ROCKET FALL/WINTER 2018 by ROCKET Magazine

Rocket VOL. IX, ISSUE 1

WOMEN FA L L / W I N T E R 2 0 1 8

RoCKET M

FA S H I O N

ART

PH O T O G R A PH Y

THE COLLEGE OF WILLIAM & MARY WMROCKETMAGAZINE.COM ROCKET@EMAIL.WM.EDU @ROCKETMAG

AMY ZHANG EDITOR-IN-CHIEF EMMEL EL-FIKY MANAGING EDITOR ANDREW UHRIG DIGITAL DIRECTOR BRONWYN ROSELI FASHION DIRECTOR REBECCA MCHALE ART EDITOR ANUSHKA ANNONTI, EMMA BRIGAUD, DALE LATTANZIO, SARAH MORGAN, JIAQING PAN ART TEAM CLAIRE POWELL BEAUTY EDITOR CAROLINE POLLY, SYLVIA SHEA, REBECCA SHKEYROV, JULIA SUNG, KAELA SUNG BEAUTY TEAM JULIA BULLARD, ANDREW “COCO” COWEN BOOKINGS CO-EDITORS ABBIE DANIEL, CHRISTINA RUBIO BOOKINGS TEAM PETER MAKEY COPY EDITOR EMILY BACAL, JOEL CALFEE, ALICIA DEVEREAUX, HANNAH LOWE, MARGARET MITCHELL FEATURES TEAM EVAN PAKSHONG DEPUTY MANAGING EDITOR NIKKY PRICE, SOPHIE SHEALY MARKETING CO-EDITORS JULIA CARLSON, STEPHANIE DOLAN, KAELEE HELMS, KELSEY LLEWLLYN, SAM MCCORMACK, EMILY POWELL, CAMILA WALTER MARKETING TEAM HENRY HANNON, FINLEY STEWART, IRIS WU, RUOCHUN YANG PHOTO TEAM DALTON LACKEY PRODUCTION EDITOR MACY CALDER, PETER SAMAHA PRODUCTION TEAM CATALINA RUBIO PUBLIC RELATIONS EDITOR HANNAH LONDON, SAMMY MURPHY, ANDRIS MURRAY PUBLIC RELATIONS TEAM XANDER GIARRACCO, ZAIRA MUGHAL STYLE CO-EDITORS ANNABEL BENTLEY, RHEA CHESSON, TYLER CROWLEY, HANNA HAILE, ANNA KASHMANIAN, KEEILAH MOSELEY, DINA RE, LAUREN WHITE STYLE TEAM EMILY BASS WEB COORDINATOR 4

letter from the editor

This semester has been a big one for ROCKET. We began the year with an opportunity to partner with Adobe and become William & Mary’s only Student Ambassador organization with the company. After a year of so many changes, the fact that we were approached by Adobe, and not the other way around, was huge. Our next milestone was being recognized by Stack Magazines, an independent magazine publisher based out of London. ROCKET was among 15 shortlisted publications for the Student Magazine of the Year award, out of more than 400 applicants. Despite not winning this award, it was an honor in itself to be included on the list among so many incredible magazines that we

look up to and take inspiration from. We came away from these opportunities and experiences with a renewed sense of fervor and ambition. We pride ourselves in being able to speak frankly about issues on our campus and in the world, something we saw lacking in other student publications. As a student body, we’ve seen a lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding the celebration of 100 Years of Women at the College, but no critical analysis of the fact that this refers only to white women. ROCKET strives to give a platform to those who aren’t always afforded one, and in this way, we wanted to showcase female student leaders of color and give them the opportunity to speak on what this year means to them. As a woman of color myself, it was especially important to me to highlight these powerful but under-recognized voices. Throughout this issue we pushed ourselves to new stylistic and artistic limits. The goal has always been to make the next issue of ROCKET the best it’s ever been, and that’s what we kept in mind coming into this new semester. I’m proud to say that we put our all into this issue, and touched on topics that have personal significance for many of us, in an artistically innovative way.

Amy Zhang

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still, life careless technicolor radiance q&a

on the fence decadence covet women Paola designs impression 56 58 64 68 78

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photography by IRIS WU beauty by CAROLINE POLLY, CLAIRE POWELL, SYLVIA SHEA, JULIA SUNG model TANAN BAYER, ANONYMOUS

left to right SHIRT BY NORDSTROM, DRESS VINTAGE, SHIRT VINTAGE, SKIRT VINTAGE

photography by ANDREW UHRIG beauty by CLAIRE POWELL model PATRICK CANTEROS

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White Noise In the past few years, queer representation in the music industry has skyrocketed, allowing for the pop music scene to feel increasingly diverse. However, features writer Joel Calfee argues that while LGBTQ+ artists have become more visible, there is an underlying glorification of white artists, and the media, as well as consumers, must strive to elevate the work of queer artists of color. written by JOEL CALFEE

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Many people in 2014 considered the endless spins of Sam Smith’s “Stay With Me” to be a milestone for queer representation in the music industry. Others found it to be merely a cloying ballad that got lost in the deluge of Adele wannabes. One thing for certain was that, as a gay man, Smith was changing the face of mainstream music. But, was this face really all that remarkable? Sure, Smith had come out as a gay man, but outwardly, he appeared like your typical cisgender, white man. Meanwhile, Smith was criticized for avoiding the use of the pronoun “he” in his early hits, even removing the word “boy” from his 2014 cover of Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know,” and replacing it with an anonymous “you.” Smith crafted cookie-cutter love songs that could have originated from anybody - gay or straight. Yet, he was heralded as a queer icon and his music was repeatedly played on the radio. It is even more interesting to note how Smith has been recognized by institutions that traditionally honor black artists. He is currently the only Caucasian to have won the BET Award for “Best New Artist” in the history of the ceremony, and he has been honored with six Music of Black Origin Awards in the UK. A large portion of Smith’s music is influenced by soul - a genre that

originated in the African-American community - so this might explain why these organizations often recognize him. Yet, one can’t help but wonder whether Smith uses his marginalization as a gay man to disguise the fact that he is taking space from artists of color. Furthermore, while Smith has been celebrated by these diverse organizations, he does not strive to present the LGBTQ+ community as diverse. All of his music videos are whitewashed, in that they rarely feature people of color, and when they do, they are never Smith’s romantic interests. Sam Smith functions as the pinnacle of privilege because he borrows from artists of color and receives recognition that would not be equally granted to him if he were not white. It is revealing when we consider the work of Sam Smith compared to a queer contemporary like Frank Ocean, because Smith’s dissection of life as a queer man is innocuous and uninventive compared to Ocean. Consider Smith’s “Not In That Way” and Ocean’s “Bad Religion.” These are both tales of unrequited love, where Ocean delves into themes of love, obsession, and shame with greater nuance and precision. In Smith’s song, he sings: “I’d never ask you cause deep down / I’m certain I know what you’d say / You’d say I’m sorry, believe me, I love you /

Yet, one can't help but wonder whether Smith uses his marginalization as a gay man to disguise the fact that he is taking space from artists of color.

But not in that way.” Yet, these words seem to have far less substance compared to Ocean’s angle, where he cries: “If it brings me to my knees / It’s a bad religion / This unrequited love / To me it’s nothing but a one-man cult.” Within Frank Ocean’s body of work, he has poetically explored how his sexuality intersects with other elements of identity, as well, including gender. His song “Chanel” was notable for its opening line, where he proudly proclaims, “My guy pretty like a girl.” Meanwhile, his visuals have challenged gender norms, whether it was his 360-page Boys Don’t Cry magazine, or the video for “Nikes,” where he wears heavy eyeliner, androgynous clothing, and a face covered in glitter. Nevertheless, Ocean is not alone in these feats. Many artists of color are tackling their experiences as queer individuals, while also demonstrating the pliability of gender in their art. Take Janelle Monáe, who sports colorful pantsuits and chopped hair in the music video for “Make Me Feel,” which delightfully incorporates “bisexual lighting” and a set inspired by the “San Junipero” episode of Black Mirror. Consider Venezuelan music producer Arca, who released videos last year where he donned fishnet stockings, corsets, and even bondage suits. Note how Young Thug posed

in a frilly, periwinkle dress for the cover of his 2016 mixtape Jeffery, while Jaden Smith has been rocking dresses and told fans at the 2018 Camp Flog Gnaw Carnival that rapper Tyler, the Creator is his boyfriend. These trailblazers stand among a cohort of artists who are changing the musical game. Figures such as Kehlani, Syd, Hayley Kiyoko, Kevin Abstract, Mykki Blanco, and more demonstrate that queer musicians are abundant in our current musical landscape, and the majority of this representation is achieved by artists of color. Thus, it seems shocking that Sam Smith is the only LGBTQ+ lead artist from the last ten years to be awarded one of the top four awards at the Grammys. It is strange that Halsey and Frank Ocean are the only two people of color to have won the award for Outstanding Music Artist from GLAAD Media in the last fourteen years. OUT magazine even published an article this year titled “13 Queer Singers You Might Not Know About,” and the majority of these artists were people of color. So, where are the public accolades for these artists? Unfortunately, racist institutions like the Grammys choose to award artists like Sam Smith over more talented artists of color. Yet, we as consumers are culpable as well. While many de-

nounce the racism prevalent in award ceremonies, it is often countered with the argument of commercial success. Sam Smith sells millions of albums and receives over 33 million monthly listeners on Spotify. Yet, talented artists like Ocean and Monáe sell much less and receive only 7 and 2 million monthly listeners, respectively. Meanwhile, Smith’s top listeners stem from cities across the world, while these artists of color get the majority of their listeners solely from the US. Thus, as the consumers of music, we need to do better. Queer/trans artists of color are creating powerful music and challenging perceptions of queer people. We need to spin their songs on Spotify and barrage radio stations with requests for their songs. Instead of buying a Sam Smith concert ticket, we should buy one to see Kehlani or Hayley Kiyoko. In an era where racists are feeling empowered, it is vital that artists of color feel championed. The LGBTQ+ community is overflowing with diversity and that variety of perspective needs to be highlighted. Otherwise, this limited perspective will allow a white man to be the principal voice for the queer experience. This voice has been the loudest for too long, and right now, it is the least compelling.

This limited perspective will allow a white man to be the principal voice for the queer experience... it is the loudest voice, and right now, the least compelling.

ART shoot

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"Modesty" photography by RUOCHUN YANG beauty by KAELA SUNG model KATIE DE LUCA written by MARGARET MITCHELL

Modest fashion has entered the world of popular fashion, carrying with it a pietistic past of moral hierarchy. Features writer Margaret Mitchell considers the reconciliation faith and fashion, yet realizes that a future of modest fashion ultimately must move beyond the limits set by its past.

COAT BY TSâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;AIYU, SHOES BY MISS SELFRIDGE

DRESS BY BP NORDSTROM, COAT BY KENN SPORN 30

The sartorial influence of religion has carved a place for itself in society, whether we want it to or not. Earlier this year, the celebrity approach to the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala ignited controversy within the Catholic Church. It was both the source of upset and fascination, as aspects of religion often are. The responses to the Met Gala testified to the way religion simultaneously brings us together and tears us apart, fascinates us and upsets us. This power extends beyond the extravagance of the Met Gala and into the everyday, informing our choices about what we wear and what we don’t. The lens of religion leads us to look at the body and see more than the physical — something capable of virtue, or conversely, sin. For ages, women’s bodies have

been the subject of religious regulation, especially within the Catholic Church. The woman is venerated in her idealized form of purity and chastity, and there is a perceived “freedom” in this modesty. However, we often see women shamed for wearing too little or ridiculed for wearing too much. We rarely ever feel ourselves to be the embodiment of the Madonna’s radiance. Yet, this binary of veneration and condemnation is not exclusive to the sacred realm. Our patriarchal society has crafted the image of woman to be produced and sold as a bodily commodity completely severed from her humanity. It is one that we have seen increasingly twisted in order to place women in a role that is consumable and demeaning in every way that it should be liberating. And when a woman resists by finding

freedom in choosing to express her sexuality by wearing clothes that reveal her body, she is shamed for her surrender to objectification. Muslim women in particular have been at the center of the subversion of this culture. In 2014, DKNY released their first Ramadan collection that was curated by Middle Eastern designers and influencers, Yalda Golshfari and Tamara al Gabbani. In 2017 Ghizlan Guenez founded The Modist, an e-commerce site focused on providing high-end modest fashion. The entrance of these designers heralded an invitation for the religious imagination to enter into the world of fashion, where it has traditionally been seen as imposing. “Modest fashion” designers have been incredibly successful in the Middle East, but there is still a struggle

The lens of religion leads us to look at the body and see more than the physical — something capable of virtue, or conversely, sin.

for Europe and the U.S. to integrate these new faces of beauty and fashion into our realm of the familiar. In 2016, British retailer Marks & Spencer released a burkini swimsuit catered to Muslim women. It was met with heavy criticism from those who believed it was affirming sexist ideals about forcing women to cover their bodies. In 2018, M&S introduced a category of “Modest Clothing” to their website. This time, it was the name “modest” that caused problems, not the clothing itself, as it led women to question the label placed on those who chose not to purchase from the modest section. These controversies make it clear that we are still grappling with the inherent ambiguity of modest fashion. It is a category which must be broad and vague in order to include women of all religious beliefs. Yet, is so touched by historically moralistic undertones of

purity and comparisons of virtue that cannot be forgotten. The name “modest fashion” risks creating a sort of hierarchy among women, implicity asserting that those who do not wear modest-labeled clothes are somehow immodest. But in this hierarchy, the woman who covers up her body is not necessarily allowed to rest on her laurels. Rather, she is called moralistic or even prudish, perceiving herself as a rung above the rest on the ladder to heaven. At worst, she is called complicit with the patriarchy. It’s a cycle that seems to be inescapable when we talk about modesty. Hana Tajima offers a solution. The London-based Muslim designer created a collection for Uniqlo which she called “understated fashion.” Tajima explained, “That term [modest fashion] doesn’t rub me the right way. It feels like there’s something implied — some kind of value being placed on someone’s

The name “modest fashion” risks creating a sort of hierarchy among women, implicity asserting that those who do not wear modestlabeled clothes are somehow immodest.

ideals.” The clothes she designs are not for women who fall under a certain label. It’s all about preference and what the individual feels most comfortable in. “I like the idea of understated fashion,” Tajima says. “It feels like it fits closer to where it actually is.” While Tajima’s collection had its roots in Muslim fashion, she seeks to include women of all religious beliefs. “It’s not like I want to downplay the roots of it being Muslim fashion,” she explained. “But I design from being a human first.” Religion can be, as Tajima says, like roots. It can be a foundation of inspiration, or a motivation for progression away from a dangerous past. However, “modest” fashion, or understated fashion, swells beyond these roots and belongs to women of any creed, breaking the bonds of hierarchy and sanctimony.

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photography by ANDREW UHRIG beauty by CLAIRE POWELL, REBECCA SHKEYROV, KAELA SUNG, SYLVIA SHEA models SHADIN AHMED, SOPHIA BROADNAX, ROSELYN BUENSUCESO, FATIMA CHAUNDRY, MAGGIE CHU, GLORIA CRUZ OLEA, CAMRYN EASLEY, KAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;MYIA GUNN, KARINA LIZANO, SAMYUKTHA MAHADEVAN, MOHINI JODHPURKAR, MARIHA JUNAID, YASH RAMESH, ZAUHIRAH TIPU

Radio Silence Managing and Copy Editors Emmel El-Fiky and Peter Makey sat down with some remarkable women on campus to discuss this year’s 100 Years of Women campaign - how it inherently excludes women of color, what positive measures we have taken as a community, and what is still to be done. written by EMMEL EL-FIKY, PETER MAKEY

With the 2018-2019 academic year marking the centennial of women’s admission to the College of William & Mary, the slogan, “100 Years of Women” can be found around every corner. Given that this anniversary coincides with the inauguration of William & Mary’s first female president, Katherine A. Rowe, for many it is as much a fitting symbol of William & Mary’s progress is as it is a cause for celebration. Yet, to provide integrity and transparency to the College’s slogan requires an addendum. Realistically, it should read “100 Years of (White) Women.”

It’s all the more ironic that the pomp and circumstance surrounding white women’s attendance at William & Mary follows directly in the footsteps of last year’s celebration of 50 years of black students in residence. Literally and figuratively, the contrast is black and white. We wanted to take a step back and examine the ways women of color at the College are reacting to this year’s highly publicized celebration, especially those with committed involvement at a school they would have been excluded from historically. Camryn Easley, class of 2020 and the Undersecretary of Multi-

cultural Affairs for the Student Assembly, commented that, “Don’t get me wrong, I am glad that the school is really showing out this year with all of the events, guest speakers and programs celebrating the presence of women at the College; I just wonder where this enthusiasm was last year when it was the 50th anniversary of Black students in residence? Where were the banners and wall decorations with pictures of Black students at W&M? If we as a “tribe” are committed to celebrating these anniversaries, we need to [maintain] the same energy.” However, the inequity goes beyond the dis-

similar celebrations of these respective anniversaries. For women of color, the implications are much starker. Zauhirah Tipu, class of 2019 and the Secretary of Diversity Initiatives as well as one of the co-presidents of the Muslim Students Association, puts it plainly: “While that is still something to celebrate, one should be mindful of exactly what this milestone represents. I wouldn’t have been able to go to college here 100 years ago.” The admission of women of color following the switch to coeducation at William & Mary may seem reason enough for the College to absolve itself of its not-so-inclusive history. Throughout the last 100 years, or even the last 50, William & Mary has been far from equal, both in terms of gender and race. Roselyn Buensuceso, class of 2019 and a lead member of the Filipino American Student Association, recalls sharing a conversation with an alumna who went to William and Mary in the 1970’s. Apparently, “men and women had various different rules during her time here. For instance, [female] students had a curfew and weren’t even allowed to stay at the library past a certain time… Even though this school became co-educational 100 years ago, they obviously did not treat their students fairly for quite some time.” Obviously, even with a coed student body, there was still a ways to go to not only offer the mere opportunity of a higher education at William & Mary to female students, but to ensure that it was an education on par with the experience offered to men. From the top down, the largely-white, male makeup of the faculty and administrative staff implies a pervasive trend of inequity. There is a stark dichotomy between the experiences of male and female professors, one that appears even more stark when distinguishing between the experiences of female professors of color and their white peers. The College’s prioritization of white professors has far-reaching impacts that affect female students and professors of color alike. The scarcity in terms of

faculty of color, especially female faculty of color, on campus has left many students feeling without mentorship and places a disproportionate burden on professors of color who do have positions at the College. In shouldering this burden, they nod back to the pioneering African American women who lived in residence at William & Mary just over 50 years ago. The fact that women of color still shoulder this burden reveals the passive pace of progress at an institution with a problematic history of raceand-gender-based relegation. Yet, with this deficit comes opportunity for William & Mary to correct for it’s negligent past. According to Gloria Cruz Olea, class of 2020, “I believe that one of the many ways William & Mary can make campus a more inclusive community for POC, but especially WOC, is by hiring more faculty of color across all departments.” Shadin Ahmed, class of 2019 and one of the few executive members of color of the Health Careers Club, echoed Cruz Olea’s desire for more representative faculty, explaining that doing so has benefits for both campus culture and student wellbeing. She explained, “In order for POC and WOC to feel like they belong on this campus they need to see themselves represented in higher education. This would allow students to feel more comfortable reaching out to these professors and gaining access to resources and opportunities. The burden is often placed on students of color to have to explain their background or situation to others and having representation would alleviate some of that burden. Not only would having more diverse faculty benefit students of color, but it would also benefit other students by educating them about being more inclusive.” This push for a more representative faculty at the College is a movement gaining in popularity as of late. In 2018, a petition demanding increased investments in hiring faculty of color circulated the campus, garnering signatures from students, student organizations, faculty,

The fact that women of color still shoulder this burden reveals the passive pace of progress at an institution with a problematic history of race-and-gender-based relegation. 39

It does no good for the administration to be superficially supportive of students of color when it looks good, but to meet need with radio silence when it actually matters.

and staff, which resulted in a commitment to hiring more faculty of color. Yet, for students like Cruz Olea and Ahmed, as well as many others, this movement should go beyond just a hiring initiative that happened by popular demand. As Ahmed reflected, “It is important for us to acknowledge our progress, but to also hold ourselves accountable and to reflect as to how to do better in the future.” Investing in women of color at the professional level is important, but it is merely the tip of a blindingly-white iceberg when it comes to fostering a culture that appreciates and supports students of color on campus. Mohini Jodhpurkar, class of 2019 and president of the Hindu Sikh and Jain Association, shared that her experience as a woman of color highly involved in multicultural organizations is a tokenizing one. Jodhpurkar commented, “Sometimes it feels like the school or members of the school [are] only supportive of cultural events and only promote them when it knows it can use it to draw [in] new students and funding, but isn’t willing to deliver when those organizations and members of those populations are struggling.” It does no good for the administration to be superficially supportive of students of color when it looks good, but to meet need with radio silence when it actually matters. Even as William & Mary endeavors to diversify and provide for students of color, there are female leaders of color on campus who are making their mark in ways that don’t necessarily always go acknowledged, left in the shadow of the “100 Years of Women” banners. Ka’myia Gunn, class of 2019 and president of the African Cultural Society, noted

her admiration for Professor Suzette Spencer of the Africana Studies department. “She taught me about my identity as a Black woman. She showed me the shoulders on which I stand, which include Toni Morrison, Zora Neale Hurston, Ida B. Wells, my mama, and my grandmother. From my experiences in [her] courses and our conversations, I further developed confidence in myself. Professor Spencer looks for the gold in her students. She wants every student to shine and she’s not afraid to get in the weeds to do so.” Likewise, Karina Lizano-Blanco, class of 2019, expressed her appreciation for a number of notable and experienced leaders. “Dania Matos, Katherine Barko-Alva, and John Riofrio - all of them are Latinx people whom I have come to count on and admire so much for their respective work in their fields. Professor Barko-Alva’s passion was what inspired me to go into education, Dania Matos drive inspires me to keep on fighting for what I believe is right, and Professor Rio reminds me to be patient with others.” For students of color, being patient is something forced upon them, something necessarily ingrained. Now, that patience is interwoven into their experience at William & Mary, whose student body might consider itself progressive, who are perpetually urging its administration to catch up. Samyuktha Mahadevan, class of 2019 and a 3-year Orientation Aide, expressed her appreciation for her classmates who are cognizant of the problems that surround the 100 Years of Women commemoration. She shared, “I really appreciate the effort that has been put in by students to acknowledge that 100 years of women is 100 years of white women. In fact,

I’ve had more people than not address the fact that this celebration is limited in its application to many of the women currently on our campus.” Even with its limited progress, Mahadevan finds it necessary to “find joy in the steps that our institution has taken to become slowly more inclusive, however limited those steps may have been in their scope.” Many of the women we spoke to share a belief in the incremental nature of progress. With this year’s celebration of 100 Years of Women, and with the resulting acknowledgement from a growing portion of the student body that this campaign refers to just white women, we’re making small strides in the right direction. There is hope in the reality that women (of color) at William & Mary are starting to take the microphone and embodying the change they wish to see, and the rest of us are finally taking notice. While it looks starkly different from 100 years ago, this is the state of William and Mary women today. As progress begets progress, and women of color continue to become empowered at William & Mary, hopefully the future entails a more inclusive legacy 100 years from now.

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PAOLA DESIGNS THINGS written by PETER MAKEY, EMMEL EL-FIKY art courtesy of PAOLA DELUCCA

Managing and Copy Editors Emmel El-Fiky and Peter Makey sat down with Paola Delucca, an artist and designer currently working at Refinery29, to talk about her creative process, where she finds inspiration, and how her Puerto Rican heritage has influenced her work and her outlook on life in general. You can find her on Instagram @paola_delucca.

ROCKET: Where do you draw inspiration? PAOLA DELUCCA: I have this website I use to compile everything I like called are.na. But apart from that, I'm in a little bit of a rut figuring out where to draw inspiration. It comes and goes and sometimes I have to chase it around. R: What is your creative process? PD: Usually, I just sit down and try to get in the zone, I put on these huge Sony headphones and don't talk to anyone for hours when I find my jam. Otherwise, I tend to work in an organized way, I make one folder for each round and make sure I keep all the files so I can refer back to them. I've saved myself a couple of scares by keeping too many past files handy. R: Are there any genres of art you try to fit into, or do you seek to sub-

vert the idea of genre altogether? PD: I don't like to think of what I do as in a genre, I do what needs to be done & enjoy it as much as I can. A lot of the time people think half of the battle is designing but it's not! 90% of it is probably revisions and client feedback. R: Do you incorporate current events (politics, pop culture, etc.) into your art, and if so, how? PD: Even though sometimes I do talk about politics and pop culture (which I know a lot about & love,) I like to keep my work separated from it. I just think in general my brain doesn't work that way and I can't make a connection to my work and what the rest of the world is doing. This doesn't mean it's not meaningful to me but it's definitely a little more separated from it than other designers. R: How has your Puerto Rican

background influenced your art? What do you hope to convey about the people, especially the women, who live there? PD: Being from Puerto Rico has opened my eyes to the diversity in people and how important it is to keep everyone in mind when designing and illustrating. Puerto Rican people are super mixed so I have grown up knowing the importance of appreciating people for who they are. Focusing on Puerto Rican women has a very important place in my heart, even though I do keep my work separated from my personal experiences. I do however try to incorporate as much diversity as I can in my work at Refinery29. R: Many of ROCKETâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Fall/Winter 2018 features explore instances in which POC artists, and works of

art focusing on POC subjects, are excluded. To what extent have you faced exclusion or been made to feel as though you/your work is illegitimate as a result of your identity? PD: In the design world specifically, you can see the same type of person working in studios. I like to call them "design bros" ; white straight men who pose with their arms crossed and wear Warby Parker glasses. These types of people exist a lot in small studios and they're the type of people I’m very wary of when I look for places to work with. I've heard a lot of horror stories from my former classmates of workplace harassment for being a female and as a result, I try to not show my face alongside my work because I fear that that'll influence people’s opinions about me. R: In your “Art on Link: People of the NYC Subway” series, you convey the many faces and fashions of those seen on public transit. What have you learned from observing so many unique and interesting people? Do you ever speak to your subjects?

If not, what do you think they would say if you did? PD: I think what I've learned is that I gotta get out of New York! Everyone here has their own schedule and I doubt they would be interested in speaking to me about much. But I do have to say that some of those characters are inspired by my designer friend - the "Best Dressed" character is my friend Evelyn, who I love dearly and always has amazing shoes on. R: How have your past experiences as a student at Parsons School of Design, and working at Nickelodeon and Black and Black Creative, influenced your work now at Refinery29? PD: The way I approached all of those internships was in a very unafraid way. I wanted to try as many things as possible before I settled in one job and that definitely paid off. Here at Refinery29 I do a lot of different projects ranging from production work, illustration, web design, [and] print, and I think that working in all of those different places gave me a thicker skin. I'm unafraid

of failing and I owe it to the great people I've worked with. R: What is the most exciting part about your current position at R29? The most grueling/difficult? PD: The most exciting part I would say is with the willingness to try something new and the fearlessness in which they let us approach a project. [The] most grueling [aspects] are clients and revisions; revisions are always grueling. R: What advice would you give to recent graduates seeking to work as creatives in a largely corporate world? What skills have you found necessary to navigate this industry? PD: GUYS! Do NOT focus on something specific in college! Try everything and anything if you're studying design. Do your THANG but also do another completely different THANG! I used to hand-letter on the side to pass the time, and that got me the Nickelodeon internship, so don’t be afraid to not have a style or to be lost in design styles for awhile. It pays off!

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l i f e

s t i l l, Fed Up

For many people, food and guilt are inextricably intertwined. [Content Warning] In this piece, features writer Hannah Lowe explores the ways the food industry influences decisions we make about eating and how mass media creates complex feelings about the food on our plates. photography by FINLEY STEWART written by HANNAH LOWE

How often have you heard of someone — perhaps yourself — follow a three-course meal with a fourth course of guilt? Eating isn’t a sin, yet we confess to it as if it is. “I need to go on a diet.” “That’s fattening.” “It’s fine, this is my cheat day.” These statements are repeated ad infinitum. They are the product of a culture that burdens food with inordinate meaning, and forgets that food is fundamentally fuel for our bodies. That isn’t to say food is simple. Far from it, actually. Food is complicated: it’s the intersection of indulgence and guilt, self-care and self-doubt, the individual and society. Body image is equally political. The deeply personal 56

relationship of mind-body-food has become fertile ground for anxiety, complicated by interference from the goliath food and fashion industries. In this anxious world, calorie-counting is a national obsession and body policing can strip away the joy of any homecooked meal or midnight snack. In her book Eat Up, epicurean iconoclast Ruby Tandoh asks a good question: “How the hell did things get this way?” Particularly in America, food fads are constant. Every few years, an old food is out (gluten might cause bloating, which might as well be death) and a new one is in (quinoa will give you superpowers!). Every beautiful açaí bowl and green smoothie we see on Instagram stories is the product of a culture that sells

food as salvation. An empty stomach is virtuous. Juice cleanses will lead to a cleansed soul. If we eat right — “clean,” “mindfully,” whatever the term — we will achieve Nirvana. The constant cycle codes different foods as sin and virtue. This way of thinking is complete nonsense and downright harmful, but it’s entrenched in the American mind thanks to a decades-old culture of diets and body shame. This culture, I would argue, has been exacerbated by the mass media age. In the twenty-first century, technology increases access to the lives of those around us. We are able to constantly evaluate and reevaluate our lives in comparison to others, whether these appearances are authentic or carefully

constructed. Commercialism feeds off this insecurity. While an Instagram influencer’s flawless abs might actually be the product of careful posing and Facetune, the next post is an advertisement that promises we’ll get the body we’ve just seen if we purchase appetite-suppressing lollipops. The messaging is simple, though it comes in myriad forms: if we look a certain way, we will be fundamentally happier. To be virtuous, one must be thin, and indeed, beautiful and white as well. Anything else — any sign of indulgence, skipping out on the gym, eating “dirty” — is made to be sinful. This concept is deceptively attractive, wrapped up in the allure of social media stars and glossy magazines. But it’s harmful all the same. That isn’t to say that it’s all our fault. In fact, creating food trends is the work of commercial interests, who are just as present on our plates as food itself. Advertisements and packaging are designed to grab our attention as we push our carts down the grocery aisles, promising fruit free of GMOs and bread packed with whole grains. The commercial nutrition industry spends billions of dollars in advertising every year, and what ends up on our plates is the direct result. Even though we choose what we eat, our options have been curated for us. The diet industry is worth upwards of $65 million. Though professional nutrition advice — “eat more fruits and veggies,” basically — hasn’t changed in decades, vast amounts of money are spent annually to push certain foods and shame others. The result is an endless rotation of new diets, sugar-pill supplements, and superfoods du jour. Here’s the question: how do we escape this cycle? There’s no good answer, as advertising and social media are ubiquitous. However, I interviewed Ellen Penn Berry, a certified personal trainer, health coach, and ROCKET alumna, and she has ideas about where to start. Having earned a masters in nutrition at James Madison University, Ellen understands the complexities of eating when your plate becomes political. Ellen’s body-positive philosophy begins with creating a new paradigm for nutrition. “If a client lists weight loss as a goal, I ask what they think would be different if they were at their goal weight,” Ellen says, “and whatever they list, those are the things we actually focus on as goals.” After setting goals irrespective of weight loss, Ellen asks her clients to

You have to immerse yourself in body positivity like you’re learning a new language completely change their social media feeds: “Unfollow anything on social media that makes you feel bad about yourself in any way.” She explains, “Seeing me for an hour or two a week is not enough for [my clients] to completely unlearn the years of shame and guilt around food and our bodies that our society has indoctrinated us with.” Ellen believes a holistic approach is necessary for self-love and body positivity. “You have to immerse yourself in body positivity like you’re learning a new language.” Ellen also pointed out that there are people doing good work to remedy our collective food anxiety. The body positivity and anti-diet culture movements are counteracting the commercialization of food and body. Though these movements can be commodified to sell products, Ellen argues that their origins are in the right place. Body positivity rejects the politicization of appearance in favor of accepting oneself and others. Ellen commends Caroline Dooner (@thefuckitdiet), Anna Sweeney (@

dietitiananna), @nonairbrushedme, and @effyourbeautystandards for their work in this area on Instagram. Their missions directly counter the correlation of food and morality, removing the cultural weight placed on eating and body image. It sounds trite, but when inundated with patriarchal, capitalist visions of the “right” body type and “clean” nutrition, loving oneself is an act of protest. It’s revolutionary to break free of these expectations: wear what you want, throw away your diet books, and practice radical self-love. Unfollow the accounts that tell you there’s something wrong with you as you are. Take care of yourself, whether that looks like eating more fruits and veggies or helping yourself to seconds. Eat to live.

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Self-careâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s recent rise to prominence may be more complicated than corporate interests would lead us to believe. Features writer Emily Bacal explores the commodification of the trend and its problematic implications, introducing an alternative interpretation on how and why we can practice true self-care.

The surge in popularity of self-care has done a lot more for face mask sales than it has for mental health. Casually searching ‘self care’ yields articles gracing news sites from Refinery29 to Forbes. You can find information on recommended practices and purchases, lists of 10 easy steps to make your life fuller, apps to help you unplug or plug more mindfully, breathing necklaces, tonal therapy pods, and chillable jade face rollers. The sheer volume of self-care options speaks to the remarkable growth of the industry, which grossed $10 Billion in 2017, according to NPR. Often-contradictory methods for achieving self-care are symptomatic of its ambiguous definition. Loosely defined, self-care is the maintenance of and consideration for oneself, with a focus on mental wellness and self-reverent kindness. Under the current craze, how one achieves this is largely dictated by corporate interests which tell you your problems and provide ways to solve them. The problems are sometimes real, sometimes aggrandised or manufactured completely. The generalized solutions are sometimes helpful, sometimes placebo-inducing, and oftentimes not helpful at all. From a well meaning initiative - the attempt to spread permission to affirm and love oneself - comes a materialistic mockery. As Harvard Business Review reports, ‘self-care’ has become

something of an obligation, another goal lengthening your endless to-do list. And as new wellness technologies spring up - which allow you to, among other things, monitor your sleep cycle, heart rate, and step counts - this task becomes increasingly expensive. Even non-tech treatments like massages, yoga retreats and essential oil diffusers all come with a hefty price tag. Perhaps one reason mainstream popular culture has been so eager to embrace inadequate markers of self care is that they divert attention from actual self-prioritizing behavior. Concerning is a world in which being kind to oneself is a radical idea. Doctrines promoting selflessness and workaholism have so permeated the cultural mind that doing things purely because they make you feel good, and not in the pursuit of an external goal, becomes an untenable, unjustifiable act. True self-care ideology combats this, claiming that it is alright to put yourself first, to take time out of a day of obligations to just be. Most ambitiously, it claims that you can do these things and still be a good person. This doesn’t seem radical. Where in the definition of goodness is there a condition stating that to be good, one cannot be kind to oneself? The tension arises when we further examine our societal concept of goodness; many agree that selflessness is good and selfishness is bad. The specter of selfishness

Where in the definition of goodness is there a condition stating that to be good, one cannot be kind to oneself?

has long been used to police behavior, wagging a proverbial finger at people, specifically women, who dare to do things for themselves. Self-care seems opposed to this self-denying sentiment, yet, the most common reasoning used to advocate for self-care is not its immediate personal benefit, but that it bolsters one’s ability to care for others. This qualifier may give a clue as to why self-care is such a gendered term. Rarely do you hear a cisgender, heterosexual man talking about self-care, perhaps because in saying you are practicing self-care you are implicitly stating that you have a self that needs to be cared for. This is incompatible with the hegemonic masculine ideal, bereft of feelings, weakness, or internal strife. This is not to say that cis-het men are not expected to care. But masculine ‘caring’ traditionally assumes the form of monetary provisions and obsolete chivalrous practices, which do more to help the male ego than other people. Women, by contrast, are expected to undertake emotional labor, giving up time, energy and support of all kinds, even when they provide monetarily. The delegitimization of this type of work is a partial cause for the need of a selfcare campaign. However, this campaign would be better waged through awareness and personal reflection than via elaborately constructed stratagems devised by corporate interests to sell contrived objects. Self-care, true self care, can benefit us all. Regardless of gender expres-

sion, race, class, ability, or sexuality, getting in touch with your mental state, accepting and loving yourself, is important. Recognizing your emotions and mindframe and prioritizing their care can alleviate aggression borne from untended feelings and ameliorate stress before it reaches extreme levels. Yes, doing things as little as nabbing that last slice of chocolate cake or taking a bubble bath seem trivial. What makes these external self-care practices worthy of the attribution is not the activities themselves, but the mindsets behind them. Indulgence, regardless of the form it takes, is powerful. Doing things for yourself feels good. Choosing to perform an action simply because you want to is freeing, empowering. Seemingly inconsequential choices to sleep an extra hour or cook yourself a beautiful meal accumulate into a pattern of behavior significant enough to trick you into feeling like you’re worth the effort. Because that is what we are trying to convince ourselves of, with every face mask, massage, and movie marathon: that we are worthy of love and, more radical than that, that we can and do love ourselves. So, indulge. But indulge in yourself. Stay outside an extra half hour just to feel the sunbeams licking your face. Stand in the middle of the woods and scream. And, yes, slather on a damn sheet mask if it brings you peace within yourself. My advice? Make sure it’s gilded- you deserve it.

Because that is what we are trying to convince ourselves of, with every face mask, massage, and movie marathon: that we are worthy of love and, more radical than that, that we can and do love ourselves.

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Most of us don’t think of romantic comedies as serious cinema— but should we? Features writer Alicia Devereaux suggests there is more to these “guilty pleasures” than meets the eye, thanks to a new wave of diverse romcoms that could change the genre-- or cinema overall-- for good.

It goes by many names: romcom, romedy, chick flick, date movie. Its monikers prescribe a specific function and audience to the genre, telling you who can watch it, and when. But one name in particular tells you exactly how to feel about the romantic comedy: “guilty pleasure.” Whether it’s The Notebook or 27 Dresses, these movies provide us with a much-needed dose of escapism and comfort; they are the cinematic embodiment of mint chocolate chip ice cream or footie pajamas. They only wind up with this unfortunate nickname because they’re fun and light, which translates to “vapid,” and more importantly, because they are targeted towards a female audience, which translates to “dumb.” The genre’s complex reputation and conventions may have far greater implications in cinema and in society overall, going beyond the mere sexist condescension which deems romcoms as pop culture fluff. And it is transforming in front of our eyes.

Birthed by Shakespeare and shaped by screwball, the romcom has graced our lives for decades. The John Hughes films of the eighties used the Brat Pack to reckon with adolescent angst, the nineties turned up the crude humor with its raunchy teen sex comedies, and the aughts began making their weak mark with star-studded ensemble casts and interconnected storylines nobody really cares about (cough, Valentine’s Day). But in recent years, the genre has shapeshifted yet again-- this time, beyond simply switching out John Cusack for Freddie Prinze Jr. Instead, it’s swapping out old voices for new ones. There’s a reason Crazy Rich Asians, which premiered this August, is the highest-grossing romantic comedy of the decade. It’s practically bursting with style, features a sensational cast, and is incredibly watchable. It also serves as additional proof against the antiquated theory that films starring people of color don’t perform at the box office. People of every race came out to watch Cra-

zy Rich Asians, and Asian moviegoers could look up at the screen and see faces, lifestyles, and worldviews that may be closer to their own than anything they’ve seen in mainstream American cinema. And despite its diverse cast and cultural backdrop, Crazy Rich Asians has something for everybody. But is Crazy Rich Asians just a blip in the romcom timeline? I see Jon M. Chu’s film, along with several others from the past year, as emblematic of something bigger. We’ve clearly come a long way since Sixteen Candles’ Long Duk Dong and Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ Mr. Yunioshi. We might even be experiencing the romcom’s rebirth first-hand, thanks to a new wave of films that want to have it all: diversity, style, and watchability. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t enjoy your favorite Ashton Kutcher flick because of its 18% score on Rotten Tomatoes-watch what you like, and don’t feel bad about it. But the genre deserves to have some Certified Fresh ratings, too; it deserves respect, acclaim, and variety, just like any other film category. Variety is the key word here. The female-directed, teen sex comedy Blockers subverts the sex pact trope by telling a story of four female friends taking control of their bodies while struggling to overcome sexist double standards. Summer box office hit The Spy Who Dumped Me flips the bromance movie on its head by showcasing female friendship; it is also directed by a woman. Ocean’s trilogy spin-off, Ocean’s 8 (which, while not technically a romcom, shares a target audience), challenges the male-dominated world of heist films by letting ladies run the show, and Love, Simon puts queer identity and romance at its forefront. Meanwhile, Netflix has churned out POC-centric hits like To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and Nappily Ever After. Note that all of these films are pretty formulaic; their classic storylines are well-tread ground. What elevates each of these “new wave” romcoms is not a fresh plot, but a fresh perspective. These changes in the romantic comedy genre are part of a larger movement to bring more points of view to film in general. Whitewashing scandals grace our news feeds on a regular basis. There is a constant debate over cis actors playing trans characters. And earli-

What elevates each of these “new wave” romcoms is not a fresh plot, but a fresh perspective.

er this year, 82 women gathered on the red carpet at Cannes to represent the shockingly slim number of women who have screened films at the festival since it was first held in 1942. Luckily, 2018 has brought an onslaught of female-directed and female-centric mainstream films like A Wrinkle in Time and The Miseducation of Cameron Post, which features a lesbian protagonist. In the wake of this newfound diversity, we might initially ask: Why now? Why are romcom filmmakers suddenly putting in the extra effort to be inclusive? Maybe it’s simply for a profit and a pat on the back. Despite colorful casts, for the most part, the same circle of establishment white males is still in power, commodifying minorities. It’s unclear whether romcoms are diversifying more than or ahead of other genres, but if they are, is it only because the genre is taken less seriously and, therefore, poses less of a threat? But that’s just it: we can’t really tell which genre is the most diverse and in what order they became that way. However, there is one apparent distinction between romcoms-- at least, recent ones-- and other genres, like dramas. In drama films, a minority character’s race is often a driving factor in the plot, while in romcoms, it’s more often a footnote. If we look at dramas from the past couple of Oscar races, like Get Out, Moonlight, Mudbound, Hidden Figures, Loving, and Fences, we see a pattern of explicit racial themes. Meanwhile, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before focuses on an Asian American protagonist without making her ethnicity central to the nar-

rative. The racial identities of the characters in Ocean’s 8 are mentioned but not integral to the story. It’s important to remember that this phenomenon only applies to media made here in the U.S. Americans already watch plenty of diverse films and TV from abroad-- one example being the Korean drama, or “K-drama.” K-dramas have been widely popularized in the U.S. thanks to the “Korean Wave,” the recent global enthusiasm for Korean culture. Obviously, American dramas don’t hold a candle to the Asian representation in this inherently Korean-led media. Although K-dramas have become a major chunk of our pop culture intake in the States, they can’t be considered a part of this diversification trend because they are not made in America. Diversity in what we watch may not be new, but diversity in what we make is. Even if Caucasian film execs are diversifying romcoms in their own self interest, maybe the joke is on them. If white corporate bosses are under the impression they are merely throwing minorities a bone because romcoms are amateurish and unserious, then they could be underestimating the genre. In many ways, the lighthearted accessibility of romantic comedies doesn’t make them irrelevant-- it makes them the most relevant. The ordinariness is powerful. When underrepresented groups are cast in something as commonplace as a romantic comedy, it proves that representations of people of color don’t always need to be extraordinary or political to be valid.

Consider commercials, which-- certainly, if we consider romcoms to be insubstantial-- are basically void of meaning. There has been an uptick in depictions of interracial couples in advertisements in the past several years. If varied representation can reach something as innocuous as a laundry detergent ad, then shouldn’t it be able to reach everything else? The idea is this: if the most basic, everyday visual recordings of human beings feature a diverse group, it will lay the groundwork for total normalization, and diversity in all visual arts will follow. Perhaps this is the goal, but it is not the reality. Plenty of what we see and watch is still dominated by white, cisgender, heterosexual figures. In the end, we can’t be sure that diversifying romantic comedies will diversify cinema overall. This doesn’t mean the romcom “new wave” isn’t promising-- it can still do plenty for itself as a genre. Let’s not forget why we’re drawn to romantic comedies in the first place: for the escapism. It’s a chance to spend approximately ninety minutes in a world where everything works out in the end and to project ourselves onto the inhabitants of that utopia. For too long, and for too many of us, that projection has forced us to sacrifice parts of who we are for the sake of imagining ourselves as the character getting swept off their feet. If this trend continues, maybe we can all see a little more of ourselves in these celluloid fantasies. Until now, the romcom has been the guilty party - not its audiences - but it might be on the path to becoming guilt-free.

Diversity in what we watch may not be new, but diversity in what we make is.

Radiance

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lucie zhang Q&A written by EMMEL EL-FIKY photo courtesy of LUCIE ZHANG

Managing Editor Emmel El-Fiky spoke recently with Lucie Zhang, Senior Manager of Social Media at Vogue, about what it’s like working in the world of fashion publications, how one’s personal background might play a part in one’s career, and some pertinent advice for those looking to make their way into the fashion industry in whatever way possible.

ROCKET: How do you translate the Vogue message/brand to social media in ways that engage both new and old audiences? LUCIE ZHANG: The root of our job is storytelling, so we’re constantly trying to think of new, innovative ways to tell engaging stories across our social media platforms. We’re very conscious of the fact that our audience is unique on each platform, and that each platform also has its own advantages, trends, communities, etc. I think the beauty of our job is being able to speak to all these different audiences simultaneously, and we work closely with our editorial teams to make sure that we’re on the cutting edge of trends in each space. R: Speaking more specifically on the topic of “Learning to Love Across the Cultural Divide” [an 78

article Zhang wrote for Vogue.com in February 2018], you talk a lot about the process of reconciling your Chinese heritage with your American upbringing, especially now in this current political era. How has your personal background influenced the work you do, and how you choose which projects to take on? What has changed about your line of work from before the 2016 election to now? LZ: After the 2016 election, those of us in media have definitely been faced with the unique challenge of covering a president who’s unlike anyone who’s preceded him. Our team regularly covers news and developments from Washington, as well as Americans who we feel are making a difference, and we highlight those stories on social media as we feel would be most impactful. As journalists, we have to often set our personal feelings aside to report the facts, but I do think a part of that also involves providing a context to decisions that are being made in order to explain their significance. I think my personal background as a Chinese-American and public policy major naturally draws me to stories that highlight diversity and social policy issues, and I’m lucky to work on a team that similarly believes in the importance of these topics. R: Did you always know you wanted to go into journalism/publishing/ magazines? Can you describe the process of how you got to be the Senior Manager of Social Media at Vogue? LZ: I had always been interested in working at the intersection of fashion and media, but honestly didn’t really consider it a viable career option for me at first, as a first-generation Chinese-

American who was told I should become a lawyer or doctor when I grew up. However, I worked on the newspaper in high school and at Duke, where I also completed a journalism & media studies degree, so journalism had always been a big part of my education. My path to Vogue, though, was definitely winding. My first job was actually at a public relations firm in New York City, where I worked in digital strategy. I had a blog on the side that Tumblr then tapped me for to cover NYFW with them, and after that, I moved to working in fashion at agencies before going in-house at Ralph Lauren. I made the switch to editorial/ publishing to become the social media manager of Vogue Runway, which then expanded to my current role now at Vogue. R: Do you have any advice for people, specifically college seniors/recent graduates, who might be interested in pursuing work in the publishing industry? What are some necessary things to know, that might not be explicitly mentioned in school, when setting out to start one’s career? LZ: The best advice I got when I was graduating college was to just focus on getting your first job. People put a lot of pressure on themselves to get their dream gig right off the bat, and that’s amazing if you do, but it’s not often the case. Don’t be discouraged, keep hustling, stay humble and know that your career is ever evolving and growing with you.

Check out the full interview at wmrocketmagazine.com

As progress begets progress, and women of color continue to become empowered at William & Mary, hopefully the future entails a more inclusive legacy 100 years from now.