SheThey - Issue 3 - August 2020 by SheThey Magazine

SheThey

Issue 3 - August 2020

SheThey

SheThey Art and Literary Magazine

Issue 3 - August 2020

Letter from the Editor Welcome back to SheThey Magazine! This month’s issue is quite late, September is just a few days away. But it’s been getting harder and harder to focus on things like this. As the months have gone by since the beginning of quarantine in March, the world has seemed to plummet further into chaos. The death toll from the coronavirus is exponentially increasing as the Trump administration continues to downplay the virus and put more people at risk. Around 30 million Americans are unemployed and as unemployment beneﬁts come to an end, more and more people are being evicted and becoming houseless. If losing one’s home isn’t enough, tent encampments are being bulldozed and residents arrested--simply for trying to shelter themselves on (stolen) public land. To make matters worse, the ﬁght for racial justice and demands to abolish the police are still being ignored. In the past 235 days, the police have killed 751 people. There have only been 12 days in 2020 where the police did not kill someone, according to Mapping Police Violence.

dered.

Breonna Taylor’s killers have still not been arrested. Only one was ﬁred. Elijah McClain’s has still not gotten justice. It’s been exactly a year since he was mur-

And now, last Monday, the Kenosha County Police shot Jacob Blake in the back as he walked away from them. Seven times. In front of his children. As Kenosha and many other cities erupted in protest against this atrocious act of police sanctioned violence upon another Black body, two more people were killed. This time by a white domestic terrorist, Kyle Rittenhouse. The 17 year old crossed state lines with an illegal assault weapon, murdered two people and seriously injured another who were supporting a Black Lives Matter protest. Before the shooting, Rittenhouse was thanked by the police officers there. After murdering innocent people, he was taken into custody and treated respectfully by authorities, given full due process of the law and trial in court. Rittenhouse, unlike Blake, was treated like a human despite having committed a crime in public. If this isn’t a clear representation of how Black folks are treated compared to white folks, I don’t know what is. Simply having Black skin deemed Blake a threat in the eyes of the police. Blake’s body was a weapon more dangerous to the officers than Rittenhouse’s AR 15. Blake’s skin warranted seven bullets in his back, but Rittenhouse’s three fallen bodies deserved respect? This is why we protest. This is why we must not stop protesting until this reality changes. Thank you for protesting, for marching, for speaking out, for having discussions, for calling officials, for demanding change. Keep fighting. Don’t stop. Love, i

Sydnney Margova Islam

SheThey

Contents Cover

Sun Bathing, Khalidah Carrington

I Just Don’t Care: Your Body Is Dope, Molly Thompson

Please Excuse, Elena Starcher

Artist’s Lookout, m.k.s.

Sheila, Tess Mueske

Power and Glory, Sydnney Margova Islam

Architectural Alterity, Eilis Finnegan

Lexi, Audrey Rauth

8-10

Rootbound, Mac Scheldt

11-12

A Talk With Masculinity, Dakotah Whitting

Sunset of Castle Hill, Viera Margova

Intuit (Kobo), Loren Marple

In the South, Rachel Stern

Poem Give Me A Moment to Choke, Rose Lederer

Steam of Consciousness II, Loren Marple

Not Everyone Has Good Taste!, Allie Verbeke

Note2 U, Nikki Ngamne

Strong Black Queen, J. Stephens-Dantzler

21-22

Redeﬁning You, Riley Peters

23-24

Cat & Kris, Madeline Elli

Issue 3 - August 2020

i just don’t care: your body is dope. By Molly Thompson

early morning, long stretch, as sleepy nothingness is batted from the eyes. grab the phone, spotify. the melody, a soft beat and hard drive, pushes off the bed to the sink. brush, brush, spit. little tap-dancing-feet twirl to the wardrobe: long step, little hop, shimmy into something. look in the mirror. okay. closer, farther, squint one eye, do a spin, zoom out, zoom in. look closer-- into the soul-- sweet eyes and lullabies, as legs dance to the kitchen, tiny toes tripping. the coffee drips, granola crunches, and music pumps. drip. drip. drop. clean the yogurt spoon and pour the coffee as a beat zaps through the body-- pow! feet do a little jig, hips sway, knee pops. pass the mirror, do it again, long legs pulse, strong arms shiver, a euphoria thrills through the body. plop down and open a book, fingers stroke the pages: soft, cut, vulnerable words-- don’t read too deep! debussy’s genius keeps the mind firing, a tiny toe taps. heart beats, lizzo beats-- move those feet. fast, fast, slow, jump on the couch. movement, electricity, fingers snap, glass ceiling shatters as legs twirl in blurry motion to the sound of vinyl playing, lofi stuttering, as your body becomes one with your soul. damn. thats dope. You look good, kid.

SheThey

Please Excuse

Digital Illustration By Elena Starcher

Issue 3 - August 2020

Artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Lookout Photography By m.k.s.

SheThey

Sheila

By Tess Mueske we get in my rusty van and drive south somewhere, to someone’s corn field, and i am careful not to tread over the growing stalks. we get out of the car and lay my blanket on the ground to watch the stars. we last probably two minutes out there, the gravel beneath us hard and the mosquitos nasty. we get back in my van and turn all the lights off. instead of craning our necks to look at the sky, we read each other queer love poems and songs we’ve written. we workshop lines and talk about the times we’ve been heartbroken. the midwest sky is tainted with city light pollution, even forty minutes south. i feel gigantic and small at the same time. i spend my days dreaming about going away. when i feel the ants crawling up my esophagus, i start to google the places i might live. i ask god where she thinks i’d flourish. i imagine what the air must feel like on the other side of the world. i cannot stop running away. will i ever stop feeling like this? i eat quinoa in bed and peruse the missed connections section of craigslist to feel something again. i wonder who actually writes these. i wonder if there has ever been a missed connections success. i think of a girl who makes me want to stand still, despite it all. i wake up in the middle of the night to write down a memory: when she kissed me at a red light. her body moving around the apartment at three in the morning, opening things and closing others. erotic and necessary. when she slid back into bed, next to me. i love how she cares for me, thinks of me, how her eyes crease when she looks at me. i cannot help but think about all these things at once, here in this hand-me-down minivan, where i am parked in a corn field with a childhood friend, in the midwest of the united states, where i am thousands of miles away from anything that feels mildly important, and i want to write her a letter in the missed connections. if i hold your hand, would your heart beat faster? do you want to stand still with me, too?

Issue 3 - August 2020

Lorem ipsum

Power and Glory

Mixed Media Collage By Sydnney Margova Islam

SheThey

Architectural Alterity: An Uncanny Manifesto of De-Familiarization, Displacement, and Dreams Digital Collaging/Rendering, Physical Modeling and Photography By EilĂs Finnegan

Issue 3 - August 2020

Lexi

Digital Drawing By Audrey Rauth

SheThey

Rootbound

By Mac Scheldt ACT I. SCENE I. MAEVE and JUNE’s living room. There are a fuck ton of plants. They must be alive, not fake. Occasionally they touch them or mist them. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE.

Do you ever miss it? What? Being young. No. You don’t? I, in no way, shape, or form, miss being young. Well, I guess I didn’t know that that’s how you felt? Are you forgetting? June, that’s not funny. No one’s saying it’s funny. I didn’t forget anything! Like fuck, you forget where you are one time! Come on, Maeve! It was one time! You’re doing it again! Right now! What? You have forgotten that you have, absolutely forgotten where you were way more than one time! Oh, fuck. Okay, hit me. What did I miss? Maybe it was the endometriosis. Oh, fuck yeah I forgot about that. I think you’ve also forgotten about the four miscarriages. Yep… Fuck, okay. And that time they told me I had ovarian cancer, I think it was right after the four miscarriages but right before they removed my ovaries. Okay, okay! I’ll order the Del Datto. Overnight it. Deal.

Beat. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE.

When do you think we stopped liking men? I still like men. (Under breath) Oh we know. (Thinking, not hearing) Maybe it was our ﬁrst or second— Affairs? No. I was gonna say ﬁrst or second— 8

Issue 3 - August 2020

MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE.

JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE.

Children? Partners! I was gonna say Partners! First or second Partners! Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I mean you didn’t even let me ﬁnish my— I know. I said I’m sorry! You are in-fucking-sufferable! I must be doing something right if you’ve kept me around for this long! Or maybe it’s because we are too set “in our ways.” (Chuckle) You do realize you and I have had 2 affairs. Not one, but two. Exactly my point! (Ignoring June’s comment.) Once when we were 29 and again when we were 61. Right? You’re acting like we had never fucked before? We had been fucking ever since we were, well ever since we were not old enough to be fucking each other. We were fourteen! Fourteen! God, you’re acting like we’re 10 or something. I think most people would say that fourteen might be just a little too young. Please go on, continue perpetuating the societal ideal that women don’t have just as many, and in most cases, more of a sexual prowess than men! It’s all look, look at all the men and their penises. Phallic symbol this, phallic symbol that, women are celibate until the age of twenty-two. Fuck off. You like cactus too. What? Feck off. What the fuck did you just say? Feck! Maeve, I said Feck! I keep telling you that I don’t care if you swear?! And you keep acting like this is gonna impress me? I mean like what the fuck, you do know that fuck is my favorite word? (A Dirty look.) I just wanted to prove to you that I am not stuck in my ways and that we should start a third! Says the woman with a ‘boyfriend.’ I’ve told you a million fucking times that Dean and I are only messing around. We are keeping things interesting! He’s twenty-seven! So?! We are seventy-two! I can’t help it that everyone ﬁnds me irresistible! All I’m saying is you should get your house in order before you come over to knock down mine. You keep making these weird analogies like they make sense, but they don’t make sense to anyone but you.

SheThey

MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE. MAEVE. JUNE.

You’re still as annoying as you were the first day I met you. Oh god, not this again! Screaming at all the kids on the play— I’m aware of what happened when we first met, you know I was there too— “Don’t kill the lady bugs!” “They have families too!” JUNE rolls her eyes at MAEVE. (Cracking herself up) “Hey you! Yes you, back the fuck off!” I know what I said! Oh my god, the teacher was mortified! You were a five year old going around and screaming at everyone to “back the fuck away from the lady bugs or I’ll deck you!” I know what happened Maeve, I was there. (Still laughing) I mean honestly I knew right then and there that we’d get along reaaaaaal well. And look at us now. (Almost begins to cry) Eh, eh eh! No crying! Bad! Stop that. But… Yes I know, I’m aware. We aren’t gonna fucking die anytime soon so just quit it with the crying because I got wayyyyy more years in this auld thing. We go to Ireland once and now you’re thinking you’re Irish. We know you’re Irish, but you’re not really Irish. Eh-Eh-Eh! I did get my dual citizenship! And how the fuck did you get that? I have my ways. Did you flirt with the clerk? No one can resist this figure and this hair.

Issue 3 - August 2020

A Talk With Masculinity Photography Series Dakotah Whiting

SheThey

Issue 3 - August 2020

Sunset on Castle Hill Acrylic Painting By Viera Margova

SheThey

Intuit (Kobo)

Digital Collage By Loren Marple

Issue 3 - August 2020

In the South

Oil Pastels By Rachel Stern

SheThey

Poem Give Me A Moment to Choke By Rose Lederer

Give me a minute to choke Before I restate what I wrote. I’m shy but I won’t compromise My integrity for a quote That you live by and may die by Besides people who feel the same as you. Obsessed with morality, but no clear philosophy to come back to. Gold came in first place as a rule of value But what you hold as you Golden Rule Is passive and untrue. You can’t treat people the way you want to be treated. You need to ask directly, And even then they may not mean it. People misspeak or may not know what they want. Miscommunicating intentions and directions Until you become lost, And confused what to do, You may act irrelevantly to what you intended; So get it in your head that Respect is not passive. You need to actively communicate in a situation that you’re half of. You need to work every day to build your identity. Don’t follow in footsteps-- a king should be carried. I’m not a Queen, I’m full center and visibly defined By the land I have cultivated and fought for my whole life. But look closely at this metaphor, Because the King doesn’t fight. He delegates and regulates Actions and minds; So his battle is not physical Because his land is his birthright. Cultivating and maintaining it are the issues on his mind. No Divinity cared for gold When they controlled the light. All that glitters is where I direct my sight. But wait, I control this chess game, I’m not the King; I’m not idle or moving slowly. I’m the queen, the bishop, the knight, the rook. Strategically activating different parts of me. When I am king, then something’s wrong Because I can’t move in my entirety. Limited, surrounded, hunted by opponents-I’m not activating my abilities. All different parts of the same game; Given, lifted, falling fast. I sacrifice my pawns, my guards, For an army that can last.

Issue 3 - August 2020

stream of consciousness II By Loren Marple

there is a physical thumping a burning pounding that lodges in your sense of self and decides to not let you think clearly and your senses are mufﬂed and your brain clouded and you can’t imagine an existence so physical so physical that you just cannot think everything just is and you can’t intellectualize everything and I’m disappointed but secretly I’m probably not but I don’t know because I still cannot let go of my self and my thoughts even with this beat and this accordion and this talking shouting chanting yelling and it continues and it is not just this music but every music through all the speakers and in all the hearts and moving through every single thing. It alternates sometimes is so soft you can only sense it in the ﬂashing of the stars and other hours it is within your ear and will not be dislodged and rings and rings for years and days and you can’t imagine it is still there but in the quiet it comes back and you realize that it is not possible to exist in this place and not be aware of it and not let it enfold you

SheThey

“Not Everyone Has Good Taste!” Digital Collage By Allie Verbeke

Issue 3 - August 2020

Note2 U

Photograph & Excerpts from Novel By Nikki Ngamne

SheThey

Strong Black Queen Acrylic on Canvas By J. Stephens-Dantzler

Issue 3 - August 2020

Redefining You By Riley Peters

At one point in my life, I put myself in a situation where my weight defined me as an individual. We’ve all had a goal or a passion that brought an indescribable sense of joy in our lives, one that we would do anything to achieve. Unfortunately, in the process of achieving mine, I let it take over my life and allowed it to create an extremely negative mindset around food, exercise, and body image. Beginning just before my senior year of high school, I was set on rowing as a lightweight in college. To put this into perspective, I would have to weigh 130 lbs (or less) during weigh-ins to compete and be a part of the lightweight team. I hadn’t been that weight since before high school and, naturally, I’m 5’6” and certainly don’t have a straight figure. With that being said, continuing my passion meant everything to me at that moment. Over the next few months, I became increasingly devoted to this goal. I started with a nutritionist that set a very strict regimen for meals and the number of calories I could consume in a day. I trained between 5 and 7 hours a day and consistently weighed myself to make sure that I was meeting the requirement. My weight began to define me. Although I was achieving what I thought would make me the happiest person, I ended up becoming the most self-critical and unsatisfied person I had ever been. If I missed a workout or did not work out enough hours that day, I would “punish” myself by missing meals or not eating enough. If I ate an extra 100 calories after a long day of working out and school, I’d feel extremely unworthy and became even more self-critical. I created a vicious cycle that tore apart my self-confidence because I viewed my worth through how much I weighed. Thankfully, my parents noticed what I was doing to myself and how much it wrecked my self-esteem. They helped me to close that chapter of my life, which was easily one of the most difficult decisions I have made and took me an extremely long time to accept as I had dedicated so much time and effort toward this goal. Although, I now realize how grateful I am to have chosen a healthier and healing path.

SheThey After three years, I am in a place where I am much more accepting of my body and exercise because it makes me feel good about myself, not in order to drop weight. Though I miss my sport an incredible amount, I recognize that it was not healthy for me to continue to endure what I was putting my mind and body through. I am content with my decisions and, more importantly, that I am no longer defined by my weight. However, I would be lying if my confidence and self-esteem are not still affected by this experience. I certainly continue to struggle and have negative views on food, weight, or body image from day today. Yet, the good days far outweigh the bad and that’s all a part of the process. This is never simple or easy, but takes much strength and is something to be proud of. Before, I’d tell myself that I was defined by my weight as it played such a big role in my future and self as an athlete; now, especially on those not so good days, I define myself by my qualities I’m most proud of and what makes me feel like I have a purpose in life.

Although our stories are not all rooted in something like a sport, many of us share similar experiences that have manifested from distorted thoughts towards food, exercise, and/or body image. So for anyone going through a similar experience, I hope you redeﬁne yourself and your worth by the amazing and unique qualities that make you, because you are a phenomenal and beautiful human being.

Issue 3 - August 2020

Cat & Kris

Photography By Madeline Elli

SheThey

Issue 3 - August 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 ďŹ&#x201A;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.

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.

SheThey Magazine August 2020