SheThey SheThey
Issue 8 - February 2021
Copyright @ 2020 Sydnney Margova Islam SheThey Magazine Cover art: Dissociation by Riley Gunderson All rights reserved
SheThey
SheThey Art and Literary Magazine
Issue 8 - February 2021
Letter from the Editor Dear reader, Thank you for returning or discovering this magazine. Welcome and welcome back! It’s a new year and hopefully a fresh start. While the turn of a calendar doesn’t dissolve our problems, vaccines and summer are peering around the corner and I hope things are looking up for us. We have learned so much about ourselves and our world through this experience. While much of that knowledge is quite grim, we have also seen so much resilience, strength, and community throughout the past year. I hope the spring brings you growth and reassurance that we can, and will take on this year.
Love,
Sydnney Margova Islam
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Contents Cover
Dissociation, Riley Gunderson
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Fashion, Sara Kenney
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My ear has been stuck by lightning!, Melina Kritikopoulos
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I trust myself with sharp objects and deep water, Bella McClendron
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So Lonely, Viera Margova
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Untitled, MaryKate Stanich
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Unquiet Mind, Brooke Benson
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Breakfast, Emily Renee Koch
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For Her, Sydney Hainy
9
4 My People, Jérai Wilson
10
The Sunset at the End of the World, Cedar Thomas
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Unanswered Questions of the Broken, Madelyn Larkin
13
Godspeed, Audrey Rauth
14
Blooming, Andrea Gaddy
15
No. 3, Al Gilmore
16
On My Own Terms, Nina Raemont
17
Lunar Eclipse, MaryKate Stanich
18
Moment Alone II, Hayley Walker
19
Brooke, Madeline Elli
20
Tender Thorns, Toni Brennan
21
Through the Magnifying Glass Series, Taylor Robers
22
Untitled, Shabnam Jannesari
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Royals, Sydnney Margova Islam
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Smile For Me, Roisin Chart ii
Issue 8 - February 2021
Fashion
Collage By Sara Kenney
SheThey
My ear has been struck by lighting! By Melina Kritikopoulos
My ear has been struck by lighting! You may not think this to be true. But in my mind the ringing rattles, In circles how it flew. My ear has been struck by lighting! I don’t know what to do. So I sit myself in grass ever-inviting, But that will fade to blue too. My ear has been struck by lighting! Could it be Zeus’s valid coup? For fear of losing what I’ve known, I tighten up my screws. But his lighting there prevails And rusts me ‘till I’m blue. Is it all for me, this lighting? For the fact that I’m a jew? Or an LGBTQ? Why me and not you? “My ear has been struck by lighting!” The only thing I really knew. It rattled around in my skull Until their games were finally through.
Issue 8 - February 2021
I trust myself with sharp objects and deep water By Bella McClendon
We’re lying on the concrete His eyes are next to mine I’m thinking I can forge it ‘Till he drops that fateful line “I love you,” leaves his lips No longer can I breath The tears are welling up I think I need to leave I sit up quite abruptly And soon he follows suit His eyes are apple green Oh no, here comes the truth I’m pulling back my heartstrings Prepared to strike a blow Fair cupid has deserted me I whisper the word “no” He doesn’t strike of scream Yet his faults I can’t ignore I wish that he would break Leave his sweetness on the floor Instead, he reaches out his hands I’m burning up with fever The lecherous tendril of a plant The flying shuttle of a weaver I don’t trust you well enough Please don’t pin me to this hill Now we have a history Your green eyes have caught a chill
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His kiss is icy cold, insistent His breath is crushing me Sweetness has frozen solid But his eyes are just as green Please don’t hold on so tightly I will not shift for you I love the lake and this fair place Will not be tainted by your truth You cannot defile this sacred space You will not have my blood and bone I will not accept your red embrace Or your minds deepest, greyest tome I can’t deny that I’ve been hurt My autonomy displaced A few of the things I thought I knew Have recently been re-explained The lake was blue when you kissed me coldly Now the lake is steely grey My eyes were blue when you kissed me coldly Unlike the lake, I am not changed I have returned to this concrete temple Returned to stake my claim anew To warm the stone with memories O happy things and not of you
SheThey
So Lonely
Acrylic on canvas By Viera Margova
Issue 8 - February 2021
Untitled
Photography By MaryKate Stanich
SheThey
Unquiet Mind
Collage By Brooke Benson
Issue 8 - February 2021
Breakfast
OIl on wood By Emily Renee Koch
SheThey
For Her
By Sydney Hainey A love letter to the one I never loved. I’m scared. Staring at these words I write to you I know I’m not in control. I feel forced, I have to. Otherwise I will hold them inside me forever, getting shakier and shakier with each movement, each day. I know everything I tell you is the truth. I’m waiting. I feel like I’m always waiting. I don’t know what for. It isn’t for just anyone. My whole life I feel like I’ve been waiting for the next thing. Right now, the package you sent me consumes my mind. If I don’t speak to you, I will lose everything. If I do, I’m sure I won’t hear what I want to hear. I’m not sure what the appropriate response would be. But I know the wrong one would tear me to pieces. I don’t want to bother you. That’s my greatest fear, I think. I’m embarrassed that I’ve held on this long. When I’m with other people I’m not sure what to do with myself. I know it is wrong. I’m reading a book right now. It’s called The Idiot. I’m not sure why it speaks to me so clearly. Everything that she thinks I know I have thought before. And there are those words, written plainly on the page. It surprises me every time. I think you would enjoy it. I hate seeing you in the shirt I gave you. It brings me far too much joy, far too much false hope. It makes me feel insane. I’m sure you think it’s just a nicety. I looked outside as the mailman pulled up to our house. It is Sunday at 10:45. The package is not mine. It is not yours.
I’m filled with so much doubt. Each memory I have is underlaid with a feeling that it is not my own. That I imagined it all. I sound so frivolous and ridiculous. I cannot stop. I hate writing. It only reminds me of you. When I get praise for my writing, I am so proud of myself, so surprised that anything I do is worthwhile, that someone can read my words and feel something that is mine, only mine. I feel like a fake person. I’ve tricked everyone around me into thinking I’m real, but I’m not. I can’t be. The record player I got for Christmas has found its place on my desk. Only one record feels right, I listen to it over and over. I feel that way about love too. I’ve found I either fall in love instantly or have absolutely no feelings towards someone. Either way is not right. I love the way you write. I love the way you make things, create them out of nowhere. I don’t know how you do it. I love that you stay up all night and feel the same things that I feel. I love the way you decide things. I love that you’ve never made me mad. I’m the furthest from angry. I love that you don’t read fiction. I love that you only eat what is familiar to you. Even though I am the opposite. I think a lot about the line “He said it’s all in your head/I said so is everything, but he didn’t get it.” You get it. I know you do. That much I’m sure about. I don’t know if I love you. At least not completely. I can only make such a fool out of myself than I’m already doing. I wonder if you still think about me. I could never know. I can only guess. I’ll always guess in my own favor.
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Issue 8 - February 2021
4 My People
Digital art By Jérai Wilson
SheThey
The Sunset at the End of the World Markers & ink on paper By Cedar Thomas
Issue 8 - February 2021
Unanswered Questions of the Broken By Madelyn Larkin
WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU! YES YOU! WHY WASN’T I GOOD ENOUGH? WHY DID MY MOM NOT SAY GOODBYE? BEFORE HER 5 YEAR VACATION WHERE SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH A NEEDLE INSTEAD OF HER CHILDREN WHY DID YOU THROW ME DOWN THE STAIRS FOR FALLING IN LOVE WITH A GIRL AND LOCK ME IN A CLOSET FORCING ME TO READ BIBLE SCRIPTURES UNTIL YOU CAST THIS SO CALLED DEMON OUT OF ME WHY DID YOU SAY YOU LOVED ME WHEN YOU LEFT ME AND NEVER SPOKE TO ME AGAIN IS THAT WHAT LOVE IS? SAYING ONE THING AND THEN DOING ANOTHER? THE STRONGER I’VE BEEN LOVED THE HARDER I’VE CRASHED TO THE GROUND THESE SCARS WON’T HEAL MY ARMS ARE TIRED AND WORN AND I STILL DON’T EVEN FUCKING FEEL ANYTHING WHY DID YOU LIE ON MY NAME? WHEN I PROTECTED YOUR DEEPEST SECRETS I MADE SURE YOU WERE LOVED BY OTHERS IN THE WAY I SO DEEPLY WISHED TO BE LOVED WHY DID YOU SEXUALIZE ME? WHEN I’M A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL YOU OLD DIRTY ASS MAN THAT WORKS AT THE CORNER MARKET YOU MADE ME AWARE OF MY BODY IN A WAY THAT MAKES ME SICK TO THIS DAY I HATE MY TITS I HATE MY ASS I HATE MY FIGURE I HATE THEM ALL BECAUSE YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE YOU HAD A RIGHT TO TOUCH THEM SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY WERE THERE. 11
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I’VE BEEN RAPED AND ABUSED AND EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATED AND I CAN’T EVEN GET OUT OF BED WHILE YOU ALL WALK FREE FREE OF GUILT FREE OF SHAME AND THAT IS ALL I AM MADE OF I DROWN IN ENDLESS OCEANS OF GUILT AND EMBARRASSMENT AND MISERY EVEN THOUGH I AM TOLD I’M THE VICTIM I FEEL LIKE I AM THE ONE WHO DID SOMETHING WRONG I SHOULD’VE PAID MORE ATTENTION TO MY MOTHER I SHOULD’VE NEVER FALLEN IN LOVE WITH A WOMAN I SHOULD HAVE NEVER WORN THOSE LEGGINGS EVEN THOUGH THEY MADE ME FEEL PROUD OF MY BODY MY BODY THAT HAS RECOVERED FROM EATING DISORDERS AND SELF MUTILATION I SHOULD’VE NEVER MET YOU IN THE WOODS BY THE PARK THAT DAY BECAUSE YOU TOOK SOMETHING FROM ME I CAN NEVER GET BACK I DON’T KNOW HOW TO PICK UP THE PIECES AND YOU WALK FREE WHY DID MY FATHER LET ME BELIEVE IN A GOD WHEN IT’S SO CLEAR THAT HE WOULD’VE SAVED ME BY NOW? I WAS RAISED TO BE FULL OF HOPE AND LOVE AND WAS TOLD THAT IF YOU GIVE NOTHING BUT KINDNESS AND LOVE TO THOSE AROUND YOU GOD WILL MAKE SURE THAT IS WHAT YOU RECEIVE BACK AND ALL I’VE RECEIVED IS A BROKEN MIND AND A BROKEN HEART AND A LOSS OF THE WILL THAT HELPS ME GET OUT OF BED IN THE MORNING I AM AFRAID TO SHOWER BECAUSE I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND I SEE THE BODY YOU TOUCHED THE BODY SHE LEFT THE BODY THAT BRINGS ANGER INTO THE EYES OF MY FATHER THE BODY THAT I STARVED UNTIL IT WAS EMPTY THE BODY I SLICED APART BECAUSE I JUST WANTED TO FEEL SOMETHING AND I AM LEFT WITH NOTHING BUT UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
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Issue 8 - February 2021
Godspeed
Photography By Audrey Rauth
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SheThey
Blooming
Acrylic on canvas By Andrea Gaddy
Issue 8 - February 2021
No. 3
Mixed Media By Al Gilmore
SheThey
On My Own Terms By Nina Raemont
The flesh of my palm began to redden with each enduring second that you maintain I keep holding on. Oh love, Why didn’t you relinquish my pain when you knew the burning coal within my hand was losing ignition? You prolonged the pain, allowing the flaming hot to fizzle as I struggled to maintain a grip. And for what? The scar would be the same Perhaps a little smaller Perhaps with edges less callous Perhaps a center less tender If you’d have just told me If you’d have just told me If you’d have just told me You hid behind indifference and apathetic remarks as if I didn’t have eyes that could see your insolence as if I didn’t have ears that could hear your half-heartedness. The days went past, each documented by a drop of water falling from the eye landing on the cheek drying on its own. The third degree burn has healed since then Less red More pink A scar that no longer stings A scar that has found solace within itself The next time a burning hot coal is placed in my hand, I will pick it up on my own terms. And next time, when it does burn too deep when it corrodes my skin When it comes to a point Where there is no longer any point of a strong grip I’m going to allow myself to let go.
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Issue 8 - February 2021
Lunar Eclipse
By MaryKate Stanich I found solace in other souls. Found beauty in anyone, but never noticed my own. I was searching for love in all the wrong places: in the back of dirty basements or across the cafe. I saw my string of lovers as an escape. Moving from one man to the next, one woman’s glossed lips onto another’s. If my body wasn’t in the arms of a strange lover, I hated every inch. I only ever saw my virtue when it came from someone else’s mouth. I focused all I had on loving everyone besides myself. I, like the moon, reflected the light from my partner’s glow and had a cycle of going dark. I never learned to keep shining on my own. My soul had every quality I longed to find in someone else. Never realizing my beauty still remained when no one was looking.
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SheThey
A Moment Alone II Digital drawing By Hayley Walker
Issue 8 - February 2021
Brooke
Photography By Madeline Elli
SheThey
Tender Thorns
Mixed media By Toni Brennan
Issue 8 - February 2021
Through the Magnifying Glass (Unidentified Lichen, Hayward, WI) Oil on wood By Taylor Robers
Through the Magnifying Glass (Chippanazie Flowage, WI) Oil on wood By Taylor Robers
Through the Magnifying Glass (Shale and vegetation, Copper Falls, WI) Oil on wood By Taylor Robers
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SheThey
Untitled
Oil on canvas By Shabnam Jannesari
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Issue 8 - February 2021
Royals
Mixed media By Sydnney Margova Islam
SheThey
Smile For Me
Mixed media By Roisin Chart 22
Issue 8 - February 2021
The mission of SheThey Magazine is to open more dialogues about the experiences of folks who have been marginalized because of their gender identity 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 fluidity, domestic violence, patriarchy, sexuality, menstruation, relationships, toxic masculinity, sex positivity, uplifting favorite artists, writers, musicians, activists, etc. This publication is open to submissions and readership from anyone whose gender is systemically marginalized or who exists beyond the gender spectrum. This includes women, non-binary, gender non-conforming, agender, genderqueer, gender fluid, trans feminine, trans masculine, and anyone who feels this magazine is a space for them. Additionally, although the publication is titled ‘SheThey,’ we welcome and encourage submissions and readership from folks of all pronouns and neopronouns. I hope to share perspectives from folks of all races, abilities, ages, religions, nationalities, and sexualities. Any and all forms of art and literature are accepted.
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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 shetheymagazine@gmail.com
Until next time.
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SheThey MagazineFebruary Month 2020 SheThey Magazine 2021
