Defying Distance: Writers Room Student Stories 2019-2020 by Writers Room

D E F Y I N G DISTANCE WRITERS

ROOM

STUDENT STORIES 2 0 1 9 - 2 0 2 0

Introduction Some of us were invited from a class, a professor, a friend. Others came to Dornsife and found a seat at the table. And others still remember curiously wandering through the chalkboard doors of the studio, unsure of what they’d find inside. We all come to Writers Room with different backgrounds, perspectives, stories, and desires, but we return because of the people we meet who are willing to honor our complexities. We learn there is a deeper story connecting us all. We feel at home in what we can make as a community. The way we’re together now is different. The communal table is replaced with a cold grid. We see only the upper halves of one another at most. Our gestures, smiles, and words can be delayed or misconstrued. We tend to feel more vulnerable and tentative on the screen. Yet even from our different spaces we find ourselves continuing to connect, drawn to share, and eager to remain in contact. Despite new routines there’s comfort in knowing we’re still in this together, for one another—as we’ve always been. One of our favorite pastimes is reflecting on the way things happen—especially the fond moments where we first found ourselves a part of this community. With this book, we want to share what Writers Room means to us amidst a global pandemic and nationwide unrest. We continue to write and to act together despite anyone’s attempts to undermine the reasons for which we exist. This community defies distance. The doors will always be open. KH + DW July 2020

WRITERS DEVIN WELSH

BA English ’20 ArtistYear Fellow 2020-2021

MALLIKA KODAVATIGANTI

I.C. COSMO RANDAZZO

BS Chemical Engineering ’24

EMANUAL MARQUEZ

BS Biology ’21

BSBA Technology Innovation & Supply Chain Management ’24

NICK VONK

DOMINIQUE SHATKIN

BRIYANNA HYMMS

KYLE HOWEY

BS Screenwriting/Playwriting ’21 BS Biology ’18

TIFFANY ELLIS BS Biology ’22

BA Global Studies ’23

BA English ’19 Alumni Fellow 2019-2020

Clockwise from top left: Celebrating the HOME mural collaboration with Michelle Angela Ortiz at the Free Library of Philadelphia by Ryan DeVito (October 2019); attending sessions at the Dornsife Center during the Conference on Community Writing by Nick Vonk ’21 (October 2019); TRIPOD field trip to Laurel Hill Cemetery by Devin Welsh ’20 (February 2020); posing together at Dornsife after the closing of the Conference on Community Writing by Robyn Phelps (October 2019); TRIPOD meeting at WR studio by Natasha Hajo ’19 (September 2019); First Tuesday at Dornsife (September 2019); Nick Vonk ’21 + Kyle Howey ’19 with Mantua Civic Assocation President De’Wayne Drummond at the Housing and Health Equity Day of Action event by Rachel Wenrick (November 2019). 6

Devin Welsh BA English ’20

When I think about who I am now, I look back four years ago to the day I decided to dance down Powelton Avenue towards the Dornsife Center as the start of something special. I remember being in the middle of that NEA Big Read second-line parade celebrating the work and legacy of Zora Neale Hurston and looking up at the window of my dorm as we passed Millennium Hall. I was thinking about what it would’ve been like to have listened to my insecurities and stayed home—to look down from that window at the people passing below, longing to know what it was like to belong to something. In that moment, though, I realized I was a part of something. As a freshman in my first week, I didn’t know much, but I did know that I had found my people at Writers Room. I started to get more involved, going to First Tuesday workshops mostly as a fly on the wall, trying to slide into the room with a wave and a smile, but every month without fail I was welcomed in. Over the years, my senior neighbors became my close friends and mentors, pushing me to cherish and cultivate my voice while teaching me about the neighborhood as they accepted me into their community. In the last four years I’ve grown accustomed to having a mentor in every corner of the studio. I looked to Lauren Lowe, an upperclassman and now an alum, and Rachel Wenrick, the director of Writers Room and the one who invited me in, as my lifelines on campus for anything: school, writing, life. They guided me with constructive feedback and always kept it real with me, making clear that it was always out of love. I was lucky to have Patricia Burton, a Philly native, teach me and Kaliyah, then a high school student at Paul Robeson working with us on the TRIPOD project, that simply having a voice and powerful ideas means next to nothing if it isn’t shared with those around you. I’ve had the opportunity to grow and learn alongside the older undergrads as they grew more into themselves and began to serve as mentors to myself and the folks coming up behind me.

This year though, my last as an undergrad, I found myself somewhere in the middle—I was still seeking guidance from Rachel, Lauren, and my neighbors, but more often than not I began asking myself how best to lead, how best to inspire. Yes, of course, I had been taking mental notes during every interaction I experienced or witnessed between Rachel and us undergrads, or as I watched past ArtistYear fellows Lauren, Jasmine, and Tash work with their high school students. But as I found myself stepping more into a leadership role this year as something of an old-head among undergrads, I recognized that there was a serious learning curve. One that I’m still getting used to, but learning to love. I’d found myself in something of a mentorship position before while working with Kaliyah during the first year of TRIPOD, but back then I constantly deferred to the knowledge of Patricia and Lauren. This year, I found myself having more meaningful one-on-one relationships with the new Robeson HS students, sitting with them in the library of the studio as they joked between writing prompts or at the Barnes Foundation while I watched and listened as their imaginations flared. I enjoyed getting to know new undergrads like Emanual on photo-walks around Penn’s campus, and Cosmo while we prepped as MCs before open mic events and before the Anthology 6 reading. Most of all I enjoyed being there to answer questions and ease anxieties about school, writing, and life—similar to the way folks had once been there for me. What’s so special to me is that these sorts of relationships don’t just happen, even though it often feels like that. We don’t have a formal mentorship program in place, but the culture of Writers Room is such that you are constantly learning from the wealth of educators and storytellers around you. Before you know it, you’ve got someone you can turn to for guidance in the same moment that someone else is looking to you for the same. Sure, I’ve experienced growth as a writer from being a part of Writers Room, but most of all, I’ve learned what it means to be a part of a community, to show up for a group of people who I happily call my family, and what it means to have them show up for me.

Mallika Kodavatiganti BS Biology ’21

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been a year since I stepped into the Writers Room studio. During my first few times in that warm, comfy space, I was worried that I would have no one to talk to or that it was too late for me to be a part of Writers Room. I was shy and hesitant to write and to speak, but I was immediately welcomed with open arms. Every face I saw greeted me like I was an old friend and we talked like we were picking up from a conversation started years ago. I’m still getting used to speaking and writing what’s on my mind, but Writers Room has played a pivotal role in helping me find my voice. I remember telling Lauren and Devin that I didn’t know how to write—I had never called myself a writer. They encouraged me to not think too hard (honestly, an impossible task), and to not judge whatever ends up on paper (another impossible task!). This year, visiting artist Andrea Walls told me to embrace the colors I was thinking about, to dive into my culture, and to understand who I am without feeling bad about it. I’m still learning, and I’m definitely still overthinking, but I’m starting to get more comfortable with calling myself a writer. Writers Room is what it is because of the people. Whether we’re in the studio or on a Zoom call, listening to everyone share their stories has a special way of grounding me and making me feel. My biggest regret is not walking through those grey doors sooner. Stepping over that threshold has led to some of the most meaningful memories I’ve made.

Nick Vonk

BS Screenwriting/Playwriting ’21 I started my co-op as the fall/winter Program Assistant at Writers Room in September 2019. Since then, I feel like my knowledge of what Writers Room is at its essence and what the community means to me has infinitely deepened. At the beginning, I knew the blurb, but now I know the spiel—to me, two very different ways of looking at Writers Room. The blurb is who we are in an elevator pitch. The spiel is a bespoke introduction and story for those people whose eyes light up when they walk out of the fluorescent, harsh light of the hallway and into the soft, low light of the studio for the very first time. As the co-op there, I had the pleasure of delivering that message, the spirit of our space, to newcomers. So, what is Writers Room? That’s one of my favorite—and one of the hardest—questions to answer because it’s different for everyone. In my experience, Writers Room is a place that teaches you how to be fearless. When I first got involved, I was afraid to call myself a writer and I refused to enter the studio because I didn’t think I could belong in a group of writers. I didn’t think that my voice or my ideas meant anything outside of my notebook. But the more time that I spend with Writers Room, the more confidence I have as a writer and, more importantly, as a community member. I used to shy away from the responsibility of being part of Drexel and living so close to Mantua and Powelton Village, but during my co-op, I did a lot of amazing things for and with my community—I helped install a mural in the Free Library of Philadelphia, I co-led a First Tuesday workshop at Dornsife, and I assisted with hosting the national Conference on Community Writing, just to name a few. Along the way, I met some amazing people. Writers Room taught me to be fearless by introducing me to bold community leaders, by allowing me to work alongside courageous writers, and by inviting me onto a team of people who understand how vital creative expression is in a community as diverse and robust as the one that I’ve gotten to know. The people that I’m constantly around at Writers Room are the kind of people that I want to be—not only are they not afraid to call themselves writers, they’re not afraid to step up for our community and engage in collective creativity. I came out of my co-op as a very different person from when I started, and I know that I still have so much more to learn. My time with Writers Room is far from over. I hope that anyone reading this who is unsure of what the space can mean for them will also gather the courage to walk through the studio doors for the first time and ask “So, what is Writers Room?”

Briyanna Hymms BS Biology ’18

Writers Room. A collection of people and ideas. From center city, I’m about four stations and a handful of intentional paces away as I try to make time for the people and the events after my workday. Either at the studio in MacAlister for open mic or up to Dornsife for First Tuesdays. But with the ongoing pandemic, as well as social and civil unrest, we turned to Zoom when we were to convene, and thank goodness for technology; I remember a time when seeing other people’s faces was virtually impossible. Seeing a few familiar and friendly faces often brightens my Fridays when I call in from work—usually during my lunch break. The weekly sessions with everyone have been a reprieve from stress and responsibilities, if only for an hour. Even if I don’t get to actively participate, I enjoy listening to the conversations. Writers Room has always given me a sense of community, whether I am in person or online. As for the “work,” I find myself waning as a creative during the pandemic, despite having a busy job and a good routine going for myself. Writers Room has given me a means to try and remedy that with prompts and posts. It’s another link to the world. We’re all in this together after all.

Tiffany Ellis BS Biology ’22

When I first walked into the studio, the aura was soft and airy. I felt an energy of genuine positivity that I didn’t realize I needed, and I knew this would be a place I would enjoy. There’s just something special about the people at Writers Room. I remember my first day at the Writers Room when Rachel called me Tiff. I was so nervous but just her calling me a nickname—which I don’t even think she realized—took my anxiety away by about 50%. All the butterflies in my stomach and the thoughts in my head that I would mess up went away and it was enjoyable. It’s ironic because I have weird attachment issues whenever people show me too much love; I get freaked out and run away. I am afraid of the possibility that they’ll realize that I am not someone worthy of that love they are wasting on me. Never once have I felt like that being at Writers Room, I always feel pure unconditional love; I always feel like I belong. I have met some of the most amazing people who made me understand the importance of my voice and how special of a person I am.

I.C. Cosmo Randazzo BS Chemical Engineering ’24

This has been the most relentlessly challenging and chaotic school year of my life. However, where bouts of social injustice, public health, and personal tragedies have failed my optimism, a newfound haven has opened its arms, wrinkled and strong, to every thought I have had, and every thought I didn’t think I could have: Writers Room has proven to hold the communal, creative, and caring values I could only have dreamed of experiencing after years of keeping my writing—my life, frankly—between me, myself, and my laptop. Last August, I visited Drexel’s campus for a tour as an incoming freshman. Towards the end, I went into Creese to find a restroom, and I happened upon the chalkboard doors of the Writers Room studio. My mother and I gingerly stepped into the room, as if it were a portal—a gate to somewhere else entirely. “Excuse me,” I asked a woman there, “do you know where a bathroom is?” The woman turned out to be Rachel Wenrick, the vibrant director of Writers Room. She offered us our whereabouts kindly, then gave us a little tour. I told her I was going to study Biomedical Engineering (although I’ve since switched), but that I really wanted to be a writer alongside that academic pursuit. Words, as it were, are just as important to me as my dear math and science. Rachel took us from room to room, each adorned with books, ambient lighting, and minimal but cozy workspaces, and explained the beautiful community that stood behind these walls nearly every day. Home, I thought. This is a home.

The first week of September began my metamorphic journey at Writers Room, where I attended my first monthly First Tuesday workshop at the Dornsife Center. It took place in a brightly lit room centered by a wide dining table, surrounded by faces of all skin tones, hands of all gestures, and eyes of all stories. We wrote in bursts, shared with joy, and reveled in our ability to conjure togetherness so seamlessly and so wholesomely. At the end, I got to meet Devin Welsh, a senior (and now a new graduate) who had been with Writers Room for all four years, and who granted me yet another kind introduction and welcome to the Writers Room family. He’s now my co-MC for open-mics—like a Batman and Robin sort of thing, except with more self-expression, and less capes. These experiences, however delightfully novel to me, are not rare at Writers Room; besides linguistically bountiful workshops and soul-supporting events, I often go to the studio to do my math homework or read in my spare time between classes. There, I am always met with a warm “Hello,” a contagious smile, and an opportunity to share who I am with wonderful strangers—although such strangers have become my friends, inspirations, and supporters. In high school, I suffered from mental illness, and writing became a way for me to vibrantly, and often painfully, express all the qualms and curses of my very human life. Of course, my validation at the time largely came from my grades; I was missing something. A home for my words. Incidentally, Writers Room is not only a home for all words, but it’s a home for all people, from Drexel’s campus to the wider local Philly area. Artists, musicians, painters, photographers, writers, poets, and performers (sometimes all at once) have a home with Writers Room, and I am grateful each and every day for the opportunities this program has given me—from my development as a writer and a speaker, to my leadership position within a committee of people dedicated to comfort and innovation, and to the interactions I am blessed with every time I (still) gingerly step through those chalkboard doors.

Emanual Marquez

BSBA Technology Innovation Management & Supply Chain Management ’24

Writers Room was a space I stumbled across midway through my freshman year. From the moment I entered I felt welcomed, and I was quickly able to participate in the many programs it has to offer. The space and its inhabitants felt like a home away from home, an oasis in which I could reside, enjoy and forget about the daunting tasks that were required of me elsewhere on campus. The program gave me, for the first time ever, a place to showcase my writing, and meet like-minded individuals who also enjoyed the craft of writing. I was in awe, and a bit nervous at the same time. It’s a bit daunting to release one’s work for others to view and critique. When writing alone, sometimes your work lies within an abyss where only your light and knowledge shine on it. Writers Room was for me, and potentially others, the first time my work was reviewed by many, and both critiqued and applauded. I don’t want to get carried away with flowery writing, but the time I spent at Writers Room was unforgettable, and I can’t wait to return once again.

Dominique Shatkin BA Global Studies ’23

On the morning of my co-op interview at Writers Room, I woke up feeling discouragingly anxious. I contemplated skipping it, but instead threw on a sweater and walked to the studio in the spring breeze. I quickly realized it one of the best decisions I have made. The interview was meant to last 30 minutes, but Patrice, the assistant director, and I talked for almost two hours, and I felt as though we could’ve talked much longer. I came out of the interview beaming and immediately placed a Writers Room sticker on my laptop, knowing that regardless of whether or not I got the job, I would be going there again. One question stood out to me that Patrice asked: “How do you define community?” At the time, I did the best I could to piece together a response. I knew how to describe it, but I did not have the experience to back my answer as I have always been a bit of a loner. Since joining Writers Room, the answer has come so easily. There are a million ways to define it, but what I’ve realized is that a true community does not mean all members share similarities, but that individuality and diversity are embraced to form a collective space. In this space, we find familiarity through our shared experiences, and although they are different, there’s a sense of belonging, which makes you feel less alone. Although my experience at Writers Room has been a unique one while interning remotely amid the pandemic, I can feel the warmth of each member through the screen of my device. I can feel Rachel’s compassion as she tends to her son’s bee sting during a Zoom meeting. I can feel Keyssh’s power as she shares her poems. (They give me chills every time.) I can feel Norman’s wisdom as he continues to be one of the best storytellers I have ever heard. I can feel Kiki’s radiant energy as she leads a writing workshop during a Friday hangout. I can feel the authority of each writer as they put their entirety into reading during open mics. I can feel myself growing more robust and more confident in myself as I become further intertwined with something much larger than myself. I had no idea that the decision to go to the interview that day would provide all of this for me, but I could not be more grateful that Writers Room has shown that home is not just a place, it can also be a group of people.

Kyle Howey BA English ’19

Four years a part of this story. It can be difficult to look back on just one year of the experience at Writers Room. The heart expands and contracts. Our community is not a cycle of endings each year, but an ongoing place where people are drawn to be with one another— never exclusive to the studio we call home. The pandemic was, and still is, this strange and sad conclusion to our year, and a significant part of it. Despite that, this year was exceptional in many ways. Namely, we welcomed a new generation of TRIPOD writers-in-residence. And to become a part of the extended team as Alumni Fellow this year, learning the orchestration, was an entirely different lens on something I’ve been involved with for so long. This year, if I can frame it, was going to be a way to demonstrate what I could do for others. Considering my time as a student in the program, it was now my responsibility as Alumni Fellow to embody the kind of writer and artist that Writers Room encouraged me to become. And as an alumnus, my experience was motivated by what I saw others creating and experiencing themselves. What I soon realized in this role was that I couldn’t hope to be both fellow and passive observer in the same sentence. I found myself so preoccupied with the behind-the-scenes work, and organizing what’s possible for others to enjoy, that I began drifting apart from the conversations. I needed to recognize that even though I wasn’t as involved as a participant in everything being done, that certainly did not mean that what was happening precluded me.

As I proofread Anthology 6 this spring, taking the proper time to sit and breathe with the work our writers had done, I began to see some of the things I rarely took to notice. A major theme this season in TRIPOD was distance. I remember I couldn’t wait to see what friendships were made, what stories combined or converged, and what they were proud of in the end. But the point I overlooked is that the end can wait. If I can offer you a lesson from my year as Alumni Fellow at Writers Room, ignore the voice inside you that reminds you how much time you have left. Think about the time you have. Don’t let nerves usher you out of a moment. Don’t let the voice of worry deafen the ones speaking right in front of you. Memories remain with you in mind, on paper, and in photographs. But sometimes, they get lost or hidden like the substance of dreams after waking up mid-sentence. You’re quite sure you were saying something while there, but the words have since escaped you. I struggle with memory sometimes, so my gems this year might not come all at once, but they will stay with me—in the faces, the words, the experiences of others, when I see them again.

Clockwise from top left: At the Academy of Natural Sciences for the Conference on Community Writing by Lauren Lowe ’17 (October 2019); on the way to a First Tuesday workshop at the Dornsife Center by Rachel Wenrick (November 2019); Nick Vonk ’21 and Chanda Rice walking together at the Conference on Community Writing by Rachel Wenrick (October 2019); presenting at the PHENND Conference on Housing by Anonymous (February 2020); field trip to Laurel Hill Cemetery by Devin Welsh ’20 (February 2020); TRIPOD meeting at the studio by Natasha Hajo ’19 (September 2019); TRIPOD writers-in-residence with Visiting Artists Danni Morris + Andrea Walls at the studio (January 2020).

Photo Credits p. 2 Mallika Kodavatiganti p. 4 (top) Lauren Lowe p. 4 (bottom) Briyanna Hymms p. 8(top) Natasha Hajo p. 8 (bottom left) Niyai Walker-Cruz p. 8 (bottom right) Nick Vonk p. 11 Kyle Howey p. 12 Dhazir Acosta p. 13 (top left) Kyle Howey p. 13 (top right) Nick Vonk p. 13 (bottom) Anonymous p. 14 (top) Lowell Nottage p. 14 (bottom) Kyle Howey p. 16 Nick Vonk

Editors: Lauren Lowe ’17 Devin Welsh ’20 Editorial Assistant: Dominique Shatkin ’23

p. 17 Briyanna Hymms p. 18 Nick Vonk p. 19 Dorian Salter p. 21 (top) Nick Vonk p. 21 (bottom left) Rachel Wenrick p. 21 (bottom right) Kyle Howey p. 22 Rachel Wenrick p. 25 Cashmere Adams p. 26 Austin Volk p. 28 (top)Keyssh Dattsr p. 28 (bottom left) Devin Welsh p. 28 (bottom right) Nick Vonk p. 31 Natasha Hajo

Writers Room is a university-community literary arts program engaged in creative placemaking and art for social justice. We are a diverse intergenerational collective of students/alumni, faculty/ staff, and neighborhood residents whose work demonstrates a desire for collaborative opportunities in our joint communities. writersroomdrexel.org

We start with story.