Teen Ink magazine - February 2024 by Teen Ink magazine

February 2024

By teens, for teens

Special Focus: Black History Month!

Love & Relationships!

CONTENTS

February 2024 Volume 38 | Issue 7

16 ON THE COVER

ARTWORK BY SHAYNE KING, STUART, FL

Contests & Call for Submissions!

Islamic Architecture: History’s Pot of Gold Morning Safari The Vibrant Culture of Guam

Where People Lie A Special Day Bridges of the Heart & Soul

“Yakuza 0” “Slay the Princess” “Forza Motorsport” “Retro Bowl”

Teen Ink News

Love & Relationships

Black History Month The Push for Black Doctors Audacity: How Dare You? Black Beauty The Facade of the “Strong Black Woman”

Travel Foreign Landscape Good Smoke in the Forest

Video Game Reviews

Book Reviews The Hunger Games Catch-22 Never Never

Poets’ Corner

16 3

Letter from the

Editor Dear Teen Ink Readers, Welcome to a new issue! This edition of Teen Ink magazine is dedicated to two important themes — love and Black History Month. In this issue, we’ve gathered a collection of wonderful pieces that celebrate these topics. Within these pages, you will find articles that highlight the significance of love in our lives and how it impacts our relationships with those we know. Our section on Black History Month focuses on the complexities of being black, including the struggles that come with it, as well as the pride and empowerment that can be found in embracing one’s identity. Additionally, we have included a section on travel that we hope inspires you to explore new destinations. You will also find video game and book reviews that are sure to spark your interest. We are excited for you to read this issue and hope you enjoy it just as much as we do! As always, we welcome your feedback! You’re welcome to write a letter to an editor or submit artwork, photographs, written works, and poetry to www.teenink.com/submit.

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WHERE PEOPLE LIE ARTICLE BY JAYDEN KIM, IRVINE, CA

LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

The river flowing, blue and clear, rippling to somewhere I can’t even see. A large, green patch of grass where flowers and plants flourished. Up high in the mountains, where the clouds were barely above me, a red-golden horizon slowly going down, and the white, shiny moon rising up. I sat down on the comfy, trimmed grass, looking up at the coral sky filled with fluffy clouds that would feel like cotton candy if I touched them. Across the river, I saw another land, way more bland and dark than this side. I pondered who lived there. I looked behind me and saw a small bump on the ground with a gray plaque on the side of it. It had people’s names on it. Here, my grandma’s. I was 12 when I visited my grandma’s cemetery. My heart was boiling that she was gone. My inspiration, my guardian angel, my whole, had left me. I felt empty, blank, and without hope. Tears flowed down my face like droplets of rain on the window, hopeless and trickling down. Memories flowed through my head, clear as glass, about the thousands of things me and my grandma did together — going to the park, eating food together, going to see Grandpa at his cemetery, and singing for him. It all seemed so dreamy like everything was at peace. Memories also flashed of her Alzheimer’s. I noticed that she would always forget people, though. She would always call my dad another name, my sister another, and my mom another. As time went on, she slowly started forgetting where she was. I would ask her to go to the park, eat, or go out, and she would respond with, “Where is that?” I always remembered one thing while she was alive: Grandma never forgot my name. Grandma was my hero. She escaped from bombs falling from the sky and bullets flashing inches away from her as she tried to escape her hometown, North Korea. Without her, I would not be in America; I would not be free, and I would not know what life was like

outside of North Korea. Sitting next to her grave, another memory flashed in my mind. “Jayden. Listen closely, okay?” My mom stuttered her words as she tried to hide her tears. “Grandma got into an accident,” she responded. I never saw my mom like that ever. The red nose,

bloomed right next to Grandma’s plaque. The same flower she gave me the last time I saw her. Memories. Everything about Grandma’s grave was perfect. The setting and the things around her cemetery all produce an end product. Memories. That perfectly trimmed grass, the beautiful blue river, the birds singing in my ears, the golden red

Everything about Grandma’s grave was perfect. The setting and the things around her cemetery all produce an end product. Memories. PHOTO BY GRACE CHEN, AVON, CT

the watery eyes, the pain I could see that was in her heart. I will never forget that moment. After that day, Grandma couldn’t walk. She was in a wheelchair, and her symptoms of forgetting things got worse. No more going to the park, going to eat, or going to sing for Grandpa. Seeing her like that, I was shattered into pieces. A hole had appeared in my heart. When Grandma passed away a couple of years later, it was Christmas. I was at a shopping mall with my friends, and my phone rang. “Jayden, Grandma’s gone.” Those words faded away as I sat next to Grandma’s grave, and I heard my parents call me. While sitting at the grave, seeing that gray plaque, seeing that land across the river, imagining her face in the sky, it was like she was everywhere. As I laid down on the grass, I saw a sunflower had

sunset, and the flowers dancing with the wind. All of these elements help flourish my mind with the memories I had with her, back to the times when everything was perfect in my life. When going to the park, and eating and singing to Grandpa was actually possible. I went back to my car, and as her grave slowly started to become smaller and smaller as my car moved toward the exit, I noticed something peculiar. The memories with Grandma didn’t get smaller. I remained big. Now, as a 17-year-old, visiting Grandma’s grave was the single most thankful thing I did. Those memories never left me. It makes me feel like an eight-year-old again, holding hands with Grandma as we went wherever we wanted to. Thanks, Grandma, and thank you, Cemetery — you’ll always make me a kid, no matter what age. The place where Grandma lies will never be forgotten.

LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

a special day 8

LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

ARTICLE BY ANONYMOUS PHOTO BY SERENA YUE, SHENZHEN, CHINA

Today is the day that my mom gets married. I thought to myself while I watched her get ready. She looked so happy as she put on her makeup — her face was lit up and her dimples were popping out from her wide smile. I couldn’t be more happy for her that she found her match, and now my brother and I can finally call Nate, “Dad.” As I snap out of the trance I’m in, I see all the bridesmaids dancing as they are almost done getting ready and slipping their dresses on. I’m the only one who is fully ready — dress, hair, and makeup, all done. About what felt like hours, even though it was only 30 minutes, everyone is ready and now my mom is finally showing off her wedding dress. As everyone is gathered in the wide open living room of our Airbnb, the door opens and everyone is in awe of how magical she looks. Her dress is simple but sparkly at the same time. Her vail trails her back but compliments the curls she has in her hair. “You look so gorgeous,” my grandma says. “Holy… crap, you look fantastic!” said our second cousin.

wedding planner was already there, and wanted to go over last minute things with the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and the parents of the bride. After that, everyone started heading down to the beach where the ceremony was. “Wow, this is beautiful,” I said out loud where my aunt heard me. “I know it’s gorgeous,” she said. As we walked down more towards the light blue ocean, you can hear the waves crashing together and the smell of the salt water from the light breeze. We stopped walking because if we went any further the guests would see us. As I looked down the aisle, I saw the guy my mom is marrying, and that guy is going to be my stepdad. However, I already thought of him as a father figure. The music started playing, indicating that it was my aunt’s turn to walk down the aisle with Josh, the best man; they looked so elegant while walking. I hoped I looked that graceful when walking down the aisle and prayed I wouldn’t trip over my long, mauve dress. As Josh and my aunt approached the

SHE LOOKED SO HAPPY AS SHE PUT ON HER MAKEUP — HER FACE WAS LIT UP AND HER DIMPLES WERE POPPING OUT FROM HER WIDE SMILE. I COULDN’T BE MORE HAPPY FOR HER THAT SHE FOUND HER MATCH

We waited for our Uber driver to arrive to take us to the venue — even though it was only three minutes down the road; no one wanted to walk in their heels with the Florida breeze ruining our hair and the blazing hot heat melting our perfected makeup off. Our cousin was taking quick photos of my mom on our balcony looking over the beautiful blue ocean. I even think she got a dolphin jumping out of the water in one of the photos. We heard a honk from the Uber downstairs signaling it was time for us to go. We piled on top of each other into the tiny car, which probably wasn’t the best idea because my hair got all tangled up but that wasn’t important at that moment. It was all the laughter of everyone on top of each other and excitement for mom and Nate that made us all energetic. As the car approached the beautiful, light blue building where the venue was we all piled out of the car and started heading towards the bride’s room before the ceremony started which was in less than an hour. The

end of the aisle, it was my brother and I’s turn. I was nervous as I walked, shaking a little, but my smile covered what I was feeling on the inside. We got to the end of the aisle and I took my spot next to my aunt. Everyone stood up as my mom started walking toward the middle of the rows of people standing in front of the white, wooden chairs. As she walked slowly next to my grandpa, she had a big smile on her face. When she closer to the end of the aisle, she made eye contact with me and mouthed “I love you.” I just gave her the biggest smile to let her know how much I loved her. LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

BRIDGES OF THE HEART & SOUL ARTICLE BY SIDNEY NUNES, DEDHAM, MA PHOTO BY MIAOFU TIAN, WINSTON-SALEM, NC

LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

I gazed at the sunset from the backseat in my car, my sister Kaylee in the passenger’s seat, and our Mom drove us to our dad’s. Tracing my thumb on the foggy window where I could see the ombre of the sunset, I followed the lines where the orange sky met the yellow and where the yellow sky met the pink while humming the lyrics of Aretha Franklin’s “You and Me.”

“Growing up — back when you were a DJ in high school — what were your favorite songs?” “I had multiple vinyls, hip-hop was emerging, and rhymes were bumpin’ back then,” he said. I had taken the remote to pull up YouTube on the TV to play our favorite rhymes and blues: “Just Be Good to Me” by The S.O.S. Band, “Tell It Like It Is” by Aaron Neville, and “Roxanne’s Revenge” by Roxanne Shante.

You, you send me Darling you send me

“That one, too. All of those — I used to sample those songs back in Queens,” he said, launching into a description of his turntables. I watched his dilated eyes, lost in memories of his youth. As we listened to these songs, the music ran into my eardrums. I bopped my head, spat out the rhymes at the speed of light, and sang passionately from the top of my lungs, acting as if I was heartbroken when my significant other left me. My dad’s hazel green eyes followed my limbs when he watched my disoriented dancing, barely containing his contagious laughter.

I heard the song in a video and loved to listen to it ever since. The sunset was gone when we arrived at the apartment complex. I got out of the car. “See you in the morning; love you!” my mom said after I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. It was a Thursday night when my mom dropped my sister and me off at my dad’s apartment. Beautiful skinny lark trees disguise our green, small apartment complex. I had forgotten my keys that night to let us into the building and had to press the buzzer of our apartment number multiple times so Dad could let us in. “Where are your keys?” in his stern, annoyed voice, he asked me when I walked through the door. “I forgot them, and Kaylee has keys, too,” I say, matching his tone. Like-father-like daughter. Dad had house music playing on his desktop; he says it helps him to be diligent and productive. The tempo of the BPM is consistent and gets him going, so he kept it on after I told him I had to complete my English homework. He always makes sure I complete my homework. Therefore, I was the last to sit down at the dining table that night, rushing to finish it all. He made one of my sister and I’s favorites that night; he plated our servings of juicy jerk chicken and piled our plates with warm Rice-A-Roni and steamy fresh broccoli. We had both scarfed down our first serving of chicken and rushed to ask for seconds, drooling over the flavorful smell of the chicken lifting our noses. After my second serving, in urgency, I rinsed my dirty dishes, placed them in the dishwasher, and headed off to take a much-needed shower. I was desperate to wash off all the stress and commotion of the day to ease my body into the night. Later, after scooping some cookies and cream ice cream into a mug, I joined my dad in the living room. I plopped on the couch, raised my eyebrows, and beamed with a zealous smile before I questioned my dad.

“Look, I got goose pimples hearing you sing these songs; you’re an old soul, Sidney Arie.” His posture was upright on the velvet red sofa, and he smiled humbly but broad enough to convey how proud he was. “Play my favorite,” he chimes in while I sing Aaron Neville. “And that would be?” I responded in curiosity, and I had a moment of denouement, knowing this night was coming to an end. “‘What You Won’t Do For Love’ by Bobby Caldwell.” I read the lines on my Dad’s face, and for an instant, I could see his nostalgia as the saxophone rumbled. His eyes glistened in the light cast from the television screen, yet his smile only grew wider. With his voice cracking and a tear trickling down his left cheek, he said, “Music was always so special to me, something of my own creativity I felt like only I could control. I’ve fallen stray from it. Sidney, I don’t remember when I lost my skill for music, but you brought it back to me.” That night, in my bed, I was warmed by how it was a night I would cherish and remember forever, how my heart dilated hearing those words come out his mouth. I had learned through our relationship, the father-daughter relationship, that music is the bridge that connects hearts and souls. . LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS

THE PUSH FOR

BLACK DOCTORS ARTICLE BY CASSIDY BAAH, MANCHESTER, CT

Approximately 12% of the population in the United States identifies as Black or African-American. Out of this 12%, how many are physicians? Recent data from the Association of American Medical Colleges states that “5.7% of physicians in the United States identify as Black or African American.” Over the recent years, the number of Black physicians has been slowly increasing, but not at a pace where it is enough. The number of Black physicians in different areas of medicine is not enough due to the fact that the Black/ African-American population has been increasing. The number of Black physicians is not growing as wanted for various reasons. Michael Dill from the Association of American Medical Colleges claims, “One reason why the percentage of U.S. doctors who are Black remains far below that of the U.S. population that is Black can beJANE traced DOE, to how XX, BlackXXX people have ARTWORK BY been “historically excluded from medicine” and the “institutional and systemic racism in our society.” There are many who would like to pursue a career in 12

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

medicine but will not be able to due to the cost of higher education. “Across higher education, nearly 70% of Black students who drop out cite debt as a factor — and that was before the pandemic struck…” With the majority of these students dropping out because they cannot afford to continue their education, the issue of not having enough physicians of color has risen. The top historically Black medicine schools are working on solutions to try to avoid this rising issue. They have come up with payment plans to best fit people’s needs. It should also be noted that more aid is needed for these schools. Many HBCUs have started providing different opportunities for their undergraduate students who want to pursue the medical field, such as internships, mentorships, and tuition assistance. The need for physicians goes way beyond the minority population’s growth. So why is there such a big push to get more people of color to practice medicine? Studies have shown that minorities are more likely to catch a variety of different illnesses and sicknesses. As

ARTWORK BY SAHITHI CHALLAM, BELLEVUE, WA

a result of this, the fatality rate is high. Therefore, minorities are more prone to these different illnesses, resulting in needing more medical attention and regular examinations. However, regular visits do not necessarily always happen. Why is that? There are many factors that go into minorities not being able to have medical examinations regularly. For many, trust, engagement with the physician, and cultural awareness are factors that are blocking regular medical attention. Overall, Black people have better medical outcomes when they are treated by people who look like them. Recent studies on Black newborns have proven that there are higher survival rates if Black doctors treat them. Picheta writes, “Black newborn babies in the United States are more likely to survive childbirth if they are cared for by Black doctors, but three times more likely than White Babies

to die when looked after by White doctors, a study has found.” Many of these Black doctors practice in communities that lack quality care. The benefit of their practicing in these areas is that it helps the economic aspect as well as tying health and wealth together. A collaboration piece from CNN states, “If we had more Black doctors, we would save more Black lives — and also make progress in closing the racial wealth gap.” We need the push for more Black doctors to increase the number of Blacks who visit the doctor regularly. The need for more colored doctors will increase the wellness of Black lives in many ways. .

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

Audacity how dare you? POEM BY NAIMA GOFFNEY, DEERWOOD, MD

“To be young, gifted, and black”

Audacity. As in, how dare you?

way of your greatness The audacity to know your worth. Not letting anyone define you because only you decide who you want to be and who you become, not taking the scraps they give you, going out and earning your place, demanding to be treated with the respect you deserve.

As in, how dare you shine?

How dare you believe?

Shine like the sun, golden light glimmering off ebony skin, melanin deity

The audacity of you to dream, to be driven by passion, to find your purpose and what lights your soul on fire, to be an unstoppable force, relentlessly clawing tooth and nail for your aspirations, to be ambitious and achieve your goals.

AU•DA•C•I•TY /aw-das-uh-tee/ (n.) courage or confidence of a kind that other people find shocking or rude

As in, how dare you show up and be educated, the smartest in the room Brilliant Black Child, how dare you learn and see your genius? The audacity to inspire. To command a room with only your presence, and while every eye is on you, use your voice to create and lift others up The audacity to love yourself. Chub, stretch marks, curves or thin skin, piercings, tattoos, loving how your body moves, loving all of you. Curly hair in swirling spirals, waves like the ocean, kinky and bouncy, glossy and gorgeous, halo around your head, glowing. How dare you be fearless? Turning obstacles into opportunities, knowing your boundaries and pushing past them, not letting anything stand in the 14

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

The audacity of you to resist. How dare you question what they say? How dare you stand up in the face of injustice, as unmoving as a mountain and as powerful as a hurricane. The audacity to rise. To rise to the occasion, rise like dust, rise from the ashes, to rise like a phoenix, a burning symbol of hope and growth. The audacity to love. How dare you have love like space? A love infinite and ever-expanding, a heart as big as the ocean with room for everyone, a loyalty and steadfast devotion strong enough to endure anything, a love that can’t be put into words but radiates off of you.

How dare you be charming? As striking as lightning, as glamorous as a movie star, stunning in sweats, t-shirts, skirts, shorts, dresses, and suits, cute and comfortable. Beguiling in your natural grace. How dare you be witty, funny, clever, handsome and debonair, luminous and ethereal, kind and irresistible? How dare you be wondrous? Black Girl Magic, Black Boy Joy, Black Ratchet Imagination, explorer, dreamer, believer, creator, fighter, creative and show-stopping, mysterious and alluring, compassionate and just, truth-seeking and generous, a life-long learner. Anything but generic. Skillful and adaptable. How dare you be yourself? The audacity of you to take pride in who you are and who you are becoming, to honor your past, and to learn from it. To look and lean into the future and see your best self in all the ways you are, resplendent and extraordinary. The audacity of you to let your courage and aptitude guide your way. To be strong and soft. Faithful and curious. To lift others up but not bring yourself down. To go high when they go low. To be all that you are and show it to the world. The absolute audacity of you.

Black Beauty POEM BY LEANDRA BELL, CLARENDON, JAMAICA

Dark-complexion — rich in melanin pigments. Skin, autumn brown, and as smooth as moonstone. I have pride and never lied about how I look. Skin that glistens like oiled mahogany. A type of skin color that tells a story. A beauty that is different, powerful, and worth glory Black skin is unique, chic, and so much more. Brilliant, thick, curly, and coarse Hair black as ebony, black as the night sky, black as the ace of spades, black as coal. Black hair is the definition of natural Black hair is like a tree Follicles, branches, and roots A hair type that holds many memories towards black ancestry Black beauty is melanized in magic Needed to be recognized, particularized, victimized, penalized, and stigmatized. Black isn’t new And Black isn’t something we get to choose. Black and brave. Black and beautiful. Black and blissful. Black and blessed, praise the Lord! Black and brilliant. Black and so much more. Black is me, and Black is you.

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

ARTWORK BY RYAN AGARWAL, SAN FRANSICO, CA

the facade of the “strong Black Woman” 16

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

ARTICLE BY DARYN ONEAL, ROSENBERG, TX A necessary reminder to uplift Black Women.

The History of the Strong Black Woman:

We have seen her at the forefront of every social movement, household, and stage. Her rich brown skin, her bold and beautiful hair, her poise, and her voice that captures the attention of everyone. She is labeled as, “strong,” “powerful,” and “independent.” But are we missing another side to this strong Black woman? Are we oblivious to or ignorant of her suffering? Is her strength also her burden?

The origins of the “Strong Black woman” come from the three primary caricatures of Black women that have dominated their roles in film.

The “Strong Black woman” has been the glue that holds together many aspects of the world. Her character, presence, service, and knowledge are coveted descriptions that make this Black Woman admired. “The Strong Black Woman character type onscreen can be identified by some key features. She does not tolerate B.S., she has a strong moral compass and holds others accountable, she’s a natural nurturer and she is a high performer who’s had to overcome extreme hardships,” narrator of social commentary channel, “The Take,” Alana Barrett-Adkins said. Overall, these descriptions of this character have led to a seemingly positive perception of Black Woman both on-screen and off. However, there have been many negative effects to this identity as well. Because the image of the Strong Black Woman characterizes Black Women as powerful and almost superhuman beings, or joyful servants who often times help others while sacrificing their well being, the Strong Black Woman myth has inadvertently managed to perpetuate negative stereotypes about Black Women by devaluing their identity as complex human beings with normal human emotions, needs, and desires; which is why it is indeed a myth.

Common Portrayal of the, “Mammy,” late 1800’s and early 1900’s. First is the, “Mammy,” caricature. AfricanAmerican professor, author, and political commentator, Melissa Harris-Perry, defines this caricature as a figure who…” was not a protector or defender of black children or communities. She represented a maternal ideal, but not in caring for her own children. Her love, doting, advice, correction, and supervision were reserved exclusively for white women and children.” Therefore, the mammy figure’s identity revolved around her service rather than her identity as a valuable human being, so many Black women to this day are still characterized only for their service to others even if it comes at their expense. Secondly, there is the “Jezebel” caricature. This idea was created during slavery in order to paint Black women and girls as inherently lewd beings, in order for slave masters to justify the sexual assault of Black female slaves. According to wikimedia.org, actress, Eartha Kitt, was widely categorized for her Jezebel-like nature in 1960’s, “Batman.” American author and historian Herbert Gutman contextualized the origin of the Jezebel figure by explaining how, “Young black girls were encouraged to have sex as “anticipatory socialization” for their later status as ‘breeders.’ When

they did reproduce, their fecundity was seen as proof of their insatiable sexual appetites.” Many years later, this stereotype has manifested in

HER RICH BROWN SKIN, HER BOLD AND BEAUTIFUL HAIR, HER POISE, AND HER VOICE THAT CAPTURES THE ATTENTION OF EVERYONE movies, particularly Blaxploitation films such as, “Coffy,” or, “Blacula,” depicting Black women as lewd objects of desire with no morality or depth. The final caricature that makes up the, “Strong Black Woman,” trope is probably the most prevalent of all. The, “Sapphire,” caricature is what is known today as the, ”Angry Black Woman.” The Sapphire was defined by the Jim Crow Museum, as, ”tart-tongued and emasculating, one hand on a hip and the other pointing and jabbing (or arms akimbo), violently and rhythmically rocking her head, mocking African American men...” Is she really the, “Angry Black Woman,” or is she just expressing emotion? (Tima Miroshnichenko) “...She is a shrill nagger with irrational states of anger and indignation and is often meanspirited and abusive.” Racist rhetoric inherently promotes the notion that a Black Woman’s Black-ness is synonymous with danger, hostility, and senseless violence. Because of this, many Black women are automatically labeled as angry or aggressive, BLACK HISTORY MONTH

simply for showing emotions or existing. “As a Black Woman, our passions for topics are often mistaken as aggression and our “tough-love” is not seen as inspiring, but ridicule. The grace behind the Black Woman’s strength is not viewed nor praised for its complexity,” said Ms. Joia Emery All these stereotypes of Black

Since the Strong Black woman has dedicated her life to her work, which typically includes service to other people, many of her authority figures, and peers, fail to realize that she has an identity outside of her service to others. Therefore, the, “Mammy,” caricature continues to operate in a subliminal manner through Black women being stripped of their vulnerability and emotional honesty.

ALTHOUGH THE “STRONG BLACK WOMAN” HAS BEEN DEFINED BY RACIAL STEREOTYPES, THAT DOESN’T MEAN THAT STRONG BLACK WOMEN IN REALITY HAVE TO BE DEFINED BY THE DISTORTED VIEW THAT THIS CLICHE HAS BEEN MADE OF women come together in order to make the, “Strong Black Woman,” come to fruition, and although the cliche seems positive at first, due to its oppressive origins, the negative effects still stand.

Similarly, Black women experience this same concept of being robbed of their inner selves through the Jezebel stereotype, which causes others to never see her past her beauty.

Emotional Impacts of the Strong Black Woman:

“In college I had my first-ever boyfriend. I felt as if he was parading me around as the exotic Afro-latina. After we broke up I felt as if nobody saw me, they only saw me as a foreign object of desire,” said English teacher Michelle Portillo.

So what are the impacts of the,” Strong Black Woman?” This figure isn’t just a character that we see onscreen. It is a very common concept that cause Black women to suffer medically, socially, and politically. So, in order to explore the impacts of this trope, there is no one better to ask than the amazing Black Women who are, and have been, a part of my high school’s staff. “While I appreciate the acknowledgment of my hard work, persistence, and endurance in even the toughest circumstances, many times I haven’t been afforded the space and allowance to feel or have natural emotions that others are entitled to,” former Assistant Principal Judy Momanyi said. 18

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

A common theme within the, “Strong Black Woman trope,” is her dehumanization and animalization. These two systems promote the notion of Black Women being aggressive, cold, and heartless beings who don’t have the ability to experience sensitivity. Furthermore, these concepts come together in order to create arguably the most prevalent concept of all, which is the, “Sapphire,” caricature. ”As I stood outside my classroom thrilled about greeting each student personally, the teacher

next door shared this, “I know your students will all be on their best behavior all day today!” I smiled and said that the majority of my students did well every day. She proceeded to say that they will do especially well today because I am wearing my ‘angry black woman’ hair… Since then, I sometimes have students who share after a while that I surprised them and that I am much nicer than they thought when they first saw me. When I ask what their first impression was, they thought I might be loud, mean, or ghetto,” long-term substitute teacher Mrs. Jones said. Additionally, since many Black Women fear the repercussions of this stereotype, they feel as though they must control their emotions even in stressful situations. “There was an instance where I was challenging the comments of my white male counterpart, and he responded with throwing my papers out of the doors and telling me to leave. I picked up my papers and sat at his desk. I was determined to stand my ground. As upsetting as it was, I held my composure because I realized I wasn’t just representing myself, but I was representing other Black Women who are often stereotyped as the, ‘Angry Black Woman,’” Math teacher Ms. Clay said. These three very meticulously curated systems of misogynoir, which has been defined by the Cambridge English Dictionary as the, ”misogyny (hatred of women) directed towards Black Women,” have helped spread the harmful stereotype of the “Strong Black Woman,” but inherently the title itself is not a bad concept. Although the “Strong Black Woman” has been defined by racial stereotypes, that doesn’t mean that Strong Black Women in reality have to be defined by the distorted view that this cliche has been made of. What does it mean to be a Strong Black Woman?

Let us ask ourselves — What does it, truly, mean to be a Strong Black Woman?

THE STRONG BLACK WOMAN MAY HAVE TO OVERCOME PREJUDICE, BUT SHE ALWAYS ACHIEVES EVERYTHING SHE PUTS HER MIND TO “The character of this, “Strong Black Woman,” is misunderstood. The image of this woman is defined in a stereotypical setting. But the strong Black woman loves; she is vibrant and enjoys life; she’s a mother, she embraces her children, she cries. She’s poetic and she works hard in every career field,” Human Growth and Development teacher, Chrystal Jammer said. The Strong Black Woman is a self assuring being who does struggle with doubt and insecurity, but learns how to build up her confidence and sense of self when nobody is there to do that for her. “…I would like to come across as a leader or someone that knows what she is doing. And I think to myself, what does that look like? Who does that look like? And then I think that person does not typically look like me. So, what can I do about that situation? Well, I strive to stay confident in my decisions and to trust my professionalism. Because if I am looking for someone else to confirm or reaffirm my choices and decisions, then I will always second guess myself,” Economics teacher Stephanielynn Blowe said. The strong Black woman may have to overcome prejudice, but she always achieves everything she puts her mind to.

“If I was assigned the manager of a project, it was very obvious that I was unexpected. The look, the whole demeanor showed that they assumed that the manager would be someone other than a Black woman. You could see it, you could feel it. It took me a while to win their confidence with my abilities and skills, but I was always successful in everything I did,” English teacher and former public accountant, Ms. Cherry said. The Strong Black Woman does not let anyone police her joy, expressions, or personality. She makes sure to stay true to who she is. ”My advice to young Black girls is to always accept who you are. Trying to fit in, and be somebody else will only lead to resentment. Make sure the culture fits you, instead of you trying to fit the culture,” Assistant Principal Marqueshah (MAR-KEESHUH) Coy said. And most importantly, she makes sure that she spends every possible moment uplifting, comforting, and accepting all Black women and girls just as they are.

girls know, ‘You are Ms. Emery, Ms. Washington, Mrs. Pierce, and every single Black Woman who have once walked these halls,” Alicia Dutch said. Gratitude to Strong Black Women: Before I conclude this article, I would love to thank all the Black women who made this possible. Your poise, your grace, your love, and your vulnerability inspire so many more people than you could possibly ever know. Please remember that you are appreciated, not just for what you do, but for who you are, whether you consider it to be perfect or not. I wrote this article to uplift the voices of Black women and girls, and it is because of you, Ms. Portillo, Ms. Clay, Ms. Blowe, Ms. Cherry, Ms. Emery, Coach Dutch, Ms. Jammer, Ms. Jones, Ms. Momanyi, and former educator in the district Ms. Bridget Branch, that I was able to write this article. “I have resolved to pen my own narrative and give zero credence or

[THE STRONG BLACK WOMAN] MAKES SURE SHE SPENDS EVERY POSSIBLE MOMENT UPLIFTING, COMFORTING, AND ACCEPTING ALL BLACK WOMEN AND GIRLS JUST AS THEY ARE

“When I walk around here and I see our beautiful Black girls of [the school], I make sure to tell these babies that they are beautiful both physically and emotionally. I make sure to tell them they are intelligent. I tell the beautiful Black girls of [the school] the same thing that I tell my own daughter, ‘You don’t have to be the tough girl.’ It is okay to show emotion.’ It doesn’t matter where they are in life, they need to understand that they are wonderfully made. And I have that privilege, it is a privilege, it is a right, it is a must, to encourage that they are more than just who they are physically, but emotionally and mentally. It is important to let these

acknowledgement to anyone’s definitions or expectations. My advice to younger women is to view themselves through their own lens as an individual that determines their worth and the trajectory of their life unapologetically,” Mrs. Branch said.

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

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Foreign Landscape It was a hot morning waking up in a tent on top of our vehicle. The ocean slowly crept up on the truck that we had parked right on the beach. Soon enough, the tide splashed right next to the truck’s tires. We opened the zipper of our tent to the hot, humid atmosphere of this foreign country. Costa Rica was unlike anything we have seen here in the U.S. Everything was more vivid and clear, almost like looking through a new pair of glasses. We stepped down from our tent and waited for the tide to recede to its home again. After another long drive down the dusty, pothole-filled dirt road, we entered the Corcovado National Park. It is one of the most biologically diverse rainforests in the world. Our guide had animal-like senses and was able to point out flora and fauna that we would have never noticed. We posed for a picture in front of a 300-year-old Banyan tree that was as wide as a car and had above-ground roots that looked like elephant legs. Along the trail, we almost walked into a Globe Orb Spider Web that was as thick as a net. An “ant city” made up of millions of soldier ants make their way alongside us in a single file line as they serve their Queen Ant under this dusty trail. The air was so humid that we sweat profusely, but with a quick swipe of the machete, we had fresh coconut water to drink. What a privilege to walk on this amazing and remote Osa Peninsula in Costa Rica, where only a handful of humans have been!

ARTICLE BY KYLE PIERSON, HARTLAND, WI

Good Smoke in the forest ARTICLE BY ANDREW EPSTEIN, MERTON, WI The morning was plagued by scattered rainfall. My family and I stood at the station waiting for our train to arrive. Soaked but excited, I watched as the steam locomotive pulled into the station. Hissing and grinding and making loud chuffs, it was in complete contrast with the beauty of nature that surrounded it. The loud six-chime whistle blew as the train stopped at the platform. We boarded the train and found our seats in an open-air train car. The smell of smoke and pine sap filled the air like cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. It was pleasant. It was soothing. It was incredible. The train blew its whistle once more, and before I knew it, we were riding the rails. The sights at first were incredible. The beautiful details in the rock that surrounded us were immaculate. It was like nothing I had ever seen. The locomotive then took us through a thick pine forest. The smell of smoke contrasted with the refreshing smell of the sweet forest air.

[THE LOCOMOTIVE] WAS IN COMPLETE CONTRAST WITH THE BEAUTY OF NATURE THAT SURROUNDED IT The train’s whistle blew once again — approaching a grade crossing at Palmer Gulch. The melancholy notes of the whistle echoed through the valley. About 10 miles in the distance stood the largest mountain east of the Rockies — Black Elk Peak. The scenery was dotted with Ponderosa pine, like a piece of mosaic artwork. The train’s hissing and puffing could be heard for miles in every direction as we crossed that gulch. The beautiful sights of nature complemented well with the notes of the steam locomotive. It was as if the train was a part of nature — like a bird singing its song.

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Islamic Architecture:

History’s Pot of Gold 22

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ARTICLE BY EMAAN WAQAR, LAHORE, PAKISTAN PHOTO BY MOBIN SALIMI, BANDAR ABBA, IRAN

“One of the great beauties of architecture is that each time, it is like life starting all over again.” These famous words by Renzo Piano hold great significance when defining architecture. Architecture is the core that identifies a people or civilization and portrays their image and culture to the rest of the world. Hence, the various architectural styles hold their own unique significance. My bestloved style is Islamic architecture. Islamic architecture, which dates back to the seventh century, is a very distinct yet influential style of architecture. It has successfully exerted an influence upon several architectural styles and has itself been shaped by numerous other dynasties. Its rhythmic methodology

THIS INFINITY OF INTERLOCKING GEOMETRIC PATTERNS... FASCINATES ME AS TO WHAT SIMPLE SHAPES WERE USED TO EXTRUDE SUCH EXOTIC PATTERNS WITH A DEEPER MEANING represents intellectual concepts of Islam through the use of repetitive geometric patterns, geometry, and calligraphy of Quranic verses. Islamic architecture’s secular and religious monuments are identified as a well-defined style due to its use of vibrant colors and repetitive geometric patterns. The element of patterns isn’t made for the aesthetic gratification of the human eye but is used as a medium to represent God, direct the viewer to the fact that God is the only Superpower, and connect him with a higher state of consciousness. For example, the star patterns represent our cosmos and show a connection

to the heavens and beyond, and plant patterns or floral designs showcase Paradise. This infinity of interlocking geometric patterns of triangles, squares, hexagons, and stars really fascinates me as to what simple shapes were used to extrude such exotic patterns with a deeper meaning. Alongside this variation from other architectural styles, Islamic architecture is one of the few styles that is labeled by Islam’s monotheistic belief. It is a style that is based on the Islamic faith. These patterns and other elements help to create this variation as art gets used as a passageway to create a spiritual and universal connection with God because these Islamic structures contain Quranic verses to help create that connection. The last thing that I find captivating is how these structures came into being. I was riveted to find that this style was created through influence. It has itself been affected by the particular dynasties of the Byzantine, Roman, and Sassanid and has also had an effect on many others. For example, the Christian Tower, which was part of Byzantine architecture, was inherited by Islamic architecture as a minaret. The Humayun Tomb’s dome has a bulbous shape that was brought to India from a Timurid tradition of Uzbekistan. This points a finger at the fact that trade played a vital role in shaping this style of architecture. This classified the architectural style itself as different Islamic dynasties influenced by different regions, and the foundations were built based on their geographical location. In summary, these are the things that I am fascinated by about Islamic architecture: its interconnection with God and religion, the patterns through which this was achieved, and how these different styles came into being due to the influence of the environment and other dynasties. TRAVEL

MORNING SAFARI ARTICLE BY NATALIE MULLETT, PEWAUKEE, WI

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I feel the crisp air on my cheeks as I leave my tent. I want to turn around and let the warm blankets engulf me, but I also want to see what is out there waiting for me today. I get in my seat in the cruiser, grab my bush baby and blanket, and we begin our day traveling through the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Africa. My family and I cruise through the bush on the hunt for an animal stalking its breakfast or still deep in sleep. We get a radio call that the other cruiser has come across a lion. We rush over to witness it doing its morning routine. The mother lion is sitting amongst her sleeping cubs. We watch in adoration for a few minutes before leaving them to complete their slumber.

We drive for what feels like seconds before we pass another group of lions that appear to be stalking something. Suddenly, we spot them. Two koodo up ahead slowly walking along, unsuspecting of what is coming. We watch for what seems like hours… BOOM!

GENTLE KING BY DAVID OLADEJO MILTON, ON, CANADA

Soon, we spot a herd of elephants already taking on the day. There’s a baby elephant trotting along in an attempt to keep up with the rest! We watch them as the sun begins to break the horizon, creating an ombre of reds and pinks. As our stomachs grumble we unanimously decide to go find a spot where we would like to enjoy breakfast in the bush that morning. We choose the marsh so we can watch the hippos swim majestically and bathe in the sun as its rays shine down on their backs. They dive underwater gracefully and are soon resurfacing, appearing like their large bodies are full of buoyancy and the ascent is effortless. I drink my hot chocolate and eat my muffin, watching in awe of the beauty in front of me.

We race through the trees and bushes in an attempt to keep up with the lions that are hoping to catch themselves a meal. We see the mama lion take down the smaller of the koodo. My heart is racing. I feel like it might explode out of my chest; full of excitement, having just seen the most amazing sight, but also sad because a cute animal has lost its life. After seeing so many things in such little time, we decided to head back to the tents to rest before going out again later that night. Following that exhilarating morning, I am excited to see what is in store for later.

Off to the left, some warthogs appear stretching their legs and playing in the morning sun. It’s much warmer now as the frost lifts and we decide to move on once more.

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PHOTO BY SUNG JIN CHO, UNSPLASH.COM

THE VIBRANT CULTURE OF GUAM ARTICLE BY JAI LG, ARTESIA, CA

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If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? This is a very popular question that people get asked and there is one place in mind that you should think about traveling. The beautiful island of Guam. I personally am from this amazing island and I can tell you that this is the place for anybody. Guam is a tropical paradise among the Mariana Islands in the Pacific Ocean and is a US territory. It is known not only for its stunning views and gleaming beaches, but also for its rich and diverse culture. Chamorro culture has a variety of indigenous traditions, Spanish influences, and American influences which reflect its history. In this article, I can help you explore the various aspects of Guam’s culture, including its language, food, traditional arts, and cultural dance since I myself am Chamorro. The Chamorro language serves as the glue of Guam and its people. It is an Austronesian language that many of Guam’s islanders still speak today. The Chamorro language is an important part of our people staying strong and preserving our culture. Although, ever since the growth of the world, English has also become widely spoken in many places, therefore becoming the official language along with Chamorro. Surprisingly, even though Guam is part of the Micronesian region, its language serves as an independent branch from Micronesian and Polynesian. I can tell you that this is one language you want to learn and can help connect you to the island. Language diversity reflects Guam’s connections of the past with Spain and the US. The food of Guam is a delicious combination of flavors from different cultures. Some of the traditional foods include kelaguen (made up of grilled meat mixed with lemon, onions, and other spices) and red rice. These foods represent our cultural roots and where we came from but they are also delicious. More of the foods served on Guam include bbq and empanadas which are very delightful with a blast of flavors. There are many different dishes you can get on Guam which will make you start begging for seconds. Guam’s food appeals to locals and visitors which makes it easier to continue the island’s cultural diversity.

Guam’s culture also includes many different kinds of traditional arts and crafts. Artistic objects are very significant. Arts such as weaving, pottery, and carving have been passed down from generation to generation. The art of weaving is more common and more cherished by the Chamorro people. They create beautiful items using natural resources such as coconut leaves. They can make hats, baskets, fans, and more! Carving on Guam went from being used for practical reasons to becoming more of an art form. These artistic traditions benefit the island’s cultural pride as well as attracting more tourists. There are many vibrant festivals and celebrations throughout the year. Many of which come dancers from the islands who use their talents to tell a story to the audience. The Kutturan Chamoru Foundation is a group of talented dancers of which practice different dances and songs that represent the Chamorro people. Members of my family such as my sister and mother have joined this group and are proud to be showing our culture. They go to many different places around the world to entertain others about the island of Guam. Every year, there is a big Pacific Islander festival held in San Diego in which they perform. There are many booths people set up to sell different kinds of items. The costumes they wear are full of color and correctly depict our ancestors with how the men dress too. This form of cultural dancing is a big part in preserving Chamorro culture and history. This helps to further enhance the cultural heritage of Guam. Guam’s culture is a very captivating blend of indigenous Chamorro traditions. Guam’s islanders will always be here because of the various ways they keep their culture alive, including their language, cuisine, artwork, and dances. As this culture grows, it remains a sense of pride and serves as a bridge from the past to the future. This helps connect new generations to the island and helps to welcome visitors with open arms. Guam is the best place in the world and its culture is very captivating indeed. With my experience, there is no other place I would choose to go except Guam.

AS THIS CULTURE GROWS, IT REMAINS A SENSE OF PRIDE AND SERVES AS A BRIDGE FROM THE PAST TO THE FUTURE

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VIDEO GAME REVIEWS 28

ACTION-ADVENTURE

Yakuza 0 Review by Thomas Lyons, Chester, IL “Yakuza 0” is an action-adventure game published by Sega in America in 2017 as a prequel to the original “Yakuza” game, which was released in 2006. The story takes place in Japan during the 80s, where it also takes a unique twist from its precursors, in which the game features two protagonists: Kazuma Kiryu, the main character of the series, and Goro Majima, a recurring antagonist and comic relief in later games. On Kazuma’s side of the story, he leaves the Dojima family due to a shakedown gone wrong to protect his adoptive father and head of the Tojo clan from being punished. Kazuma later finds out it was a setup and fights to get back in and prove that it wasn’t him. In Majima’s side of the story, Majima works for a club to pay off a debt to his clan so he may rejoin the Omi Alliance after being banished. The game has an open-world exploration that allows for different

encounters, like side quests and boss fights. The combat in this game is superb, with each character having three different fighting styles, eventually unlocking a fourth one for completing an in-game side story. Each combat style feels smooth and fun to play, although it is flawed because some are better than others. Each of them still feels great, and each has its uses, but what purpose would your fists serve if you didn’t have any reason to throw them? Fans of the series hail the story of “Yakuza 0” to be the best storyline out of the entire nine-game series, soon to be 10. The storyline itself is intriguing, making me want more and more with every chapter I complete. It has memorable characters, some of my favorites in the series only appearing in this game. The dialogue is some of the best writing in a game that I have ever seen, somehow managing to find a perfect balance between silly and serious. Its side quests are also a blend of both fun to watch and to beat, each created with unique endings. Most of the time, however, the “make it or break it” feeling that emanates from these scenes is also done in part by its amazing soundtrack. The music in this game is something to die for. It has almost everything, from songs that play during some of the saddest moments in the game, songs that get you pumped for an incredibly difficult fight, and lighthearted songs that go along with the moments in the game that make you feel like saying, “What...?” There is music seemingly for every emotion this game can make you experience. Some of the most memorable music comes from “Yakuza 0’s” various minigames. Throughout every “Yakuza” game, there are many minigames, a recurring one being the internetfamous karaoke. In this, you can select songs and play a short rhythm game to them. One of the most popular, “Baka Mitai,” took the internet by storm around early 2020 to late 2021. “Yakuza 0” also features

other things, such as a variety of Japanese board games, darts, baseball, fishing, and other, more odd games. Other than my one little nitpick about the combat mechanics, this game is perfect. I would even go as far as to say it is one of my favorites in my library. The music is golden, most of the minigames are fun to play, the combat is great, and I legitimately cried at multiple parts of this game. If you are a fan of action games in general, I would say that this game is a must-have. If I had to give it a rating, I would give it a 10/10. I would take a point off for the unbalanced nature of some of the fighting styles, but the only other game that has this style of combat has a much worse lack of balance. That will be a topic for a later review, however.

ROLE-PLAY/ADVENTURE

many on my list that I should make a new calendar just for them. One of the most popular ones out there right now is “Garten of Banban.” If you haven’t heard of it, don’t look it up — trust me, you’re one of the lucky ones. Other games that I have enjoyed playing include “Poppy Playtime,” “Dark Deception,” and

four hours until you get the first main ending, depending on which routes you’re taking. I would highly recommend playing the game for yourself, and if you don’t have the money, there are several different playthroughs of the game on YouTube.

BREATHTAKING GRAPHICS, INCREDIBLE VOICE ACTING, AND A STORYLINE THAT WILL LEAVE YOU IN AWE

RACING SIM GAME

“Five Nights at Freddy’s.” The most recent one to catch my eye is “Slay the Princess.” Out of all the horror games I’ve played over the years, “Slay the Princess” is the one that got me the most excited. The demo was absolutely amazing, with breathtaking graphics, incredible voice acting, and a storyline that will leave you in awe. I’ll do my best not to reveal any major spoilers, but I will mention a few things that you’ll encounter early on in the game.”

Review by Isis Palmer, Clarksville, TN

“Slay the Princess” does an exceptional job of incorporating time loops into the game. In every loop, you meet the Princess in the basement of a cabin in the woods, but she appears differently each time. Each loop ends with either you or the Princess dying, or both. The game offers so many different pathways and routes to take, and even the smallest change you make can alter the entire game. There are six final endings, but the route you take to get there can be one of the main 14, which can be split into about 60 if you count every single difference in the Princess’ behavior. Not to mention the couple hundred dialogue options, which give you some new information about either you or the Princess.

I am an avid fan of horror games, movies, and books. I love tracking new horror games and have so

Game time is about 10 hours if you are going for all the different endings, and maybe about two to

Slay the Princess

Forza Motorsport Review by Lucas Godgluck, Hartland, WI “Forza Motorsport” — the pinnacle of racing games on consoles and computers. Released six years after the last motorsport game, the expectations were extremely high for this upcoming sim game on Xbox. The hype for this game was huge, with trailers and teasers being released one to two years before the launch. When I first saw the release trailer, I couldn’t have been more excited. It had been so long since I had played a new “Forza Motorsport” and couldn’t wait to get started. I expected a high-octane, actionpacked, totally reimagined, dedicated racing simulator. I was VIDEO GAME REVIEWS

ecstatic when I saw the tracklist and how many cars would be in the game. I had never felt more excited about a video game than I did with “Forza.” Turn 10 studios claimed to have started from the “ground up” with

the physics and handling model of each of the 500-something ingame cars. This may be true, but one thing stays lacking — realism. When the original game was released in 2005, “Forza” was the only real sim option available to Xbox consoles. Although, in recent

years, there have been more dedicated sims to enter the console market, “Forza” remains the most popular. With this being said, for many sim racers on a wheel and pedals, the feeling of realism is required to make a good racing game. For starters, this new handling model makes everything feel slippery. It doesn’t matter if you drive in wet or dry conditions or what tire compound you have on your car; the game just refuses to give you a true sense of grip. As a driver with real-world experience in karts and having used many sims before, the feeling during cornering and braking received through the wheel could not be more false. Unlike other sim games, you cannot seem to mitigate the handling issues with some microadjustments to your car. It can be very hard to tell the difference between subtle changes, such as fuel load, track temperature, and tire compound, when driving. This may not seem like a huge deal to the casual player, but for many serious sim racers, myself included, having that ability to make proper adjustments and having a realistic feeling is necessary. Next is the suboptimal selection of cars. The game has the word “motorsport” in the title for a reason. But when I want to drive cars that are built for the track, my options are limited. Almost 80% of the cars are normal street cars — not the racing-built cars we want to see. For example, look at the most popular motorsport series in the world: Formula 1. Is there any modern F1 car in “Forza?” Nope, just outdated cars from the ‘60s and ‘70s. This lack of racing series is very prominent throughout the game, making the whole “motorsport” aspect hard to achieve.

ARTWORK BY AXLE DEARMITT, CINCINNATI, OH 30

VIDEO GAME REVIEWS

Furthermore, “Forza” took on a brand new way to make a career mode, and it couldn’t have failed more. In previous motorsport games, the career would be an immersive space where you could fall in love with the current car you

had for your championship. You could upgrade your car in a matter of minutes and see how it will perform against your rivals. None of this is in the new game. Instead we got a time consuming way to upgrade the car, which makes it very hard to keep playing. Playing through the first couple races, it took me about two hours to upgrade my car until I was competitive. In the past you would progress slowly and similarly to a real racing driver, while in the new game you can race in almost any championship or cup you like, which is certainly not how the real world progress of a driver works.

SPORTS SIM GAME

“Retro Bowl” is free, no matter where one wants to download it from. The only barrier to playing “Retro Bowl” is the internet connectivity needed to download the game. This feature allows the game to be played by anyone, anywhere. Are you in the woods alone with no signal? “Retro Bowl” can help keep you company. Are you broke as a joke and want to distract yourself from your poverty? “Retro Bowl” is great at concealing such thoughts.

Despite some large negatives, there are a few positive aspects. One of my favorite parts of the new game is the feeling of speed you receive through the screen. The general graphics of this game are crisp and

THE AUDIO AND VISUALS ARE GOOD ENOUGH TO RIVAL SOME HIGH BUDGET CINEMATIC FILMS sharp. The background and ambience when racing are top notch, and the cars sound exactly like they would in the real world. The audio and visuals are good enough to rival some high budget cinematic films. The 4K ray tracing graphics displayed on the next gen console and high-end computers are some of the best I’ve ever seen, especially when paired with the insanely immersive ambience and background visuals. “Forza” is a great game for the casual gamer, but for the experienced sim racer who values that “real feeling” over fancy graphics and cool noises, it is safe to say that it’s not worth the time and money; especially with the game being at a hefty price point compared to its more realistic, better driving rivals.

connected to the sport without the physical risks of playing on the grid-iron.

Retro Bowl Review by Will Wagner, Hartland, WI “If only I had one more game…” — a sentiment that is shared by countless ex-football players. Some have their seasons cut early due to injury, others a heart crushing playoff loss, and to those who are lucky, a championship. Little can be done to patch the hole that football leaves in a player’s heart, but some things work better than others. “Retro Bowl,” designed and coded by Desmond Read, is a free eightbit football simulation game that connects people to the game they love, is cheap, and last but not least, is fun. There are millions of football fans nationwide, but there are few opportunities past high school to engage in the sport past watching it. “Retro Bowl,” playable on Android and Apple, acts as a connection between football fans and engaging in the sport itself. You get the benefits of being a leader, striving for success, and the hardships of losses. The player feels

What is the most important factor for a game to be considered good? I say it is the game’s ability to be fun for the player. If it’s not fun, then why play it? “Retro Bowl” is incredibly fun and interesting. You can start off as a coach for your favorite team, or build up a franchise that is specific to you. These rolls don’t change the playstyle, but they do change how one decides to treat his or her franchise. Does he or she dump a team to climb the rankings, or stick with a struggling program to achieve greatness? Once you start playing, you don’t want to stop as there is non-stop action with new players being traded, cut from the team, and retiring. At the end of each season, the player has the ability to play in the in-game championship, the “Retro-Bowl” — the equivalent to the Super Bowl. Here, the player gets to have fun by showing off all of the hard work put in throughout the season and showing who’s boss. Due to its ability to connect football players to the game they love, its low entry cost, and how fun it is to play, “Retro Bowl” gets an A+ in my book. Some may never play football for the rest of their lives, but “Retro Bowl” is the closest one can get to living out his or her football dreams.

VIDEO GAME REVIEWS

BOOK REVIEWS

DYSTOPIAN/SCI-FI

The Hunger Games By Suzanne Collins

Review by Maxine Zahler, Long Branch, NJ The quintessential YA dystopian series of the 2000s is, without a doubt, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. This worldwide sensation captured the heart of fourth-grade me and imprinted the dynamic characters, compelling plot, and earth-shattering twists into my psyche; “The Hanging Tree” is stuck in my head constantly. Every few years, I reread this series, and I’m reminded of Collins’ mastery; impressing tiny me was great, but impressing current me — with more literary knowledge — proves the timelessness and reach of the story. You’re immersed in the setting from the get-go. You open up the book to the brave Katniss Everdeen, who must survive in District 12: a poor, lifeless district of coal miners and hunched shoulders of the divided Panem. Already, we are introduced to the Capitol’s oppression and the consequences of war, two major themes portrayed in the novels, without telling the

reader about the reaping yet. And as you meet the cast of characters, you begin to empathize with them. Katniss and all the characters feel real, from ruthless Cato to innocent Rue, and with the prequel in mind (The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes), even President Snow is layered. Katniss is a hero, not because she is perfect, but because she overcomes the conflict thrown her way with intelligence and compassion. She does everything in her power to stick to her morals while saving the people she loves — you can’t help but root for the Girl on Fire. But she is not just an independent feminist icon who overcomes everything thrown her way; she makes mistakes, and her emotions are raw. She is the epitome of a dynamic, well-written character. Others like Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie are standouts when considering quality character writing. Characters like that suck you into the story and take you through all the emotions of what it’s like under President Snow’s rule. As for me, I love Cinna — he makes the most fabulous gowns! — and Finnick, who is introduced later in the series. The Capitol is a technological utopia that sits in a brutal dystopia. It exploits the lower districts for food and money; all the while, they don’t provide in return. The Hunger Games are the utmost cruelty. It reminds the districts of their lack of power as a consequence of an uprising most deserved, and they do this by killing their children for live entertainment. What’s more upsetting is that they have those destitute families consider entering their children multiple times if they want more food. Witnessing our favorite characters being abused by the villain, which is not only President Snow but the system itself, teaches the reader the dangers of a totalitarian government. Kids don’t even know what “Totalitarian” means! Collins presents those horrors in a digestible format — it is important to note that although the gore is mild, it is extremely violent. It also

contains depression, PTSD, abuse, and death. I would not recommend this series if you are sensitive to those topics or are younger than 12 years old. However, if you proceed, you will surely not be disappointed with this certified classic.

HISTORIC FICTION

Catch-22 By Joseph Heller

Review by Eason Yang, Port Hope, ON, Canada Amongst all the intriguing paradoxes existing in this world, the Catch-22 paradox still stands out as one with profound implications. The novel Catch-22 was written by Joseph Heller in 1953, right around three years into the Korean War. The novel describes a paradox in which, in order for one to solve a problem, the only solution is something inherent to the circumstance itself. Take the process of looking for a job as an example. Hypothetically, internship is nonexistent, and all job applications require some form of previous work experience in the corresponding field. However, the dilemma is that for someone who is searching for a job for the first time,

there is nowhere for that person to gain any work experience. To salvage a sunken ship, one will need the equipment in that ship. For the soldiers to shake off the shackles of military duty and get home, they would need to go to war first. In Heller’s novel, a soldier named Yossarian was stationed with his Air Force squadron on the island of Pianosa near the Italian coast during WWII. The story unfolded in a hospital crowded with people, mostly Yossarian’s fellow soldiers in the same squadron. However, many of them are not actually injured or sick; most soldiers are here because they are unwilling to go to the battlefield. Aside from death, the only other reason one can use for being excluded from going on missions is mental illness. As long as one is identified as mentally incapable of flying missions, he or she will be arranged at the hospital until recovery. One might wonder, why do all these soldiers seem to resist going to the battlefields so much? Is it not an honorable act of valor to be dispatched to the frontlines and dedicate everything to one’s country? In addition to that, if one manages to come back alive, what welcomes him or her will be the praise of citizens, his own country, and family; which part of that is not tempting? However, here lies the problem. Usually, when a soldier had flown a certain number of missions and came back alive, they would be exempted from this

them from their duty. The only way to shake this burden off their shoulders is to reach the number of missions required, but the inherent problem of the commanders continuously raising the number lies in the way. In many instances, the soldiers do not even know what they are fighting for. They are thrown into the battlefields brutally day after day, facing the possibility of fatal injuries for something they do not even understand, something even their superiors do not understand. The entire army is thrown into this absurd war demanded by the country, which might not even have any meaning. In fact, what Heller is attempting to mock here is of war itself. Through this dilemma the soldiers are facing, he is metaphorically shedding light upon the truth of struggles between nations. War is like this paradox; once initiated for whatever reason, one needs to continuously fight its rival before the countries on both ends can free themselves from this meaningless struggle. Although fighting the war till its end seems to be the obvious inherent solution to the problem of war itself, at the end of the novel, Heller suggests an alternative to this seemingly definite paradox. At the end of the novel, Yossarian successfully escaped during one of his missions. Although he landed on some random island out in the middle of nowhere, he did manage to escape the predicament and torture of the military. Through Yossarian’s successful attempt at

HELLER WANTS TO SUGGEST THAT THERE ARE METHODS OTHER THAN WARFARE TO RESOLVE CONFLICTS BETWEEN NATIONS heavy duty, but Yossarian’s superiors, namely Colonel Cathcart and General Dreedle, did the exact opposite. Each time a soldier accomplished the number of missions required and came back alive from the battlefields, the commanders would demand more missions instead of exempting

escaping the military, Heller wants to suggest that there are methods other than warfare to resolve conflicts between nations. Though not fully clear what those methods are, just like how Yossarian does not know where he is after landing, people will one day figure them out. BOOK REVIEWS

ROMANCE NOVEL

Never Never By Colleen Hoover & Tarryn Fisher

Review by Elli Didonato, Hartland, WI Imagine one morning you realize all of your memories are gone. You forget the people you love most in the world: your significant other, best friends, parents, and siblings. You forget all the moments you shared with these people and details about them — even their names. But even more frightening… What is your name? This is what happens to Charlie and Silas in the novel Never Never by Colleen Hoover and Tarryn Fisher. Charlie and Silas had been family friends since they could walk and had been in love since the age of fourteen. But now, they are strangers. Suddenly, all of their memories are gone, and now they must work as a team to learn the truth about their relationship and what got them into this situation. The questions from Charlie and Silas arise: why did this happen to us, how did this happen to us, and most importantly, how can we fix this? As the novel progresses, they 34

BOOK REVIEWS

learn more about who they used to be, which makes them wonder why they were even together in the first place. I was very amused by the novel’s mood, which included both an ominous and a romantic feel. Hoover and Fisher include many small twists throughout the novel in a unique style of writing that pulled me right in and kept me engaged for the entire duration of the book. Characterization in the novel is another thing that got my attention. Both Charlie and Silas cannot remember who they are, so as the reader, you are learning who they are (and used to be) right along with them. This is so unique compared to other romance novels I have read due to the slight twist of mystery that compelled me to pick up the novel time and time again.

lost their memories. The plot maintains a quick pace while Hoover and Fisher give just the right amount of detail in each chapter. Many romance novels in the past have not intrigued me like this one has. It is outstandingly

HOOVER AND FISHER INCLUDE MANY SMALL TWISTS THROUGHOUT THE NOVEL IN A UNIQUE STYLE OF WRITING THAT PULLED ME RIGHT IN AND KEPT ME ENGAGED FOR THE ENTIRE DURATION OF THE BOOK

This novel works in an alternating point of view from the viewpoints of both Silas and Charlie, which is essential to learning the feelings of both characters as they work their way through this unbelievable situation. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Never Never, from the very first page to the very last. Shortly after opening the book for the first time, I was hooked on the story of Charlie and Silas. It truly feels as if you are uncovering their past right alongside them as they work through the mystery of why they

creative as it is a romance novel with just the right twist of mystery. Even if you are not drawn to romance novels, you should give this novel a try — I think all readers could genuinely enjoy it. So go ahead and read the story of Charlie and Silas in the novel Never Never to discover which is more terrifying: forgetting or remembering.

ART GALLERY 1

CREDITS 1. PHOTO BY FREDERICCA SLIGH, TIRANA, ALBANIA 2. ARTWORK BY BRENTON WANG OAKVILLE, ON, CANADA 3. ARTWORK BY ZHANEL JETPISBAYEVA, ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN

ART GALLERY

POETS’ CORNER ARTWORK BY MACKENZIE HIGH, FORT WAYNE, IN

rewind

Starsight

in the realm of hearts i played a part a foolish game that broke us apart his love was sincere right from the start yet i hurt him tore his heart his laughter a melody i yearn to hear my love for him was a burning flame that i extinguished with my own hands i long for the boy with eyes so kind to the pain i caused i was blind i yearn for a chance to rewind

Last night I tried to herd the stars, But they were pooled in your gaze As specks of macadamia In a vast vanilla lake.

BY ATZIRY CERVANTES, SACRAMENTO, CA

I Wish You Were a Boy When she said it her gaze was fixated on anything but me I didn’t respond But I blinked back stinging eyes And I nodded Because I understood I wish it was easier to be something you could stand to look at I wish I were a boy too BY EMILY COPELAND, MANCHESTER, MO

You lay on Venus’ breast And breathe stardust through your nose. And you, with a licorice tongue, Become a daughter of the cosmos. BY ABIGAIL CHUNG, PEACHTREE CITY, GA

Ballad of a Bathroom Spider Tiny spider, might cause a fright, for they only appear in the dimmest light. Do not fret, for they mean you no harm. if you look closer, you’ll see their charm. Under your shelf, in the back of your cupboard. Among bottles and brushes, They are often discovered Tiny spider, with beady eyes run from those shoes they’ll be your demise. BY MAX STONEHOCKER, EUBANK, KY

POETRY

getting older I know I’m getting older cuz caffeine makes my head hurt. Cuz I don’t take the long way home, I wear contacts every morning and I love the bathroom backsplash stone. There’s a satellite map now in my head, I can drive straight ahead for hours on end. The city rearranges at every stoplight, but I only adventure in daylight, something about the starlight’s more intimidating than stage lights. I knew I was getting older when I started paying for gas with cash. When my knees crack, a cymbal crash, when being on stage isn’t scary, and I could talk about the loved, lost, and lonesome without speaking of myself. I’m growing faster than the town, now, ignoring the frowns of the founding fathers and I keep building, just build buildings. I’ll keep building until there’s something to stand on, something to stand for. BY MOLLY CROUSE, YORKVILLE, IL

clouds

switched from adagio to allegro.

do clouds have feelings?

BY AMY LIU, LOS ANGELES, CA

the ones i get when i look at ceilings? the melancholy thoughts that tumble through, usually when it’s from thinking of you. those thoughts, now those, can be good, i suppose like a thorning rose, it grows and grows. the thorns get thick and overcome the petals quick excited, it is, to make the pretty his. the pretty in the rose, it grows and grows until it lows and lows then there’s nothing that shows. but the clouds see all. everything, big and small they are there, old and new, even when they look at you. BY ADDY KRESS, CHESWICK, PA

Automatic You told me that they turned you into a machine as you traced the small scar that will never fade. The curved edge of your pacemaker pressed against the wall of your chest, your skin wrapped tightly around the foreign object — it’s your body’s way of disposing the unwanted: exocytosis. It anchored itself inside of you, wires tangled with the tubes reaching into your heart. Messages are sent through the series of wires running through your circuit board chest. Electric currents force soft muscles to contract. Your chest couldn’t hold anymore impromptu performances where the tempo of the thumping

i like boys i like boys but not any boys the boys who can recall every event from a movie like star trek the boys who have a comic book addiction the boys who are way too smart for their own good the boys who aren’t upset that they are “weird” i like boys but not any boys the boys who have a lisp or glasses the boys who wear superhero t-shirts the boys who has bed hair all the time the boys who don’t understand sarcasm i like boys but not any boys the boys who have concerningly good hygiene the boys who send good morning texts the boys who would laugh with you when you make corny poems for him the boys who know a lot about technology i like boys but not any boys the boys who would trade soda can tabs for kisses with you the boys who would cry with you while watching wall-e the boys who would sing loudly with you in the car just because the boys who would read books with me for fun these are the boys i like the boys who put in the effort because boys are amazing you just have to find a good one

In a cosmic serenade, dreams cascade. BY CATHY MARCHAN-CAPITANIO, MIRAMAR, FL

Firelight In the old backyard, fireflies buzzed out like dead batteries. Years ago they swarmed, a tornado, a choke-hold, until the sun set behind a fence of evergreens. Between the trees she is always watching. Understand I am to blame. Wind blew steady, and shadows thick, before the ravaging of harvest. Hear us, they whisper, hear what remains. My hands carry out what is best. Her head hangs lower as the nights go on. BY KATIE NELSON, PEARLAND, TX

BY CHANCE CORTES, SCOTRUN, PA

Stardust Serenade Beneath the velvet quilt of night, Stardust whispers, pure and light Moonbeams weave a silver braid,

ARTWORK BY ANONYMOUS POETRY

Juniper She sat upon a grass hill, And gazed o’er the trees; Beside her crouched a rabbit, The birds sung at her knees. She fixed upon a mountain, A terrifying stare — The forest winds are changing — A blazing they all bear. “Oh, Forests! Take some pity Upon my helpless state; Stomp out this horrid wildfire, And bless and save our fate!” They listen not her prayers, They heed not to her sound; The fires are fast approaching — The blues and greens they ground. “Oh, River! Take these jewels That grace my hair of jet; And here, my clothes of satin, To thank thee I’ll forget.” But silent hummed the river, A harsh and bristling tune — And silent danced the bright sky, Under a tranquil moon. Quiescent stood the glass world, Shattering from the flame, And down the trees went crashing To death without a name. Upon the ermine meadow, Sank down that Lady’s head;

“I join thee, dearest planet”— Fair Juniper is dead.

To cherish love, let go of spite, And in forgiveness, find the light.

BY ADDISON AFFLECK, KIRKLAND, WA

BY ANONYMOUS

Whispers of Unspoken Longing In shadows cast by love’s deceit, I find myself in quiet retreat, Yearning for a whispered lie, To give me reason to say goodbye Oh, how I wish they’d strayed, my dear, To fuel the flames of anger, clear, To give my heart a solid ground, On which to build my fortress, bound. But alas, their love remains true, No hint of infidelity, no clue, Yet still, I long for reasons, hate, To sever ties and seal my fate. For love can blind, and love can bind, And in its grasp, the heart may find, A need for anger, for despair, To cut the ties that once were there. Yet in my soul, I know it’s wrong, To wish for pain where love is strong, For honesty, it should prevail, And in forgiveness, we must set sail. So, I’ll search within my heart and find, A way to leave these thoughts behind,

I find myself I find myself fluttering often Fluttering like a moth., drawn to an elusive flame. A flame I crave. A crave I tame. I find myself fluttering often Fluttering wings. Filled with expression, destined with curiosity Curious of the flame. A flame of generosity. I find myself fluttering often, Fluttering as if, not a butterfly, not something of beauty, bliss, normality No. Simply a moth, for I display monstrosity. I find myself chasing often. Chasing as if craving. A Craving, I cannot tame. For acceptance is too hot. Hot is the flame. I find myself walking often. Walking as if unable. Unable to reach the flame. A flame I crave. A crave I shame. I find a moth. The moth no different than the butterfly. I find myself. BY JORDAN GRAVE, SHIRLEY, MA

Who Holds the Glue?

ARTWORK BY ZIRAN YUJIAN, CHINA 38

POETRY

The Glue in the trap holds the mouse, He wriggles and struggles, he doesn’t get out. The glue holds the piñata strong and fast, Until Timmy comes up, and swings his bat. Your aunt’s in the kitchen, she cooks she cleans, She’s scrubbing the floor down on her knees. Sam in the office brings the snacks, Sam lays at home flat on his back. The glue holds you with every ounce of strength, But you hold the glue at arms-length.

So who holds the glue? Who’s holding the glue that holds you? BY SARAH GALPERN, EUGENE, OR

To the Boy I Thought the World Would End Over Since I made the poor decision To give the football boy a chance, I now have to worry Every time I think I see your car on the street Whether in front of me, behind me Or on the right or left Every time the song that sparked our connection Starts playing in my car, Or comes on in my airpods while sitting in class Every time I hear another person quote our inside jokes Or make fun of me for the way I say something, I wonder if you put them up to it Every time I see your name, In every ¨followed by¨ on Instagram, Because you follow half the high school. Every time I hear someone make a joke About an eating disorder Because you never failed to remind me of mine Every time I’m reminded that you now hang out with someone I called my friend, The girl who was the first phone call after you left, I cried and gasped for air, as she told me you weren’t worth it Yet, somehow I still yearn for you But my heart wants what my head knows I can’t have, I crave your comforting words but hate your presence. Then again, I remind myself; I’m only 16,

to end over a dumb boy. BY ANONYMOUS

Sheep Dog’s Sacrifice On the farm out in the valley Lies a sheepdog with his herd And his watchful eye like a bird As the role he plays is immense Sometimes situations get tense The sun falls and the moon rises Bringing on the intimidating dark He knows in the distance lie sharks These, however, menacingly howl He returns these with his own tenacious growl He knows his duty is to protect Against the wolves’ ruthless sect The howls grow closer into the night As the sheepdog prepares for a fight He knows this event will be a plight As the wolves plan to kill with delight The herd retreats among the ferns As the wolves stock and yearn The sheepdog smells their gruesome breath Which reeks of blood and death The sheepdog knows he must defend Until the very end So as to give a chance to his sheep Which otherwise would surely weep The wolves surround him, their teeth gnashing He stands there boldly in the passing Lit by stars and the moon He knows his end will be soon Nevertheless he shows no fright As the wolves pounce with might Bleeding out he has secured his fate But he smiles as he sees his sheep pass safely through the gate. BY GUS GADSDEN, OMAHA, NE

Poems

With All Due Respect With all due respect — a phrase any and every man has heard — Is yet to be understood, and is incredibly absurd. Some say disrespect comes from deep within, So such a phrase does not sugarcoat a sin. With all due respect, a faint abuse, It is a child posing obtuse. Phrases, such phrases that cause gray hair, One may think it is not fair. With all due respect, it is the phrase that allows one to voice disdain, It burns and poisons one’s character like wolfs bane. With all due respect — a subtle and hateful expression — Makes us all wonder if any phrase is a sudden aggression. BY AMY LIU, LOS ANGELES, CA

Aquarium A sea star with a lost arm peels off the algaed glass and drifts through the salt water before dropping on the neon rocks Mommy is it dead? This is not a tropical paradise seen in brochures-shadows above the water dump buckets of chopped mackerel fish tear flesh of other fish Will they eat each other? The schools of silver fish bend light while swimming in circles towards an unreachable destination

Do they ever get lost? Tentacles like strings of silk float in the water untouched by gravity If I drown, I want to be as weightless.. BY AMY LIU, LOS ANGELES, CA

When I have no words, my pen touches my notebook. My spirit lets go. BY SERENE KHAMIS, OSWEGO, IL

And my world is indeed not going

POETRY

ART GALLERY 1

CREDITS 1. ARTWORK BY ERIN ENRIQUEZ, JERSEY CITY, NJ 2. ARTWORK BY GENEVIEVE GUNGOR, NEW YORK, NY 3. ARTWORK BY AMELIE LO, ORINDA, CA

ART GALLERY

CONTRIBUTORS THANK YOU! Love & Relationships

Book Reviews

Art Galleries

Jayden Kim, 6 Anonymous, 8 Sidney Nunes, 10

Maxine Zahler, 33 Eason Yang, 33 Elli Didonato, 34

Black History Month

Poetry

Cassidy Baah, 12 Naima Goffney, 14 Leandra Bell, 15 Daryn Oneal, 17

Atziry Cervantes, 36 Emily Copeland, 36 Abigail Chung, 36 Max Stonehocker, 36 Molly Crouse, 36 Addy Kress, 37 Amy Liu, 37 Chance Cortes, 37 Cathay Marchan-Capitanio, 37 Katie Nelson, 37 Addison Affleck, 38 Anonymous, 38 Jordan Grave, 38 Sarah Galpern, 38 Anonymous, 39 Gus Gadsden, 39 Serene Khamis, 39 Amy Liu, 39

Shayne King, front cover Grace Chen, 6 Serena Yue, 8 Miaofu Tian, 10 Sahithi Challam, 12 Ryan Agarwal, 16 Mobin Salimi, 22 David Oladejo Milton, 24 Axle Dearmitt, 30 Fredericca Sligh, 35 Brenton Wang, 35 Zhanel Jetpisbayeva, 35 Mackenzie High, 36 Anonymous, 37 Ziran Yujian, 38 Erin Enriquez, 40 Genevieve Gungor, 40 Amelie Lo, 40 Avery Lozano, back cover

Travel Kyle Pierson, 21 Andrew Epstein, 21 Emaan Waqar, 22 Natalie Mullett, 24 Jai LG, 26

Video Game Reviews Thomas Lyons, 28 Isis Palmer, 29 Lucas Godgluck, 29 Will Wagner, 31

Editorial Staff Managing Editor: Kylie Andrews Consulting Senior Editor: Cindy W. Spertner Consulting Editor: Jada Smith Sales Account Executive: Sara Shuford

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ARTWORK BY AVERY LOZANO, QUEEN CREEK, AZ