Medley Magazine / Fall 2018

FALL 2018

KINGS&

QUEENS Before the curtain call | 22

REWRITING THE S O U T H S I D E N A R R AT I V E Black speaker series encourages after-school youth program | 6

P I C T U R I N G P E AC E

Syracuse publishing shop voices resistance through art | 28 M E D L E Y \\ 1

F E A T U R E S

12 Voices from the Streets

A profile of homelessness in Syracuse

22 Kings & Queens

Before the curtain call

28 Picturing Peace

Syracuse publishing shop voices resistance through art

42

Political Reporting in the Middle East

Reflection on Newhouse trip to Israel and Palestine

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C O N T E N T S 6 Rewriting the South Side Narrative Black speaker series encourages after-school youth program 1 0 The Man Behind the Megaphone A conversation with the Syracuse street evangelist 1 2 Voices from the Streets A profile of homelessness in Syracuse 1 8 School for Life Moments from a Chiang Mai care center for orphaned and abandoned youth 2 2 Behind the Scenes with Kings and Queens Trexx’s stars of drag unveiled 2 8 Picturing Peace Syracuse publishing shop voices resistance through art 3 4 Fighting on Two Fronts Graduate student learns self-care while helping mother face alcohol addiction 3 8 Dubstep’s Downfall Q&A with Israeli DJ Borgore 4 2 Political Reporting in the Middle East A student’s reflection on Newhouse trip to Israel and Palestine 4 6 Moments Abroad International photos from Syracuse University students

Cover photo by Jordan Larson Samantha Vega, a drag queen and frequent performer at Trexx, expresses her personality through her extravagant ensembles.

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S T A F F Editor-in-Chief Lindsey Sabado Executive Editor Rachel Burt Creative Director Randy Plavajka Senior Editors Ellie Coggins Quinn Gawronski Elizabeth White

Lead Designers Micah Castelo Samantha Lee Randy Plavajka Nadia Suleman Photo Editor Chelsea Taxter

Medley Magazine shares stories from our campus, our city, and our globe that explore the intersection of cultures from a socially conscious perspective. We cover local news, national politics, music, beauty, travel, fashion, women’s issues, LGBTQIA+ issues, race, TV and movies — you name it. Most importantly, we write about you- the members of the Syracuse community.

Online Managing Editor Jaspreet Gill

Staff Photographers Weng Cheong Ruth Furman

Head Web Editor Sajida Ayyup

Social Media Manager Lindsey Sabado

The magazine publishes once a semester with funding from your Syracuse University student fee.

All contents of the publication are copyright Fall 2018 by their respective creators.

Contributing Writers: Sajida Ayyup, Rachel Burt, Micah Castelo, Weng Cheong, Ellie Coggins, Quinn Gawronski, Jaspreet Gill, Rashika Jaipuriar, Lindsey Sabado, Elizabeth White

Advisor Melissa Chessher

medleymagazine.com issuu.com/medleymagazine @medleymagazine

Contributing Photographers: Weng Cheong, Ellie Coggins, Jordan Larson, Randy Plavajka, Lindsey Sabado, Chelsea Taxter

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EDITOR'S NOTE

The conflicts that I had only read about in textbooks came to life on the faces of the people I interviewed.

Standing at the top of Mount Bental, part of the Golan Heights that overlooks Syria, I was overwhelmed by the narratives competing in my head. Over spring break, my political reporting class and I traveled to Israel and Palestine to learn how to best cover stories in the region.

We spent our days interviewing people from different communities: Israeli Jews living in settlements past the Green Line, Palestinians on the streets of Ramallah, Israeli Arabs working at a library in Israel that lends out books in Arabic, a Palestinian refugee living in a community in Israel specially designed to include an equal number of Israeli and Palestinian families, and Israelis living in a kibbutz at the Gaza border that has been damaged by missile attacks. I was acutely aware that the ground I was standing on was land that people lost their lives fighting for.

The conflicts that I had only read about in textbooks came to life on the faces of the people I interviewed. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict that I previously understood as a political question I began to see as extremely personal.

Once back in the U.S., I knew that I needed to stretch myself as a reporter. My trip to the Middle East made me realize how many diverse and often conflicting narratives can exist in the same space. This became my inspiration for relaunching Medley Magazine.

From a street evangelist to a drag queen who has been performing for 20 years, this issue is an eclectic compilation of Syracuse voices. I hope that when you read it, you see a bit of what I saw from the top of Mount Bental: a world full of people with stories to tell that could change your perspective on everything.

Sincerely,

Lindsey Sabado

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REWRITING THE SOUTH SIDE NARRATIVE

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Black Speaker Series Encourages After-School Youth Program Words and Photos by Ellie Coggins

he South Side Communication Center p.m., kids from local middle and high schools Youth Program bustles with energy on come to the center. They eat dinner, play a Wednesday afternoon. Handmade games, and get help on homework. They also inspirational posters and art projects learn about topics not normally taught in decorate the walls, along with historical school, such as how to grow and sell herbs, sew, photos of famous black people and a rack filled and do photography. with Essence magazines. Eight kids are there Scrivens’ current program at the center is that day, ranging from age 10 to 18. Some are a series of black speakers. She feels it’s vital finishing up their dinners around the living that the kids hear from people who come room’s communal table while talking and from similar backgrounds and look like laughing with each other. them. Bimonthly from October through May, A few younger kids start speakers will come talk a loud game of Uno. One to the kids from a whole checks out the various range of professions, homegrown herbs that from writers to business adorn the windowsills owners. behind the front desk.

All the speakers share Meanwhile, Rachielle one thing in common— Scrivens, coordinator of the they didn’t always do center, keeps a watchful eye the right thing, but they over them. worked to turn their To the rest of the lives around. That’s why community and the kids Scrivens records each at the center, she’s better speaker and asks them known as Miss Rachielle. tough questions and to She’s all smiles as she be totally transparent describes her kids and the about their lives while youth program she has answering. She wants the Rachielle Scrivens, Youth been overseeing since 2014. kids to see them for who Program Coordinator These kids mean a lot to they are, the good and the Scrivens, who has known bad, and learn from their some of them since they were babies, and the stories. kids seem to love her too, as they include her in “I think a lot of the time they don’t get to playing games or sharing what they learned at meet the real people that have gone through it school. Yet they know Scrivens is serious, too. and come out on the other side,” Scrivens says She demands respect from her kids, calling of the kids. “The speakers are real people, not them out if they’re being rude to their friends like watching on TV. The kids can talk to them, or acting lazy about school because she knows touch them, relate to them.” they’re better than that.

The first speaker of the series is Lanessa “What I do here is try to deactivate what Chaplin, an attorney focusing on fighting racial the teachers have told you before,” Scrivens injustices in the Syracuse area. She doesn’t reminds the kids. “You are worth it.” stand in front of the kids, give handouts, or use Encouragement and inspiration are the legal jargon. Rather, she sits with the kids at focus of the South Side Communication Center the table and starts by asking everyone their Youth Program. Weekdays from 3 p.m. to 7 name and getting to know them before sharing

It's an opportunity for the kids to be themselves.

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her own testimony.

“I was a kid from the South Side,” Chaplin tells the kids, and eight sets of eyes raptly focus on her. “I was a kid with a bad rep and a big mouth.”

For Chaplin, it wasn’t an easy journey getting to where she is today. Her family had to work hard to make ends meet, and college wasn’t presented to her as an option. Guidance counselors told her that her attitude—one that used to get her into fights— wasn’t suited for college despite her near-perfect grades. Chaplin spent several years working various jobs before attending Onondaga Community College, originally to become a paralegal. After taking a law class, she realized that she could be an attorney.

“When I thought of a lawyer, I thought of a white man,” Chaplin says. “At the time, I was just a little black girl wanting to be a lawyer. No one’s going to believe me when I tell them I’m going to law school. When they hear where I came from, they’re going to be like, ‘yeah, right.’”

Between jobs and school, it took Chaplin 10 years to earn her law degree. But it wasn’t just getting her degree that took time. “Most of it was getting the confidence to know I could do it,” she says.

The kids are attentive throughout her talk, writing down questions on slips of

paper that Scrivens gave them. Most of the kids had never even met an attorney, let alone a black female attorney from the South Side.

“The reason why I’m telling you this story isn’t because I want to tell you my life,” Chaplin says, looking the kids in the eyes. “The reason I’m telling you this is because when you’re traveling along in your path, you don’t have to know what you want to be at the end of the path. All you have to know is you want to be better today than you were yesterday. And keep moving forward.”

Two weeks later, a smaller group of kids sit around the same table to listen to Waliek Betts, owner and designer of All Money Spends, a clothing store a few doors down from the center. Before he became a business owner, Betts got in trouble for gambling and drugs.

“Not listening to people trying to help, my elders, was the problem,” Betts tells the kids on why he found himself in jail.

“There’s no glory in it.”

Once out of jail, he put his love for fashion and design into creating All Money Spends. “Making my first shirt,” he reflects, “was the first step to doing something right.”

At the end of telling his story, Betts asks the kids to share what they want to do

when they grow up. Their dreams are big.

Answers range from veterinarian to artist, songwriter to chef, lawyer to football player. “All those things are possible,” Betts assures them.

After Betts’ speech, Scrivens asks everyone to grab their coats to go on a little trip. Some were surprised and excited to get out, while others grumbled about the rainy, cold weather. Attitudes shifted once they found themselves walking over to All Money Spends. Shirts are neatly stacked along white shelves, and Betts begins handing out shirts to the kids for free.

Their excitement is palpable, as they hold up their new shirts and peruse the other clothes Betts has designed.

“I’m coming back for a fit,” one girl says. Betts laughs and says that they’re all welcome back to his shop.

The kids are also enthusiastic when Scrivens and Betts announce the entrepreneurship program they’re going to partner on—the kids will help design, market, and sell shirts with the help of Betts. It’s another step in providing guidance, teaching a new lesson, and helping the kids discover their passions.

“It’s an opportunity for the kids to be themselves,” Scrivens says humbly. “I hope it opens their world and gives them something to dream about.” \\

(Bottom Left) Miss Rachielle, center, records each speaker who comes to the center. (Top Right) Waliek Betts, left, shows the kids around his store, All Money Spends. (Middle Right) Miss Rachielle, left, takes photos. Betts, left and back, helps the kids pick out their shirts. (Bottom Right) The kids hold up their new shirts from Betts.

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All you have to know is you want to be better today than you were yesterday.

Lanessa Chaplin, Attorney

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A Conversation with the Syracuse Street Evangelist Words by Lindsey Sabado

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he Marshall Street Starbucks becomes a fishbowl as I speak to the man across from me. Two walls of the crowded coffee shop are floor-to-ceiling windows, giving us a panoramic view of the Syracuse University students rushing by in a constant stream.

Dominick Mauro, a familiar face around Syracuse, is wearing a red hat that reads “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shall be saved.” It comes from the biblical Book of Acts. He sits with a coffee in hand and a breast pocket full of pamphlets.

You’ve seen Mauro before- everyone has. For 17 years, the man, now 74, has stood on the street corners near SU preaching his faith. An Independent Baptist, Mauro calls himself a street evangelist.

Amid our conversation, he instructs me to look out the windows at the students walking past. He says they are indoctrinated to worldly things. This upcoming generation, Mauro says, is much harder to reach than those before it. Back in the old days, more people accepted tracts from him or stopped to talk to him. And less people gave him the middle finger.

“Another generation has come,” he says. “And they’ve come up with humanistic values and they think they’re being lectured to.”

I buckle in for a lecture on millennial laziness, greed, social media obsession and indulgence on avocado toast, but that’s not what Mauro gives.

“It’s the truth,” he continues. “A lot of that I can tell you, but you’re not going to understand it because you don’t know the Bible.”

I’ve been studying it since I was a kid, but I’ve already told him that.

Throughout our conversation, I remind Mauro that it’s not his beliefs I want to know about- I’m curious about him. I try to make my questions more direct, mainly concerning why he does what he does: preaching on street corners three times a week.

“I wish I could say I was evangelizing,” Mauro says. “I am, but I’m not. The ground, when it’s hard, cannot receive seed… The ground is adamant today. The ground in America is hard.”

Mauro references a metaphor used throughout the Bible; the hearts of man is the soil and the gospel -- the message

that God sent Jesus to die and rise again to atone for the sins of man -- is the seed.

As a street evangelist, Mauro says he is spreading the seed but that doesn’t mean the soil is receptive. He knows most people aren’t listening. But still, he does it. For Mauro, it’s all about following the command in the Bible to speak publically. Most preachers are afraid to do so, Mauro says.

Only a few times a week does anyone stop to talk Mauro, but he doesn’t see this as a failure. Standing on street corners, he plants the idea of salvation that he hopes another Christian down the road will help the listener to understand and take to heart. In this manner, Mauro says he’s ministered to well over 25,000 people.

Although Mauro is a familiar face around SU, few know much about his personal life.

“I’m a salesman,” he says. “I sell electrical supplies. I have a wife, three children, nine grandchildren.

Mauro proudly smiles as he talks about his grandkids. One teachers in Boston, another plays hockey for her college’s team. And, she’s saved, Mauro adds, meaning she believes in the Bible and the gospel. But not everyone in his family is.

Mauro’s eldest daughter doesn’t share his faith, at least not “yet,” he says.

“Even with my unsaved daughter I have a great relationship,” says Mauro.

“She’s a great wife and mom- good girl. I pray for her constantly.”

He opens his Bible to a passage in the Book of Revelation and reads aloud to me.

The verse talks about the non-believers who are fearful.

“That’s her,” Mauro says. “My daughter knows the truth- she will not tell you ‘my dad is wrong.’ Never. But she’s afraid because she doesn’t want any change.”

Mauro’s other three children and wife share his beliefs.

“I was 19 years of age, I was drinking pretty heavy,” says the now-street evangelist. “I drank so much one day, I started drinking at two or three in the afternoon. I drank enough to kill two people my size, so bad that I lost most of my memory for three or four days.

I hadn’t slept for 36 hours straight. I wasted my life.”

But then, Mauro met his wife. In order to properly take her out and prove

himself to her father, Mauro knew he had to get a job. And so he did, and he began to get his life together.

“If God hadn’t brought my wife into my life, I’d have been dead,” Mauro says.

“If I hadn’t gotten married I probably would have self-destructed. I had no purpose in life.”

The topic of family seems to bring out the more humble side of Mauro.

Aside from God, family is his priority in life. This life of his is something that he doesn’t believes he deserves.

“I’m not worthy,” Mauro says talking about his life and his ministry to the people of Syracuse. “It’s glorious.”

He sees himself like he sees everyone else- sinful and rebellious. Mauro says he had always been “fearful of man” and afraid of his own lack of accomplishment before he was saved.

“The only good thing in me is Jesus Christ,” he adds.

Over the course of the last 17 years, Mauro has experienced a lot of confrontation. More times than he can remember he has been taunted, yelled at, given obscene gestures, spit on, and even punched. Most of the time, he just takes it and continues preaching.

Mauro doesn’t go out to harass people, he says, but adds that his teaching might be taken as harassment. He isn’t shouting, he’s preaching. Mauro affirms that he isn’t judgmental or confrontational; Jesus himself spoke harshly and called people “vipers” to get his point across.

“They think I’m judging them and I’m not. They judge me. Most students are judging me according to my appearance without asking me,” says Mauro, later adding: “Tolerance is the big word today, but they’re not tolerant of people who disagree with them.”

He’s also aware that other Christians think his street corner preaching does a disservice to the religion. They tell him that his style of evangelism pushes people away.

“They don’t understand the Bible,” Mauro says. “That’s not true.”

As we talk in the crowded Starbucks, I feel a tap on my shoulder. A man seated behind me asks what I’m writing aboutChristianity in Syracuse, or just Mauro.

He seems concerned as he gives me his card telling me that he’s a pastor. The man encourages me to call him if I have

They think I’m judging them and I’m not.

They judge me. Most students are judging me according to my appearance without asking me.

Dominick Mauro, Street Evangelist any questions and after apologizing for interrupting, he’s gone.

I sense that our conversation is coming to an end but still feel as though I don’t understand Mauro. He adds my name at the end of a lot of his sentences in a way that makes it seems like he believes that he really knows me. But I have one last question for Mauro.

I ask him what he would write if he could write a letter to the student body if he knew everyone would read it.

“Be sure your sin will find you out,” he says. “Prepare to meet thy God.” I ask a different question, hoping to be more direct: “What do you wish people understood about you?”

“That I have the right motive for being here,” Mauro says. “I care about people’s eternal souls and destiny. I come up here with no thought of myself or any selfish reason.”

With that, I start to pack up and go.

Ringing in my ear is what Mauro first said to me when I sat down across from him. He told me about a past journalist who had written a biased, opinionated article about him. Years later, the journalist called Mauro to apologize, saying he wrote what he thought people wanted to read.

Finished with the interview, I thank Mauro for his time. But he isn’t done yet.

“Are you saved?” he asks. “Have you truly accepted Jesus Christ?”

I feel a swell of frustration, I’d already made my stance on the matter clear.

“Do you have a bible? Do you read it?”

Before I form my answer, he’s on to his next question. \\

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VOICES FROM A Profile of Homelessness in Syracuse Words by Jaspreet Gill Photos by Chelsea Taxter

N

o stranger to hardship and homelessness, the city of Syracuse was named one of the top ten poorest places in 2018 by the U.S. Census Bureau.

While many people have a set image in their mind of what homelessness looks like, in reality it has all different faces. Here in Syracuse, homelessness impacts women, children, families, single adults, veterans, elderly, and so on- and these people all come from different circumstances. To better understand homelessness, why it happens, and how it can be helped, here are four stories from the city of Syracuse.

Homeless Women Veterans: the Invisible Demographic In the middle of Hawley Avenue sits two trailer-sized homes, each equipped with a sleeping area, kitchen, bathroom, and living room. In the backyard, you’ll find a community garden and a fire pit.

These tiny homes were built by Serenity for Women, a local not-forprofit organization. The homes have given new lives to two former homeless women veterans- a demographic that Serenity for Women’s Vice President June Worden says is often overlooked.

“When you think of a homeless veteran, you probably think of a white male standing on the corner asking for money,” she says. “Female veterans, especially women that have children, are very good at hiding the fact that they might be homeless. They might live in their car, they might couch surf and have

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family members that they’re able to use to assist them for a while. But as you can imagine, if you’re homeless and you’re at somebody else’s residence, it doesn’t make it easy for either party.”

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development reported in its 2017 Annual Homeless Assessment Report to Congress that the number of female homeless veterans increased by seven percent between 2016 and 2017 and the number of homeless male veterans increased by one percent between those years. Between 2006 to 2010, the number of homeless veterans that were women more than doubled from 1,380 to 3,328, according to the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans.

Jacquei Pick has been living in one of the tiny homes on Hawley Avenue since February. Having served in the U.S. Navy for eight years, she says female veterans and those on active duty who are women are treated differently than their male counterparts and that mental health programs need to be more accessible.

“Our mental health system is so broken,” Pick says. “There are not enough beds, there are not enough psychiatrists, psychologists, or nurses, and we have homeless people out on the streets that are mentally ill and not medicated. And as far as female veterans go, we didn’t get treated the same as male veterans when we were in the military and it does not change when we get out.”

Pick recalls one particularly terrifying experience she had while on active duty.

“A lot of female veterans were sexually assaulted in the military and I was one of them,” she says. “I never said anything for 32 years because it was my supervisor… I had only been there for

THE STREETS There's a lot of people in need. I see a lot of families here, kids, adults.

People of all ages.

Steven Watkins, Volunteer at Sandwich Saturdays

A young girl receives an activity book at Sandwich Saturdays, a weekly event hosted by We Rise Above the Streets to provide people in need with free groceries, clothing, shoes and more. The founder of We Rise Above the Streets, Al-amin Muhammad, designs each Sandwich Saturday to supply appropriate resources to the members of the community that are most in need. Children's books are a popular item for families, alongside the cold weather gear, such as gloves, mittens and beanies.

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about two months when I was assaulted, and he was married and I worked with his wife. I didn’t tell anybody because I was ashamed that I allowed them to do this to me.”

Linda German, who lives next door to Pick, has been in and out of homelessness for years. Worden says finding Pick and German was difficult because female homeless veterans generally aren’t open about being homeless.

“If you look at the population that is underserved, it’s women. It’s mostly men that are being served,” says Worden.

“Women are just really good at hiding things.”

The Rise of Homeless Youth and Single People in Syracuse On a chilly September morning, D.C. Richardson waits in line near downtown Syracuse with her three godchildren waiting to get free groceries and clothes.

She’s one of many single people at Sandwich Saturdays, a weekly event held to give free basic necessities to the homeless and poor.

Richardson started going to Sandwich Saturdays when she was living in a homeless shelter. Three years later, she still attends.

“I’m disabled, I can’t work,” she says.

“I don’t have any money but when I do, I take my godkids to Sandwich Saturdays.

It’s something for me to do, they still have fun, they get to meet different people and they like it. My godkids are like a source of income for me too, their mom will tell me to take them out for a couple of hours and she’ll give me like $20.”

A Point-in-Time Count, a one-day count of sheltered and unsheltered homeless people across the United States, was conducted by the Housing and Homeless Coalition of Central New York in January of 2018 and found that

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the number of homeless youth, single people, and families in central New York had increased since 2017.

The count revealed the number of individuals in households with only children in emergency shelters increased by four people since last year. The total number of households without children was 402 households in emergency shelters, an increase from 2017’s 376 households. The number of homeless women decreased from 92 to 83 individuals in 2018 in emergency shelters, but the number of men in emergency shelters increased from 284 to 320 individuals.

What do these numbers mean for Syracuse? As winter approaches, colder weather means more people flocking to homeless shelters that can only hold so many people. As a result, those homeless people end up on the streets.

Kevin Walton, Director of the Booth House, the first shelter for runaway teens and homeless teens in New York, says the organization usually sees an increase of teens coming into the shelter in the winter.

“In the summer, you can couchsurf and stay out as long as possible because it’s warm outside, but in the winter the weather is brutal,” he says. “We have 16 physical beds and four cots so we have up to 20 beds in the Booth House, but if it’s winter and the beds are full and somebody walks up to the door, they’re going to be let in.”

Walton says the Booth House serves to provide runaway and homeless youth ages 12 to 17 a safe place to stay. Teens can stay for up to 120 days and are assigned a case manager that works with service providers in the community. He says many runaway and homeless youth suffer from substance abuse and mental health issues and that homelessness is not just a local issue; it will take a bigger force to combat.

“I think all of the systems need to do a better job with providing their services,” says Walton. “From education, mental health systems, parents at home, family systems, the economy. All of it goes hand in hand.”

From Sleeping on the Streets to Becoming a Homeless Advocate: How Al-amin Muhammed started Sandwich Saturdays Every Saturday, hundreds of homeless people gather under the West Onondaga Street Bridge for Sandwich Saturdays, a program started by local homeless advocacy organization We Rise Above the Streets, which provides the homeless population of central New York free food, clothes, shoes, books, pet food, and other necessities.

We Rise Above the Streets founder Al-amin Muhammed knows first-hand the struggle of transitioning out of homelessness. He grew up in Chicago and his life was marked by selling drugs and gang violence. He wanted a change and moved to Atlanta, where he found himself a job.

That change was short-lived.

Muhammed was fired from his job and fell back into selling drugs, only this time he was facing more than two decades in prison. While in prison, he was introduced to the religion of Islam, which he says was a turning point in his life.

“I found who Al-amin Muhammed was, my gift, and purpose” he says. “I had time to think. I did a lot of self-reflection.

I did some self-inventory about myself and was rewinding the tape back to see all the mistakes I made in my life, who loved me, and who didn’t.”

When he was released from prison, Muhammed had no place to go. He was at his lowest, sleeping on the streets, and eating out of garbage cans. One day, Muhammed was approached by a man

who promised to help him turn his life around.

“When I met him, he gave me light,” says Muhammed. “I told him my story and he was very, very, very shocked and saddened. He told me, ‘Al-amin, one day you’ll help a lot of people, your story’s powerful, and I’m going to help you get out of the situation you’re in.’ So he hugged me, kissed me on my cheek… I had never had a man that hugged me, kissed me, embraced me as a father role or as a brother-mentor role.”

Muhammed started We Rise Above the Streets in Atlanta and helped the city’s homeless population. He then met his future wife who lived in Syracuse and decided to bring the organization to central New York.

“I was taking my wife to work one day and I was listening to NPR and they said that Syracuse was one of the poorest metropolitan cities in the world and that just blew my mind,” says Muhammed.

“So I started doing my homework and started going to the South Side and West Side and downtown. I would start talking to people.”

Steven Watkins, a foster parent of six, comes to Sandwich Saturdays with some of his children to help distribute clothes, water, food, and other necessities to almost 400 to 600 people every Saturday.

“There’s a lot of people in need,” he says. “I see a lot of families here, kids, adults. People of all ages.”

A Lack of Adequate Resources Perhaps the biggest struggle for Syracuse’s homeless population isn’t figuring out where their next meal will come from or where they will sleep at night. Rather, it’s finding resources that will help them transition out of homelessness.

The Housing and Homeless Coalition of Central New York estimated that from

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October of 2016 to September of 2017, search in this place for an apartment, the total number of homeless people in stuff like that.”

Syracuse, Auburn, Oswego, and Cayuga Tori Shires, Chief Development reached 7,416 individuals.

Officer at the Rescue Mission, says the Jose Cruz had been homeless for the organization offers several different past eight years after aging out of the services to their residents. foster care system when he turned 21 “We have case managers on site… years old. He moved from the streets They help connect guests of the Mission of New York City to Syracuse when he to services they might need in the learned he had two children, but was community, whether that is physical or kicked out of the apartment he shared mental health services,” she says. “We try with his girlfriend after she found him to provide a path to independence.” smoking synthetic The Rescue marijuana, also Mission operates a known as “spike.”

183-bed emergency All of the systems Cruz ended shelter for men up at the Rescue and women and a need to do a better Mission, a non-profit 68-bed adult home job with providing organization that with 31 units of provides outreach supportive housing their services. From programs and shelter in Syracuse. In 2017, education, mental to homeless people the organization in central New York. spent more than health systems, He described his $16 million dollars parents at home, living conditions in towards program the organization’s services, including family systems, the Syracuse campus as emergency, “pure hell.” He shared economy. All of it residential, and a room with 50 other social enterprise goes hand in hand. men and was often services. paranoid he would be Kevin Walton, “The goal is Director of the Booth House robbed. to not let this be But the biggest long-term but in thing Cruz says the some cases there Rescue Mission could have done to help are people that stay longer,” says Shires. him was provide resources to transition “Our ultimate goal is to end hunger and out of homelessness. After getting homelessness in [central] New York.” himself clean from drugs, he began Daniel Jones has been living on attending a weekly program at Syracuse the streets of Syracuse’s North Side Behavioral Healthcare, now known as neighborhood for the past 18 years.

Helio Health, and he currently lives in a The former carpenter lost his home crisis home in East Syracuse. after not being able to work after years “Everytime I came into the Rescue of back and knee injuries. He says he Mission I had to do all the work myself, needs several surgeries and can’t afford which I didn’t mind because I’m a grown medication. man and I have responsibilities, but “I’m in too much pain to work,” Jones sometimes I just needed guidance, you says. “I don’t even know where to look know?,” Cruz says. “I needed someone for help with getting a job or affording to tell me to look at this place for jobs, an apartment. Usually I’ll couchsurf or

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I’m just on the street but winters here are horrible. I think we even need more shelters or enclosed bus stops so people can take shelter there.”

The Housing and Homeless Coalition of Central New York works to provide people like Jones a path to transition out of homelessness by utilizing the Central New York Homeless Management Information System.

“We oversee a 10-year plan to end homelessness in New York and work with that plan and edit it to work toward that goal,” says Sarah Schutt, Homeless Management Information System Administrator. “There’s a variety of different funding streams that support housing programs and we oversee the biggest one which is called the Continuum of Care Funding.”

The $8.9 million dollar Continuum of Care Fund’s 10-year plan ends in 2021 and includes five goals: increasing collaboration and civic engagement between community members and government, access to affordable housing, economic security for people experiencing or at risk of homelessness, and improving health and stability.

The target outcome for 2021 is that 25 percent of participants in all Continuum of Care-funded projects will be employed by the end of their respective program and to completely end chronic homelessness in New York.

But, this is all something Cruz and Jones have heard before. For Cruz, escaping the cycle of homelessness is a long road, one that he says will take longer than 10 years and requires more supportive people.

“I’ll just tell you this, some people actually care about helping others while a lot of people just care about their paycheck.” \\

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SCHOOL FOR Moments from a Chiang Mai Care Center for Orphaned and Abandoned Youth Words and Photos by Weng Cheong Having all grown up in Thailand, my family and I make it a tradition to return to our home country and visit orphanages on each of our birthdays. School for Life is a small nonprofit that provides a home and education for orphans in the outskirts of Chiang Mai. Some of the children are HIVpositive, tsunami survivors, orphans whose parents died from addiction, or trafficking victims. My sister taught at the school for a summer and she hasn’t stopped talking about it ever since. On my last visit home, my and family and I went to School for Life and volunteered. Here is a glimpse into a typical day at the school.

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(Opposite) While all the kids were playing outside in the open field after lunch, a young boy was lying in one of the classrooms shivering despite the 100 degree heat.

(Bottom) School for Life gets its supplies through donations. During playtime, the kids play chess. The volunteers explained that they can’t afford chess pieces, so they teach the kids to use rocks instead.

LI F E

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(Left) That day, the children were served pizza and ice cream for lunch. Usually, the older orphans cook the meals themselves, but a volunteer decided to bring in a meal. Pizza is a luxury food in Thailand, because parlors are generally only in malls and other high-end places.

(Top Center) Though pizza was the main focus of their lunch that day, the dessert caused just as much of a frenzy at the community table.

(Middle Right) Chess pieces are substituted for small stones because of the school's lack of supplies.

(Bottom Middle) During recess, a group of children gathered around a woven swing.

(Bottom Right) Rusted desks and chairs are scattered across many of the classrooms at the school. During class time, most children choose to sit on the floor. \\

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M E D L E Y \\ 21

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BEHIND THE SCENES WITH

Trexx's Stars of Drag Unveiled Words by Quinn Gawronski Photos by Jordan Larson & Chelsea Taxter he cluttered dressing room is lit by a few buzzing fluorescent bulbs, the white brick walls bare except for flyers announcing Thursday student night here at Trexx, a gay bar in Syracuse.

Foundation, powder, fake eyelashes, and glitter clutter the countertop in front of Sam Bratt, a seasoned drag performer from Rochester, New York. He layers on thick stage makeup, highlighting and contouring in warp speed with his grey sweatshirt unzipped and stomach exposed above the elastic band of navy sweatpants.

“It smells like fifth grade locker room in here,” Bratt says.

Bratt, known on stage as Samantha Vega, has been a drag queen for more than 20 years. He

first performed as a student at the Rochester Institute of Technology for a competition-style fundraiser.

“The first time I did it I thought it was the only time I would do it,” Bratt says. “Here I am 20 years later still putting on panties and dressing up.”

When Bratt began performing, he bathed in the attention he received as a drag queen. He says he never felt attractive as a male, but Samantha Vega is different.

Bratt began performing at Trexx after winning a Syracuse drag pageant in 2008. He said he wanted to maintain a presence here and give back to the community. Now, he performs at 27 college shows throughout the year.

“I guess we’re all attention whores,” Bratt says.

M E D L E Y \\ 23

The curtain crawls open and Samantha Vega appears, her blonde curls bouncing as she struts to the stage.

Bratt’s broad face has been transformed with high cheekbones, black arched brows, and overdrawn fuchsia lips.

Green and red lights dance across the walls, bouncing off the countertops and alcohol bottles that line the shelves.

The speakers on either side of the stage pulsate music, a huddled group dances to steady vibrations of bass. A man slumps on the edge of the stage, lazily sipping a Corona, as a long-haired girl grinds against him.

Vega lip syncs the words to “I’ve Been So Mad Lately” by the band Butt Trumpet in perfect time, her lime green contacts flashing and laced up leather boots reflecting the swirling array of lights coming from above the stage.

The Thursday night host, Fred Donath, better known as Frita Lay, books performers like Bratt regularly and hosts amateur nights with prizes of up to $100 for new performers. Despite this push to bring new acts to Trexx, Donath says that the bar has been suffering from a serious lull over the past decade. Following the creation of RuPaul’s Drag Race in 2009, drag has become a widely accepted facet of the entertainment industry.

Many performers like Donath and Bratt now travel to perform at pride events, college shows, and bars across the East Coast, and for some lucky performers, drag is a full-time career.

Donath has learned from RuPaul’s Drag Race but also blames the popular VH1 series for the decline of attendance he’s witnessed at Trexx.

“Drag in Syracuse is not what it was,” Donath says. “I can see that in the numbers we have at the bar.”

With awe-inspiring shows available at the click of a button, many patrons have become disincentivized to attend inperson drag shows. Donath says the show detracted from the fun campiness that drag used to have, and he isn’t alone.

For Samantha Vega, staying relevant in the ever-evolving landscape of drag is

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an ongoing challenge. Keeping up with the high expectations of the public is impossible.

“It’s like any art form, things change with time,” Vega says. “Everything is about death drops, the stunts, the gags.

How do you keep up with that? How do you stand out when you can’t do those things?”

Brittany Perkins, who performs as Elijah Knightly, reminisces about the old days when all she did was buy some “boy clothes” off the shelf and gyrate to a sexy hip-hop song.

“You were made, you were in,” says Perkins. “Now, you better step up your damn game or you’re going to get lost in the dust.”

the stage, microphone in one hand, an Absolut grapefruit cocktail in the other.

She wears a skin-tight black dress, complete with a short jet-black wig and flaming red lipstick.

“Who feels like family when they come here?,” Lay asks the small crowd clustered on the right of the stage. They cheer and clap as she descends the wooden steps and introduces the first act of the evening, who goes by the name of Little Jazzy.

Little Jazzy catwalks on to the stage, her heeled thigh-high boots striking the floor with each beat. The multicolored lights reflect off of her glittering lip gloss, lilac lob swinging around her neck as she dances and sings.

In the arcade room to the left of the stage the thumping music is dulled, and a quieter crowd sidles up to the bar.

Patrons of Trexx chatter quietly on the barstools while others circle the pool table slowly, cradling drinks.

Donath sits at the far end of the bar, conversing politely with a balding man who sits next to him. Large costume jewelry hangs heavily from his ears and neck, sparkling with each turn of his head. He’s come a long way since his first performance on his thirty-first birthday in 1999, when his boyfriend signed him up to perform in an amateur show known as Wig Fest.

“He put me all in drag, made me up. I looked like an Italian mob woman, dark curly hair, wearing leather,” Donath says.

“That’s when Frita Lay was born.”

Frita Lay was not always so outgoing.

Donath says he was absurdly introverted at his first Wig Fest but went back the following year and won the competition.

When he first began performing at Trexx in 2009, Donath was heavier-set and wore moomoos. He didn’t feel like he was affable enough to host the show.

“I said something funny, somebody laughed,” Donath says. “I haven’t shut up since.”

Tonight, Frita Lay confidently paces

When Donath isn’t in sky-high stiletto heels cracking jokes at Trexx, he’s an RV mechanic. His coworkers have asked him to perform at their annual Christmas party, but Donath declined the offer because he’s unsure how his raunchy routine would go over with the staunch Republicans he works with.

Donath chose to host Thursday night student shows because it’s his day off from work. He spends the majority of the evening getting ready in his basement, which he has dedicated to drag. When he’s done hosting, Donath heads home to rest before he goes back to work the following day at 7:30 a.m.

“Frita doesn’t exist until the wig goes on,” Donath says. “When I go home, I leave here as Fred.”

On the other side of the arcade room, a Christina Aguilera video is projected on the wall. Brittany Perkins perches on a leather stool in the corner, but at the moment is made up as her male persona, Elijah Knightly.

A pair of aviators hang from her red flannel, and an expertly applied jet-black beard disappears into her snapback emblazoned with the word “savage.”

Perkins has been performing at Trexx for almost six years but still considers herself to be a newbie in the drag scene.

M ME ED DL LE EY Y \\ \\ 25 25

“This is like the second home,” she says. “For some people it’s a hobby.”

Perkins came out at Trexx three months before her first performance, and she met her fiancée at the bar soon after. While she’s here, Perkins is a whole different person.

“When I’m me in the day time I’m not cocky, but me in drag is very cocky,” Perkins says. “Say there’s a group of girls at the bar and they want to talk to me. I will go take 20 minutes out of my time and go speak to them.”

For her first performance at Trexx, Perkins only had five minutes to prepare. Frita Lay told Perkins to get on stage, and she ran with it.

Perkins performed extensively with her winter guard team for 15 years before she began drag, sometimes performing for crowds of up to 2,000 people. Even with this experience, she says nothing is quite as intimate, personal, and intimidating as performing in drag.

“I have never been more scared in my life than being in a crowd of 15 people who are in my face.

It’s intimidating as hell,” Perkins says. “You think people aren’t seeing something, but they notice everything.”

Performing comes with intense pressure for perfection. From maintaining a patchless and symmetrical beard to lip syncing every word on time, there seems to be a thousand ways a number can go wrong.

“I always tell people, if you’re not nervous when you’re getting announced before that music starts and that curtain opens, you gotta go find something else to do,” Perkins says.

Even though a nitpicking crowd can be nerve-wracking, she concedes

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that her toughest critic is herself.

“You judge yourself more than the crowd does,” says Perkins. “They accept you as soon as you walk out, because they still love you, they’re still cheering you on, they still give a shit.”

A strong sense of community creates a powerful bond among drag queens and kings alike at Trexx, where Bratt is known as the grandmother of drag newbies.

“I’m like that inappropriate grandma, I say the worst things sometimes but it all comes from a place of love,” Bratt says. “I want them to grow, I want them to get better.”

Perkins is only one of the performers Bratt has been a mentor to. In the chaotic and high-intensity world of drag, having a faux family is essential.

“The most rewarding part of drag for me has been mentoring performers and having them develop a voice of their own,” Bratt says.

Before Perkins landed on Elijah Knightly as her king name, she was known as Sparks Chaos. Her drag father, Angel Chaos, taught Knightly the tricks of the trade. Without a mentor like Angel Chaos, newcomers often tussle with guesses of how to dress, bind, and apply facial hair.

In her early years, Perkins performed alongside her drag father and a group of six other kings who called themselves the Tom Cats.

As the members of the Tom Cats began to perform individually, Perkins curated what she still calls her favorite performance to Adam Lambert’s “If I Had You.” Two years later, Perkins performed the androgynous act at a Central New York pride event in an attempt to persuade Tatiana Michaels to become her drag mother.

Before performing, she marched up

to Michaels and announced, “You’re going to be my mom.”

Following the performance, Michaels approached Perkins and said “welcome to the family,” with arms wide open. Michaels and her boyfriend at the time became a second family to Perkins.

“They take you under their wing, and they try to bestow some form of wisdom onto you when it comes to being in the drag community,” Perkins says.

Perkins is supportive of all the performers, regardless of their act.

She loves seeing new kings arrive at Trexx, much like she did nearly six years ago.

“If you wanna do it on stage, and you have the cojones to get up there and do it, more power to you,” Perkins says. “I’ll scream my ass off for you.”

Though Frita Lay has never been a mentor to a specific queen, Donath says he is open to all new talent that arrives at Trexx. Many college-aged performers he met long ago are still in contact with him 20 years later.

“I got people all over the country that I still get messages from. All over the world, actually,” says Donath.

“They used to call me soccer mom.”

Perkins speaks fondly of Donath and the initiatives he has created to encourage new performers to come to Trexx. “It’s humbling when somebody else can see that you’re trying, and she does,” Perkins says.

Amid the shifting chromatic lights, these kings and queens have found a haven for the art of drag. \\

Samantha Vega creates and assembles all of her own costumes and outfits. This green sequin-studded ensemble in particular is relatively tame according to Vega, save the extravagant headpiece. When she is not performing in character, Vega works at a health center as an HIV and STD testing counselor.

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PICTURING PEACE Syracuse Publishing Shop Voices Resistance Through Art

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Words by Micah Castelo Photos by Randy Plavajka

O

n the edge of the historic Hawley-Green neighborhood sits a commercial building with a narrow green door and raised garden beds. If not for the bright rainbow flag waving proudly from its front facade and the environmentallyfriendly posters posted on its side, your eyes might casually glaze over it while driving down Lodi Street.

This is Syracuse Cultural Workers, a national publishing company and retail store founded in 1982. Walk through the door with the sign overhead that reads “Tools for Change” and you’ll be greeted with progressive paraphernalia and products- from feminist artwork hanging on the walls to pins and buttons with messages like “Protect kids, Not guns” and “Drones R Terrorism” tacked on cardboard.

For 36 years, this business has been educating people about human rights and social justice issues and encouraging activist work through the visual materials they sell.

And despite going through economic struggles, Syracuse Cultural Workers is still sailing on, especially with the rise in civic engagement and activism across the nation in the last two years.

According to a 2018 poll by the Washington Post and Kaiser Family Foundation, one in five American adults

are participating in protests and rallies since the beginning of 2016. In this sampling of 1,850 adults, 19 percent have said it’s their first time joining a march or demonstration. About 32 percent of the total sampling are rallying in opposition to President Donald Trump’s administration and its conservative agenda. Syracuse Cultural Workers has tapped into this growing customer base of people who are searching for activist products, such as T-shirts, lawn signs, stickers, posters, mugs, and postcards that express their beliefs.

Dik Cool, a progressive activist and founder of Syracuse Cultural Workers, says Trump and his administration’s controversial policies are actually helping boost their sales.

“It’s unfortunate that it’s taken that, but people have become much more aware of their values and how they have to defend them,” he says.

Since then, more people have turned to their store to purchase products that represent messages they believe in.

“So when people say, ‘well there’s a silver lining,’ we’re it,” he adds.

Even before the merchandise they sell now, the company’s mission already existed, expressed through a monthly “Peace Calendar.” This was Cool’s brain child, a project he developed while working for the Syracuse Peace Council,

(Opposite) Nick Janvier tapes the side of a cardboard box on the workbench the shipping team uses to prepare all of the orders at the Syracuse Cultural Workers shop. (Above) Much of the inventory at the cultural workers store is politically-minded.

M E D L E Y \\ 29

As I was on staff longer there, I realized that I sort of had ink in my veins.

Dik Cool, Founder of Syracuse Cultural Workers

(Above) Dik Cool reflects at his desk during an afternoon break from the extensive workload of operating the business. (Opposite) An assortment of old photographs, composites and notes cover a narrow wall in the shipping room of the storefront. the oldest running locally-based peace organization in the country.

Cool got a job coordinating activist events and making cultural products for the organization in 1970, two years after he was released from federal prison. He was arrested for being a draft resister during the Vietnam War. Although he was still on parole and was expected to work at a pharmaceutical company, his parole officer, who was also anti-war, let him take the job at the council.

At the council, he started making the Peace Calendar to remind people of how they can incorporate activism in their daily lives.

“As I was on staff longer there, I realized that I sort of had ink in my veins,” Cool says. “I loved to publish things.”

And when the council decided they could no longer afford to publish the calendar, Cool, with the help of a few friends—Karen Kerney, Linda Perla,

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Jack Manno and Jan Phillips—launched Syracuse Cultural Workers to take over the project.

“We said we’re going to continue the calendar because all of us felt that it was a way to influence people throughout the year,” Cool says. “That was really the first product that launched Syracuse Cultural Workers.”

The Peace Calendar still exists. In fact, it’s their most popular annual item. Cool pulls out a 14-by-11-inch wall calendar and flips through its pages, made solely from post-consumer recycled paper.

“It’s not literally a calendar that’s just about peace, but we’ve kept that title,” he explains. “It’s peace in a broad term because there’s a range of topics addressed in each calendar. That’s true in every edition.”

For instance, this year’s October page

has a photo collage of black athletes protesting racism and injustice. The collage links back to October 16, 1968, the day sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their fists at an Olympic ceremony to protest against systemic racism in the U.S. The collage also touches on more recent events such as NFL players kneeling in protest during the national anthem.

Other months have consistent themes — March addresses women’s issues, April on the environment, June on the LGBTQIA+ community, and November on indigenous populations — while some are chosen from a selection process. The process for determining what goes in the calendar remains the same.

Each year, an eight-person committee spends roughly 10 months planning the calendar. They even host a focus group to get input from the local community on the issues they should focus on. Cool explains that the 12 final topics are researched thoroughly. That’s because the calendar doesn’t just have datesthere are over 200 annotations on marginalized peoples’ histories, blurbs explaining certain movements, such as Black Lives Matter, Occupy, and Water is Life, and powerful quotes from activists.

The committee also works closely with artists across the country as they find works that represent the topics they want to highlight in each edition. They send out a call for art submissions or contact artists from their 400-person list to get a piece commissioned for their calendar.

Karen Kerney, Syracuse Cultural Workers’ art director, has been with the company since its inception. She’s worked on the first Peace Calendars as a peace council volunteer.

She reveals the first level of their storefront shop used to be Caroma, a landmark Italian restaurant owned by three sisters- Carmel Sacco, Mary

D’Addario and Rose Wadanole.

There’s a packaging center behind the counter where a few staff members are processing orders, rolling up posters and wrapping up T-shirts for distribution as they listen to NPR. Upstairs is an open workspace, individual offices and an art studio, all surrounded with banners, artwork, and newspaper and magazine clippings tacked on the walls. There’s even a small kitchen where “Soup and Bread” is held, a weekly gathering where they all cook and eat a meal together.

Kerney shows where they keep their archives upstairs. There are filing cabinets and acid-free boxes stuffed with past art submissions and copies of their printed posters and calendars. Since the company started, Kerney has acted as an in-house artist, hand drawing posters or making photo collages. She also makes artwork for the Peace Calendar when they can’t find pieces that best represent a topic they want to address.

“I like the idea of culture and words being put together to change the world,” she says.

Kerney, along with Maxx Hill, the design and production coordinator, is constantly working with artists to print new works on merchandise sold at their retail store, print catalog, website, and pop-up events. But they have to find balanced artwork- those that present serious issues in an empowering way.

Leslie Dwyer, an Oregon-based selftaught artist, has been working with Syracuse Cultural Workers since the late ‘80s. She says they often seek images that represent hope. For instance, her drawing of vibrantly-colored houses with the phrase, “May the night sky find us all warm, fed, sheltered, and loved,” was printed on Syracuse Cultural Workers’ holiday cards.

“Times are tough, and they wanted to present the side of us coming together and feeling our strengths,” she says.

Cool explains how they work their values into how they develop products.

M E D L E Y \\ 31

“We donate a great deal to community organizations doing the work that we support and seek,” he says. “We also try to have consistency between the content, the messaging on what we produce and how it’s produced.”

All of the T-shirts are made sweatshop free and with organic cotton.

All their paper products are printed by regional union print shops. Everything ordered from Syracuse Cultural Workers is processed and packaged from their small warehouse, located in the back of their retail store.

Andy Mager is the sales manager at Syracuse Cultural Workers. He’s been working there since 2014, after he spent two years working on a project on Native American rights and environmental protection.

He says that despite having a large number of loyal customers today, Syracuse Cultural Workers is still facing challenges as a small company.

Currently, work is split between 11 permanent staff workers and an additional five seasonal workers.

In 1988 and 2007, they almost shut their doors because of financial issues.

The company lost 50 percent of their growing $2 million revenue due to the recession between 2007 and 2009.

“But if it weren’t for Dik’s personal commitment and the staff’s willingness to cut back in terms of wages and benefits, it would’ve folded,” Mager says.

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Mager also explains that as a small business, they have to find affordable ways to reach people who would be interested in their products. And since they try to reflect their values through their production, such as supporting fair living wages, their merchandise tends to cost more.

“In order to hold to that principle, it means we face an uphill battle in the marketplace,” Mager says. “As much as we’re not fans of capitalism, we do exist in a capitalist market economy.”

Cool says the company has seen a small profit in the last couple of years.

He adds that it’s encouraging, especially because he wants to ensure his staff is getting a decent living wage and adequate health care. But despite the looming uncertainty of their earnings, the company’s staff enjoys working there.

Kerney comes downstairs with their fall catalog in hand. As she flips through its glossy pages, pointing out the most popular merchandise they sell, she reflects on what makes working there so special. She says she loves the camaraderie and feeling like she can be a part of creating tools for change.

Quay Winfield, a seasonal receptionist who has known about the Cultural Workers since 2000, chimes in. She says it’s like working with an activist family.

“I feel really comfortable with the fact that I got woke with these guys,” she says. “And being able to get up and do something that really does help other people do something is a treat.” \\

(Top) Galyn Murphy-Stanley organizes a small stack of cards before packaging them for shipping. (Left) Lisa Mattes counts out the center's newest calendars for an order. (Right) Karen Kerney sifts through her personal archive of the center's calendar, it's most popular, time-intensive product to create.

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FIGHTING ON TWO FRONTS

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Graduate Student Learns Self-Care While Helping Mother Face Alcohol Addiction Words by Elizabeth White Illustration by Samantha Lee

I

sat on the porch on a warm Sunday summer night, brainstorming story ideas for my summer news reporting class when my phone rang. My sister was calling, and she was hysterical. My mom was drunk again.

Two weeks before I left for graduate school, I discovered that our mom was drinking again after 13 years of sobriety.

I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, and I didn’t know how I was going to move six hours away from home in only a matter of days.

My mom and I have shared a deep connection since my parents got divorced when I was 9 years old. She is my best friend and the person I am closest to, and being apart from her is difficult on the average day.

Despite worries about my mom and what was going on at home, I chose to go to school anyway. Education has always been my top priority; I couldn't let this derail my plans.

There were a lot of tears and lonely nights as I struggled to adjust to a new city with new people. I didn’t make many friends in the beginning because I didn’t want them to know what was going on with me and I certainly didn’t want them to pity me.

My sister gave me updates on my mom

as I completed my summer courses.

Every few weeks, the cycle would restart: relapse, she seems okay, drinking, lies, a fight, and so on. I spent hours on the phone with everyone at home while I sat useless in upstate New York.

Time and time again, a question arose within me: How do I take care of myself and my mom at the same time? Both needed to be done, but taking care of her was at the cost of my own mental health. Each relapse sent me into a frenzy of emotions, mentally affecting me for hours and sometimes days.

A few weeks into summer boot camp, the nickname S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications graduate students give to the intensive six-week summer courses preceding the fall semester, I decided to see the counseling center on campus.

I wasn’t sure what the sessions were going to be like, but the counselors were understanding and kind. The first few sessions were frustrating because there was a lot of talking about my situation with my mom. Talking to a stranger about my problems was both liberating and exhausting. Each session left me feeling raw and exposed, as if I was just shouting my problems out to the world.

Every few weeks the cycle would restart: relapse, she seems okay, drinking, lies, a fight and so on.

M E D L E Y \\ 35

But after a few sessions sitting in a comfortable chair in the dim-lit room, my counselor and I started to make some progress with my mental health.

I didn’t realize before going to see a counselor that so much of mental health and taking care of myself is how I frame my own thoughts. Combating negative thoughts with positive ones and framing everyday life in a more optimistic way goes further than I realized.

My counselor taught me that taking care of myself is an indirect way of helping my mom. By focusing on my school work, dedicating time to myself, and pulling back from constant contact with home, I am helping her by letting her come to her own conclusions, live her life, and figure out things for herself.

I also learned to trust my gut.

This is something I have always struggled with, but my gut has told me several times that my mom was drinking based on the way she spoke to me on the phone. It’s hard to be tough on my mom, to call her out for drinking and acting strange on the phone. It goes against every fiber of my being, but I know that I have to so that she can get better.

My counselor also helped me realize that I need to take care of my own mental health. Self-care is a relatively new concept to me. As someone who often cares about others more than myself, I have struggled to prioritize my needs over the demands of my academic work and those around me.

During my undergraduate years, I often skipped meals and sleep to meet the demands of classes and of the newspaper I was managing.

When I got to graduate school, I realized how much living this way was costing me. As if the demands of a rigorous graduate program weren’t enough, the additional stress of the situation at home meant that I was struggling more than ever just to keep my mental needs in check.

This semester I’ve made a deliberate effort to do little things to take care of myself. I try to start as many days as possible for myself. Before beginning work, I make myself breakfast or lunch at home and enjoy it without the distractions of work for school. I aim to make a meal for myself at least once a day. Though it seems insignificant, taking the time to physically make something simple like a meal allows me to take a breath, step back, and focus on something other than school. I find time to do the things I enjoy, like watching my favorite television show or sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee without feeling guilty that I should be doing something else.

With so many assignments and projects going on at once, graduate school can make me feel as if I am not giving each task my full attention and devotion. My counselor challenged me to change that view. What if I am doing enough? What if I am doing the best that I can? Believing you are doing your best and not feeling guilty about “lost” time taking care of yourself is important.

The process of coping isn’t linear.

There are good days and bad. In today’s world we want everything to be immediate, yet long lasting. And that is what is damaging to our mental health.

Because healing isn’t immediate, it takes

Each session left me feeling raw and exposed, as if I was just shouting my problems out to the world.

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time, and sometimes it doesn’t seem to be working. Self-care is about making sure you’re okay in the long haul. Yes, for that moment, for that week, but also for the semester and year. It’s about taking a breath now and learning to relax so that later you can keep working.

Four months after my mom began drinking again, I am still struggling to find that balance between dealing with problems at home and doing well in school.

And it’s not over yet. My mom will always be an alcoholic but I am hopeful that we’ll get to a point where it’s manageable, when both of us have learned how to properly take care of ourselves for the long run.

I don’t want to paint my mom in a bad light. We all have demons, and hers is alcoholism. She isn’t a bad person. In fact, she is the person I look up to most.

She has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and she is kind, patient, and always has a smile on her face. She is still my mom and my best friend. Her alcoholism does not define her or make her weak; somehow, despite everything, she fights on. She raised two kids as a single mom and she never let anything get in her way. She raised me to be strong and independent, relying on no one but myself.

After six weeks of bootcamp, I went home to the Jersey Shore for a final week of sweet summer before the fall semester started. My mom and I went to our favorite beach and sat in the hot sand, faces tilted up toward the warm sun, the smell of salt and sea breeze in the air. We just talked. In that moment, everything felt okay. The week was full of a lot of laughing, crying, and just being together.

Even though she is the reason for a lot of tears and stress, I love her with my entire heart. This battle isn’t over, but together I am confident we can overcome anything. \\

I don’t want to paint my mother in a bad light.

We all have demons, and hers is alcoholism.

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DUBSTEP’S DOWNFALL Meet the EDM Artist Who Rose to Fame Collaborating with Miley Cyrus and Gucci Mane Words by Rachel Burt Photos Courtesy of Cybele Manilowski

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I

n late September, Israeli EDM DJ Yosef Asaf Borger, known professionally as Borgore, took the stage at Syracuse’s Westcott Theater. Borgore is a rapper, EDM producer, DJ, and singer-songwriter and sees himself as “one of electronic music’s most popular and polarizing artists,” according to his artist bio. He also considers himself the enfant terrible of bass culture and loves his moniker “the man who ruined dubstep.”

Currently living in the U.S., Borgore is the founder of Buygore Records and has recently teamed up with Gucci Mane and THIRTY RACK for his new song “MOP.” In the past, Borgore has collaborated with Miley Cyrus, G-Eazy, and Waka Flocka.

In his latest album, Borgore changed up the tone of his tracks by incorporating jazz, giving fans a glimpse into his personal music taste. The album, “Adventures in Time,” peels back another layer of the cross-genre producer. Formally trained in jazz at Israel’s Thelma Yellin High School of the Arts, Borgore is well-known as a saxophone genius who composed for big band ensembles.

At the Westcott Theater, he performed for over an hour and a half, bringing his “New Gore Order” to Syracuse one heavy mix at a time as part of his headlining “BGU Tour.”

Q: What first sparked your interest in music? How old were you?

A. I was like three years old and I kind of grew up into it. I built a gradual interest in music, it wasn’t all of a sudden because my family wasn’t really musical at all. The best school in Israel was for arts and you cannot get in, it’s really hard, like Harvard for children. My mom wanted to prove a point, so she enrolled me and I got in.

I was supposed to be a ballet dancer, but I didn’t agree to it so they said,

“Okay, well the least you can do is play an instrument.” I told them I’d do whatever they wanted as long as I didn’t have to be a dancer. I kind of regret it now. Imagine how much of a good body I’d have if I were a dancer. I’d be in great shape, I’d be like hella sexy. But no, I’m a DJ so all I do is eat McDonald’s and sit in the studio—it’s not the best for your shape. If I’d stuck with dancing I’d be toned. It’d be sick.

Q: What made you change from the jazz music you studied in school to dropping EDM tracks?

A: Tel Aviv is a very cultural place, and by the time I was 13 or 14, I had already snuck into 21 and over clubs and things. In those places I learned the world of house, techno, all that shit. I dunno, I just fucking love it. I love that it’s dark. In the ’20s, ’30s, ’40s, ’50s people went to the club and they danced to jazz, but people don’t dance to jazz anymore.

Either you’re very deep into jazz or you’re just an old person that’s remembering the past. It’s a pretty small community nowadays, and I wanna make music that people can dance to, you know?

Q: Is your family supportive of what you do?

A: They’re the best. I love Tel Aviv, and I miss my family more than anything. I wish I could live there. Hopefully in like ten years they’ll have an airplane that does four hours from Europe to America, and then we’ll be golden.

It’s hard to explain, but when I started out, I basically made a sound out of nothing. There was no YouTube back then, there was nothing. I’d heard records and I was trying to mimic them, and I came up with a sound. From then on, to try and keep on with what’s coming up next, you kind of have to be around it. I don’t use

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The world is a delight, but life is tricky and full of surprises.

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ghost producers or anything, I like to do everything myself and I like to learn.

So, sitting in LA with a 20-year-old kid that just found something new, I want to be there and discover that something new with them. There’s so much you can learn from sitting with the next generation, and I can’t really do that in Israel.

There are some interesting producers there for sure, but not as many as in LA. Q: What do you think most contributed to your success?

A: I grew up in Israel and what I was seeing was MTV and I was listening to Dr. Dre and Ludacris and Snoop Dogg.

Everything in Israel is very uncensored and very liberal, and everything I learned from the culture here was very uncensored as well, so when I started writing my music it was also very uncensored.

I did things in EDM that no one ever did before in EDM. You can say almost anything in hip-hop and no one’s gonna even flinch because it’s like, “Oh, I’ve heard harder shit.”

In EDM, that kind of thing is still not very accepted. I brought that world into EDM in a weird way, I don’t really fully understand it.

Q: Did you ever expect to get the reaction you did to your music when you were starting out?

A: I was always aiming high, but you never know what’s going to happen. The world is a delight, but life is tricky and full of surprises. I started my music career way before I moved to LA. I moved to LA as a last resort because it seems that most of my business is there. Since doing that, it seems like more people

know my name and what I do.

Q: Do you get a lot of negativity for your songs and onstage antics?

A: Every time there’s less negativity is when I get a little bit stressed. If no one is saying anything, no one cares. When people say shit, they care. It means I got to someone enough for them to talk about it. Most of the negative stuff that I hear is a little bit far-fetched. People are really trying to get at me for nothing.

Honestly, 2018 has been very chill for me as far as comments go. They’ve mostly been positive, I mean I released a jazz album, what are you gonna say?

You’re gonna talk shit about a jazz album? And it’s a good jazz album, it’s not bullshit jazz.

There’s not much someone can say about it, you know? I’ll say that if you can play better, you can talk shit, but how many people can do it better? I know a lot of people that can play better jazz than this, but in our world, the world of EDM, I don’t know a lot of people who can play better than this.

Q: Which artists are your biggest influences?

A: Every week I kind of change my influences, so every week there’s the record I’m obsessed with and I’m trying to get inspired by. It really changes. There are some EDM influences, but it’s usually like I’ll have one record on repeat.

It really depends on the era, sometimes EDM is boring and sometimes EDM is amazing. Right now I think there’s some resurgence. I wouldn’t say I listen to it at home, but I do listen to it when I produce.

So when I work on music, I listen to

dubstep that interests me or EDM that interests me so that I can have a perspective of where I am. When I’m in my car I don’t listen to it necessarily, I take a break. I play this set anywhere between two to seven days a week, sometimes I need to go home and listen to something else, you know?

Q: If you had to pick one album or one song of yours that you’re the most proud of or that you like the most, could you?

A: Overall I’m pretty proud of everything. I could go up to a dad and ask him, “Who is your favorite kid?” He would love all of them, even if they’re a little bit weird—even if they suck a little.

They’re still your kids, you made them so you gotta live with them. That’s basically how I feel about my music. Some are maybe better than others, but I love them all.

Q: What do you think of Syracuse?

A: Sick. It’s an interesting city, you get all the university people and then some not so nice crowds. It’s a real mix, a melting pot. The shows here are always great, so on the music side of things it’s awesome. With the whole proximity to Camp Bisco, I feel like the kids here, they really know music, so for me it’s fun to come play here.

By continuing to challenge both his fans and the musical status-quo, Borgore continues toward what he calls a ‘New Gore Order.’ He hopes to bring the order back to Syracuse as soon as he can. \\

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Two Israeli soldiers guard the fence that separates Israel from the Gaza Strip. On “Land Day,” twelve days after this photo was taken, the Palestinian “Great March of Return” protests began. According to the United Nations, 17,259 Palestinians were injured and 164 were killed between March 30 and August 2. In the same timespan, nine Israelis were injured and one was killed in connection to the demonstrations.

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POLITICAL REPORTING IN THE MIDDLE EAST A Student’s Reflection on Newhouse Trip to Israel and Palestine Words by Rashika Jaipuriar Photos by Lindsey Sabado

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S

ababa.

That’s one of the first words we learned when my international reporting class and I landed in Tel Aviv, Israel. It means “great” or “cool”- the Hebrew lingo to express satisfaction with something. I could sum up my trip to Israel with one thousand “sababas.”

From Jerusalem to the Negev, from the West Bank to the Gaza Strip border, I saw more on this ten-day spring break trip than I could have ever imagined. Every single place we visited, and every single person we met, helped me reach new heights professionally and personally.

Professionally, I was able to network with local journalists and work on my own broadcast journalism piece. I covered the American Embassy’s move to Jerusalem, which was a hot topic covered by journalists all around the world. I even went to the Knesset and interviewed an Israeli parliament member. Personally, I was able to open my heart and mind to new people and new cultures, and also reaffirm my passion for traveling.

It helps that Israel is the size of New Jersey, so we were able to cover a lot of ground in the short amount of time we were there. Our trip organizers, the Jerusalem Press Club, packed our itinerary with as much as possible, as they truly wanted us to see and hear many different perspectives.

We met Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims, religious and secular individuals, and everyone in between. Hearing stories from so many different points of view was important to me not just as a journalist, but also as a person trying to understand the world better.

Coming from the West, my ideas about Israel and Palestine were primarily centered around the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Physically traveling to Israel helped me get a much broader and multidimensional view of the region and the conflict. In Jerusalem, people pray. In Ramallah, street vendors sell fruit and falafel. In Tel Aviv, young people go out to party. In Nahal Oz, a kibbutz bordering the Gaza Strip, children attend school.

Life is not so different from here.

Even though a lot of Western media focuses on conflict in the Middle East, there are many people who are just trying to live their lives and care for their families.

One woman who lives near the Gaza Strip says that it’s similar to many other places in the world. Some places are dangerous because of robberies and car accidents, she says, while some are dangerous because of missiles.

One man, a Syrian refugee who was being treated at a hospital in the Golan Heights, says he just wanted to go back home, despite the ongoing war. He says he misses his family.

These experiences were incredibly humbling. Talking to people about their deepest, most vulnerable thoughts reminded me why I want to go into journalism. I remembered that beneath all the politics and policies and wars that we cover, there are real people with real lives who have stories to tell.

I feel much more confident and prepared to pursue journalism because of this trip.

It felt incredibly validating to tackle hard news, like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the American Embassy move, and come back with a news story that I shot, produced, and edited. My skills improved as a reporter because I really had to step out of my comfort zone and ask a lot of hard questions. I even had to manage a language barrier at times. One of my favorite moments on the trip was meeting an older Russian woman in Jerusalem. She did not speak English and I did not speak Russian, making it a challenging interview. Yet she invited me into her home for tea and snacks, and we ended up spending over an hour together. I was touched by her simple act of kindness.

Before this trip, I tried to learn everything I could about Israel, and more specifically, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

I kept my eye on the news like a hawk. I met up with people who had traveled to the region before. I also spent Tuesdays and Thursdays in a class called “Pop Culture in the Middle East.”

Despite all this preparation, I soon learned this trip wasn’t like an exam I could study for. So much of what I learned came from just being present in the moments, expected or unexpected. So much of how I grew on this trip came from being openminded and just saying “yes.” Yes, to international travel; yes to early mornings and late nights; and yes to tea in the home of a local. \\

(Opposite) The Dome of the Rock sits within the Temple Mount, the third holiest site in Islam. (Top) Outside the entrance to the Old City of Jerusalem.

(Middle) "Rage, The Flower Thrower" was painted in 2005 by famous street artist Banksy. (Bottom) Beginning before sunrise, Rashika Jaipuriar and classmates hiked cliffs overlooking the Dead Sea.

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MOMENTS Rachel Burt: 1, 2 & 7 Malta & Gozo Islands Rachel Burt is a magazine, newspaper, and online journalism graduate student who traveled to Malta and Gozo - two islands located in the Mediterranean Sea. Ellie Coggins: 3 El Camino de Santiago Ellie Coggins, a magazine, newspaper, and online journalism master’s student, went by herself to Spain this year. With strangers who quickly became close friends, Coggins hiked from Saint-Jean-Pied-dePort in south-western France to Santiago in north-western Spain along the Camino de Santiago.

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Micah Castelo: 4 London, U.K. On her trip to London, Micah Castelo experienced something all bookworms yearn for - seeing the places they have only read about. She visited Shakespeare’s birthplace, Stratford-upon-Avon, during her trip. She also had the opportunity to visit Stonehenge and the Roman Baths and watched “Twelfth Night” in theatre. Castelo studies magazine, newspaper, and online journalism.

Celina Liu: 5 Istanbul, Turkey & Strasbourg, France Celina Liu, an international relations major, traveled to Istanbul as a part of the Syracuse University Abroad program.

Cristina Colon Feliciano: 6 Porto & Lisbon, Portugal Cristina Colon Feliciano, an English and textual studies major on the creative writing track, participated in CityLife Madrid, which took her to Porto and Lisbon.

Wanting Mao: 8 Strasbourg, France Wanting Mao, a senior majoring in international relations as well as communication and rhetorical studies completed a summer program in Strasbourg, France this year. \\

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