because it was Azerbaijani word for “aunt from father’s side”, but her name was Letafet.

It is a very unusual name for English speakers, although very well known in Azerbaijan, as well as in Turkey, and it means “elegant”.

She was a pure reflection of elegance. The way she was acting and doing such simple things as cooking, walking, looking at people with kindness and a little sorrow in her eyes, the way she was talking; it all showed the graciousness of the Caucasus woman.

Suddenly, I was distracted by Bibi’s voice.

“Your uncle, he hasn’t been here for more than twenty years.”

“Yes, I know,” I said with sadness in my voice.

It wasn’t the first time when she was talking about my uncle. She missed him a lot. Even though they kept in touch and called each other few times a week, still she was waiting for him to come back to Azerbaijan.

“How can one be so careless and not want to come back to his motherland? Just for a few weeks, is it so hard, Leila? To be with people who love him, his brothers and me, his only sister.”

“Well, you know he is busy…”

She interrupted me, “That busy that he cannot come? No one can be that much busy, Leila. It is just that he forgot where he truly belongs.

He left Azerbaijan.” She had tears in her eyes and I could hear how her voice changed.

She wiped her tears and said with pain in her voice: “It is good that you and your Dad are coming here so often, that you visit us

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and keep us in your hearts.” She stopped for a few seconds and then continued: “Never forget about your roots, Leila. This is your home; this is the land of your ancestors, your historical motherland. Wherever you will be, whoever you will become, in what part of the world you will work and live, always remember that you are Azerbaijani.”

She was one of the many other women in Azerbaijan, who were born and raised to be wives and mothers, not to think too much about the career or ambitions, but to give love to their families. In Azerbaijan, as in other Caucasus countries, women had to listen to men and be humble. But the hidden side that not every foreigner could see or observe is that those were Azerbaijani women who actually ruled the family. However, they never do it in a way Western women are willing to. They are not fighting for feminism and gender equality. They are using their right to be “weak” as women and guiding their husbands and sons; there is nothing in their household that would happen without Azerbaijani woman’s approval. But there is no way Azerbaijani women will ever admit this fact. That is the secret they keep and pass on from mother to daughter.

And she was one of them, I thought. And then my next thought was, so am I. At the same time I asked myself “Am I really one of them? What makes you Azerbaijani? Is it just your blood or is there something more than that?”

Being biracial, Caucasian and Asian, growing up in a different country and society, not knowing Azerbaijani that much, I was coming to Azerbaijan every time feeling myself more as an alien-observer than as a part of this nationhood. My Dad is Azerbaijani and my Mom is Kazakh, and while growing up I had this image of a perfectly beautiful Asian woman who did not look like me.

Even by being half Kazakh, I’ve never looked like one of them. I always was a copy of my Dad, so I always tried to define myself as an Azerbaijani. But the problem was that growing up I’ve never had an image of the Azerbaijani Woman herself, only Azerbaijani Man and Kazakh Woman.

I never felt that I belong to any country, city or ethnicity, but every time when I would come to Azerbaijan, I felt inside that I was home.

I was looking at my Bibi, trying to capture this moment, so I would never forget it. Her hazel eyes that she got from her mother, my grandmother, always looked sad, even when she was smiling, and especially now when she was talking about her brother, whom she loved and missed so much.

Suddenly, as she felt I was looking at her, she said pretty cheerfully in Azeri: “You want to eat, don’t you. Wait a little, dovga will be ready in a few minutes”. Dovga is one of the many delicious meals of Azerbaijani cuisine and one of a few meals without meat that I, as a vegetarian, could eat. It was a yoghurt soup with herbs, rice, flour and some nuts. “If only you ate meat, I would’ve made you Dolma, Shah plov, Dushbara…”

And we continued talking about random things that women are supposed to talk about usually, as if she didn’t share her deep pain and sorrow with me just a few minutes ago.

And for me that also was a really important part of the image of that strong Azerbaijani woman, who always hides her feelings from others and does not want to be a victim in their eyes.

Here we were, two Azerbaijani women, so different, but so close at the same time.

And still I wonder what is it that makes you Azerbaijani? Is it blood or something more?

Still I have no answer. The only thing I know now is that it is something that you are born with and you cannot acquire.

GoldFingers Satan’s Ballroom in the Heart of Prague

by Sarah Abu-Sa’ad Photo courtesy of GoldFingers 30

The place was crowded.

Everything was flashing red and blue.

Dozens of eyes watched the women in black lingerie.

I went down the red stairs. In the bar, more than eight men were sitting. Old men, young men, good-looking men, not good-looking men, and more than fifteen women. It felt like I was in a modern, civilized jungle. Everyone was on a hunting mission. It was overwhelming but exciting.

I paid a visit to GoldFingers, a strip club in Prague, with my friend Maya on a discovery mission. Maya works with stag groups, and usually comes to this strip club to babysit the boys, keeping them from going too wild. We walked to the bar to get a drink. Maya poked me and leaned closer to whisper in my ear, “this is the famous Czech porn star, the queen of this place that I told you about.”

I looked at her and thought, “damn, she sure looks like one.” I had never seen someone like her. To be honest, I would say that I was mesmerized by this

character: A tall skinny white chick with shoulder-length black hair and a short fringe. She has the perfect boobs, which I saw through her sexy, leather, front closure black bra. The bra fit perfectly with her tiny waist, mediumsized hips, ass, and long legs. Her face had a sharp edge with two big dark eyes, a small nose, full cheekbones, and full dark lips. The makeup brought out the craziness. With gloomy, strong, beautiful features, she looked like a mysterious warrior queen.

One cannot just ignore her presence.

I wanted to approach and talk to her, but, I was intimidated. I couldn’t even make eye contact with her. I was scared for some reason. She, on the other hand, looked as if she was walking around holding an empty care cup.While we were patiently waiting for the bartender to notice us, she got herself a drink, took a sip as she scanned the bar area for a new customer to choose her for the night, and walked away. I called her “Maleficent”, because she reminded me of the Disney movie character. This Maleficent, however, was more of a vicious sexual being.

The place was packed. Wandering between the tables, Maya and I bumped into the strippers. They were strutting around the club, showing off their beauty, seducing the men. Their glances told Maya and I that we didn’t belong here but I just ignored it. I was trying to focus on observing the men’s faces. Some were yawning with boredom, but most seemed aroused.

We found an empty table in the third row, right in front of the stage. The curiosity was flowing through me. I tried to record everything in my brain. The interior was like a theater: a semicircle stage with a pole in the middle, two disco balls on the sides, with flashing red and blue lights. Although I considered myself an easygoing open-minded person, it seemed like the 21 years I lived in a conservative Islamic household had affected me, making me feel selfconscious about being here. I wondered what my mother and family would think if they knew that I came to such a place.

We shared a table with three British men from a stag group. They looked like they were in their early thirties, nothing special about them. Sitting next to me was a man dressed in a blue shirt: White, a little chubby, medium height. He had blue eyes, brown hair combed to the left, pinkish cheeks, and a long stubble beard. With a very high pitched voice, he screamed through the loud music to ask for my name and where am I from. I screamed back at him, repeating myself over three times, “Sarah from Jordan.”

A couple of minutes later, I was trying to ignore him and watch the show, smoking a cigarette. He leaned closer to ask me to move to a couch, so we could “hear each other better”.

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I agreed and asked for his name.

“Ronald from London,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

I told him that I came to write about my experience here for my school. He smiled at me with raised eyebrows, trying to hide his surprise.

“What does your boyfriend think of you coming here?” He asked.

I looked at him a bit surprised, and a little annoyed.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and even if I did, why would he have a problem with it?”

He laughed and said “well because of all of this”, pointing at the surroundings. In an attempt of shutting the conversation down, I didn’t respond and turned my attention to the show.

The lights went out. The music died. A low light came on at the entrance of the stage along with dramatic music.

Four girls came out on the stage, in two lines.

All covered in black from head to toe. They were holding wooden crosses with both hands as they were moving to the middle of the stage.

Meanwhile, two other girls dressed in devilish costumes came out on stage. They started crawling around the stage, dancing on the pole, kissing, licking and going down on each other.

A man was brought to the stage on a chair along with a woman dressed in a nun’s costume. The two devils started crawling around the man, climbing on top of him, and licking him from the legs to lips. The nun was screaming, crying, shaking her cross, pointing it at the audience and the other dancers to protect herself.

Lights went off for a couple of seconds, and Maleficent was on the stage. I was anxious to see her performance.

Maleficent walked to the middle of the stage and kissed the nun. The nun wiped off her mouth and started giving the cross a hand job, so did the four others who were standing still. Maleficent began kissing the nun again, ripping off her outfit, biting her breasts, pushing her to the floor, and then she took her legs wide apart went down on her for a bit and then she shoved her whole hand inside. The party just got crazier afterward. It was traumatizing, to say the least. I couldn’t look at the whole show, thinking “damn this is out of this world. She is a maniac.” The show lasted for about seven minutes. The next show started and Ronald, with his annoying voice, asked me, “So, what do you think of it?”

I said, “I like some parts. I just think it’s too crazy” and laughed. I laughed to kill the awkward vibe; it was weird for me to watch this with a stranger. I asked him what he thought and how it felt to have all these pretty ladies walking around waiting for a sign from him.

“Overwhelming,” he said. “It’s nice, but not that much, it’s not my thing.”

The next morning, while Maya and I were discussing the night over a cigarette by her kitchen window, she said laughingly, “can you believe how crazy that place was? The dude sitting next to me said it wasn’t his thing. All of these stag boys told me the same thing while trying to hit on me.”

I still don’t know how to feel about the experience. I felt like I was in Satan’s ballroom, watching a show performed by his demonic dancers and his wife Maleficent. I like it more than I hate it. It was intense, weird and kind of funny.

Ocean Blue

By: Olivia Traversi Blue is known to be the coldest color. The film buffs will argue that it’s the warmest. It reminds us of the ocean, whether it’s blissful or turbulent; it makes us think of winter, in the same respects. It can symbolize sadness, or indicate the celebration of a newborn. It’s the sky, the lows on a thermometer, and the color of someone’s eyes whom you love. A color that’s gained a plethora of meanings just by existing in so many places.

When I think about the color blue, the first thing that pops into my mind is the Pacific Ocean. Not a very original word association, I know— but it means a lot to me. My grandparents have a condominium on the central coast of California in Watsonville, and it’s been a second place to call home since before I can remember. It’s filled with framed photos of my entire family, cousins included, and it has always been a place of reunion and serenity. The balcony overlooks the waves 34

rolling onto the shore, and the water looks to be a different shade of blue every time; the hour of day, the position of the tide, and the temperature outside all seem to be contributing factors for this observation.

The blue of that ocean view makes me think of relaxation at its finest. My family jokes that we get a little too relaxed when we visit; a day at the condo consists of eating, lounging, napping, sitting on the beach, napping again, and then dinner. And that’s pretty much a constant cycle for however long we happen to stay. My family has dubbed this habit “The Watsonville Shuffle.”

It doesn’t matter who I’m with when I make a trip there; when we walk through the front door, that is the lifestyle we adopt, and it cannot and should not be helped.

The last time I was there was towards the beginning of this past summer, and I went with my parents and older brother.

It was just us four, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company like we always do. It was during a blue time; my mom was undergoing chemotherapy treatment, but that was a weekend when her energy levels were up, and she could get away from home as long as she didn’t strain herself. Let me tell you— there is really no better place not to strain yourself.

So, the four of us lazed around, watched movies, ate clam chowder, and of course, we sat on the beach. We stared at the panoramic blue sky that changes hue drastically at the horizon line of the ocean. We talked about science, and history, and everything else under the sun. I could never get bored talking to my family; they are the smartest and funniest people I know. My mom has victoriously beat her cancer since then, and I simply can’t wait for another family beach weekend when I get back to California.

It’s always a special thing for me to be back with my family, all together again, even if it’s only for a few days at a time. It makes me nostalgic to think that my brother and I don’t live at home anymore; we can’t just run into each other’s rooms to exchange

memes, or recap stories from the day through mouthfuls of toothpaste as we brush our teeth.

I miss the dynamic of how things were before either of us went to college, when we went to the same school and knew all each other’s friends. We shared a car, which was a baby blue 1993 Toyota Camry that we called the “Blue Cruiser.” We drove to school together each morning and would play our music, laugh at things that amused no one but us, and test how long we could sit in the car after the warning bell before we’d actually be late to first period.

It always makes me happy to see that dynamic return, and it never fails to when we come home. It’s there when the four of us are all at the beach, under one roof. None of us have anywhere else to be, and we need no other entertainment than each other. That’s the way it’s always been. I know that things are constantly changing, but I will always be able to look out at the stark blue ocean from that balcony and feel nothing but comfort. Through times of joy, sadness, anxiety, and change, it remains a source of chicken soup for the soul.

I have splashed around in the water without a care in the world; I have set down a beach chair on the water’s edge and stared at the great blue body, pondering life; I have deposited tears of every emotion into the waves, and I’ve felt the most alive while backstroking in the sun, wishing I could stay there forever while simultaneously keeping an internal clock of when the sharks will inevitably show up. No matter the storm I’m weathering, or the sheer bliss I’m feeling, the ocean can stretch my smile just a little wider than I knew was possible.

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