about be Of ten, in an ac ademic inst itut ion, fo c us is pl ace d on GPA, w hi le cre at iv it y is s acr if ice d at t he hands of pre cision. In an attempt to f i l l t his void, BE was cre ate d as an out let to celebrate ar t ist ic f re e dom, and showc as e t a lent t hat exists w it hin UT SC. B e yond ar t on a p ap er, lies t he ar t ist w ho cre ates; t he indiv idu a l w ho const ant ly bre a ks b ound ar ies and cha l lenges t he st atus quo. I am honoure d, to have b e en a cre ator in UT SC ’s f irst photo j our na l t hat fe atures b ot h t he amazing ness of indiv idu a ls, and t he exquisite pie ces of t hems elves t hat t he y s o bravely share to t he world t hroug h t heir work. As I ne ar t he end of my t ime at UT SC, I am t han k f u l for t he p e ople w ho have entere d my life and aide d me to b e come t he p ers on t hat w r ites to you to d ay. This g rat itude extends b e yond t hos e include d in t his zine, howe ver a p age of appre ci at ion has b e en de dic ate d to t he st rong and p ower f u l women w ho have b e en by my side t hroug hout our j our ne y, t his p ast ye ar. To Ash le y, a sp e ci a l t han k you for b eing t he mot ivat ion b ehind BE. You c ame to me w it h a desire to rebir t h MAYA, and t hroug h inspirat ion of my pre de cess ors and a natura l prog ression of g rowt h, t his zine c ame to BE. To Sa har, words c annot express my g rat itude. Your de dic at ion and s elf lessness gave life to t his v ision, and I am fore ver b etter by hav ing met you. You and your exp er t is e are a blessing . To t he ar t ists fe ature d in BE, my de ep est appre ci at ion for awarding us w it h your t a lent. I am in awe of t he g re at ness t hat you cre ate, and I am inspire d by you. Fina l ly, to a l l t hos e re ading t his zine, t his is a reminder to b e fe arless and t a ke a chance. You are more t han your g rades. You are amazing , and you des er ve to b e celebrate d. R ememb er to t a ke t ime for yours elf, and embrace w hat ma kes you happy. In a l l your p ower, BE.
Wit h love and lig ht, Nicole Bray i annis
featuring (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)
ashley morris lamia akbar daisy arko-dadzie annie kozaris sylvie stojanovski anonymous raisa masud devyani premkumar ali javeed shakkoi hibbert tele kapkirwok marianne casanova erica campitelli salma shariff richelle mae adriano trinidad lagos silva arya bhat
ashley morris
@ashleyannjanelle
Models (from L to R above): Josh Pratt, Georgiette Kofigah, Lavelle Williams, Tylene Mcfarlane, Mickel Bogle, Nedyse Gardiner, and Jason Brito Shot by: Ashley Morris
I find, in being black, a thing of beauty; a joy; a strength; a secret cup of gladness - Ossie Davis
n
lamia akbar
@lamiathegreat
joba Hibiscus flowers, red, brown and purple, bloomed under my skin. I am a beautiful girl, I am a child, when I close my eyes, I still feel my face against the white wall, brown against ghost- shadow-white. It begins at home, it begins inside my skeleton, my grandmother used to say it begins right when His Angel writes your lifeline onto your forehead. I am on my knees, I want to change the writing, I don’t want to be this, I don’t want to be this. I’m trying to teach love to a deer shot through the heart. There are always princesses that have gold hair and milk skin and they always get saved in my grandmother’s stories. I am unsalvageable then, I am holding onto my wrath, I am wrapping my love with it to keep it warm. Do not ask me for forgiveness, there is no absolution in my path, you keep what you gave. I am confused by love, my father used to call me hibiscus, joba, my mother called me, shona, gold. So there, I learned love is holding back just enough so that skin doesn’t break. Things broke. My bike, my father’s cassette player, the swing in my balcony. Sometimes when I look too long at the horizon the entire sky starts breaking. I was loved, but love confuses me, and I name everything love. Cruel, has this world not grasped me by the chin and laughed in my face? I grew up big and tall and naïve and afraid, and could never hold a melody like I wanted to. Couldn’t dance, couldn’t smile like anyone else. When I try to love it doesn’t quite fit. Hibiscus flowers. I see some bloomed today. They are beautiful but they make my eyes burn.
Scanned with CamScanner
daisy arko-dadzie
@char_een
annie kozaris
@anniekozaris
the garden of dreams Jane laid her head upon her soft and plushy pillow and put her brown duvet over her body. She finished a silent prayer, in the dark, and closed her eyes. She felt the heaviness in her eyes giving way and she allowed it to take her somewhere she knows all too well. ***
Her world became foggy.
It was as if a warm mist had covered everything she saw and her skin. That mist did not seem to go away no matter how much she rubbed her glasses lenses on the bottom of her shirt.
She was outside of her house.
Her beautiful daisies that her husband had loved so much sat in the corner of her vast backyard. Her heart began to hurt slowly by just the thought of him. The backyard was in the shape of a rectangle. There were grape vines and a big greenhouse in one of its corners. Alongside the greenhouse there was a garden that held plants with many vegetables. Pepper plants, pea plants, tomato plants and cucumber plants stood up away from the soil that they came from. Anne walked up to her plants and grazed a ripe red tomato the colour of her burning heart into her hand. She crushed it into the palm of her hand. The red and clear juices poured out as she opened up what became a fist of her right hand. The tomato was squished into a million little pieces. Anne looked up from the tomato disaster that she created.
She was not alone.
On the other side of the backyard she heard the crunch of uncut grass as
each footstep came closer to her. The mist parted a pathway as a figure as white as the clouds in the sky was walking towards her. Suddenly, the figure spoke in a calm and peaceful whisper.
“Hello Jane.”
Jane stood as still as the plum tree in her backyard. The mysterious figure walked right up to her. She gently put a hand on her shoulder and shewed Jane’s long auburn hair away from it. “Come along with me.” Just as the figure spoke, Jane’s feet followed the figure and she could not control it. Together, they walked to the other side of the backyard where the greenhouse was. “What am I doing here? Why am I here?” Jane’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. Her stomach felt as though someone had stuck a knife in it. “I have good news for you,” the figure put their hands together in front of them.
“You are going to have a baby.”
Jane’s jaw fell to the floor. She could not believe it. A baby? She thought to herself. But Steve and I did all the right things to make sure this didn’t happen. “Oh, but it is happening,” said the figure. They put their arm on Jane’s shoulder. It was almost as if she could read Jane’s mind.
“You are going to have a baby.”
Jane squinted her eyes and felt herself being moved slowly from the backyard. She was moving backwards as her feet moved on their own. She tried to open her eyes wide. Jane woke up and her shirt was soaked.
sylvie stojanovski
@ sylviestojanovic_
The greatest love stories must’ve been written by the loneliest people – fingers stretched in the dark, bodies curled up in fetal, conjuring up the type of romance to fill a heart for a lifetime. I see your face when I shut my eyes, I hear your voice in my downtime. rg
– a n o nymo us s u b m i s s i o n
ma You’re like monsoon
sparkling in sunrise
washing away the sorrows that surround you
Ma,
accepting the burdens of our falls holding us grounded as grey concrete pavements pull you in closer it rips your knees and makes you bleed yet you stand tall once again
You natal the joy that only heavens know
how much does your back ache? you’re uncertain, lost embracing the smiles of your children do you recall when you last rested? your eyes look weary, as though you’ve lived a thousand decades nursed all the souls that have come your way birthed and clothed us with your own skin
your gentle hands and beautiful soul the sound of your laughter echoing through the trees in spring time do you hear that? the birds are coming back
In your arms is where we seek shelter your lap nestled like home, you sing us lullabies even when the candles burn out but who holds you, ma?
You’ve forgiven me even through your shattered heart and caressed me with every given moment yet time and time again, I lose the trace of your brown eyes
Ma translates to “mother” in Bangla. This piece was inspired by all the strong mothers who sacrifice their own selves for their children, and yet their struggles go unrecognized, forgotten.
raisa masud
@roses_ink
devyani premkumar
@devypremkumar
you are who you associate with surround yourself with light & your radiance shows surround yourself with dark & no one will know where you disappeared to because you will lose yourself unknowingly unwillingly you are who you asscoiate with try to find the good in others & you will find the good in you
ali javeed
@ ali.m.javeed
never beg Please don’t tell me how much you loved me because in the end it wasn’t enough to make you stay was it
Leave me without letting me know how happy we were back then you never knew did you
Come back when you’ve realized your mistake and watch how I move on from you because I can I will
marianne casanova
@shesthemaan
tele kkapkirwok
@telesaurus_rex
intersectioned Intersectionality we need to break it down Misinformation leads society to the ground Miscommunication it’s time to change the station Open the doors for new relations Layered by society Lacking our own variety We can’t let our people suffer quietly Inner conflicts cause social rivalries Intersection being gay and a girl One person split up in an unfitting world Black lives matter why are you offended? But when a racist becomes president he is commended ? Black lives matter, screaming to be heard! Remove the word black and Lives Matter is just another term BLM is not thug behaviour We need to stop the institutional erasure. To erase the suffering of a whole group of people. Proves that we are still very unequal. We need to talk to change the sequel. Open your mind allow it to grow. To learn more about the world you think you know.
shakkoi hibbert
@needsomekoi
erica campitelli
@artbyairstudio
HOPE FLOATS December 2017
WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN August 2017
salma shariff
@shariff.inparis
re-writing what was written for me– I am. raw; draped in white; a black sheep still within her own wool; visage tout nu; like the boldest Truth a lie has ever faced. les mots qui mordent; j’aurai jamais tort de m’exprimer en écriture i exist. Eternally
This is not: another poem about being the daughter of a family fleeing a civil war,
A black brown-skinned girl whose golden undertones match the crown she’s bestowed upon herself. This story shakes but is immovable; My story is a movement. And I move to say I refuse to stand still, Refuse to be animated by your narrative Your words do not give meaning to my actions;
To be pushed into 4 walls of glass, A passerby in the movie of my life; I am not a secondary character in my own story. I am the composer,
This is:
And I will not be blocked from my crescendo
a poem about a girl fleeing the family that fled a civil war,
Some they tell me to move adiago
a girl escaping from a family built on a broken culture, so that she could fix herself.
This story is about defiance.
But even if you silence my notes, you will still feel their vibrations. I am a force to be reckoned with, recognize this. Respectable girls don’t make waves; Even if I’m a drop in the ocean, you will still feel my ripple effect
Righting wrongs and wronging selfrighteousness that was self-appointed for generations.
Until I draw back
This is about a soul 6-feet under the dirt with a body that walks above ground.
Diminuendo
Poco à poco
La fin
trinidad lagos silva
@trinidadlagos_
My name is Elle, or
The Devil, actually call me,
Light like a Bright Sunshine. God, I am Probably
Morning Star. I am not
Pride like
His Follower,
A lion, or greed like
Just an embodiment of
A frog, or lust like
Lucifer or Mammon or
A snake, or envy like
Asmodeus or
A dog, or gluttony like
Leviathan or
A boar, or wrath like
Beelzebub or Satan or
A bear, or sloth like
Belphegor.
All of the deadly sins.
I am sinful,
I am also recognized as a peacemaker, I do what I do to please you. God, I am sinful, loyal, your servant.
An Angel of Death. What I do frees myself and others of your light. I am full of hate, mischief, and witchery.
My lord ,
So fear me because I am
I am
human
richelle mae adriano @ rich.adrn
arya bhat
@aryabhat_
to BE continued...
Photographs & Design by Sahar Ullah © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED