LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

“Thank you/the ancestor who loved you/before she knew you/by smuggling seeds into her braid for the long/journey, who loved you/ before he knew you by putting/a walnut tree in the ground, who loved you/ before she knew you by not slaughtering/ the land.” -Ross Gay, “The Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude”

Ross Gay might say that a legacy is what we leave behind. The way we provide for the people who come after us. The way my grandmother’s embroidered tablecloth sits under my mother’s wedding china every thanksgiving. Others might say that legacy is preservation; it’s the past handing off something precious to the future. In this case, it’s the future’s job to wipe its sweaty hands, take a deep breath, and not drop that fragile and special thing. The way my aunt lovingly soaks that linen tablecloth in warm water the Friday after, her eyes scanning for a blemish of red wine or grease.

Yet some still might say that legacy is not beholden to the past; rather, legacy is the collection of choices we make as individuals to change, ever so slightly, the trajectory of the world around us. It’s the art we make and the conversations we have, and the values we uphold. It’s what we might be known by, after we’re gone.

As I sit in the home my family has made, in a halo of old photographs spread around me, I can’t help but think how couched our lives are in the legacy of those who came before us. So many decisions had to be made for us to find ourselves exactly where we are today. But sometimes, the nature of these decisions are not always positive. And sometimes, the legacies we carry with us to the present harm us more than they help.

In LEGACY, we explore the complicated relationship we hold to the past, and challenge the power it has to shape our future.“Last of Kin” looks at the implications of severing one’s ties with the past, and the strength and courage required to do so. “Identity Lineage” reflects on the dissonance created when personal identity bumps up against the inherited expectations of a family or culture. But as we try to embrace and escape certain legacies of the past that try to define us, we must also consider the legacies that we have the power to create in our wake. “Landfill or Legacy?” by features writer Shelby Jenkins discusses the consequences of overconsumption and how this can taint our personal legacies. Similarly, “Wear to Waste” uses mounds and mounds of clothes to physically represent the legacy of waste that is born from excess. The motion of pulling away from past legacy and pushing forward to create our own legacy creates a distinct tension: if we try so hard to escape the consequences of our ancestor’s legacies, shouldn’t we work hard to ensure our own legacies don’t function as a prison for generations to come?

The photos of my family are full of faces I don’t know and never will know. Faces smiling, faces speaking, faces eating and faces laughing. But there’s a latent power in these faces. There’s the knowledge that by some degree, I am who I am today because of who they are. And for better or for worse, I can at least thank them for allowing me the opportunity to create my own legacy, which includes this magazine. I hope you can read this and reflect on your own legacy, both the one you come from and the one you’re making along the way.

Itype up this letter wearing an oversized crewneck sweatshirt my mom wore when she was my age, layered over a black turtleneck top thrifted from an online consignment store. Every time I pull these out of the drawer and over my head, I am reminded of where they came from, of the history, however long or short, woven into their cotton threads.

Everything has a legacy, but legacies tend to have a life of their own. Whether they were invited in or not, they take up residence in places ranging from shared dwellings like major holidays and cultural traditions to individual homes like family customs and personal habits. We find legacies in our faces and fashion, our possessions and passions, the meals and media we consume. They are ingrained in our identities, but are also lasting records of our lives and reputations. This naturally brings into question the malleability and tractability of legacies: how much of our legacies are in our own hands? When are we the fingers looping and twining the yarn into our desired patterns, and when are we merely the resulting scarf lengthening underneath the knitting needles? Or are our attempts at creating our own legacies as futile as cutting cookie dough into intricate shapes that will ultimately spread beyond recognition as they bake in the oven?

With the approach of the end of this year, we reflect on these questions and more in LEGACY. We orient ourselves in the present with feet grounded in the past and eyes turned up to the future, dipping our fingers in various paints in search of the precise hues we wish to imprint onto this world.