RAG DECEMBER 2014
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ISSUE 1
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BY A N O N Y M O U S
RAG deinition noun: magazine verb: to rag on idiom: “on the rag” Dear RAG readers, We are a group of humyns at Mizzou who want to hear your voices, your experiences, your truths. On such a big campus, many people’s voices are never heard and their stories frequently ignored. We created RAG because we want to create a safe space for students, faculty, staf, etc. to share their opinions, criticisms, stories, and art. This is a submission based publication and each forthcoming issue will revolve around a speciic theme open to your interpretation. We invite everyone to submit and contribute as this project will only be a success with your help. We thoroughly hope that this zine will be a positive catalyst for change and inclusion on campus and foster a culture of vulnerability, sharing, and genuine listening. With radical love, the RAG Collective
Issue 2 submissions are due
SUBM IT T O
RAG F E B R U A RY 2 0 1 5
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ISSUE 2
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JAN UARY 20, 2015 TO RAGMAGZI N E@GMAI L.CO M These submissions can be anonymous or personally attributed - please state your preference in your submission email. Issue 2’s theme will be
M OVEM ENT
FREEDOM = CHOICE To me, feminism is about pursuing freedom. We are entitled to make decisions over our own lives, whether it be where to live, go to school, who to love, and who to marry, among many other important life choices. However, without access, there is no choice. Without choices, we are not free. Back in college, I was a leader of our campus’s Feminist Student Union (FSU). I was oten solicited by local journalists who asked, “What does FSU have to say about: [insert dramatic thing that just happened on campus]?” My response included something about how feminism has many faces, and FSU was only one of them. Their response oten probed me to provide a speciically “pro-choice” opinion or explanation. Not only did I ind “prochoice/life” language incredibly limiting and obsolete, it also frustrated and troubled me to clarify that “the abortion issue” isn’t the only feminist issue out there, even in the scope of reproduction. Feminists are ighting for all reproductive freedoms! These human rights encompass freedom from discrimination, coercion, and violence; all in hopes that individuals of all genders, orientations, and backgrounds can make informed reproductive choices. Having demographic, inancial, and tangible means to reproductive freedoms, though, is absolutely necessary to make these free choices. When Gloria Steinem coined the term “reproductive freedom,” she was tapping into a truly revolutionary idea that broadens our entire perspective on social justice. Of course, the right to obtain an abortion its under this umbrella, and while the media speciically popularizes and focuses on the battle over abortion legislation, we should not overlook the signiicance of all reproductive freedoms. Alarmingly, 40 years ater Roe v. Wade, our freedoms are being challenged. The “abortion issue” is threatened in every red state,
as made clear in 2013 Texas legislation that forced 37 of Texas’s 42 abortion clinics to close. What’s more, in 2011, the highest recorded number of state anti-choice provisions was enacted in U.S. history. We live in a culture that embodies a dichotomy of reproductive privileges and oppressions; we are allocated these mentioned reproductive rights, but encounter so many barriers along the way. For instance, my Missouri public high school curriculum exclusively taught me sexual abstinence, and the abortion provider at my local Planned Parenthood has been threatened and bullied out of work by the anti-abortion community. Women must travel several hours and pay an even higher cost to attain this very needed healthcare service: a devastating reality for low-income, rural women, and their families. Even further, while we have the right to have children when and how we want to—which now provides same-sex couples and trans* individuals more power over their reproductive decisions—the average cost of artiicial reproductive technology is over $60,000: an unreasonably high cost that simply cannot be aforded by many. And while we have so many choices in the U.S., other parts of the world confront higher levels of oppression. For example, the lifetime risk of Canadian woman dying from pregnancy complications or childbirth is 1 in 11,000 while for a woman in Niger it is 1 in 7. Acknowledging our privilege is critical in addressing reproductive inequalities and injustices. So what do we make of all of this? Fighting for reproductive freedom is overwhelming, dificult, and emotionally charged. Our plans of action must include global eforts to eliminate health disparities among groups of diferent socioeconomic, racial/ethnic, ability statuses, sexual orientations, and genderidentities. We must support comprehensive sexual education in schools. We should provide afordable contraceptives, birth control, and maternal care. And of course, while we should continue to protect post-Roe v. Wade pro-choice legislation, we must remember that reproductive freedom isn’t exclusively the right to an abortion. BIRTH CONTROL SEXUAL EDUCATIOn
WOMYN HAVE THE RIGHT TO
LEGAL & SAFE ABORTION QUALITY REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH CARE PROTECTION FROM GENITAL MUTILATION NUMBER, SPACING, & TIMING OF CHILDREN
My brain. My brain, it doesn’t stop. I say, and he answers. Do you love me? Yes Do you love me? Yes No, do you love me? Yes You don’t love me. I do. You don’t love me. I do! I ask. I ask. I ask. And the answer never feels right. Do you love me? I can’t stop it. The compulsive question: Do you love me?
Yes
No, no, no. It’s not right. I can’t stop. I can’t, because, You waited a millisecond too long; The 3rd “Yes” was exasperated, not to mention the 10th. Here, my brain: it says, and I answer. You’re alone. I am. No one loves you. I know. My brain. My brain hurts me. It says, and I answer. You’re bad. I am. You’re bad. I know. You’re bad. I AM. I KNOW! I HATE MYSELF. I HATE MYSELF. Tears. Cuts. Cuts. Cuts. Brain vs. lesh and brain always wins. I can’t stop it. The obsessive statement: You’re bad. You’re bad. You’re bad.
Stop! Please, stop. Please, God help me!
It won’t stop and I’m on the ground, because I’m begging it to stop; prostrating in desperation. The wall won’t hold me up and it hurts my ists when I hit it. Here, I say and no one answers. I want to die Please, let me be dead I want to go away Please
… … … …
TW SELF HARM
[my
b ra i n on ]
D AY S D A B
[my
b ra i n on ]
O D D AY S O G If you have more bad days like that < than good days like this > (or maybe someone you love does), there are resources at your disposal to help Mid-Missouri Crisis Line (Central MO) - (573) 445-5035 or toll free at (800) 445-5035 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Calls to the Lifeline are routed to the closest possible crisis center to provide immediate assistance. Call for yourself, or someone you care about: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) National Hopeline Network 1-800-442-HOPE (4673) via dmh.mo.gov
On good days, my brain writes thank you letters, love letters, and fuck you too letters: Dear Kendrick Lamar, Thank you for your video “I” - it saves me everytime I’m depressed because I can’t help but weep and dance. Dear Love, Thank you for forehead kisses, lazy days, McDonald’s dates, and laughing at me when I’m ridiculous because I can’t take myself seriously either. Thank you for holding me when I cry and saying yes for the 10th time. I love you. Dear Motherfucker, Thanks for being a shit friend. It took me 7 years but you taught me that I deserve better because, bitch - I am flawless. Fuck you too. On good days, my brain paints me in color and affirmations: You are damn intelligent. You are beautiful. You are full, not empty. You are valuable. You are not of this world. You are trying your best. You are trying your best. You are trying your best. I love you. Don’t give up.
MIZZOU’S
N U F
FACTS FACTS
( - DA M E N TA L LY IGNORED)
I think slavery is a “moral depravity” and a “hideous blot.” I believe that it presents the greatest threat to the survival of the new American nation. -TJ
Do you sort of recognize this doodly man? This is Thomas Jefferson. He lives on campus next to the Chancellor’s House. Why is he here, you ask? Good Question.
Thomas Jefferson writing like he didn’t own over 600 slaves throughout his lifetime (monticello.org)
B ORD ER WAR The Mizzou-Kansas rivalry has its historical roots in “Bleeding Kansas,” which was a series of battles incited by mostly pro-slavery MO men in order to intimidate KS into joining the Union as a slave state. It was the catalyst for the Civil War. (BTW - Kansas won and became a free state, and we’re in the SEC now - let’s let this one go!)
Missouri Vocational Enterprises - Correctional Industries is a manufacturing company that uses exc lusi vely p ri so n lab o r The University of Missouri contracts out MVE to make numerous MU licensed prodcts including badges, desk accessories, flags, stickers, signs, car magnets, liscense plates, window decals, wood plaques, & MORE
ALL MADE BY DISENFRANCHISED WORKERS WHO DONâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;T RECEIVE FAIR COMPENSATION
Name Plates doc.mo.gov
Window Decals
Stickers
doc.mo.gov
doc.mo.gov
Name Tags doc.mo.gov
Awards doc.mo.gov
Hitch Covers doc.mo.gov
Freckle series
Period. My mother got her period when she was 9. Her mother (her adoptive mother) didn’t get her period until she was 16. Her mother (her birth mother) was 8. My mother told me her period story years before I got my period when I was 10. Imagine… Little Susy runs into the middle of a gathering of early 1960’s Silicon Valley society women and exclaims to her mother: I’m bleeding! I’m dying! Her mother was completely unprepared. She had never heard of a child having her period… that was something
you got when you were older. Thinking quickly my grandmother unrolled one of the enormous tampons and stuck it in a fresh pair of my mother’s underpants. Flash forward… 1987… I sit down on the toilet and see yucky black stuf in my underpants. MOM! I shout (mostly still asleep and tired and not interested in having my period that day that morning that age). I GOT MY PERIOD! Ever prepared, grown up Susy, pushes a pamphlet under the door that explains menstruation with badly drawn cartoons and exclaims loudly and with great excitement: YOU’RE A WOMAN!
(mostly still asleep and tired and not interested in having my period that day that morning that age): CAN YOU HAND ME A PAD?! 2014 I am in the bathroom inserting a tampon, with a thin pad in my underwear to catch any overlow, with my 6 year old daughter and 3 year old son talking to me about whatever thing that crosses their mindsâ&#x20AC;Ś My son stops and says: What that, Mama? Me: Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a tampon
Son: Why you use it? Daughter: For her period Son: What that? Me: Every month my uterine lining sheds and I bleed. So I use a tampon or a pad to keep it from getting on my clothes. They resume talking about whatever they were talking about before. Period.
M OR E T H A N A N U MB ER 1
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LISTEN! You are more than a number. Your value and worth cannot be summed up With mere digits. I remember When a B was not an A Which altered my GPA And I meant less.
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Let on your table And the minutes to inish that race Mas que los anos que tu familia estan aqui You’re more than a standardized test score Or the number of credit hours you’re taking this semester. You’re more than your number of sex partners, parents, children, roommates, or people in your “family” You have worth in this world.
I remember Lying on the loor Phone to my ear Loving her through vomiting in the restaurant bathroom Because that scale of hers contained a number That meant She meant less. And if you’re not irst chair Or have an area code from over there If you’re not six-foot-ive Or benching all the pounds Or have a back account balance In the 20s YOU ARE NO LESS HUMAN. You are more than your weight. You matter more than that case # That diagnosis decimal point And that decibel rating in your ear. You are more than that tip
The sum of you is incalculable. You’re not too big, or too small. You’re not too dark, or too pale. Your hair is not too curly or too straight, too light or too dark. You’re not too broken, too boy, too girl, too heavy, too curvy, too weak, too weird-shaped, too crooked, too tall, or too short. You’re more than can be measured by any one thing. More than your weight, height, diagnosis, prescription, decibel loss, bank account balance, birth order, zip code, area code, shoe size, dress size, shirt size, pant size, GPA, test score, major, hourly wage, salary, race, sexuality, gender, religion, ability, rank. You’re more than the books you’ve read, the places you’ve been, the experiences you’ve had, the crimes and injustices you’ve survived. You are more than a number. Your value and worth cannot be summed up with mere digits. The sum of you is incalculable. You never mean less. You mean everything.
0
self care
Hey! Hey YOU! Have you taken time for yourself today? Have you practiced some self care? Have you done something that you love?
CHE CKLI ST
No matter how you answered those questions, go do something now! Take care of yourself! If it’s permission that you’re seeking, here it is. You DESERVE this! You work hard. Life is hard. Remember, an amazing womyn once said, “Self care is not about self indulgence, it’s about self preservation.”
*
Don’t know what to do? Here are some ideas to keep you going:
Take a nap (or two)
Hug a tree (seriously, don’t knock it til you’ve tried it)
Turn of electronics and disconnect
Meditate Hang with some friends Exercise or do yoga Have a cookie (or a pint of ice cream or your snack of choice)
Cook a fancy meal for yourself (sharing is up to you)
Learn something new Spend some time alone Write a story Have sex or masturbate
Sit in a cafe or restaurant without a set time to leave
Journal
Read
Watch a movie (or TV or Netlix)
Play video games
Crat
Sit outside/lie in the grass
Have a selie photo shoot
Make a bucket list/plan a dream vacation
Go for a car ride to somewhere new Pet an animal Take a walk or ride a bike
*
This list is by no means exhaustive. All or none of these may be right for you. YOU DO YOU.
TW rape SEXUAL ASSAULT
HERE’S TO YOU,
FUCKERS a "Cheers!" to the rapists at Mizzou You know who needs a toast? The sexually violent men on our campus! Let’s all raise our glasses! Here’s to the stealers! To the ones who took by force. To the ones who said “Well you were drunk but you said you wanted it.” And the ones who did it even when I said no. Here’s to the takers! To the group of men who stufed me in a closet until they were done with me. To the 200-pound man who pushed me down when I wanted to get up. To the men who tried to erase my memories with 25 ounces of liquor. And the men who make me wince when I have lashbacks. Here’s to the violators! To those who preyed on my innocence. To those who only befriended me to get me drunk, “because I was easier.” To those that know they’ve done wrong. And those who still have no clue. Here’s to the rapists! The aggressive friends-with-beneits. The drunk frat guys. The freshmen who “don’t know any better.” And the party guys who “would never do that.” Here’s to you, fuckers! To you who made me a statistic. To you who made me a survivor and a ighter. To you who made me lose count of how many times I’ve been intruded upon. And to you who can never give me back what you’ve stolen. Here’s to you! To the men who should be expelled. The men who deserve to wear a bright red “R” on their clothing. The men who deserve every ounce of bad karma they get. Here’s to you, fuckers.
1 in 3 co lleg e w omen will be the victim of a sexual assault or rape
90%
OF SEXUAL ASSAULTS ARE COMM ITT ED BY SO ME O N E TH E VI C TI M K NO W S rsvp.missouri.edu
CONSENT IS A VERBAL “YES” AND MUST BE GIVEN BY ALL PARTIES INVOLVED
CONSENT
MUST BE GIVEN
TH R OU GH O UT EVE RY S E XUA L ACT
R ESO URC ES & C O NTAC T I N FO RSVP Center University of Missouri, MSA/GPC (573) 882-6638 RSVP@missouri.edu G210 MU Student Center
Shelter 573-875-1370 800-548-2480
Administrative Ofice 573-875-0503 Fax: 573-875-0518 TNinfo@socket.net P.O. Box 1367 Columbia, MO 65205-1367
TRUTHS I NEVER SPOKE TO MY EX
You were a dependent kind of love. When I think of you, I think of sex. I think of other women when we have sex. I think of you when I masturbate. I think I’m a lesbian when I have sex with you. You make me wet, so I must still like men. Your dick always smells weird when I go down on you. I like the scent you leave on all my stuf. I hate giving you head. I hate when you give me head. I enjoy watching you cry whenever we ight. Our irst kiss was forced. Our kisses aren’t synchronized. Your tongue overwhelms me. You suck at ingering. Your inger always accidentally goes into my butt. You never hit the right spot. Once again, that is not my clit. I really hope this isn’t it for me. Thank you for everything.
MA Wear cuflinks in blouses, tie clips in scarves, collar accessories on button-ups, lipstick with tuxedos, and argyle socks with everything. This is how we will ind each other. Some of us wear stilettos. Others combat boots. Oxfords of course. Even sneakers. But they are all in shiny black patent. We will wear whatever we want, but we wear it on purpose. Dapper Femmes come in every color, every kind of queer, every kind of body. Our uniforms are never uniform. We pay attention to our bodies. We are present with them, and connect with them, and package them in bowties sometimes. Dapper Femmes play with the fucked up colonialist, heteronormative, patriarchal standards of beauty, but are never be deined by them.
TO
D a p p e r Fe m m e s We’re Calling You, Please Report To Your Closet:
N IF ES
A Dapper F e m m e ’s aesthetic is armor. What we wear communicates what we can’t or couldn’t always speak. Our style says something. It’s time to listen. Be it a skirt or a tie, clothing is a Dapper Femme’s irst rebellion. We thank our queer predecessors who made political how and with whom we get undressed. We now take on the task of politicizing how and with whom we get dressed. Let’s ask for each other’s input on outits. Even though our taste is impeccable solo, sharing these rituals of suiting up, dolling up, glamming out is a radical, intimate act. This is how we learn to trust each other. Dapper Femmes have come out of the closet, but we will not abandon our closets. We return to them oten. When the world is cruel, they are our refuge.
T h e Beaut y of Ang er A woman recently honored me by asking, “Why are you angry?” She rightly assumed that if I am working with people who have been marginalized and colonized and victimized, I should be angry. If I am not angry than I am certainly not paying attention. I think Anger gets a bad wrap. We too oten confuse Her with violence, thus forcing Her to live a life misunderstood. So let me be clear before I continue – Anger and violence are not synonymous. Fear and violence are. The truth is we could all stand to dance with Anger a little more oten because in order for the world to go from being as it is to as it could be, it will require the Anger of all who call her home.
The world as it is: American Indian and Alaska Native women are 2.5 times more likely to experience sexual assault crimes compared to all other races (The United States Department of Justice)
So let’s talk about the world as it is…
Because once you do, She will ignite within you an inextinguishable ire.
The world as it is: 1 in 3 women in the United States have experienced rape, physical violence and/or stalking by an intimate partner (Center for Disease Control, 2010) The world as it is: Together, African American and Latino males comprised 58% of all prisoners in 2008, even though African Americans and Latios/as make up approximately one quarter of the US population (Sentencing Project) The world as it is: LGBT youth in grades 7 – 12 are twice as likely to have attempted to end their own lives than their heterosexual counterparts (Center for Disease Control, 2011)
Well, frankly, I want better. I demand better. And you should too. You deserve it, friends and family. You deserve to live in a world where no decision you make is dictated or inluenced by the greed and insecurities of others. So my prayer is this: I pray you know the true power of Anger.
She will show you that “the world as it is” is not our only option. Once you truly know Anger, you will know the deep value of your own humanity. You will feel the pain of others as your own and, by the same token, you will experience your own true liberation when they experience theirs. Once you dance with Anger you will realize the secret we are born to discover… (We are all connected).
The world as it is: “Retard” is still a commonly accepted synonym for “stupid.”
Amen.
Skeletal Wood, 2012
Irony, 2012
I believe that you are multidimensional. I believe that you can live with mental illness, eating disorders, body dysphoria, stress, etc. I also believe that you do not always have to be â&#x20AC;&#x153;strong.â&#x20AC;? I believe that your vulnerability is not a sign of weakness. I believe that you are under no obligation to make sense to anyone. I believe that you deserve spaces that afirm your existence, nurture your growth, and pulsate with loving energy. I believe that you should be able to deine yourself.
TO THE C AR EF REE BL AC K G I R L S
I believe that you are worthy of life and love. I believe that you matter.
W I TH F R EED OM ON THEI R MI N D
That being shy and introverted is OK. Extroversion isn’t something to aspire to and is not a trait inherently more valuable How to cope with my depression, anxiety, and illness How to communicate with family and friends about my feelings. How to be vulnerable. How to navigate grey areas in morality, ethics and religion How to not hesitate before saying “I love you” to a person I would give my life for How to be myself, because that is something that can’t be taught
THING S MY M OT H ER DID NOT TEAC H ME
me TH IN GS M Y M OTH E R TAUG H T M E
How to listen with compassion and accept people as they are without judgment, while encouraging them gently to be better versions of themselves How to enjoy eating healthy and clean. To believe that fruit is just as good and even better than cake, and vegetables better than any chips Not to take everything at face value, to question and prod. Take everything with a grain of salt. To know that I am beautiful as I am, because that is the way God created me. That true beauty is cultivated by beautifying my soul. At the same time, there’s nothing wrong with dressing up or a little makeup, but that doesn’t make me any more or less worthy or increase or diminish my value How to do what needs to be done, even when I can’t stand the thought of it When to let an argument go and not insist on “winning”. Compromise is necessary in order to maintain good relationships with family and friends. Don’t be a pushover, but choose your battles wisely How to be autonomous, the middle ground between dependence and independence
unsweetened You know when you are trying to set someone up with one of your friends and you describe the girl as “really nice”? What’s the irst thing that comes to your mind? She’s not superhot. Dating someone who’s a total babe isn’t everyone’s top priority, but when you describe someone as nice we have to assume that their looks are not their best feature. This is not say that girls need to make looking good the most important thing. I realize that I am not a hottie. Sure, I’m not a troll and my hair is above average when I try, but overall there are much more noteworthy things about me than my looks. People might even call me “nice” in conversation because it would be untrue to call me beautiful to a total stranger. Maybe ater you get to know my personality, you might get away with saying beautiful about the whole package. I have a lot of inner beauty, if ya know what I mean. That’s not where I’m going with this though. What I want to say is describing someone as “nice” actually makes the person seem ugly. Catch my drit? It’s not the word, it’s how we use it that makes them seem bad. Being nice is actually a really great quality to have in a friend and a date.
the world get frustrated when you answer that your day at school is “ine.” Well I’m oficially and publicly frustrated with “sweet.” McDonald’s Sweet Tea is sweet. Little girls with bows on their shoes are sweet. Old grandmas are sweet. Actually, my grandma is not sweet. I mean, I guess she is, but there are so many better, stronger adjectives I’d rather use to describe her. She’s thoughtful and giving and funny and opinionated. I think if you asked my grandma, she’d prefer those things to sweet anyways. Sweet sounds like someone who agrees with everyone and is always smiling and never unpleasant. This is not a Disney movie. I know that because little birds do not sing to me as I get dressed in the morning. I could really use the help. Princesses are sweet, but they are not real. Sometimes I wish I was agreeable and ever-smiling and pleasant, but I’m not. I’m opinionated. I have bad days. But I’m passionate and excitable and thoughtful and eficient and resourceful and sometimes I’m even funny. At least my mom thinks so. I would hope my friends describe me with those words instead of telling someone I’m sweet. My friends are sweet, but a stranger could igure that out ater one second. My friend Kristen is thoughtful, organized and great at sharing in others’ success. Liz is considerate and honest when I need an opinion. Emily is so funny and humble and smart. Erin is intense and giving and goofy.
That was a lot of words to make my point that nice is actually blah.
I know I have a journalism degree, but these are just adjectives I came up with of the top of my head. Not hard, people.
Moving on, “sweet” is quickly catching up with “nice” as the most bland, noncommittal way to describe a woman you know. It’s really big in Texas and maybe everywhere.
We don’t use sweet for men as much as we do to describe women. I usually hear stronger words to describe men. For some reason we use the blandest word possible for ladies.
You meet someone, you igure out you have a mutual friend and your new acquaintance says, “Oh ___, she’s so sweet.” That’s the weakest way we can speak to someone’s character. May as well say, “She’s a human being who isn’t my arch enemy.”
Sweet isn’t a bad word and I realize this isn’t a big deal. I surely cannot stop you from using it. I just want to challenge myself to do a better job of making the women in my life sound as awesome/creative/witty/charming/caring/ kind/talented as they really are.
It’s like saying someone is great. Uhhh, great at what? Soccer or telling everyone your secrets? Parents around
Also, I will continue to use the word sweet as God intended, to describe really gnarly waves.