SheThey - Issue 5 - October 2020

SheThey

Issue 5 - October 2020

Copyright @ 2020 Sydnney Margova Islam SheThey Magazine Cover art: Beneath the Trees by Madeline Elli All rights reserved

SheThey

SheThey Art and Literary Magazine

Issue 5 - October 2020

Letter from the Editor It’s officially spooky season! And I know a lot of us are definitely scared, especially with the election just a week away.

If you’re reading this you either are a woman or gender non-conforming person OR you care about women and gender non-conforming people. This community is systemically oppressed by our current president and his policies. As a result it is imperative that we vote him out. But not only do we need Trump and his posse out, but we also need to make sure that our representatives do not approve of his Supreme Court nominee, Amy Coney Barrett—someone who could take away so many of our rights.

If you haven’t voted already, please vote, we need everyone to participate in this election. In 2016, only 60.1% of eligible voters cast their ballot. With so much on the line this election, we need everyone to make their voices heard.

However, I’m assuming everyone has heard all day everyday about the election. And it’s exhausting. Let this magazine serve as an escape from the constant stress and anxiety as a result of the election, but also be a reminder that voting is incredibly important. Yes, there are so many other ways to affect change and activism does not stop with voting, but it’s part of our civic duty to make sure our government is serving each and every one of us.

If you don’t yet have a plan to vote, please go to www.vote.org where you can register, find your polling station, locate a ballot drop box, find early voting locations, and more.

When you fill out your ballot, please keep in mind those who you care about and remember your vote will directly impact the people around you.

Love,

Sydnney Margova Islam

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SheThey

Contents Cover

Beneath the Trees, Madeline Elli

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Beneath the Trees, Madeline Elli

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Daily Thoughts, Bea Burke

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KINRAGE, Hanaa Javed

5

Not the Shape of My Heart, Viera Margova

6

Come Over, Cassandra Murphy

7

The First Time Your Heart Broke, Rose Lederer

8

Meredith , Rachel Stern

9-10

Womxn in the Mirror, Haley Beekman

11-12

Mills St., Rachel French

13-15

White Feminism, Hannah Olund

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Day 3, Loren Marple

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Bliss, m.k.s.

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The Art of Running, Lidia Hadera

19

Oh, How Cold the Bible Can Be, Ty Martin

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Jamie, Sydnney Margova Islam

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Valentine, Chaja Jamie Marie

23

Window Shopping, Audrey Rauth

24

I Am Alive, Madalyn Larkin

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Beneath the Trees

Photography

By Madeline Willcox

SheThey

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Daily Thoughts

By Bea Burke

Pisces.

Desperate, trying to keep my composure, trying to straighten my posture.

Daydreams, a fantasy world I go to Pixie dust and eyelash wishes, oh!

Writ on diary pages, but words cannot describe What is going on in my head, my heart, my second sight.

Good to Me. the only true goodness I've known has been from myself to myself. 'cause I give myself grace and patience and kindness, and love. barely any body checks off all those boxes, when they give me goodness, what they call goodness. not completely.

They. too much for others, never enough for myself.

She in a wig, He in the hot seat, They on the in side allthetime.

Curious little stains. tea steeped for too long curious stain on the waterline, curious, yes.

Old Man Earl Grey reminds me that curious little stains really are, a beautiful thing.

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SheThey

KINRAGE

Streetwear Fashion Line

By Hanaa Javed

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Not the Shape of My Heart Acrylic Painting

By Viera Margova

SheThey

Come Over

By Cassandra Murphy Come over for dinner tonight So I can justify the $120 dollars I spent on scented candles Stare at me from across the table We’ll make small talk and drink peach wine You’ll ask me about the food And I’ll skirt around asking “Have you fallen out of love with me yet?”

My tongue will taste of iron and I will smile big and wide We’ll summon circles of mushrooms to grow through the floor and swallow us alive To pass the time I’ll lament about how my poems never rhyme Until the slugs devour my last dregs of self concept And my brain will feel submerged in water The candles will melt away The apartment building will burn down And the ashes will swirl above us As we sit across from each other in the comfortability of two people who used to share everything

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Issue 5 - October 2020

The First Time Your Heart Broke

By Rose Lederer

The first time your heart broke I wish I had been there.

I wish I had known you To cut this wiring Before the electrical current gained traction.

When I see you I have two thoughts; What inside of you keeps convincing you to stay?

You say you love him, that you’re not happy without him, But are you happy with him?

If you’re going to break, shatter.

Like the glass bottle did on your head.

Like his mind did two years ago.

I pray you have the courage to break This carnival mirror you see yourself through.

Maybe no one ever told you That breaking mirrors is only bad luck If you’re distorting your image of yourself.

You already do that.

I wish I could control the ocean; So that every grain of sand polished Could be used to fashion a mirror; So you could see yourself How I see you.

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SheThey

Meredith

Oil Pastel

By Rachel Stern

Issue 5 - October 2020

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SheThey

The Womxn in the Mirror Photography Series

By Haley Beekman

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Mills St.

By Rachel French Save your “woe is me” Tale about the fictitious nature of male privilege.

Look me in my tired eyes and tell me that There is no benefit to being a man.

Laugh in the faces of the suffragettes, The 54 or 77 cents to your dollar, The 1 in 4 college women who will become victims of Sexual assault.

Tell me then About how I was not innocent in my own experience.

Walking alone late at night is a sin That must be punished.

Do I deserve this– My assaulter’s face burned into my memory?

His hands on my inner thighs, Breath on my neck every time I try to fall asleep?

I have never met a woman who does not Carry her keys between her fingers.

One who neglects to check the backseat Or waits longer than a beat to lock her car doors.

It is ingrained in us as deeply As the way we draw breath.

If there is an opportunity, A blind spot– You asked for it And are no longer the victim.

I am followed through my place of work “When do you get off” in addition to an expletive.

This man is over 40 I am a fresh 19.

My male coworker laughs when I tell him I am afraid.

The terror follows me home.

At school I am told that my skirt is too short But there are just 3 sizes, and none fit me right.

The boys laugh and touch me as I walk up the stairs to class– I am 12.

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SheThey For every victim of assault I know, She knows 3 more.

We are told how to protect ourselves but has Anyone thought to tell the boys To leave us alone?

My waist is grabbed in a crowd as he Whispers in my ear “Excuse me�

But there is nothing polite about what I feel on my hip.

When I come forward about my own assault, I am asked why I never reported it.

I watched Brock Turner serve mere months for rape And I did not even know my attacker.

What would have come of this Besides my humiliation?

I am sure the man does not even remember what I look like But I can see his face always.

Mills St. is no longer safe for me to travel, Even in the light of day.

I took every precaution as a woman.

My location was known by 5 friends and 10 roommates.

I was on the phone with my brother There were people to check that I had made it home safely.

Someone was walking the same way home And I could feel them behind me.

I was on edge, prepared.

And still it did not matter.

When you disregard male privilege You are laughing in the face of every woman who has suffered through a trauma similar to mine.

And worse yet Those who endured more.

Because I am told again And again That it could have been worse.

I am lucky I should be thankful That I only have to heal through this 5 minutes And nothing more.

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Issue 5 - October 2020

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SheThey

White Feminism

Collage and Analysis

By Hannah Olund The concept of feminism is foundationally Euro-centric, and as a result, modern-day feminists have to actively work to breakdown the barriers of white supremacy instilled in the movement, to reach the ultimate goals of feminism. This piece was inspired by Elisabeth Armstrong’s article, “Before Bandung: The Anti-Imperialist Women’s Movement in Asia and the Women’s International Democratic Federation.” In this piece, my goal was to highlight the nature of transnationalism in the context of feminism and to provide a critic of White Feminism.

As a White Feminist, I can see how the euro-centric feminist movement was built by women who look like me, with my concerns and comforts at the forefront. Historically, European and American women’s issues are the primary, if not the only, focus of the feminist movement. As a result, the global South was considered a passive beneficiary of White Feminism.

Of course, this is not an accurate portrayal of reality. The parallels between euro-centric feminism and colonialism can result in a deep mistrust of feminist principles. However, social reform feminist 14

Issue 5 - October 2020 (non-white feminist) ideals have taken root in the global South on their own, focusing on access to education, health care, social welfare, and updated cultural and religious practices. Additionally, social reform feminists advocated for equal rights for women in all independent nations and women’s full access to public life. While these goals may sound similar to the goals of euro-centric feminists, they are starkly contrasting. Social reform feminist organizations are not interested in solving the white women’s problems when they themselves have always been seen, and treated, as “none white”. Their organizing strategies were unique because they were forced to innovate to fight against colonial rule.

The White Feminist movement of today has only further silenced the voices of social reform feminists in the global South. White Feminists effectively further the rule of colonialism, by claiming the work and ideas of women in the global South as their own. The empirical powers, both white men and white women are the perpetrators of oppression that we must rally against.

“Leftist women’s movements across Asia and Africa shared four common tenets to their internationalism: anti-imperialism, mass-based organizing, a membership dominated by rural women, and anticapitalism.”

To create this piece I dug through the quintessence of White Feminism: high-end fashion magazines. Initially, I was searching for a depiction of a woman wearing a hijab, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when she was nowhere to be found. The incredible lack of diversity within those magazines is striking when you start to open your eyes to it. As I was looking through those piles of magazines, looking for the women in a hijab, I realized that the majority of the world would flip through these magazines see only light skin, only white skin. Nobody who looked like them. Nobody they can relate to. This dichotomy of a worldwide brand curating euro-centric fashion ideals is the perfect metaphor for White Feminism. In this piece, I dismantle the aspects of white supremacy that I found and created a visual representation of social reform feminists using unique shapes, colors, patterns, and models. From the rubble of White Feminism, the diverse experiences of social reform feminists are represented.

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“I appeal to you, women around the world, to mobilize public opinion in favor of freedom and democracy, and to proclaim your desire to see it established in all colonial countries.”

-Elisabeth Armstrong

SheThey

Day 3

Digital Collage

By Loren Marple

Issue 5 - October 2020

Bliss

Photography By m.k.s.

SheThey

The Art of Running

By Lidia Hadera

Why can’t I move past this?

It feels like on one hand that I am filled with so much anger that I don’t know what to do with it Yet on the other hand, I feel like crying my eyes out and crawling into a corner Someone told me that maybe having a day off is what I needed saying that it appears that I have been running.

Little do they know is that I have been running my whole life.

Running from people.

From my emotions.

And my experiences.

Keeping my mind afloat with goals dreams and desires.

Yet for some odd reason, I can’t avert back to any of that.

This pandemic has forced me to slow down.

To reflect.

And to understand.

Lately, I have been so mad at everyone and everything.

Especially myself.

Because I have hardly accomplished anything from my checklist.

Maybe because no matter what I do, it won’t matter.

Because I know deep down I will end up in the same place as Breonna Taylor.

Miriam Carey.

Shelly Frey.

And if that doesn’t happen, my life will be filled with obstacles and struggles.

For being black.

And for being a woman.

But I am trying to come to terms with this.

Because “If there is meaning in life at all, then there must be meaning in suffering” This has become my mantra through this all.

So I ask What’s your mantra?

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Oh, How Cold The Bible Can Be

By Ty Martin

body made up of silver and gold they called me “one of the greats”, yet i felt my teeth turn into copper and suddenly i was fake. there was not yet a word to describe the kind of metals that made up us and while they choke on papyrus and wine, we pray to gods of stardust. we furrow our brows, paint above our lips and exchange the textures of iron press together our fingertips, while staring eye to eye asking what we’re made of. are we silver or gold? iron or copper? or did we get lost on the way or maybe we’re all stardust that within the earth, we lay.

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SheThey

Jamie

Oil Painting

By Sydnney Margova Islam

Issue 5 - October 2020

Valentine

By Chaja Jamie Marie What was the neighborhood like?

It was always cloudy. Not just the sky but the landscape itself. The grass was always grey, the houses were too pale and pastel to be anything but grey. I’d sit on the porch swing and just watch. Ms. Hernz in her yard catering to these grey daffodils, her husband wearing all grey and their daughter wearing all grey dresses.

Not only was the neighborhood grey but so was the mood of everyone else. Grey and nosy. I’d go to the park with my parents and they’d stare at us, idolize my parents, their eyes would tell me how lucky I was they adopted me, people would come over and ask my parents how they managed it. How they adopted a little girl from the ghetto and made her into a respectable young lady. They’d praise my big sister for being such a team player and taking me in after 16 years of being an only child and getting everything she wanted.

Truth was, she never talked to me behind closed doors. Wouldn’t bother with me at all unless she wanted me to get out of the shower.

Your sister was suffering from an eating disorder… how did you feel when you found out about it?

I found out before my parents did, I woke up one night— I was about 13 at that time— and I really needed to pee. So I walked into the bathroom– I hadn’t heard her yet in my sleepy daze. So I flicked on the bathroom light and she was there, hunched over the toilet, absolutely spilling her lunch into the bowl. And all I could do was wonder why she was throwing up with the lights off.

She noticed I came in two seconds after, she just got up, washed her face in the sink without looking at her reflection which confused me. I was wondering if she was going to tell our parents that she was sick.

I didn’t hear anything the next morning. I didn’t say anything.

It got worse?

Mhm. The second time I walked in on her throwing up was Saturday of that same week. And I was a smart kid so I immediately realized that something wasn’t right. Either it was the fact that her fingers were down her throat or that she was immediately doing this after eating yogurt for lunch.

This time she didn’t push me away, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, which made me want to gag, and beckoned me over. My legs led me over to her and she spoke to me for the first time in two weeks. “Hold my hair?” She asked.

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And I nodded, because to me this was my big sister trying to bond with me, this was my big sister being a big sister for the first time since I arrived here when I was seven. At that time I just wanted to be closer to my sister and so I held back her hair for her while she stuck her fingers down her throat and vomited.

SheThey And I’m not going to lie, it felt pretty great to be able to spend time with her. Despite her giving me all this trauma.

Did this improve your relationship with your sister?

It was, heaven really. She talked to me a lot. Always coming into my room and stroking my hair and tying it up into two puffs. Asking me why it’s so thick and what products I used to get it so curly.

Different hair texture between African Americans and White people and all. She’d watch TV with me and help decorate my room. Laugh with me and deteriorate.

I think she only did all those things with me to keep me quiet.

And when she died…?

I found her.

She was laying on her side, her eyes were wide open and I just stared. Just looked at her. I remember vividly the blue-ish bags under her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken from three months of not eating properly. Her hair was so matted and crinkly.

And I remember thinking “How did I not notice? How did they not notice?” My parents?

Apparently I had a panic attack, that's how my mom found me. And then she sobbed with me when she saw her oldest and blood daughter sprawled out across the floor. Dead.

We sobbed for hours. At midnight, when my father came home, he told us he found us asleep cuddling a dead body.

I’m sorry, IIt's fine, others cry too when they first hear this.

And the funeral?

The hardest part.

Suddenly I had all these people reaching out to me telling me how it wasn't my fault and how I wouldn't have known… but I did know, I always knew. I was old enough to know wrong from right, I knew my sister was starving herself but I didn't understand the context.

And after the funeral?

Everything went dark. grey, black. As I grew up, my adoptive parents watched over me like hawks, making sure I ate, making sure I was happy. I got everything I craved, but at the cost of my sister's life. I was suffocated by the attention. I can never escape the selfishness, no matter how many people I tell, no matter how many people know the truth.

What is the truth, Valentine?

I murdered my sister, doctor.

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Issue 5 - October 2020

Window Shopping Digital Collage Audrey Rauth

SheThey

I Am Alive

By Madelyn Larkin i look back at my darkest times and i see how often i lied lied to the people who loved me most promising them i don’t want to die in my darkest times, i thought i had nobody in whom i could confide my comfort was found in slicing up my thighs because i thought that was the only thing that could possibly stop my cries turns out i’m my own best confidant today i am alive today i will thrive today i will accept life for all of its thrown knives i will not dodge them anymore but accept they’re how i learn to survive take the good and the bad because both are essential to my design i am made of broken pieces i am made of the pain i’ve felt each broken piece i’m made of teaches me how to climb out of hell i am alive i love my scars deeply i love my strength even deeper so i will wake up on this beautiful morning and allow my emotions to be felt for i am my own healer

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Issue 5 - October 2020

The mission of SheThey Magazine is to open more dialogues about the experiences of women and gender non-conforming folks through impactful art and literature. With an intersectional feminist lens, I want to give this community a resource where they have a voice to share what it is like to live in their skin and showcase their creative work. My goal is to cover any and all subjects relevant to these folks, including but not limited to; sex, race, LGBTQ+ rights, body positivity, reproductive justice, ability, racism, colorism, sexual assault, Indigeneity, trans* rights, white supremacy, age, gender uidity, domestic violence, patriarchy, sexuality, menstruation, relationships, toxic masculinity, sex positivity, uplifting favorite artists, writers, musicians, activists, etc. I hope to share perspectives from women and non-binary folks of all races, abilities, ages, religions, nationalities, and sexualities. Any and all forms of art and literature are accepted.

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SheThey

Thank you to everyone who supported this dream of mine and helped create a community around speaking our truths.

If you are interested in submitting work for the next issue, please contact me by email at syd.mislam13@gmail.com

Until next time.

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SheThey Magazine October 2020