It Isn't Getting Any Less Busy (Ramona Arts Magazine 2022) by Ramona Convent Arts Magazine

Acknowledgements. Faculty & Staff Dr. Vincent, Ms. Argueta, Ms. Green, Ms. Lee, Ms. Herrera, Ms. Fernandez, Dr. Anderson Creative Team Director: Marley Gonzalez 23’ Director of Alternative Content: Emily Torres 23’ Director of Digital Media & Aesthetics: Audrey Arizmendi 22’ Head of Writing: Tiana Luu 23’ Head of Visual Art: Alexandra Mullis 23’ Additional Caitlynne Gonzalez 23’ Kennia Camacho 24’ Marissa Mijangos 24’ Cielo Flores 23’ Isabella Huizar 23’ Sofia Rea 23’ Sophia Sauter 23’ Veronica Rio 23’ Lauren Luevano 22’ Vianney Casas Stephanie Mercado Ramona Radio True Colors Club Creative Writing Club 2

Busy. The experience of the last two years is not something that can easily be put into words. The emotions of the losses and gains are felt by all and it brings us together. This magazine attempts to capture an aspect of the perseverance that we have all developed, because we have come out stronger. It reveals itself in all of us in different ways, from art to the spoken and written word, and combines each of our own stories working to build a collective narrative. This is the story of Ramona, the story of women of color, women of the LBGTQ+ community, women with disabilities, women of power, and women of change. It is every part of what makes this campus a place of acceptance and opportunity. It is important that we educate ourselves about each other and the world around us so that we may all find spaces to develop ourselves and to shine. We hope this magazine inspires, empowers, and supports all students in their chapter at Ramona and even when that chapter closes, because of course, life is not getting any less busy.

- Ramona Arts Magazine Collective, Spring 2022

Table of Contents. Part I. Text. El Jardín del Edén – Cielo Flores *** Calls Past 12 – Rachel Lam I’d Like to Leave – Marley Gonzalez +++ Indispensable Memory – Sophia Sauter Unapologetically Latina – Isabella Huizar 17 – Savannah Olmos The List Goes On – Tara Flores I Miss You – Leah Lam +++ My Ambition – Isabella Cheng Two Faced – Annika Lao Rise or Set – Kera Chang Sunsetz – Sofia Rea Three Things about Me – Carolina Torres [Untitled] – Kiana Wong Sixteen – Mackenzie Cabrera One Big Fall – Isabelle Chacon March 8, 1976–October 26, 2016 – Daniela V. Hernandez Wish Upon a Star – Angelina Camak 17 and Pink – Maya Ruedaflores The Sun to my Moon – Elizabeth Reynoso Natalie – Alex Mullis Together to the Finish Line – Natalia Osorio Sunshine Days – Sasha Vasquez A Blooming Rose…Naked and Exposed – Camila Nuevo Patriarchal Trauma – Delilah Anguiano +++ Growing Up – Milla Wang *** Winner, Ramona Convent Annual Writing Contest +++Runner Up, Ramona Convent Annual Writing Contest 4

Part II. Audio. Ramona Radio Episode One: Women of Color Ramona Radio Episode Two: Women in the LGBTQ+ Community Ramona Radio Episode Three: Women with Disabilities Ramona Radio Episode Four: Women in Creative Fields

Part III. Visual. Rachel Lam Alex Mullis Lauren Luevano Savannah Olmos Shirley Tan Cover Art Courtesy Rachel Lam

Part IV. Voices. Angela Davis Dolores Huerta Alice Wong Sister Rosetta Tharp PJ Harvey Shirin Neshat Micklane Thomas Maya Angelou Ryka Aoki

El Jardín del Edén - Cielo Flores My version of Eden Boyle Heights, my love, you cannot be beaten. I smile like a child when I think of you. Forget a love interest, You are my happiness. You are what makes me gleam. From what it seems, you will always be a part of me. Walking down the street, Being free. I imagine what it would be like. Like to live just 10 miles west or northwest. Where the children aren’t sought as criminals. Roaring from the rooftops, BOYLE HEIGHTS LOVE! The outsiders’ thoughts are subliminal. Walking 1, 2, 3, 4, thirty times I arrived at grandmas. My childhood was written all over the door. The past is the Boyle heights love that I adore. Gloria’s caldito es mi favorita. The bold flavors from her beloved land, Surround her plan.

Calls Past 12 - Rachel Lam My two earbuds nod to the sound of your stories Listening closely to how Fast you were running And the scent of midnight air. You explored paths that Seem fictional Yet the reality is what Strays from my life. Your adventures of freedom Solidify my bars. No, not to lock me in But to keep you out. I used to lay under my covers And go on your adventures, Yes, my times of freedom. Where my mind was running, And the scent of summer nights Seeped through my window, Layered in glass, mesh, and iron bars.

Origins - Alex Alarcón Alexandria, the burning knowledge dedicated to the muses As if i'd somehow end up burning something of use In the future, realizing that nothing in me was burning Either, now as the library sits hollow, so am I The knowledge inside me burned long ago Forced to only keep the bits of me that weren’t too charred The one named by a man who wasn’t my father A nerdy boyfriend of my mothers, Who just happened to be around as she let go Of the fire burning inside of her Her flamed had been extinguished as mine had just begun Except to her, I had always been burning, Taking down the people that loved us Until only the ones that I loved remained The remaining bits that stick to me like tar It's all that others cared about, not the decay Or the left over bones, What survived?

I’d Like to Leave - Marley Gonzalez I’d like to leave, Leave to see snow and a sea so clear, and a small town where everyone knows everyone. Leave to see things I simply can’t see here. I’d like to see every star in a night sky, I’d like to see kids skipping rope after dark, I’d like to see dear coffee shops that don’t need to be gatekept, I’d like to see what my life would be without the city. The city that is loud and the city that is large, The city that makes me feel small. The city that holds an unseen spite, And I blame the city for my hesitancy to walk alone at night. I can’t help but wonder if I’d miss the city? The honking cars, bright lights, and merely somewhere to be, Different worlds and people begging to tell their story, The friendships with people who grew up like me. I can’t find that outside of the city, Maybe other things, but that I’ll always lack, So yes, I’d like to leave, But I know I'll come back.

Indispensable Memory - Sophia Sauter You see me from across the lot, Laughter in your eyes. Speakers ready, cameras on Waiting for me to arrive. I pull up to the chain link fence. It’s full of dead balloons. Their colored heads nod up and down As I shake mine at all of you. We walk the halls, a parade of hi’s. I try to hide my face. Through covered eyes I see the wall Black and whites in need of tape. The day’s a blur of hugs and joy. I’m tired from a constant smile. You call me old and embarrass me, But at heart I feel loved like a child. And at the end, we sit together, Looking out, side by side. The days go by, balloons long gone, Just the thought of a moment in time.

Unapologetically Latina - Isabella Huizar Mixed blood runs deep in my veins. Born of the violent collision of two worlds. Daughter of a Spanish conquistador and an indigenous princess. I am Latina. Muy luchadora, a phoenix rising from the ashes, reaching for the promise of a bright future. Belonging to dos tierras, one that raised me and the other that gifted me my identity. Two tongues entangled like cumbia dancers moving in union. I am Latina. Skin the color of canela, long flowing brown hair, hips that sway to the beats of a tambora. Taconazos with botas vaqueras on my feet and silver arracadas dangling from my ears. The culinary creations of my ancestors blend unique spices and flavors that awaken my senses. I am Latina. A colorful and textured tapestry. Strong, complicated, passionate, silly and loud. I speak with my hands and wear my corazon on my sleeve. I am Latina. Following the steps of my ancestors Strong, independent and wise Unapologetically chingona, paving my own path and claiming my rightful place in history. I am Latina. 12

- Savannah Olmos

I am 17 years old the junior high of ages 8th grade PE, volleyball Girls vs. Boys Exchanging glances and smiles across the net Flirtatious words passing through the mesh I was never any good My only focus was getting the ball over, and I was lucky if it did Most times I chose not to play I find myself in a similar match now And although my athletic performance has improved, I’m still too focused on the fundamentals Serve, set, block I can’t think of plays or who my teammates are It’s just two versions of me going back and forth Back and forth Trying to survive, keep the ball moving I want to stay young but I want to grow up And these wants are passing through the mesh too, An osmosis of sorts I am the volleyball match, I am the best out of three And I hope whichever ratio of myself wins is the right one Because Lord knows I was never good at sports

The list could go on - Tara Flores Tara is the name of your friend’s mom when you were younger. It’s not the name of a girl full of youth and excitement. It reminds you of your life in the future. “Tara” probably has her whole life figured out. She has your typical 95 job and does well for herself, but nothing to be jealous of. “Tara” is the name of someone who isn’t that happy, but is successful enough to make it in this world. And though it’s not that popular, it’s a name not worth remembering. After all, it could easily be mixed up for a name just short of a different letter: Sara, Kara, Zara. The list could go on. It’s not a special name, just something her parents liked. But seriously, why would anyone want to be named by one of the worst syllables. Did they not even think of all the awful nicknames that come with Tara? Tara-ble, Taradactyl, Tara-cotta. It doesn’t just stop there. And don’t forget the mispronunciation! Oh yes, how nice is it to hear TAR-UH without fail almost every day. “Tara” can’t even be mad at them though. That IS how her name is spelled: T-A-R-A. Maybe if her parents wanted it to be said correctly, they would have spelled it the same way Starbucks employees do: Terra. T-ER-R-A. You could say that her parents wanted their daughter’s names to be different because you could never guess what their first daughter’s name is: Peri. At least “Peri” gets her name pronounced right. It’s way odder than Tara, and don’t get me wrong, it comes with its horrible nicknames and spelling too, but at least it has significance. It’s from their father’s favorite T.V actress, so you could tell there was some thought put into it. But Tara? No. Straight from a baby name book. But who could blame them? They wanted a boy anyway and anticipated using the name Gavin. Tara came as last minute.

The name Tara isn’t even delivered with confidence because people never know what pronunciation is right. They don’t want to be wrong, which I guess “Tara” can respect, but it just shows how timid of a character the name Tara carries. Even if it’s common, “Tara” would just rather have a name that is said correctly every time. A name that people are familiar with. A name people don’t worry or rush to say. Something like Audrey or Taylor, the name of that popular girl you went to school with. Or even Violet or Scarlett, names that sound so beautiful they are respected without question. Believe me, the desires come in a list, but trust me; The list could go on.

I Miss You - Leah Lam I miss the way you were there Whether it was to be a shoulder to cry on Or to be my backbone When I couldn't stand by myself I miss the way you smiled Showing your crooked teeth Making it impossible for me to not smile either I miss your warm touch The hugs you gave as a sign of comfort The little hand on my back to push me forward When I couldn’t bring myself to do it I miss your cooking Coming over to your house Smelling the food as it filled me up with joy And eating the food with you as you told me stories Made it an everlasting memory I miss all these things about you And I wish that I could tell you all of this But what I really want to tell you is I miss you

My Ambition - Yan Hei “Isabella” Cheng I come from China, a land of origin We are known as the Han people, the “descendants of the dragon” In there was a small city named Hong Kong Used to be a fishing village, now a flourishing financial centre Where all can get along. I led a pretty normal life, was no one of importance Yet one day I could study abroad in the US Overjoyed, I flew in the sky for all to see. I got a chance to strive for success, And thus I vowed that it would not go to waste. When I first arrived, I was taken aback The experience was eye-opening, breathtaking, oh what could I say This was a whole new world, a whole new experience Fearing that I would ever forget this day I carved this wonderful sight into my eyes And dared not speak a sentence. Yet the good times did not last long As adapting was not as easy as pie. I knew nothing of the local terms and trends Whenever there was a discussion, I could only sigh. To others, it was as if I lacked common sense. What is a denominator, they asked Embarrassed, I admitted that I didn’t know It was hard communicating at first in class Usually I would just go with the flow After all, it would be a miracle if I could even pass. 17

They used to say That if you worked hard, nothing could stand in your way Was I just not good enough? I guess I just had to be more tough. I didn’t want this chance to slip away. Sometimes I wondered if it would’ve been better If nothing had changed at all I would be back in my room, a bird locked up in a cage Freedom limited, but at least I feel safe. After all, don’t we fear the unknown? As I reminisced about the old days I remembered a poem from long ago. “Once their wings had grown and expanded, it was time to lead them to a straight tree branch; The young swallows spread their wings without looking back, Taking flight and disappearing into the wind” What brave creatures, I thought For them to just venture out on their own Do they not fear the danger that awaits them? Do they not fear the unknown? Then just like them, I stood up And once again chased after my future. What awaits me? What adversities will I face? I will never know. Yet I can always strive to win the race As behold, That is my ambition, my will, the start of my show.

Two Faced - Annika Lao Torn between people I’ve both grown and learned with, I’m caught between two worlds. A world where I’ve spent my whole life perfecting and a world that is flawed with insurmountable imperfections. Though the answer should be clear as to which is the ‘better’ choice, I could never pick one over the other. To say the least, growing up was out of the ordinary. My childhood wasn’t one of beauty or overwhelming love. More than anything, it was filled with freedom. The freedom to explore the world in an attempt to satisfy my curiosity. There began a descent into a world of childhood films. The world where one like myself could only watch from far as everyone’s dream was accomplished in the end. Happiness… the smiles, and laughter that those people had adorned was contagious. It was something that I. Myself wanted. Something I wished to flood my hollowed heart. Though, what was I expecting from a dumb fantasy. It wasn’t as if laughter or smiles could fill something so fragile. I mean, it was already starting to fracture and when it comes time for it to finally collapse, I can’t say what will happen to me. She’s the idol who never once tripped or failed. Everything came easy to her. From straight A’s to record setting times it didn't matter. Whether it was supposedly ‘hard’ or ‘impossible’ with enough time and patience, anything was solvable. Everyone gave up when challenged against her, nobody tried to win when they knew first place was already her’s. Her answers were practically the answer sheet, if she got anything wrong a prison riot would be the best way to describe it. As she sat watching atop the pedestal she was thrown upon, all she could feel was pity for those who strived to be her. She was the epitome of picture perfect, whether she wanted it or not. 19

None of her ‘friends’ could see the cracks hidden beneath the smoothed rubble from years of damage. The cracks ran like roots, growing ever slowly as the years passed. With each inch they creeped closer, acting as chains that bound her heart in a lock. Then she came, someone who rocked my entire world. Like literally she crashed right into me the first day and caught me dead center in her trap. I couldn't understand what it was but something about her was just… strange, yet so fascinating. The second our eyes met I felt… raw, like I was stripped of the world I lived in. But, more than that, I could never forget the words she whispered to me. “I pity you”, I was never the one to be pitied, I was the one to pity. At that moment, I could care less about the whispers and rumors that would only continue to spread. Nonetheless, I still reached out for her hand. For just a second, I didn’t have to be perfect. For just a second, I could be flawed. For just a second, someone could see my dull eyes sparked with life. For just a second, I felt genuinely happy.

Rise or Set - Kera Chang The evening grows near As an ever impending sunset comes to mark the event. Where the brightness of the day melts away, Black of night breathes against the world. Its beauty seen by almost all, Constantly in one’s face. But what of a sunrise when only a select few see? Those awake at the prime time of 6:55 Step outside and take in the sun. Rays peeking out from under the horizon come alive, Slowly lifting up as across the sky the light runs. Shades of hues ranging from the deepest blue transforming into the tangiest pink. The first lonely showcase that another day is here Luminous light in lieu of lackluster land Atmospheric changes as the warmth rains down in explosions of color But is it mindless to leave the comfort of sleep to view it When another of the same scale already exists when one is awake? Are the chirps of the birds so important when one can instead hear silence? What makes coming up so much better if going down is easier? Does the limelight hold the same beauty as the background?

Sunsetz - Sofia Rea You made me feel As infinite as the horizon. The crisp, cool ocean breeze Blowing gently against my face. The comfort of your hands on mine Attempting to keep me warm. Your hair as golden as the sun And your smile as bright as the stars. The sweet sound of a gentle violin Playing blissfully behind us. A crowd gathering to watch And you’re the only one I see. From that moment came our song That plays at the thought of you. We wished we could stay there forever But wishing wasn’t enough, Forever became months You became as fleeting as the sun.

three things about me - Carolina Torres There are three things I think you should know about me. one. I grew up in a loving home. A home that provided me with everything I could have ever possibly needed. Food, shelter, water, an education, and most importantly; love. With love, I have grown to be the person I am today, A childhood without love is like half-empty glass. As I sit here, in my silent dark bedroom writing this, all I can think about are the people in my life To be more specific, my mother. My mother, who gave everything up for her sweet innocent child. The woman who watched her daughter overcome her silly little fears. My mother who not only gave me a home, but in itself, was my home. two. I love living life to the fullest. In this life, I see the flowers flourish and fall, as the seasons change. In this life, I am able to see the vibrant yet soft shades of orange as the sun rises and sets. In this life, I see my great days and my worst days, and the days that are somewhere in between. I am living a life that is full of messes and beauties, a mess where I allow insecurities to dictate my happiness transform into– a beauty in which I embrace my imperfections that make me, me. A life full of wonder and laughter Yet I do not know why, I find that to be just beautiful.

three. As a child, I was often asked “Who do you want to be when you grow up?” 16 years into this new cycle of life, I still ask myself the same question, as I constantly attempt to figure it out. I have yet to fit the pieces of life’s puzzle. Instead I have realized that the real puzzle is me. But if someone were to ask me now, the question of who I want to be; I would just say, I would like to be happy. These are three things I thought you should know about me.

[Untitled] - Kiana Wong Watching you grow up, blinded by your shine All the trophies, medals, and awards in the world I walk with my head held high As the burden of your successes weighs down my shoulders But I have to live up to your name Because it’s shared It’s our name Our last name trails after my own A looming fog of responsibilities and expectations And while you are my brother, I find you to be my biggest competitor. Never relenting, never receding Self-doubts course through my mind Despite my own successes, It’s you who I’ll always be behind. Grappling with my own identity My sense of self slowly fading away I’ll work hard for myself in the future And break free from the overbearing shackles of Our name.

Sixteen - Mackenzie Cabrera for a long time i craved to be 16 such a magical number a woman but not really confusing just as it is comforting to be blanketed by a thin veil of protection i know is going to be lifted soon i close my eyes and i am back to the age when i longed to be this age when i open them i take a good, long look at the final stage of my juvenile surroundings which are still streaked with the delusions of how i can be anything i want to be and i applaud the little girl who waited for so long i can’t help but wonder if the sweet simplicity only youth can give is what i’ll spend the rest of my life chasing after i wish time could freeze

One Big Fall - Isabelle Chacon Break down my bones and body, and you will see Where I come from What makes me, me. The slit on my eyebrow suggests I am clumsy But look a little deeper into that scar See the laughter and joy of being a child See the white framed bed and the colorful quilt The light smiling down at the polka dotted wallpaper See the two children playing with nothing but their creativity Their minds fueling them through several adventures Laughter shining like the sun throughout the room See their eyes widen as her feet slip See the tears raining down the young girls eyes That same tears that would mark one as weak and fragile See the comforting hands and nurturing embrace See the smile come back to that young girls face Look past the pain and sorrow of falling down And look at the loving arms and loving hands Helping her up from the ground That girl would trade her life for nothing Nothing at all And she realized all of that From one big fall

March 8, 1976 - October 26, 2016 - Daniela V. Hernandez

I’ll always remember your drive and ambition, How you were never tied down by your own inhibitions. I’ll always remember the smile on your face, When you’d tell us you were having one of your “good days”. I’ll always remember the pain in my mom’s voice, When it all boiled down to one final choice. It wasn’t unexpected, just way too soon. You always hated the beige hue of your hospital room. And though I tried my hardest, I couldn’t comprehend A world where I would never be able to see you again But just like the sun after the inevitable end of a rainy day, you appeared; Only it wasn’t in ways you had before. I never heard your voice again, and you never came knocking at our door. You were still gone, yet I saw you everywhere: In my mom, when she’d tell a joke only you would ever think of. In my aunt, how she’d laugh at the stories you used to love. In my sister, how she’d drop everything to help someone out. Even in myself, when I talk a little too loud. And though you’ll never see me all grown up, Knowing you’ll always be a part of us, for me, is enough. For My Uncle Oscar Rodriguez 28

Wish Upon a Star - Angelina Camak To wish on a star, Is only a fantasy from so far, A sort of escape from reality, That decides one's faith and moralities, The story of the star was given as a sort of sanctuary, Although its effects are only on the contrary, As a young child, you are taught this star could grant you a wish, Gave you faith of something so lavish, A wish you made Or for something to go away, The star gave you hope that would soon outweigh, All the fears and hopes you once displayed I wonder why the story of the star was given mostly to young girls, Was it a safety net for all they would soon come to endure? Being taught many safety precautions, Precautions you had to take, simply because of your make, Forced to put up a wall against your emotion, Just so you won’t be told you’re simply being led by unreasonable notions, Being treated like an object, Is all to expect, Having to prove yourself again and again, To work harder for the mere fact that you were not born a man, 29

You are statistically higher risk, constantly looking over your shoulder, Do not walk alone in the night, For you do not know who might, Be watching you, enjoying your fright You learn to keep your back against the door at night, So you can have all the right, Angles that might one day save your life, And yet, No matter how bright that star shines, Oh so beautiful at night, Told to lead the way to all things wonderful and right, Does nothing in plain sight, Almost as if it’s laughing on your cry’s, And wishes, it will never comply This little star I once’s held faith in, Oh where to begin, It’s little grin in the sky, As always been shared as a lie.

17 and Pink - Maya Ruedaflores Being seventeen feels like being the color pink Childish, like the room of a newborn baby girl. Crying like a baby on my pink pillowcase But can’t be heard past my door that is painted pink to cover the holes my dad made in it. Being seventeen feels like being the color pink. Bright and fun like the color of my water bottle that protects me when I walk A weapon to hit a creepy old man if I needed to, I get worried because I’m seventeen. Being seventeen feels like being the color pink. Displaying the most beautiful version of yourself And hiding what it took to get there The whites and reds mixed in. Being seventeen feels like being the color pink. The color that my cheeks turn when I blush Showing all the love I have to give at this age Of 17 and pink.

The Sun to my Moon - Elizabeth Reynoso Golden strands spill onto your shoulders Your smile is as bright as the sun’s rays Warm, kind eyes the color of honey A blazing personality to accompany The blinding glow of your beauty You are loud and bubbly Optimistic and lively The only way to describe you Is the sun to my moon Eyes that twinkle like the thousand stars in the dark sky Grey circles under the eyes that resemble craters Skin as pale as the moon and A peaceful, quiet personality I am trustworthy like the night When people spill their secrets into the dark The only way to describe me Is the moon to your sun The sun and the moon aren’t supposed to get along When one rises the other runs We drift apart and are never complete And when we finally meet It becomes an eclipse And as we embrace we tighten our grip We’re not so different you and I Because both the sun and the moon glow Just in different ways

Natalie - Alex Mullis She was the family’s first grandchild. That’s her title, though she spent four years alone Then her mother’s sister got pregnant and out came me And for a long time, that was it. Neither of us having siblings, We modeled what we thought it was like Still, there was one limitation: She lived eight hours away. Holidays became our prime time Of course, that’s before we got ahold of the internet. But now, we are older She is a woman, strong and beautiful Now, she often lives close for months on end Seeing each other is no longer a rarity. Now, enough time has passed for life to bring challenges, My cousin more so than myself She has always been so outspoken And I think, Why don’t I do that? Now, everything is harder. Yet, that is no reason to panic We have each other to lean on, and After all, Who would we be if existence was simple? Coming to understand the ins and outs of our brains, That complexity is so intriguing. 33

Together to the Finish Line - Natalia Osorio Climbing dirt hills Across grassy fields we go The bright sun beams of a California October scorch our backs Your legs begin to rattle, lungs grasping for air A minute glance into the eyes of one another Together we dread the vision of trails ahead We brave the search for the finish line We confront our biggest competitor– the mental battle Our minds scrambled like our morning breakfast Words derived from the remanent breath of your sapping lungs, so graciously dedicated to your competitor I was on a quest for an attestation to persevere, And there you were A faint and muffled “You got this” left your salt covered lips Kicked up dust no longer blinds my sight With you by my side, we strive for the finish line A profound competitor you were The backbone to my love for the sport Across the country we go, our destiny in near sight The final stretch igniting a joyous feeling of pride You and I have made it to the everlasting finish line

Sunshine Days - Sasha Vasquez You were the first to notice me, the first to open my eyes up to the joys of the world. To the warm sunshine beaming as we traveled together, to those sunshine days. To the roomy feeling in your car. Your white car. Your golden-framed glasses. Your dusty CDs. Where did the time go? Why did it go? Years upon years, and it feels as if every remnant of you Disappeared from me. Lost in time, I long to share those sunshine days with you again. But not all days can be sunshine days. And so I free myself from the past and to a future, where the sun may shine again, someday. Even if it is not a future with you and me in it.

A Blooming Rose... Naked and Exposed - Camila Nuevo A baby coming from a blooming rose The sunlight fell on her body to create a golden gleam The rose was nothing without sun, rain, and soil Mother Nature nurtures notoriously without reason Like petals coming back to the Earth's turmoil So must I How must I leave everything behind naked and exposed The story of my life I see my home, a bright red brick with a yellow base and flowers pouring out like those arranged in a vase The inside meets new and old While not even a candle contains the cold Death grips itself following the survival of those most unworthy The rose grows thorns protecting no more her petals than herself Sometimes something beautiful turns into nothing Holding the chains of death makes me dream as I lost everyone. It is no dream. A tube in my throat The ache of pulling your tears one by one with knives slashed at your throat My curved spine, you are always there Morphed into another body distanced with careful repercussion But like a dandelion, I see new faces Blown from the wind, I watched New York’s White house, Pennsylvania’s Bell, Virginia’s Restaurants, countries separated from harsh sea El Salvador's open doors and tiled floors, food for days, and the sun's empty rays 36

But my maker meets me again Chapel doors and conscience tolls of the heart and mind Like petals coming back to the Earth’s turmoil So must I How must I leave everything behind naked and exposed I have I must The end of my life The end

Patriarchal Trauma - Delilah Anguiano Father doesn’t stick around for long, Never emotionally present.. How can I blame him? He was raised to feel ashamed of feeling, Told that he was never to express his emotions, Manning up and taking it is the only response he knows. But the moments that he does confide in me, I’ve learnt that he feels deeply. Hiding away his inner child, who is asking, Begging, For permission to heal. Who is trapped in hopelessness when attempting to share His fears, Thoughts, And dreams. I know his strength is only a facade, And inside his sanity and esteem are tearing. Father walks around with his head held high, Holding onto his ego and pride, But his shoulders stay hunched, As if weighted down with all the years of pain he has yet to release. 38

Father’s hardships are not only his problem, I too share the consequences of his burden. Fear of abandonment and seeking validation, It was not fair to expect him to know love when he was never shown it. Father had grown up with a dad, But was not raised by one. Wasn’t taught that effort is acceptable, Instead told he was not doing enough. Expected of But limited to, Father was forced into a life, Where machoness determines how much of a ‘man’ you are. It was not his fault he didn’t know how to be a dad, He never truly got the chance to be a son. Physically mature but not emotionally ready. Disconnection in common, in cases of Patriarchal Trauma.

Growing Up - Milla Wang My new friendly neighbor so close to home The stranger that was cunningly unknown She was dauntless and oddly familiar An electrifying ambiance so desirable and her heart made of gold Who made me a part of who I am Someone I could call my best friend Left with long countless nights of relief Moments are temporary but they stay with us forever Memories made that would last a lifetime Bad decision making led to another and learning from our mistakes have kept us apart What once was my best friend became a distant acquaintance Missing those deep sunset lit days in the crisp air We had what we had We are no longer We have parted ways People that are meant to be in your life stay or go The right ones will come back and greet you with what life has to offer No more dwelling on the past You’re not promised tomorrow We forgive and continue to grow within ourselves

Women of Color. 42

Women with Disabilities. 44

Women in Creative Fields. 45

Rachel Lam 47

Alex Mullis 49

Lauren Luevano

Savannah Olmos

Shirley Tan

Angela Davis

January 26, 1944Angela Davis is a civil rights activist, author, and former professor. As a young woman she joined the Black Panthers and became a member of the Communist Party. She has written over a dozen books with topics ranging from race and gender to class and the American prison system.

Dolores Huerta

April 10, 1930Dolores Huerta is a civil rights activist, American labor leader, and cofounder of the National Farmworkers Association. Dolores Huerta played a crucial role in the advocacy of impoverished working women and their children. The Dolores Foundation was founded in 2003 and raises funds in order to make repairs and more efficient infrastructure in low-income communities.

Alice Wong

March 27, 1974Born with spinal muscular atrophy, Alice Wong has dedicated her time to fighting for equal visibility and rights of the disabled community. She founded an online community called Disability Visibility Project in order for people to share, create, and increase representation of people with disabilities in media.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

1915 - 1973 Tharpe was a gospel musician from Cotton Plant, Arkansas who grew up singing in church with her mother. She went on to release her first single, “Rock Me” followed by “My Man and I,” and she is widely considered one of the premier influences in rock n’ roll songwriting. Her ability to play electric guitar combined with her ethereal songwriting skills led her to be seen as the “Godmother of Rock n’ Roll.”

PJ Harvey

October 9, 1969Harvey is a singer and songwriter from England not only known for her involvement in the alternative and indie rock scene, but also for her ability to play a wide range of instruments. She is the only artist to have been awarded with the Mercury Prize more than once. She was able to release two studio albums with her band before moving onto a successful solo career.

Shirin Neshat

March 26, 1957Neshat is a visual artist from Iran who immigrated to the US to study and pursue her passion for creating. She uses photography, video, and film as her form of media and explores women and their relationship with religious and cultural value systems in Islam. She reshapes her own identity in her art to speak on larger issues of freedom, oppression, and power.

Micklane Thomas

January 28, 1971Thomas is a contemporary visual artist known for her collage work, photography, and sculptures. Her art is a representation of beauty and power in the female experience. She combines allusions to art history and political movements with pop culture to convey her message of what femininity means to her.

Maya Angelou

April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014 Maya Angelou was an established American poet and civil rights activist, having published a number of essays, autobiographies, and poetry books. Many of her works have been held up with high regard in celebrating Blackness and womanhood, particularly in poems like “Still I Rise.”

Ryka Aoki

Ryka Aoki is a Japanese-American transwoman known for her involvement and advocacy in the trans rights movement. Her outstanding and unique works of literature made her an award-winning author, having won the Academy of American Poets award. In addition to creative writing, Aoki has shown interest in composing and martial arts. Her involvement in martial arts led her to be founder of the International Trasngender Martial Arts Alliance.