The Burr Magazine - Fall 2017 by The Burr Magazine

NICK HOLLEY SIDELINED

SPECIAL REPORT: HURRICANE IRMA

VEGAN FOR A MONTH

It’s just so much more than standing onstage and looking pretty.” –ALICE MAGOTO

FALL 2017

Miss Ohio 2016

Student pageant contestants defy industry stereotypes to accentuate inner beauty

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CONTENTS DEPARTMENTS

07 THE CLASSROOM 14 THE COMMUNITY 21 THE CURRENT 66 THE LAST SHOT FEATURES 28 ON HOLD Quarterback Nick Holley deals with his third devastating injury, optimistic for the future

32 FOUR PAWS FORWARD Student volunteers train dogs for service to others

38 DETANGLED, UNCHAINED Getting to know the BDSM community on campus

42 SPECIAL REPORT:

HURRICANE IRMA

48 CHARGED UP Senior writer Henry Palattella tests his basketball abilities on a professional court COVER STORY

52 BREAKING DOWN THE CROWN

Students go against traditional beauty pageant norms

58 A KENT NIGHT OUT 60 WORDS WILL LIGHT THE WAY

One poet inspires local refugees and immigrants to tell their stories

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EDITOR ’S NOTE

his semester saw some of the darkest moments for our country. Between attacks in Las Vegas and New York, and earthquakes, hurricanes (see page 42) and fires, the lives of many people were uprooted and destroyed in what seemed like a never-ending series of tragic events. Out of this darkness, we want to highlight individuals making a difference near and far — people dedicating their time and energy to improve the lives of others. On page 60, meet Regis Coustillac, an English major using his poetry talents to give voice to children and immigrants. Linda Spurlock introduces us to her work as a forensic artist on page 10, identifying human remains and bringing closure to heartbroken

families. Student beauty pageant participants, on page 52, reveal responsibilities that extend beyond the stage, setting an example for positive self-image and promoting charitable acts. Flip to page 32 for a collection of adorable dog photos, joining student volunteers as they train animals for a life of service. To make these and the other people featured in this magazine stand out, we’ve placed all names in bold on first reference in each story, emphasizing their dedication and devotion. We appreciate our readers, so thank you for picking us up. If you like what you see here, check out our newly redesigned website (theburr.com) and follow us on social media for more. And we

want to know the important people in your life — send us an email or post using #BurrHero, telling us about those who influence and inspire you. This issue is dedicated to all our everyday heroes, without whom the light would never emerge from dark, difficult times.

Benjamin VanHoose Editor-in-Chief

The Burr Magazine is Kent State’s first student-produced magazine made for Kent State University, the city of Kent, Ohio, and anyone looking for strong, journalistic storytelling. The Burr strives to provide its readers with interesting, humorous and hard-hitting stories that tap into current events, trends and the lives of those who have made a home in Kent. Benjamin VanHoose

Brianna Deckert

Megan Ayscue

Kassi Jackson

Andrew Atkins

Brandon Bounds

Editor-in-Chief

Art Director

Senior Editor

Photo Editor

Web Editor

Audio/Video Editor

Kelly Powell

Megan Enderle

Molly Spillman

Jana Life

Valerie Royzman

Kayla Proctor

Managing Editor

Assistant Art Director

Senior Editor

Photo Editor

Copy Desk Chief

Promotions Director

SENIOR WRITERS Collin Cunningham Cameron Gorman Shelbie Goulding Aric Hluch Cameron Hoover Alex Kamczyc Jacob Kopanski Marissa Nichol Henry Palattella Paulina Tesnow

PHOTOGRAPHERS Carter Adams Sophia Adornetto Colleen Cummins Clint Datchuk Eriko Iida Samantha Karam Devon Keller Adrian Leuthauser Nate Manley Aaron Self

ILLUSTRATORS Sophia DelCiappo Mark Tabar

Jacqueline Marino Adviser

WRITERS Rachel Hale Amanda Levine Adriona Murphy Lily Nickel Chelsea Panin Emily Schaffer

DESIGNERS Madeleine Kidd Sarah Riedlinger Alexis Scranton Sydney Geller Ashley Liptak Sophia Schwind

Dorothy Nguyen Jaron Puszakowski BLOGGERS Kiana Duncan Kathryn Monsewicz Tia Myers-Rocker Michael Nied Kellie Nock Ashlynn Thompson

Norma Young Business Manager Tami Bongiorni Advertising Manager Clara Sullivan Sales Manager Lorie Bednar Office Manager

Published with support of Kent State and the Kent Community. No part of The Burr Magazine may be reprinted or published without permission. © 2017 The Burr Magazine. 330-672-2572 | theburrmagazine@gmail.com

@TheBurrMagazine

CREDITS: Leyden Portrait - VanHoose Headshot - Kassi Jackson

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WEB ILLUSTRATORS

Kevin Dilley Director Jacyna Ortiz Media Specialist

NATIONAL AWARDS AEJMC STUDENT MAGAZINE CONTEST 2014 SECOND PLACE First-Person Consumer Magazine Article Nick Shook, “Head Games” (May 2014) ASSOCIATED COLLEGIATE PRESS 2014 DESIGN OF THE YEAR AWARD SECOND PLACE Yearbook/Magazine Page Spread Rachel Mullenax, “Kent’s Flashiest Cocktails” (April 2014) AEJMC STUDENT MAGAZINE CONTEST 2015 THIRD PLACE Chrissy Suttles, “Two Seconds in Cudell” (April 2015) HONORABLE MENTION Chrissy Suttles, “Nightfall” (November 2014) 2015 NATIONAL COLLEGE MEDIA CONVENTION SIXTH PLACE Best of Show for a Feature Magazine AEJMC STUDENT MAGAZINE CONTEST 2016

SOCIETY OF PROFESSIONAL JOURNALISTS MARK OF EXCELLENCE AWARDS Best Student Magazine (Nationwide), Staff

FIRST PLACE Blythe Alspaugh, “Can’t Fix What Isn’t Broken” (April 2016) THIRD PLACE Online Magazine

AEJMC STUDENT MAGAZINE CONTEST 2017

SECOND PLACE Single Issue of an Ongoing Magazine-Design

FIRST PLACE Neville Hardman “Living on the Edge”

REGIONAL AWARDS SOCIETY OF PROFESSIONAL JOURNALISTS REGION 4 MARK OF EXCELLENCE AWARDS FINALIST Feature Photography Leah Klafczynski, “Unbreakable Bond” (May 2014) FINALIST Nonfiction Magazine Article Carley Hull, “Don’t Sweat the Small Things” (May 2014) FINALIST Nonfiction Magazine Article Chrissy Suttles, “Nightfall” (November 2014) Chrissy Suttles, “Two Seconds in Cudell” (April 2015) FINALIST General News Photography Jacob Byk FINALIST Feature Writing Top 20 Matthew Merchant, “Shelter Realities” (February 2015)

OHIO SOCIETY OF PROFESSIONAL JOURNALISTS FIRST PLACE Best College Feature Writing Neville Hardman “Living on the Edge” SECOND PLACE Best College Feature Writing Kelly Powell “Stress on Screen” FINALIST Best Non-Fiction Magazine Article Samantha Ickes “Flowers vs. Guns” WINNER Jamie Brian “Gaining Perspective”

READ ON Find past issues of The Burr Magazine online at issuu.com/theburr

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KNOW THE STORY FIND YOUR VOICE SEE WHATâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S NEXT KentStateStudentMedia.com

THE CLASSROOM

STRIKING CHANGE

Emelia Sherin on Oct. 7 in Franklin Hall.

Blending art and journalism, Emelia Sherin’s writing confronts difficult issues on stages across the country

WORDS BY MOLLY SPILLMAN PHOTOS BY NATE MANLEY

melia Sherin takes a deep breath while standing in the wings of the Akron Civic Theatre. It’s early August and she is preparing to head on stage, no longer as a performer for a high school production or as a dancer for Disney Cruise Line, but to introduce her own play — one she wrote during her freshman year of college. Sherin, a 20-year-old majoring in public relations, thinks differently about the world and the way the media talk about pressing issues. While navigating how to weave journalism and reporting in with her way of thinking about these topics, she stumbled upon using her love of theater to express

herself. Of the many issues plaguing today’s society, she chose the opioid epidemic to personify in her first play, (In)Dependent: The Heroin Project. “This is my form of PR,” Sherin says. “I like to call it journalistic theater or theatrical journalism. This is my form of advocacy and awareness.” Sherin grew up in Howland Township, located near Warren and Youngstown — two cities on the front lines of the epidemic. After graduating high school in 2015, she took a gap year to work as a lead dancer for Disney Cruise Line, a job she acquired after only attending a few auditions in New York City.

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THE CLASSROOM

This is my form of PR. I like to call it journalistic theater or theatrical journalism. This is my form of advocacy and awareness.” —EMELIA SHERIN

Upon arriving back at Kent in Fall 2016, Sherin knew the heroin epidemic was spreading across Trumbull County and affecting more people in her hometown with every passing week. “I was beyond pissed off,” she says. When she wasn’t balancing 17 credit hours or three jobs, Sherin was researching the heroin epidemic. Notepads collected sentences explaining the neuroscience behind addiction, sticky notes wore drawings of the chemical breakdown of the drug and documents compiled research on everything from drug cartels to legislation. Her research was time-consuming, but it was all toward the goal of understanding all aspects of the epidemic. “I suck at chemistry, but I taught myself because I wanted to know it,” she says. “I learned so much — anything about heroin, you could ask me and I would know it.” Sherin’s mantra is educating others and helping people navigate uncomfortable subjects. This play gave her the opportunity to see how heroin affected communities personally, as well as letting audiences get a more intimate view of the epidemic through her personification of the drug. To Sherin, this play is everything — an education, recovery, support and advocacy tool wrapped up into one artistic medium. It wasn’t until a senior editor from The New York Times picked up this story that Sherin knew she was about to help communities beyond Northeast Ohio. “After the article, the show blew up,” she says. Sherin is now a recognized playwright, and organizations all over the state and country are asking to produce and perform her production. What she prides herself on with this play is the fact it is unique and no other writer has touched on this issue quite like she has. “This is really special to the art community as well as the U.S.,” she says. “It was necessary.” Since the production’s debut in August, Sherin’s life has only accelerated with talks of where the play will go next. As for her next theatrical piece, she plans to focus on mental illness with hopes of increasing mental health awareness. “They don’t see it as things being on our brain telling us what to do or how to feel,” she says. “That’s exactly what it is, but people don’t understand that.” On opening night of her play, Sherin takes a bow and heads to the back of the theater. She stands there for the entire duration of the production, offering a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold for her audience watching the true stories play out. She watches as two men from Oriana House, an Akron-based addiction recovery center, reminisce throughout the play about how true and real these stories are. Sherin finds purpose writing this production as she looks out and sees recovering addicts, families, community members and survivors alike join to watch her work come to life. B

MOLLY SPILLMAN | mspillma@kent.edu

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STATE OF THE UNIVERSITY Catching up on the biggest headlines since our last issue

CREDITS: Through the Lens - Jana Life; 1979 Protest Photo - Fred Squillante / 1980 Chestnut Burr; Tinder Couple - Courtesy of "Good Morning America" / ABC; May 4 - 1971 Chestnut Burr; Smoking - Carter Adams / The Kent Stater

TINDER-FAMOUS STUDENTS

THROUGH THE LENS

The Chestnut Burr was Kent State’s student-produced yearbook, published from 1914 to 1985. In 1986, students Lauren Buterbaugh and Thomas Lewis transformed the yearbook into The Chestnut Burr Magazine, which was shortened to The Burr in 1988.

fter members of NFL teams across the nation imitated Colin Kaepernick, former 49ers quarterback, by taking a knee during the national anthem earlier this fall, most social media platforms buzzed with information and opinions on the protest. But this wasn’t the first time football players stood up — or in this case, kneeled down — for what they believe in. The 1980 Chestnut Burr includes an image of Kent State’s Black Leadership Council at a university football game in protest of racial discrimination on campus. According to the yearbook, members of the council felt discrimination was especially noticeable within the athletic department and football community. The BLC asked black players to refrain from participating in the game, as it seemed most of them were on the sidelines anyway. This request caused some confusion between the players who met prior to the game and decided against boycotting the event. However, on the Saturday of the game, four players opted out of dressing in uniform, joining 150 black peers to march on campus against racial discrimination. The Flashes lost, 44-21, and the players who boycotted were suspended. Regardless of the outcome, the protest was documented for readers today to see parallels of the athletic world and the political climate separated by 37 years.

Not only did Kent State students Michelle Arendas and Josh Avsec score a vacation to Hawaii when Tinder became aware of their humorous conversations on the app, but the pair met for the first time face to face during a live segment of Good Morning America.

MAY 4 ON THE BIG SCREEN A drama chronicling the fatal 1970 shootings on campus was greenlit in October. Titled 67 Shots, the film will be directed by Emmy-winner Jay Roach and produced by Tina Fey and husband Jeff Richmond, a Kent State alum.

SMOKE-FREE CAMPUS Kent State officially banned tobacco products, including cigarettes and vapes, with a policy put into effect July 1. “What we as a university hope is the community will buy into the fact that we want to have the healthiest campus,” says Shay Little, vice president of student affairs.

STAY UPDATED WANT MORE? For the latest updates and breaking news, visit KentWired.com

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THE CLASSROOM

AFTERLIFE INSIGHT Forensic artist Linda Spurlock works among unsung heroes of criminal justice WORDS BY LILY NICKEL PHOTOS BY KASSI JACKSON

ight is a gift given to most, but the ability to truly see and observe is one few possess. To the average eye, a skull is nothing more than another part to the human body, but to the observant eye of a forensic artist, it’s a puzzle. It’s the key to identifying those lost. With the ability to imagine the faces that once existed using proportions and features of a skull, forensic artists work closely with coroners and medical examiners to sketch what they believe a person once looked like, working backward from remains. Forensic artists are the unsung heroes in the world of criminal justice. Linda Spurlock has a natural curiosity for life and the workings of it — a curiosity that led her into the world of forensic art.

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Spurlock, an assistant professor of anthropology who has practiced forensic art professionally since 1992, got her sketch pad involved in a case this past summer when she successfully identified a Cleveland woman who went missing in December 2015. The victim was Brooke Cameron, whose remains were discovered in October 2016, and this led to a lengthy investigation. “The identity department worked on it for months, trying to match that biological profile with pictures of people who are missing,” Spurlock says. “I have piles of these pictures where they would send them to me — ‘Could this be her? Could this be her?’” After examining the remains, Spurlock was able to conclude they belonged to a female in her mid-40s, and that she was possibly Native

American. These findings were able to form a biological profile of the victim. “We are showing a likeness of how the person may have looked in life,” she explains. “We use the proportions of the skull to indicate where the features go and there are many guidelines for how to set the eye slits and how broad to make the nose. It’s all on the skull.” After multiple non-matches, the hope of an identification began to dissipate. Luckily, Spurlock was able to finish a forensic sketch of the skull in July 2017. After publication of the drawing, it only took eight hours before phone calls began pouring in. While there’s a moment of satisfaction after a positive identification, reality soon steps in. “I realized when we got this case identified

(Top) Linda Spurlock holds a human skull in her office on Oct. 11, explaining the importance of the nose in identifying human remains. (Top Right) Spurlock in her backyard on Oct. 7 with students as they excavate buried pig corpses standing in as homicide victims. (Right) Students of Spurlock carefully brush away dirt and other natural debris from the skeleton of a pig buried in Spurlock’s backyard. Spurlock spent one year planning a homicide mystery for her forensic students to solve, starting with finding where the buried victims are.

that this was a good use of my skills,” Spurlock says. “But you don’t feel all fluttery and excited and happy because now her mother knows she’s dead. All of this is tempered with how serious it is, and you need to have a lot of respect. It’s heavy.” While investigation on Cameron’s case is still ongoing, Spurlock’s work is done, her skills ready to use in another case. Currently, she’s working to identify the skeleton of a victim in a case that has gone cold. Her sketch shows a man who looks rather anxious, but she justifies the choice of facial expression, explaining human faces are “animated” for the majority of a day, expressing many emotions. “We have reason to believe that the individual may have suffered from a genetic disorder that caused his eyes to bulge, but we don’t

know,” Spurlock says. “I thought if he had really big eyes, I don’t want to leave that out, but if he didn’t have really googly eyes, I don’t want to put that in. So I decided to make him look a little bit anxious. That way, if he didn’t have this genetic disorder, he just looks anxious.” The man in the sketch is yet to be identified, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. These slight details make all the difference and can be the deciding factor between whether or not a case is identified. Spurlock’s ability to observe makes her successful as a forensic artist, and without her astute vision, these victims would still only be known as Jane and John Doe. Her art has given names and faces back to victims of atrocities, providing desperately needed closure to families

All of this is tempered with how serious it is, and you need to have a lot of respect. It’s heavy.” —LINDA SPURLOCK and friends. A positive identification, while heartbreaking, puts an end to uncertainty and finally presents answers, allowing for the start of the healing process. B

LILY NICKEL | lnickel2@kent.edu

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THE CLASSROOM

ADVOCATE SPOTLIGHT: MOLLY TAGGART

IMPROV IMPROVEMENT Q: What happens if a joke doesn’t land?

REGAN SCHELL | rschell1@kent.edu

Fusion is a student-run magazine focused on LGBTQ issues on campus. For more, visit ohiofusion.com and look for its new issue, on stands Spring 2018

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A: Jokes keep going. If there’s ever a period of time where the audience is just like “this sucks” and they’re not laughing — at that point somebody might wipe the scene and start fresh. Sometimes the audience just doesn’t want to laugh. We very rarely get a deadpan audience.

Q: Do you ever get any suggestions from on-campus audiences that you and other BSIT members have to refuse to act out? A: Oh yeah, are you kidding? We get callouts where we just go, “We can’t do that!”

Q: Why do you do improv?

aul “PJ” Leyden, a senior computer science major and president of the Black Squirrel Improv Troupe, gets candid about audiences, comedy and what attracts people to the world of improvised humor.

Q: How does the troupe practice? A: With improv, it’s very different than rehearsing for something like a play. With a play, each player is given a script and is told the lines they have to read. You have to memorize lines, memorize how to move, memorize how to feel the character. With improv, you can’t just practice what you’re going to do since the entire point is that it’s made up on the spot. We practice getting used to the random games.

A: I do improv, and I think a lot of us do improv for this reason, because it’s something to relax with. We have an entire week where we’re pounding out studies and tests and projects and homework, and then we’re able to come to improv to drop it all out and just make jokes. You get to go up in front of a bunch of people, make them laugh. It’s a neat way for everyone to kind of take a breath and relax.

Q: Have you used any of your improv skills in everyday life? A: Talking with anyone you meet is pretty much improvisation, you know, you have to come up with what you want to say next based off what they say. My improv experience has helped my general conversation skills, which I think is a plus. B BENJAMIN VANHOOSE | bvanhoos@kent.edu

NUMBERS TO KNOW $101,000

2% Raise awarded to President Beverly Warren by the Board of Trustees after conducting her annual performance review

3.4 23

Total paid to “Bad and Boujee” rapper Lil Uzi Vert by the Undergraduate Student Government to headline October concert in the M.A.C. Center

Total arrested in Kent on Saturday, Oct. 28 during downtown Kent’s unofficial Halloween festivities

Average GPA of incoming freshman class, the highest in university history

CREDITS: Leyden Portrait - Eriko Iida; Warren - Carter Adams / The Kent Stater; Lil Uzi Vert - Carter Adams / The Kent Stater; Halloween - Jenna Kuczkowski / The Kent Stater; GPA - Brianna Deckert

Molly Taggart, a professor in the Communication Studies department at Kent State, can do it all. Taggart’s dedication drives her work in activist organizations like Green Dot, which works with bystanders to prevent and react to harmful behavior; the QUEST Mentorship Program, which serves LGBTQ students; and the College of Communication and Information’s diversity team. “If there are positions in this world that I may have impact or influence to help create a better society, I want to be part of that,” Taggart says. Aside from being a member of the LGBTQ community herself, Taggart’s interest in advocating for LGBTQ people stems from her interactions with students who have concerns and questions. “They’re not exactly sure who to go to for support to seek out safe places on our campus, and as a result of that, it has tuned me in.” In Taggart’s “Gender and Communication” course, students combine gender theory and communication skills, applying their knowledge to real-world interactions between genders. One of her favorite assignments is something she calls a “gender bender.” Students observe an altered performance of gender, whether it be a man in feminine clothes or vice-versa, and identify the different interactions the person has while acting as another gender. For young people interested in activism, Taggart says she recommends starting in a familiar place — one that combines passion with talent. “I’m a teacher, that’s what I do,” Taggart says. “And so, for me, it’s important to enact power and personal responsibility through my career. Find whatever it is that you care about, and find a way to incorporate that into what is already your life.” She adds it’s important to remember being an activist isn’t all about “wearing the cape” or being the hero in every protest. Finding one or two things to care deeply about is just as useful to advocate for. “Like Green Dot’s big theme, no one has to do everything, but everyone has to do something.”

DeWeese Health Center 1500 Eastway Drive Monday-Thursday: 8:30am-5:30pm Friday: 9:30am-4:30pm

DEWEESE HEALTH CENTER IS AVAILABLE TO ALL KENT STATE STUDENTS, FACULTY & STAFF.

Services Include: • • • •

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Pharmacy Travel Clinic Tobacco Cessation Allergy Injections

Call (330)672-2322 - Same-day appointments are often available or go to www.kent.edu/uhs for easy ONLINE scheduling. All Insurance Plans Accepted. Discounted Self-Pay Rates Available.

(330)672-2322

Campus Wine Cellar 1655 E. Main Street Kent, OHIO 44240 330.677.BEER(2337) www.campuswinecellar.com Campus Wine Cellar is Kent’s oldest wine merchant serving Kent since 1962. We have over 1,100 products specializing in exceptinal beer and wine from around the world right here in Ohio. We host private events on premise and off, we cater to you! We deliver beer, wine and kegs call to order or download the Drizly app. We have a full service bar with experienced staff and great drink specials. Come check out the new and improved Campus Wine Cellar.

THE COMMUNITY

STEP BY STEP A world record is put in place on campus with countless footprints WORDS AND PHOTOS BY JANA LIFE 14 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

t started out simple: a bucket list item, number 182 out of 315 — “Complete a world record.” In Fall 2016, Kelsey Merritt began to dream about what it would be like to have a record in the Guinness Book of World Records. She researched existing records, dreamed up her own and eventually settled on the idea of making the largest mural painted by bare feet. She said she felt like God was knocking at her door, telling her she needed to do something. “I am sick and tired of negative news,” she says. “I know that I am inspired by powerful stories, things that are

diverse and fun … so I thought ‘I’m going to get a bunch of people involved and I’m going to do this.’” It wasn’t a short or easy goal by any means — the confirmation process with Guinness alone took a few months, but Merritt would say it was all worth it. “My biggest stress creator is my biggest stress reliever at the end of the day,” she says. Through the excruciating pain of stomping on hard ground days at a time, carrying bolt after bolt of fabric to and from her apartment and one stained bathtub, Merritt did it, step by step.

(Left) All materials used for the mural were donated to Kelsey Merritt. She received $2,700 from Senior Vice President for Academic Affairs and Provost Todd Diacon, $1,000 from the Fashion School and the rest was donated by Jo-Ann Fabrics. The total cost of all materials was $5,500 but Kelsey didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t pay a single dollar out of pocket. In total, 140 bolts of fabrics and 310 jugs of six different colors of paint were used to finish the mural.

(Above) Merritt is a senior fashion merchandising major with a double minor in marketing and sustainability. Sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s very involved on campus with various clubs and causes but tries to spend her free time traveling. She has visited 40 out of 50 states and three of the seven continents.

To promote the desire for global unity and positivity, Merritt designed her mural with the six colors of the Olympic rings, which represent the flags of every country in the world. Each of the 124 panels was 10 yards by 2.5 yards, and the final dimension of the mural was 26,787 square feet. It was finished on Homecoming weekend, Friday, Oct. 13. To see the final mural, visit theburr.com

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THE COMMUNITY

WHAT I

FIGHT FOR

FEMINISM

ART BY CHASE OGLE

INKLING

OF I NSPIRATION

WORDS BY RAY PADILLA

old Halloween decorations are pretty good, even old Christmas decorations and postcards.

Q: What made you become a tattoo artist?

Q: How’s the work environment?

A: What inspired me to start tattooing was

A: I work with a bunch of

seeing really old-school tattoos from the 1930s and ‘40s, and just drawing in general, ever since I could pick crayons to draw on the walls with.

awesome people. I’m glad I got to learn from all of them and that I still learn from all of them every day. It’s like a bunch of friends hanging out all day.

Q: What’s your favorite design? A: I don’t know. I do like a certain style, neo-traditional and traditional tattoos, and I like black and gray stuff too. I like trying to put a modern thing along with old, traditional stuff, that’s just appealing to me. But I don’t really have a specific tattoo that I like, though.

Q: What inspires your work? A: It’s a lot of different stuff. Old designs and

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Q: What’s your advice for someone looking to get a tattoo? A: If you’re unsure about it, just put a little more thought into it. Make sure you want to get what you want to get. Make sure it means something to you. We’re always going to be here when you are ready. B RAY PADILLA | rpadill2@kent.edu

SAMEERA BOWLES | sbowles@kent.edu UHURU is a student-run magazine dedicated to giving voice to marginalized students on campus. For more, visit uhurumag.com and look for its new issue, on stands Spring 2018.

CREDITS: Ogle Portrait - Ray Padilla; Bowles Portrait - Candace Sanders / UHURU Magazine`

hase Ogle, a 29-year-old artist out of downtown Kent’s Defiance Tattoos, shares wisdom accumulated over the six years and countless tattoos he’s given, and he supplies a design sample.

My senior year of high school was very monumental. While transitioning into adulthood, I was looking for exposure to new concepts, ideas, theories and ways of life, and I decided to enroll in a Women’s Studies course. Prior to that class, I never put much thought into what it means to be a woman. I wasn’t aware of the many restrictions and perceptions of womanhood. It took 18 years for me to conceptualize women are often oppressed because of gender differences, which is ultimately sexism. Wage gaps, job discrimination and simply being talked over by a man are examples of why feminism exists. Growing up, women, or girls at the time, are told how to properly sit and dress. They’re taught some things aren’t “ladylike,” creating a certain type of mold that all women do not feel comfortable in. I once followed these rules until I realized I was diminishing my shine and conforming to made-up societal rules. From that point on, I decided feminism would be a part of who I am since it allows me to love myself in my purest form. I fight for feminism because I don’t want girls growing up believing they are any less smart, strong, powerful or important than anyone else. I don’t want anyone who doesn’t fit into the molds of society to ever feel like their life doesn’t matter. As much as society likes to think we are forward-thinking, inclusive and loving, we are not. But I’m confident we will grow in that direction. I believe everyone, regardless of race, gender, sex, sexuality, age, ability, class or socioeconomic status, deserves equality and to be treated like a human being.

SLICE OF LIFE Burr editors select their favorite pizzas and topping combinations, identifying the best pies Kent has to offer PHOTO BY BRIANNA DECKERT

GUYS PIZZA Sweet red sauce, red onions, green peppers, banana peppers, black olives and extra cheese BRIANNA DECKERT ART DIRECTOR

EURO GYRO BBQ chicken MEGAN ENDERLE ASSISTANT ART DIRECTOR

LUCCIâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S Pepperoni and banana peppers ANDREW ATKINS WEB EDITOR

BELLERIA PIZZA FIRE

Sausage and mushrooms

Vegan cheese, green peppers, tomatoes and basil

BRANDON BOUNDS AUDIO/VIDEO EDITOR

MOLLY SPILLMAN SENIOR EDITOR

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THE COMMUNITY

CALLING THE SHOTS Two of Kent’s most prominent bar owners share drinks to discuss business, competition and keeping up with students’ evolving tastes

BV: What made you get into the bar owning business? MIKE BEDER (WATER STREET TAVERN): I came to school (at Kent State) in ‘96, and around ‘98 I had some friends working at the Robin Hood and they got me a job. I started at the door, then started bartending. I graduated in 2000 and wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do. A mom and pop place on North Water Street was put up for sale, and I got the owner of Robin Hood at the time and his accountant to be my investors because I was right out of school and didn’t have any money. CHARLIE THOMAS (RAY’S PLACE): I guess I never really thought this is the business I was going to get into, but I just kind of happened into it. At the time I took over Ray’s, it was like a chance to work with young people and still be young yourself, you know? MB: I’d be remiss not to say, before I opened,

WORDS BY BENJAMIN VANHOOSE PHOTO BY KASSI JACKSON

18 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

Charlie gave me about two hours of his time and let me ask every question under the sun. I actually remember a lot of that conversation, believe it or not. It was very valuable.

Charlie Thomas (left) and Mike Beder in the Franklin Hotel Bar on Oct. 16, drinking a Coca-Cola and a tequila with pineapple juice, respectively.

looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m not falling behind. In terms of getting together, that doesn’t happen. We used to have meetings, but for no specific reason, those aren’t organized anymore. Seems to be pretty friendly wherever you go. An owner or manager will make a point to say hi and see how things are going.

BV: So there’s no monthly brunch sessions where you all get together? MB: … And fix Bud Light prices? (laughs) No, no. Nothing like that.

CT: I think we all get along quite fine, no jealousy. There’s competition, but it’s friendly competition. You always hope others around you do real well because if they do, you’re gonna do well also.

BV: What’s hardest about the industry or something you didn’t expect to deal with? CT: In the early days, I might be in a scuffle several times a week or two to three times a night — that wasn’t really what I wanted to get in the business for. It has changed a lot. There’s not the fights like there used to be. They still happen on occasion, but we used to have a lot of skirmishes on any given night, especially on weekends.

MB: Yeah, and I’d add taking care of damage, be it inflicted by customers or just wear and tear on the building. Usually the beginning of my weeks are spent dealing with getting something put back together.

BV: Do you remember that conversation, Charlie, and did you think Mike would one day be one of your competitors?

BV: Have you had to adapt over the years to evolve with students’ tastes?

BV: If you weren’t running bars right now, what would you be doing?

CT: At Ray’s, we’re constantly changing, but we

CT: Well, I’ll tell you what my mother thought I

CT: I do remember it, and I’ve had two or three

remain the same. You always have to have new ideas and new approaches, but you try to keep the feel the same.

was going to do: work for some large company. I guess when I first got to college that’s what I thought I’d be doing too. But now, I couldn’t see myself in that business because I like calling the shots. I answer to myself, but I really answer to the customers. People say, “Well you don’t have a boss,” and I say everyone coming through that door is my boss.

over the years, and I did feel it would work out. I won’t discuss another one that didn’t work out, but there was no doubt Mike would.

BV: What attributes make for a successful bar owner? CT: Everyone’s different. I say, for myself, I’m not the smartest guy in the world, I just really know how to work hard. I think Mike definitely knows how to work hard, but it helps to have some business smarts too. Common sense is very important in this business.

MB: I think people look at bars as endless amounts of fun and not much work, but Charlie understands that a bar is a business, and what we’re selling is like any other product. You make it not about you, but about what the customer wants.

MB: Especially in a college town where students are on the cutting edge of a lot of trends, staying relevant is so important. I mean, I used to know what the Ray’s specials were by checking the newspaper on Thursdays, and now I would be checking Charlie’s Twitter, I guess. I’ve seen places that have come and gone since I’ve been here, and if you don’t change for the times and keep figuring out how your audience wants to be served, that’s when you fall to the wayside.

BV: How often do you interact with other bar owners in Kent, or do you all keep to yourselves?

MB: I don’t know, I started so young. I came to school an exploratory major and I left with a general studies major, so I didn’t have a plan per say. I was always the kid with the lemonade stand, so I think I would’ve found something entrepreneurial to do, hopefully. Some days punching a clock and not worrying about anything after 5 p.m. sounds enticing, but truthfully, I could never go back to anything like that. B

MB: One of the things that stuck with me from that conversation with Charlie in late 1999 was that competition is a good thing. I’m always

BENJAMIN VANHOOSE | bvanhoos@kent.edu THEBURR.COM | 19

Making movies, short films, music videos and more!

Kent State University Independent Films will release its sixth feature film, “Fly by Night,” this April. Follow us on Facebook to watch for its release.

20 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

THE CURRENT

IN THE

NOW Kent Zendo fosters community space for Zen Buddhist practices WORDS BY MARISSA NICHOL PHOTOS BY JANA LIFE

ntering the Kent Zendo, silence and incense linger. The only source of light comes from two windows hidden behind translucent white curtains. Anne Davis practices Zen Buddhism like she does six days a week, expressing a welcoming greeting. “I’m the cleaning lady, that’s the big joke,” says the 66-yearold playfully. Located on Franklin Avenue, the Kent Zendo is a nonprofit group and Buddhist community providing meditation and Buddhism instructions for free to anyone with a sincere interest. “One of the things we decided was important to us was the concept of compassion,” Davis says. To execute this, a brass figure of a woman sitting on a moon — the saint of compassion — hangs in the entryway. To the left of the saint is a simply decorated room with a shrine of Buddha, a candle and a round vase holding a single flower. Traditional cushions are set up for instruction along the border of the chocolate-colored floor, ready for one to eight people at a time. Following Davis to the fellowship hall, she politely explains no shoes are to be worn inside as she sits cross-legged on the floor. The Zendo practices Zazen, the traditional form of meditation taught in Zen Buddhism, Davis says. The specific method of practice is called Shikantaza, which means single-minded sitting only. This is done by sitting on the ground with eyes open, holding a specific posture that suggests perfect symmetry. Those who practice eventually stop thinking involuntarily and feel the

Eden Meihls on Oct. 26 at the Kent Zendo.

universe recognize them. “You focus on the mind. You don’t try to stop anything from happening,” Davis says. “Buddhism doesn’t separate the mind and body.

THEBURR.COM | 21

THE CURRENT The body is another sense just like seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting; (Buddhists) count it as a sixth sense.” Tim McCarthy, founder of the Kent Zendo in 1984, joins Davis sitting in the same position. A larger saint of compassion stands between the two as well as shelves filled with Buddhism books. McCarthy, 63, is a doctoral student and teaching fellow in the English department at Kent State, and has served as the teacher of Shikantaza at the Zendo since it opened. “Zen is an Asian method of managing your body and your mind in such a way that you recognize your true relationship with everything,” he says. “It feels like you’re hugging the universe and it feels like the universe is hugging you, too.” The location of the Zendo changed for the second time when McCarthy purchased this house a year ago. The place of worship provides people from Kent and surrounding communities an established place to do their sitting. No dues, memberships or ordinations, though donations are accepted. A core group of people that have been practicing with McCarthy since he started teaching 33 years ago stop into the Zendo periodically, alongside newcomers. Raised by Baptist parents, McCarthy began practicing at 11 years old when he met with a Zen Buddhist priest to find guidance in fear of going to hell. In response, the priest taught him how to do the Zen form of meditation. A display inside the Kent Zendo, complete with candles and incense.

22 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

He learned how to be a teacher himself from studying in California. “The teacher is somebody who can train somebody to the point where that person can be a teacher too,” McCarthy says. “It’s a bittersweet sensation that you’re trying to draw people into a reality that you’ve stepped into at some point in your life.”

You focus on the mind. Buddhism doesn’t separate the mind and body; the body is another sense just like seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting.” —ANNE DAVIS Although he is considered the teacher or “Roshi,” he doesn’t like having a title. In fact, his favorite part of teaching is watching the process of practice off to the side. “By saying I’m the teacher, I automatically make myself different from you and that’s a contradiction,” he says. “Part of the teaching is to sometimes withdraw the teaching while someone’s looking for it.”

Teaching in this way allows McCarthy to share an identity with those who learn from him in a dualistic way. “Often, because Tim is not pretentious and pompous, people think he is not the real deal,” Davis says. “Nothing could be further from the truth. He is compassionate, dedicated and very, very learned.” Aside from regular meetings, people who practice here also take residential three-day retreats in Warsaw. A couple there provides a facility with log cabins where they sit Shikantaza most of the day and eat in silence. Rather than charging groups, the couple asks them to take money from each other as if they are renting the place and then donate that to charity. Davis says those who attend these retreats and practice at the Zendo don’t feel comfortable speaking on their own experience with Zen Buddhism. “Buddhists, as a rule, are very self-effacing,” she says. “They don’t believe that the individual is important because it is temporary, so they feel very uncomfortable putting themselves forward.” McCarthy, however, can speak on the covert changes he sees in those he teaches over time that are so subtle they may not even notice it themselves. “They start to drop the divide between their judgmental selves and their real selves,” he says. “I think I see people treating themselves less like objects.” B MARISSA NICHOL | mnicho34@kent.edu

A Magazine is a student-run magazine centered on fashion, beauty and culture. For more, visit theamag.com and pick up its new issue, on stands now.

WAIST PURSE

GRAPHIC T-SHIRTS

Let’s be real, it’s pretty much a fanny pack. The waist purse is a fashionable excuse for being lazy, but often ignored in the wonderful world of fashion. The idea has evolved from the neon nylon packs of the ‘80s, and now incorporates lustrous leather, hardware and personalized details.

Whether it’s Supreme, Gucci or a feminist-empowered slogan, graphics on clothing have rapidly evolved in the past year. We’ve seen designers showcase their logos in creative ways, and fashion lovers everywhere are beginning to craft brand names that send a message to consumers.

DETAILED PANTS

BLAZER

It’s time to ditch the skinny jeans. Wherever you look, fashionistas are wearing denim with frayed hems, wide-leg trousers and stylized joggers. Switching out your bottoms for something with a little extra detail is an easy way to elevate any outfit.

Though blazers are typically considered stuffy office wear, they can be a trendy layering piece with the right styling. Editors and other show-goers were seen wearing blazers in a variety of cuts and prints during Spring and Summer 2018 fashion shows across the world.

FROM RUNWAY TO ESPLANADE

KITTEN HEEL ANKLE BOOTS What used to be known as a fashion faux pas is now this season’s musthave item. Kitten heel boots are basically the best of both worlds: fashionable and comfortable. Some bring a nice pop of color, while others feature snakeskin patterns — any option is easy to rock and make your own.

Five items you’ll need to make the walk to your 7:45 a.m. class more bearable this spring WORDS BY KENDALL BECKER

PHOTO BY ALYSE NELSON MODELED BY ELIZABETH SMALL

THEBURR.COM | 23

THE CURRENT

THE SECRET CUPID OF KENT

here’s no shortage of secret admirers on campus. KSU Crushes, a Twitter account that posts compliments about students sent in by classmates, has nearly 4,000 followers eager to see if their names pop up on its feed. By sliding into the DMs of the owner of @ksucrushes2, who wishes to remain anonymous, the Burr discovered inspirations behind the social media presence and plans for the account’s future.

Q: How do you keep all the information you receive secret? A: Most people submit by Ask.fm, so I don’t even know who they are. Others DM the account, but I just assume they want to stay anonymous, so I delete the messages right after I tweet them.

Q: How do you decide which submissions to post? A: I post about 90 percent of the crushes that get sent in. Previously, I have had people ask me to take certain ones down. Learning from that, I just judge what people would want out

there for everyone to see. I don’t want anyone to get hurt from my account.

Q: Do people submit crushes about themselves to be posted? A: Yes — they don’t even try to make it anonymous. They just DM me it so I can see that they’ve sent themselves.

Q: Has someone ever submitted crushes about you? A: I think a couple of times, but I try to keep it balanced. If someone keeps sending in the same name 50 times a day, I will only tweet it once. I do it that way so everyone gets a chance to be tweeted about, and so no one feels targeted or violated.

Q: Has the university ever reached out to you about the account?

A: I would say maybe five to 10. It depends on the day; sometimes, I let it pile up because of class, work and my social life.

Q: Does anyone else know you run the account? A: Barely anyone knows. It’s fun to keep it a secret. It would ruin the fun if people found out.

Q: Why did you create the account? A: I actually got it handed down to me. I think it’s been up for five years and I’ve had it for two. I was super pumped to run a Gossip Girl-like account. I didn’t expect it to get this popular either.

Q: Will you hand off the account to someone else after you graduate?

A: No, not yet. I try to keep it not affiliated with the actual university. As long as it’s not hurting the university, I don’t think it will be a problem.

Q: How many submissions do you get per day?

A: Yes. I plan to make some type of contest on Twitter, so be on the lookout. B

EMILY SCHAFFER | eschaff3@kent.edu

MECHANICAL MARVELS Maddie Wilson, a senior studying applied engineering, started the Xtreme Bots club as a sophomore to create a place for aspiring engineers to hone their skills. “I really wanted, not only for me, but for other members, to get the real world experience while still being in college,” she says. Obviously the competitive nature of robot-on-robot fighting also added to her eagerness for starting the group. Participating in three competitions a year, Xtreme Bots members bring their combat robots to life using donated machinery parts — a process Wilson compares to “Christmas” for the group. The bots are judged on offense and defense, and points are accumulated each time a team’s robot hits the other’s, among other criteria. Currently, Kent State’s team has twin “wedge bots,” designed primarily for defensive maneuvers. Xtreme Bots club members drudge over their robot as they prepare for their upcoming battle. The club gives participants an opportunity to network and collaborate with other students. Photo by Adrian Leuthauser

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“They are made to take hits and hold opponents against the wall rather than hitting.” The group is hard at work brainstorming a new mechanical creation for the spring semester. “(Xtreme Bots) is a great way to see how you connect with a machine shop,” Wilson says. “And (it tests our) being able to work together as a team.”

AMANDA LEVINE | alevine3@kent.edu

Spectrum 1025 / Campus 4-2

THE CURRENT WE DID IT!

UNDER THE FORK One meat-lover finds admiration for unwavering vegans after walking in their shoes WORDS BY CAMERON HOOVER ILLUSTRATION BY MARK TABAR

et me preface this story by explaining what it was originally supposed to be. I was sitting in class one day texting my editor about veganism. I had never once in my life let the thought of being vegan cross my mind. Up until I went to college, it would’ve been cause for a parade if you caught me at a restaurant eating anything other than chicken tenders. Anyone who’s ever been on the internet has heard the jokes about veganism. Where do they get their protein? Why do they always have to broadcast that they’re vegan? That was basically the extent of my knowledge on the subject. I was sitting all high and mighty, acting like some kind of super genius, when two weeks later I’d find out I didn’t even know what the definition of the word was. But I had a great idea pop into my head. Why don’t I go vegan for a month and write about it? I could prove to myself and all my vegan friends, which I have quite a few of, that being vegan isn’t hard.

WE DID IT For more stories where our writers take on challenges, find these and more online at theburr.com TECH-SOBER Senior writer Collin Cunningham drops all technology cold-turkey for 30 days, finding solace in disconnecting from the internet

LIFE BELOW THE LINE Jamie Brian limits her food budget to $2 per day, living at the national poverty line for more than a week

REDEFINING BEAUTY By going one week without makeup, Kayla Sturm learns not to mask her insecurities but to embrace her true beauty

26 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

I plunged headfirst into the world of veganism with a package of black bean burgers, some vegan chicken nuggets and a dream. “This is going to be easy,” I told myself with such a mix of naivete and narcissism that I wish I could go back in time to punch myself in the face. I made it about two weeks. Not even that long if you count the secret rendezvous I had with a couple of Chick-fil-A sandwiches one week in. I wish I could go back to the start of that month and staple a sign to my forehead that reads, “BEING VEGAN IS GOING TO BE HARD AND TAKE PREPARATION, IDIOT” in big, bold letters. Even during my two weeks as a “vegan,” I was vegan much in the same way a McRib is a sandwich: Ostensibly, we meet the criteria, but we are just a shell of what we were supposed to be, and the actual thing puts us to shame. As I sat wallowing in self-loathing for not being able to eat a specific way for a month, I realized I obviously had to take the story in another direction. I couldn’t just pretend that I’d done it. So all this begged a simple question to me: How the hell do vegans do it? Well to understand this, I think it’s important to understand what veganism entails, but I found out pretty quickly some people have different definitions. According to the Vegan Society, the authority on the matter, veganism is “a way of living which seeks to exclude, as far as is possible and practicable, all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose.” Before I began what was meant to be my vegan month, I posted a plea for advice on social media and received a million different bits of information from a million different people. One that I found interesting, though, came from a girl from my hometown who direct messaged me her thoughts because she didn’t want to be judged by people she knew.

“Check your soaps, colognes, etc.,” she wrote. “A lot of hygiene/beauty products aren’t vegan.” “What the hell does soap have to do with your diet?” I thought to myself. I really believed she was insane. Turns out veganism is actually a lifestyle, not just a diet. Noted. So I can’t eat anything with animal products in it. That should be relatively easy; just cut out meat, eat lots of vegetables and call it a day once the month is over. It’s not that complicated, right? Wrong. “Even refined sugar, which has been processed in the same areas where meat was processed, potentially,” Tanya Falcone, coordinator for the Center for Nutrition Outreach and an instructor of nutrition and dietetics, tells me of what to watch for. “Those sugars aren’t used in vegan diets.” Excuse me? Now I can’t even eat sugar? Pretty soon I am just going to go outside of my room and munch on the fescue growing in my apartment complex’s rock garden. As I mentioned before, let’s just say my vegan diet wasn’t a dietitian’s dream. I work several jobs, and when you pile that on top of 16 credit hours and an increasingly taxing social life, you tend to just eat whatever the hell you can get your hands on. I ate enough peanut butter during those two weeks to feed the French Foreign Legion. Someone also made the near-fatal flaw of informing me Oreos are vegan, which is disgusting when you think about it. What kind of mystery substances go into something chocolatey that aren’t actually chocolate? Anyway, I ate enough Oreos and Lays potato chips to give a rhinoceros a stomach ache. The few proper vegan foods I had, like chickpea “chicken” nuggets, black bean burgers and falafel, were pretty good. But I also met my mortal enemy during this time: the dreaded vegan version of a Hot Pocket. I’m not a religious man, but I thoroughly believe Lucifer himself appeared

from the hottest recesses of hell to place vegan pepperoni on this planet. The texture when it hits your tongue is the most slimy, uncomfortable feeling I’ve ever felt. I wake up in a cold sweat at least two nights a week having nightmares about it. Being a college student certainly didn’t help. I only went “vegan grocery shopping” twice, but each time I went I almost blew a gasket looking at the prices of some of the food items. This went double for items actually on campus at the one single eatery that offers vegan options that don’t taste like a foot. Thankfully, my former roommate had a commuter meal plan, because I was a few $15 falafel wraps from Grazers away from living under an overpass for the rest of my days in higher education. “When people look at the pricing, especially since you’re 18 or 19 when you come to college, you see how much everything costs,” Falcone says. “Definitely that affects people’s perceptions, once they get out of college as well. The costs of fresh fruits and vegetables, or even beans on campus, it’s almost impossible.” Walking through the hallways of Franklin Hall, I notice a flier on one of the bulletin boards inviting people to attend a meeting for Veg KSU, a club for vegans, vegetarians and those who were “veg-curious” to come get “vegucated.” I’m no stranger to a good pun, and I’m still no closer to understanding what sort of iron will someone has to have to basically cut every staple of the American diet out of their own. So off I went. Everyone there had been vegan for some time, but the part that stands out most is how simple they made it sound. I felt like a chump. I obviously opened my line of questioning with, “How the hell do you do this?” The response I got was basically, “How the hell couldn’t we?” “I didn’t really think there was a good reason not to be vegan,” says Chanin Hale, a junior studying psychology. “Learning the truth about everything I had been turning my head to for so long, I couldn’t really ignore it any longer. I felt like if I was going to believe in this and love animals and claim to be this peaceful, loving person, I should hold these beliefs.” Hearing the four members of the vegan club speaking in front of me, I couldn’t help but be inspired by their passion. These girls really loved veganism. They really loved animals and you could hear the fire in their

voices as they talked about their love for conservation, among other environmental causes. That’s when it hit me: I can’t be vegan if I don’t care about all of those things. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’ll go out of my way to recycle a piece of paper or butt my nose into an argument with climate change deniers online. But maybe this vegan thing isn’t for everyone. Maybe I couldn’t continue because of how I started — selfishly, on some hubristic tour of self-centered aggrandizement trying to somehow prove myself just as worthy as these people. The truth is I’m not. “Veganism is a very healthy diet if it’s done well, but it can also get very unhealthy if it’s not,” Falcone says, peering into my fake vegan soul.

I didn’t do it well, but the benefits are glaringly obvious. I ate proper vegan food about three days in a row, and after those three days, I ran my fastest mile, texting my friend saying, “I feel like I can run through a (obscenity) brick wall, bro.” So even if it’s not for everyone, my two to three weeks as a semi-vegan gave me plenty of respect for the people who do it day in and day out. The passion they exude for what they love is honestly inspirational, even if you don’t feel it too. I’d like to thoroughly apologize to all the vegan friends I’ve made fun of over the years. And everyone else, maybe try it for a while. Do it right and you might love it. Just avoid vegan pepperoni at all costs. B

CAMERON HOOVER | choove14@kent.edu

Facing his third straight season-ending injury, Kent State quarterback Nick Holley looks toward the future WORDS BY JACK KOPANSKI PHOTOS BY KASSI JACKSON AND ADRIAN LEUTHAUSER

hile joking he “likes it dark,” Nick Holley draws back curtains, letting in light that reveals a small but cozy apartment. A white motorcycle leans against a wall in his kitchen, and an intact Nintendo 64 waits for a heated match of Super Smash Bros., a childhood game in which he says he can’t be beat. Setting down a stuffed burrito, he takes a seat to put a brace on his left knee, snapping it into place with ease. Quarterback for Kent State’s football team and a fifth-year senior, Holley’s current season will end on the sideline the same way it has the last two seasons — recovering from an injury. It was a broken back that ended his 2015 season just three games in. He managed to play in all but the final game last season due to a torn ACL in his right knee. This season, like 2015, three games

28 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

in, Holley was taken off the field with a left knee injury, later diagnosed as yet another ACL tear, and several months off the field. “I’ve been through a lot throughout my life,” he says. “I felt like … all my goals and dreams were right there in front of me, then it was snatched away.” The original plan for Holley was to declare for the NFL Draft after this season. Having already fulfilled credits for a bachelor’s degree in business, he was assigned a new major, pan-African studies, to maintain his eligibility. Now, though, he says his future is up in the air, while making it clear getting his MBA isn’t something he considered. “I could petition for a sixth year, or I could test the waters professionally,” he says. “The only plan that I have right now is that I feel like I have a lot more football left to be played.”

Nick Holley on Oct. 11 in Franklin Hall. Photos by Kassi Jackson

Holley stretches during a physical therapy session at the M.A.C.C. Annex on Oct. 18. Holley underwent ACL surgery earlier this year, cutting his final season short. Photo by Adrian Leuthauser

ACL tears are becoming increasingly common occurrences in athletics. Part of what makes the injury so devastating is not only the amount of time recovery typically takes, but also that the injury can happen without any contact. One can go through daily life without an ACL, but the reason it’s so debilitating to athletes is because the ligament is crucial to the cutting motion of the knee. “If you’re going to continue to play a sport, you’re going to have to have your knee fixed,” says Steve Pritchard, an athletic trainer at Southwest General Health Center in Strongsville. “You’re going to have to have it reconstructed. You can get back to very close to where you were before, but your knee is never the same.” A common feeling athletes can go through when enduring season-ending injuries like this is an experience known as identity confusion, in which the athlete questions his or her purpose when a sport is taken out of the picture. According

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to a 2009 study in the Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology, 33 percent of athletes with injury histories could be classified as depressed. Another common side effect is the self-esteem hit that athletes can go through after an injury. Sports allow participants to feel a sense of independence, and if the injury is severe enough, there will be a period of time where the athlete will need to rely on others to take care of them. Part of the way Holley tried to combat these feelings was by limiting the time he spent thinking about the negatives. “Part of me says, ‘Why me, why me?’ Another part of me looks at it as just another obstacle,” he says. “When I tore this, I gave myself three days; I said, ‘You can feel bad for yourself for three days.’” Following Holley’s high school career at Toledo Whitmer, he had multiple college football offers to choose from. Recruited as an athlete, allowing him to be assigned to any position, he

saw offers from Navy, Harvard, Michigan and Kent State. After having his offer from Michigan withdrawn, and with the high standards that come with an Ivy League school like Harvard, Holley narrowed it to Navy and Kent. While Kent State’s performance during his stay has been less than ideal, Holley said he still feels he made the right decision. “I don’t regret not going to Navy, mainly because it’s too strict and that was never for me,” he says. “Kent gave me my opportunity so I stuck out with it. I’ve tried to make the best of it; obviously it’s been a rocky road, but like I said, they gave me my opportunity.” Since starting at Kent, Holley has bounced around the offense in his five years with the team. During his sophomore season, Holley was a starter, mainly at running back, before breaking his back and ending his season. Through the first three games of the following season in 2016, Holley was a utility player, seeing time at both

(Top) Holley strengthens his legs in therapy. Holley regularly goes to physical therapy in hopes he will be able to play on the field once again. Photo by Adrian Leuthauser (Top Right) Holley stands on the sideline during the Homecoming game on Saturday, Oct. 14. Photo by Austin Mariasy / The Kent Stater (Bottom Right) Holley is tackled by Akron linebacker Ulysees Gilbert III on Oct. 1, 2016 at Dix Stadium. Photo by Clint Datchuk / The Kent Stater

I’ve never gotten anything easy. It is demoralizing, but you just gotta go back to work and work that much harder for it.” —NICK HOLLEY running back and receiver, before getting the news he’d been waiting for. “The fourth game, after we got a couple guys injured, they say, ‘You want to play quarterback?’ And I just said, ‘Yup.’” The transition was just as exciting as it was nerve-wracking for Holley. “I was jittery and, shoot, even at practice I was nervous as shit,” he says. “When it came to my excitement, I just felt like I was finally getting my opportunity. Before then it was always: ‘You’re too short,’ ‘You’re not a throwing quarterback.’ Whatever the excuse was, I heard it all. By that time they finally asked me, I just felt relieved, excited, nervous.” With the extra attention the quarterback often receives on a team, Holley said that didn’t affect his on-campus student life. “I got a little more attention than usual, but I don’t know if it changed my social

life,” he says. “I think I was noticed more as like, ‘Hey, you’re the QB. No. 4, Holley,’ stuff like that.” Holley dealt with a different type of attention last season when his twin brother Nate Holley became wrapped in a legal battle. The trial ended with a jury finding Nate not guilty in February of kidnapping and felonious assault, although he pleaded guilty to criminal mischief in April. Nate was suspended from the football team where the brothers played side by side. During all this, Nick found solace on the field. “We kinda were taught that when you go on that field, everything else gets pushed aside,” he says. “Obviously, he (Nate) was always in my mind, but it just made me push that much harder because I wasn’t just playing for myself or just playing for the team, but I was playing in his honor.” Of all the moments he has experienced at Kent State, Nick says one of the most memorable for him was getting the opportunity to play alongside his brother. “When we first got here, I sat down with him and I told him, ‘I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me. I’m glad we went through this together,’” Nick says. The absence of Nate, one of the country’s leading tacklers in 2016, affected more than just the team dynamic. “For me, it was very weird,” Nick says. “I went from standing up and watching every play to, when I wasn’t in the game, I sat on the bench, minded my own business and when I went in, I went in.” Nick says, despite the tumultuous past several

months, his brother looks faster, stronger and better than he’s ever seen him, and is staying ready for his shot as a professional athlete. “He looks like a freakin’ machine,” Nick says. “His diet is so crazy and he is so determined. His A-plan, B-plan and C-plan are all NFL, NFL, NFL.” Regardless of how long it takes or what avenue he goes, Nick knows he wants football to be part of his life. Coming from a MAC school like Kent State, athletes looking to play professionally don’t always receive the recognition athletes from bigger name conferences and schools might. Nick sees the gritty stereotype of playing for a MAC school as an advantage for him. This attitude of hard work and determination has fueled his desire to get back on the field after this injury. “I do some sort of rehab every day,” he says. “My main sessions are three days a week, but I rehab every day and try to workout to get myself ready to come back every day.” Although his road has been littered with setbacks up to this point, Nick’s focus has never shifted. “The way I look at it is it’s gotta be the hard route,” he says. “I’ve never gotten anything easy. It is demoralizing, but you just gotta go back to work and work that much harder for it. It’s a story to be written is how I look at it. This is me writing my book.” B JACK KOPANSKI | jkopansk@kent.edu

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Service dog trainers experience emotional bonds reciprocated by their temporarily assigned animals WORDS BY SHELBIE GOULDING PHOTOS BY KASSI JACKSON

axwell Newberry strolls along the crowded, college-student filled Esplanade. Unfamiliar faces with wide grins pass by. They rarely smile at him though, their eyes wandering down to the furry creature trotting alongside. The large animal could double for a young bear, but a red vest adorned to its back identifies it as a dog, a Newfoundland puppy hiding under a layer of overbearing fur. His name is Buckeye, and he’s a 4 Paws for Ability service dog in training. Newberry joined the nonprofit organization in Spring 2017 to help train puppies like Buckeye, and is now the president of the program. When volunteering for 4 Paws, students take on the task of raising and training future service dogs, altering their everyday lifestyles to accommodate the puppies placed under their care. “It takes real leaders to raise and train a future service dog: patience, compassion and determination,” Newberry says. The group, which holds 25 puppies at a time, received about 500 applications from eager students this semester. Newberry could not be more serious about his commitment as a trainer, mostly because the dogs in the program become service animals for children with disabilities and veterans who have lost their use of limbs or hearing. “Dogs learn at different paces, just like humans,” he says. “It takes time and dedication to commit to this organization.” Hannah Jaros, the co-coordinator of 4 Paws at Kent State, agrees on the seriousness of volunteering in this organization. “You’re not simply raising and socializing a dog for yourself, but for someone who needs this dog to get through their daily activities,” Jaros says. “These dogs have such a huge impact on those they are placed with, which is a lot of weight on our shoulders.” Volunteers spend countless months training a puppy like their own until the time comes to pass the furry friends along to someone who needs the help. It’s not an easy goodbye — Newberry knows from experience His first dog was Lilith, a golden retriever Newberry still sees in 4 Paws, but who is now being trained by another member. (cont. page 36)

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Dogs learn at different paces, just like humans. It takes time and dedication to commit to this organization” —MAXWELL NEWBERRY

FOUR PAWS FORWARD

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Nessie sits in front of her handler Kairie Weber while practicing commands on Sept. 22 in Kent.

(Left) Freshman fashion merchandising major Avery Schaffer (left) and freshman architecture major Jaelyn Barnett play with dogs-in-training Seelie (left) and Gio as part of 4 Paws for Abilityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fundraiser on the K on Sept. 13. (Top Right) Maxwell Newberry, 4 Paws for Ability Kent State chapter president and a sophomore studying digital sciences, hugs his foster service dog in training Buckeye, a Newfoundland and labrador mixed breed, during a mandatory monthly training session on Sept. 24 held at Agility Underground training center in Lodi. (Bottom) Nessie practices her skills on how to push the handicap button as part of her training with handler Kairie Weber, a senior studying integrated mathematics.

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“When I left Lilith, it was rough,” he says. “I was used to her coming home with me every day and being a part of my daily schedule.” Newberry says it took time to get used to not having Lilith as part of his schedule anymore, an adjustment for the dog, too. “This one time, Lilith was brought to my home, and she jumped out of her trainer’s car and ran straight to my door ready to go inside like she used to. We sadly had to put her back in the car, though,” he says. “It was very emotional to watch her remember.” Jaros is also training her second puppy since joining 4 Paws for Ability, but unlike Newberry, she doesn’t see the dog anymore. “You don’t think you’re going to get attached in the beginning, but you really do,” she says. Although the dog has moved to the next phase in its life, Jaros likes to think positively of her opportunity to make the transition easier. “I like thinking about the future things the dog is going to do for its permanent owner,” she says. “Knowing the dog you trained is going to have such a positive impact on somebody else’s life is such a blessing.” This parting of ways after a dog passes evaluation tests isn’t new for Newberry or Jaros, but for first-time trainers like Aleah Burris, is a new concept. Burris’ first assigned puppy with 4 Paws for Ability is Bridge, a black Labrador. “It’s going to be one of the saddest moments but it’s so good for him,” Burris says. “It would be selfish of me not to be happy for Bridge; he’s a great dog and someone that needs him really deserves him.” Even though separation anxiety is inevitable for the trainers and dog lovers involved, members continue to devote their time to fostering droves of dogs that will improve the lives of others. “It’s difficult having to spend every day with them knowing they will be gone one day,” Newberry says. “We all get attached and it can be emotional, but this is our job.” B SHELBIE GOULDING | sgouldi1@kent.edu

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AD (Above) Kayden Maclay, a junior studying business management, gives his dog Lilith, half-sister to Nessie, praise for being well-behaved before class in Bowman Hall on Oct. 12. (Below) Kiera

Drymalski, a senior studying business management, calms 4-month-old papillon Diablo during the 4 Paws for Ability kickball tournament held at Centennial Fields on Sept. 30.

Keep up with breaking news, sports, entertainment, opinions and more.

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DETANGLED, UNCHAINE

While unspooling the world of BDSM, one outsider learns the real intentions behind a misunderstood community WORDS BY ALEX KAMCZYC ILLUSTRATIONS BY MARK TABAR

ind blows through the windows of my car on a cool Wednesday evening as I talk to my girlfriend on the phone. Parked outside Bowman Hall, I fidget with my notebook, quickly writing notes and questions I have prior to a K.I.N.K. meeting I’m attending. She is not thrilled. At the very least, she’s cautious that I might be getting myself in over my head. An acronym for Kent Is Now Kinky, K.I.N.K. is a student-run organization on campus focused on bondage, domination, sadism and masochism. The group’s goal is to educate and provide information about BDSM safety while also fostering a like-minded community. Participants face countless criticisms and battle with stereotypes, dealing with outsiders who view their lifestyle as disturbed or demented. I admit I am guilty of this prejudice, but I’m also curious and open-minded. Who are the people involved in the BDSM world, anyway? K.I.N.K. isn’t an anomaly. Various other clubs on campuses around the country formed prior to Kent State’s iteration, including Conversio Virium, Columbia University’s BDSM group, which came to be in the ‘90s. At Harvard University’s club formed in 2012, Harvard College Munch, members meet to discuss kinky matters — even engaging in demonstrations. I have my reservations about K.I.N.K., and as I walk into the classroom that houses the meeting, I’m greeted by two cheery girls with wide smiles across their faces. The first, Makenzie Hornung, is short with blonde hair. President of the group, she wears a leather jacket, boots and blue short shorts with fishnet leggings. The other, Sarah Tothero, a senior majoring in fashion design and director of media for the group, is tall with pink dye in her blonde hair, donning circular, wide-rimmed glasses. I shake their hands and sign a nondisclosure agreement that protects those who want to attend meetings discreetly. “We were expecting you,” Hornung says, shaking my hand. “Grab a seat anywhere you’d like and we’ll get started soon.” Her politeness catches me off guard. I wasn’t expecting a somber tone in the room, but I definitely wasn’t expecting an upbeat one either. Sitting in an unsettled manner, I wait for the meeting to begin, fidgeting with my notes once again. The room the meeting occupies is small,

walls covered in white from side to side and tables arranged neatly in rows where attendees sit and wait patiently, some off-kilter in their seats. Clearly, I’m not the only one feeling the irony of waiting in a classroom to learn about BDSM. Others appear to be completely comfortable with the atmosphere. One student wearing cat ears circles around others in the middle of the compact room, undeterred by the slight awkwardness felt by some. In the front, the group’s officers casually talk among themselves. The projector powers on, and the meeting begins with a warm welcome.

BDSM is a binding culture; it’s about finding acceptance.” —BRANDON JENNINGS “Tonight we will be talking about how to introduce your partner to BDSM,” Hornung says, pointing to a slide about the topic. A PowerPoint presentation begins, walking everyone through initiating the BDSM conversation with an unsuspecting partner. First, Hornung and Tothero make sure we understand what our kinks, or sexual interests, are. It’s vital that research is done on what interests participants harbor before a discussion can be introduced to a partner. Next in the presentation is a how-to guide in explaining kinks to an unsuspecting partner. The advice is to explain how it would make you feel for your partner to participate in the act and to understand your partner may be “vanilla,” or uninterested in partaking in the same fetishes. The PowerPoint transitions to instructions on what to do during and after a “BDSM scene,” which includes any interaction during role play and sex, including power dynamics and bondage, among others. This is a conversation that many find hard to start, especially given the current social landscape in America. It’s not uncommon for those who participate in BDSM to be shunned. In 2013, the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom got the American Psychiatric Association to remove cross-dressing, fetishes and BDSM from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Legal issues also cloud BDSM. Technically speaking, participants aren’t legally protected in cases of sexual assault and other matters. The lifestyle isn’t illegal, but committing violent acts on someone for sexual pleasure is a crime, regardless of consent. “It’s ridiculous. I get the idea behind it, but I think we really need to look at the fact that everyone is an adult here and this is taking place in a safe environment,” Hornung says. “Americans can do way more stupid things than consensually hitting each other.” Some believe these issues and disapprovals stem from religious beliefs. “I was raised in a very strict Christian home, so a lot of the stuff outside of premarital sex was dirty and wrong,” Brittany Boord, a sophomore majoring in English, says, balling her hands up to fight back anger. “It’s a lot of that fear and disgust that permeates in society. It’s easy to see it as something wrong and taboo.” Outside of K.I.N.K., Boord participates in clubs for line dancing and board games. She also likes to spend her free time writing short stories and poetry, calling herself a “hopeless romantic.” “I’m super quiet about everything, and I don’t talk a lot, so when I tell someone that I’m interested in this stuff, the first thing they say is, ‘Really?’” she says. “They can’t believe someone so quiet and ‘innocent’ would be into this kind of thing.” The stigma surrounding BDSM culture comes more from misunderstandings than rational distaste. This is something the group hopes its meetings will remedy on campus. “I think the fact that we really focus on community building really opens the door to the fact that this isn’t something worth stigmatizing,” Hornung says. “When we band together, we can look at the bigger picture and realize this isn’t a big deal.” After a few more slides, I stop taking notes on the presentation and decide to scope out the audience. It’s a diverse crowd, interested and engaged in the discussion. “BDSM is a binding culture; it’s all about finding acceptance,” says Brandon Jennings, a longtime member of the group. “When you become incorporated into it, you become comfortable with the people around you, and it does bring you closer together just because you can talk about things with the people in a kink community that you can’t with people in your daily life.” This shouldn’t be shocking. In a 2005 study

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conducted by condom company Durex, 36 percent of adults in America use many of the tools used in BDSM during sex. That number is only 20 percent globally. “I think it’s a very welcoming subculture,” Tothero says. “A lot of times, just in daily life for a lot of people who may be discriminated against in various ways, it’s hard to put yourself out there. I think it says a lot about the community that all these different kinds of people feel safe coming and meeting one another.” Nowadays, you wouldn’t be wrong to instantly associate BDSM culture with the popular Fifty Shades series. With more than 100 million copies sold worldwide, and a third Hollywood film adaptation on the way, many attribute the BDSM boom to the franchise. Others groan at the mention of it due to the violent nature of the relationship between its two main characters. “It brought a lot of outside attention to the culture, but it didn’t bring a lot of good attention to it,” Tothero says. “It taught a lot of people, who had no idea what it was about, completely incorrect information. There were a lot of things that they didn’t show that are vital for making BDSM, BDSM and not just abuse.” Fifty Shades fails to show the support and respect BDSM couples share for one another before and after a “scene.” There is no clear communication and understanding between the characters, portraying a negative power dynamic between the two. Power dynamics are some of the most important and misunderstood aspects of the culture.

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As a fashion design student, Tothero finds herself focusing on things other than K.I.N.K. For her, she devotes most of her spare time to class projects. Outside of school, she also watches anime and creates costumes to wear at conventions with friends. “Even if one of my hobbies seems kind of strange to you, it’s not that weird,” she says. “There are lots of non-threatening people in the BDSM community.” The most common thing I hear when talking to members is that BDSM is a culture about love and respecting one another, something that doesn’t seem quite right if you’re someone on the outside looking in. “The culture is very much about respect,” Jennings says. “At the very least, it’s about finding other people that understand so you can talk to them about it.” Why do people think BDSM is such a taboo subject? It seemed so far from what people imagine or even what television depicts. “When we think of relationships, we think of them on a single dimension,” Hornung says. “It’s about love and trust and companionship. (Some) look at it and ask how you can love someone when you’re hurting them.” Despite being president, Hornung’s interests expand beyond K.I.N.K. “I spend a lot of time on art,” she says. “It’s a pretty big passion of mine; I do it every single day.” She also loves dancing, but with everything else she’s interested in, K.I.N.K. is still the focal point of most of her conversations. “It’s probably hard to believe since my name is attached to everything, but I am a very private person,” she says. “People really do think that this is a big chunk of my life, and I know that when

people talk to me about it. There’s always a shock factor to it.” Things like that don’t prevent Hornung from living her life. Like many other people who find themselves embedded in BDSM, it isn’t her whole life. She took on the leadership role for the polarizing organization without fully explaining it to her parents, telling them it’s mostly a relationship safety group, which she maintains, isn’t inaccurate. The meeting ends and I walk down the stairs of Bowman and outside with a new perspective of an otherwise foreign culture. Since the club’s early beginnings in 2014, the group has seen many changes, primarily the growth in the number of attendees. “A lot has changed about this club over the past couple years and I think at this point, we’re at our best,” Hornung says. “I think it’s really important for people to know that despite whatever posters you see with rope on them, we’re people, just like you. We may seem intimidating, but we’re just a nice bunch and we all want friends and companionship.” I’ve returned for a few more meetings after my initial experience. A small sign in front of the classroom now lets curious passersby know what is going on inside. It’s written in a friendly font, with ropes decorating the top and bottom. Crowds are always the same, albeit the numbers differ depending on the day. The attitude, however, is always the same: light-hearted, optimistic and casual. Not long after my first meeting, I recognize a K.I.N.K. member at the downtown bar Zephyr Pub, me with my girlfriend and some friends, him with a group of people I didn’t know. We make eye contact, raise our beers and smile at each other in the crowded, stuffy room before each going our separate ways. B ALEX KAMCZYC | akamczyc@kent.edu

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SPECIAL REPORT

ROAD TO

RECOVERY A month after Hurricane Irma, relief efforts continue in the Florida Keys WORDS AND PHOTOS BY CARTER ADAMS AND AARON SELF

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urricane Irma struck the Florida Keys on Sept. 10, leaving over 25 percent of homes destroyed, according to Federal Emergency Management

Agency. Weeks later, recovery efforts remain in beginning stages. Along U.S. Route 1, the main road connecting the chain of islands, thousands of pounds of debris remain piled in containment zones waiting to be hauled away by contractors from the mainland. Boats, refrigerators and washing machines litter the berm of nearly every road from Key Largo to Cudjoe Key. Neighborhoods, such as the Avenues on Big Pine Key, were particularly devastated and still in the initial stages of clean up, a reflection on the long road ahead for the Keys and its residents.

Hurricanes, they’re not a matter of if, but when. That’s the way the locals think about it. No one cries about it, they go on and rebuild.”

Charles Chappell, Big Pine Key resident of 18 years, walks through the destroyed second floor of his home on Oct. 21. Chappell and his late wife, Carol, retired to the Keys in 1999 to be closer to family. Chappell’s house was condemned by regional authorities due to excessive structural damage caused by Hurricane Irma, which struck the Florida Keys on Sept. 10. (Left) Chappell searches the destroyed upper level of what was his home, looking for mementos and anything that can be salvageable. Photos by Aaron Self

—CHARLIE CHAPPELL THEBURR.COM | 45

(Above) Camp manager Taylor Hunt and Program Director Cliff Freiwald of the South Florida Boy Scout Council stand in the remains of the camp meeting hall. The only intact piece of the building is the roughly 100,000-pound concrete slab that was the foundation. The flood waters picked up the slab and as the building twisted, driven by high winds, the entire structure crumbled. Photo by Aaron Self

(Above) Hunt poses for a portrait in front of a pile of rubble at the Camp Sawyer Edward B. Knight Scout Reservation in Big Pine Key. Photo by Carter Adams (Right) A boat sits wrecked near U.S. Route 1 across the road from the Scout Reservation on Scout Key. The boat has been featured in numerous media outlets, easily accessible along the shore. Photo by Aaron Self

READ ON WANT MORE? For more photos, visit theburr.com

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In five years the economy will be back to normal, but the environment is changed forever.” —TAYLOR HUNT

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CHARGED Putting amateur basketball skills to the test at minor league Canton Charge tryouts WORDS BY HENRY PALATTELLA PHOTOS BY DEVON KELLER AND NATE MANLEY

noise my ears have welcomed for as long as I can remember sends me into panic. Boom, boom, boom — the dribbling of a basketball, a sound that typically excites me. It transports me to shooting hoops in my driveway, or gathering courtside with friends to enjoy a game. Now, however, the bang of ball meeting court has taken on a new meaning. I’m left in fear as a hulking 6-foot-plus man charges in my direction, bouncing the ball ahead of him. It’s a sobering scenario that immediately reminds me just how out of my league I really am. He closes in on me and time stops. Everybody’s attention is on me as they wait to feast their collective eyes on a catastrophic embarrassment. How did I get myself into this position? I step up to the three-point line and await the pass. He gets closer and ... It all started last fall when I was working on a story about Chris Evans, a former Kent State basketball star playing for the Canton Charge, the Cleveland Cavaliers’ minor league affiliate. After taking in a Charge home game, I found out Evans made the team from a local tryout. The tryout, which was open to anyone who was a year removed from high school, costs $100, but presents you with an opportunity to earn an invitation to the Charge’s training camp.

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That promise brought 75 people of different ages and backgrounds to the Canton McKinley High School fieldhouse on the morning of Sept. 23 for the tryout. Some had previously played basketball professionally overseas or for other minor league teams. This couldn’t be said for the whole group, however, as some looked to be there for fun, or maybe just to prove to themselves they still had a little bit of game left. Everyone at the tryout at least looked like they had played basketball at some point beyond middle school. Everyone except for me. I was the last man on the bench in both seventh and eighth grade, and elected to play soccer and run track in high school. I’m an avid fan, but sadly my physical talents don’t match my unparalleled enjoyment for the sport. But that didn’t stop me from being in the middle of everyone else there. I’m a 20-year-old college student who lacks the fundamentals to keep up with most guys on the Kent State Recreation and Wellness Center courts, let alone players who have played Division I basketball. The disparity in skill and experience would soon be on full display. The Charge serve as the G-League affiliate for the Cavs, meaning any player on their roster has the opportunity to be called up to play at the professional NBA level. I could see it in my head

walking into the tryout: me rocking the wine and gold, throwing up alley-oops to LeBron James while the crowd chants my name. That daydream is fresh in my mind when I arrive. I turn in my forms at the main table, put my belongings on the bleachers and immediately scope out the competition. A few early arrivals had already taken to the court to shoot hoops, but for the most part the fieldhouse is quiet. All of the seating in the gym is above the court, reminiscent of the Roman Colosseum. I think of that analogy as I change. My shorts and jersey are my armor. The 28.7 by 15.2-meter court is the lion I need to defeat. Ian Kreider, my roommate who came to watch and take notes, roused me back to reality. He asks me if I am going to go through with it, and for a brief moment the idea of walking out sounds attractive. I could pack up, drive back to Kent, park on my couch and watch football on TV as opposed to running the risk of public embarrassment. For some reason, I chose the embarrassment. When I get to half court to start warming up, I realize my jersey is different than everyone else’s. My number is three, which is cool since I get to live my dream of wearing a jersey with a single digit.

Henry Palattella on Oct. 4 at the basketball court behind Centennial Halls. Photo by Nate Manley

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My excitement dwindles when I notice almost everyone else on the court has jerseys that read, “CHARGE BASKETBALL” with the Adidas logo across the front. Mine only has a small Charge logo on it. If all the other jerseys were varsity, mine would be JV. I put my jersey differences aside and take my place near the hoop. We wait for a loose ball to rebound, not unlike sharks swarming a boat for food. Luckily, I manage to get a rebound, so I do what anyone would do and dribble out to the three-point line and put up a shot. And miss. My ego checked, I grab another loose ball and take another shot. Nothing but net. I follow up with another make, and then another. But before

I think too much about what my nickname will be in the pros, I’m deflated by an air ball. When the dust settles and the whistle blows to call us to center court, my confidence is somewhere in the middle. I made some shots, but had some bad misses sandwiched in there, too. Coach Nate Reinking thanks us all for coming, stressing we each play our own individual game and, if we did, a set of eyes would find us. My game will surely get me noticed, just probably not in the right way. Warmups begin — the easiest part of the day for me. We are told to line up on the baseline in order of height. I move toward the end of the line and find a spot I thought reflected

Palattella “ponders his existence” during the Canton Charge open tryouts on Saturday, Sept. 23 at Canton McKinley High School. Photo by Devon Keller

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my height, but someone nudges me, telling me to move further down. Turns out at 5 feet 9 inches, I am the 11th shortest person at the tryout. The first drill we run is a weave drill where we must total five passes before someone takes a shot. Everyone else there could probably do the weave drill in their sleep, but not me. The last time I did that, Owl City had a hit song and HD-TV wasn’t a thing. I jog my memory and run the drill well, save for one minor blip where a guy cut me, screwing everything up and causing the drill to restart. “What the (obscenity) happened?” one guy asks to no one in particular. Good question, man.

Next we break into four individual groupsdesigned to test our skill sets. I didn’t see any stations involving 2000s sports trivia, so once again, I knew it would be a struggle for me. The first drill we do is the pick and roll, where we set a pick for a teammate, then pop out to take a shot after a pass. I’m in the other line, however, in which someone dribbles past the pick. I take two dribbles to get past the guy setting the pick, one more dribble, then rise up for a jumper at the free throw line. Swish. Just like in the backyard. I step into the other line to the sound of claps and encouragement from my teammates. Could I actually have a chance?

I miss my first shot from the corner, but knock down the second. And let me tell you, that feeling is one of the greatest of my life.”

Now it’s my turn to set a pick. I run out to the free-throw line, post up, hands on crotch in typical pick fashion, and move into the block looking for my shot. But then a whistle blows. “Set a real pick, son,” the coach tells me. I run out and aggressively put my hands on my crotch. It feels odd, but I don’t hear a whistle so it must’ve been an improvement on my last attempt. I complete the drill by going out for my shot, which was a miss. A bad miss. OK, I definitely do not have a chance. What a difference one minute makes. After that, we do two groups catered to the worst part of my game: dribbling and post moves. I haven’t worked on my dribbling moves at any point in my life, so it’s a rough five minutes. I find more of the same in the next drill of post moves, where the majority of my shots end up in the hand of Charge assistant coach Melvin Ely, the 6-foot-10-inch stand-in defender we played against, rather than the basket. The fourth and final drill we do is a shooting drill. No matter how inconsistent my jumper is, I’ve always loved shooting threes, so the thought of having a drill built around deep shooting has me all but salivating. I miss my first shot from the corner, but knock down the second. And let me tell you, that feeling is one of the greatest of my life. So what my first shot was such a bad miss it almost hit the coach in the face? I hit a corner three. I run back to the next line smiling. I miss my next six shots before the drill ends, but my smile doesn’t fade. After the drills, we split into two groups for a “three-on-two, two-on-one drill.” Three people go on offense against two defenders and have to put up a shot. The two defenders then go back on offense, with one person trailing back to play defense. I ran it with one of the first units to do it, and knocked down a jumper fading from the right baseline, eliciting a reaction from coach Reinking. “We’ve got a shooter on our hands I see,” he says from the baseline. I crack a smile, head to midcourt and prepare to take on the three players on offense with my fellow defender — my fellow defender who isn’t there. My partner misunderstood the drill and instead went to the other end of the court. I’m standing by myself. Here I am, three freight trains of athleticism coming straight at me, the happy sound of dribbling tarnished with this new terrifying context. I move up to the three-point line anticipating a pass from the guy bringing the ball down the court. The pass doesn’t come. He’s going to try and dunk it. Over me. I move out of the way, narrowly avoiding being dunked on. My last-second escape earns some laughs from spectators, but I can only imagine their reactions would be much more animated had he put me on a poster.

The final portion of the tryout is a series of small, five-minute five-on-five games. My team plays two games, and my stat line reflects the talent gap: zero for two shooting, four rebounds and one turnover. After the games, coach Reinking calls us to the middle, congratulating us for making it to the end of the tryout. He lets us know they’ll have a game with the top talent after the second group went and to stick around in case our number is called. After that, I go over to my belongings and decompress. I check my phone and let my family and friends know I survived. I talk to Ian, joking with him about the tryout before going over and talking to Sean Wyatt and Michael Clark, two of the Charge’s staff members who helped me organize my Charge stories in the past. They compliment me on my endurance and after that, I finally get to breathe. Watching the tryout as an observer is the first time I am able to grasp the magnitude of the moment. I watch people throw up some bad misses, but I also see a guy split the lane and throw down a dunk. It seems for every average Joe, there is someone who’s playing their ass off with hopes of earning a shot. Overall, the performances there are mixed. Some probably drove home happy, pleased with the performance they had, while others likely had a tougher trip back to their lives. For some, not making the cut maybe means another stint playing overseas, where the money is good, but the fans turn on you quickly. Maybe it means going to another team’s tryout. Or maybe it means something more drastic, like the end of a career. Let’s just say I’m still waiting for my call. Three days later, I decide to head to the Rec on campus to see if I absorbed anyone else’s talent during the tryout. I manage to play a couple games with varying degrees of difficulty. I knock down some shots I am supposed to miss and miss some shots I am supposed to make, but still, I hold my own. I work on some dribble moves that I saw people do at the tryout and practice one of the post moves coach Ely taught me. I’ll probably never play among the level of talent I played with during the tryout or in front of a professional coach again. For me, basketball is a hobby, something I play to stay in shape and have fun. But for some, basketball is a career or a dream they choose to spend their life pursuing — even if it means spending a Saturday morning in a high school gym trying to impress a minor league team. For three hours, it was my dream, too. B

HENRY PALATTELLA | hpalatte@kent.edu Ian Kreider, a sports reporter for KentWired, contributed to this story

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Seasoned pageant contestants strip away the glitz and glam of an industry buried in misconceptions WORDS BY KELLY POWELL PHOTOS BY KASSI JACKSON AND SAMANTHA KARAM

icture a row of four girls. One of them is a soft-spoken teenager, yearning for an outlet to express herself. Another is a small-town girl, mimicking the actions of her elementary school peers. The third is a high school musical theater kid, deliberating a change in extracurriculars. And the last is an elementary schooler, entertaining the appeal of being on stage. They are girls about to compete for a crown, a sash or a trophy. Hallie Saculla, Haylee Koester, Alice Magoto and Megan Stier, three students at Kent State and one an alumna of American Musical and Dramatic Academy, have a similar message — pageantry is getting a makeover, and it’s a fresh one. For all of these women, high heels, swimsuits and spray tans are not their primary concerns. The stereotypes, they say, are incorrect. At 14, Saculla, a senior studying journalism, gave pageantry a trial run by competing in National American Miss, a pageant for “growing confidence” in young women ages 4 to 18. Through a flyer in the mail and her mother’s prompting to try something new, Saculla entered. “I grew up really shy,” she says. “I pretty much tried every sport and I just wasn’t good at it, so my parents were like, ‘We need you to have an outlet to meet people, to do something.’”

After advancing to the national level, Saculla “fell in love” with pageants. She was fascinated by the business side of the industry: the high-dollar gowns, the lofty entrance fees and the mysterious aspect of the pageant sector. But after winning the Miss Ohio Teen title in 2013, Saculla became more fixated on the coaching side of competition. During the seven years she competed, she took direction from Christine Harmeyer, a pageant coach based in the Dayton area. After this time, Saculla recognized she preferred Harmeyer’s side of the enterprise, assisting young girls in preparation for their on-stage occasions. And Harmeyer loved her right back. “When I first met her, I literally, you could ask her mom, thought she looked like a Hollywood star,” Harmeyer says. “Her eyes twinkle … and this big smile … she has the most beautiful skin and the most beautiful striking features, and so that was my first impression of meeting her, and immediately I was taken aback by her. She seemed warm and friendly — I hate to say ‘like myself,’ but — like myself, and approachable, put-together.” Making a transition to the USA National Miss circuit, Saculla was a contestant’s dream judge. Photo by Samantha Karam

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ON THE COVER Alice Magoto poses for her first makeup-free photoshoot in Franklin Hall on Nov.2. Photo by Kassi Jackson For more photos of the women featured in the story, visit theburr.com.

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Categories subject to judging within the dinner and then breakfast and we’d send it home competition include formal wear, interview, with them on the weekends; then on Monday, community involvement and personal introduc- they’d come in and we’d feed them breakfast,” tion. In every portion, she says, contestants Koester says. “I helped them do their races and should simply present themselves in a way that then pack their bags and deliver them.” is “witty and memorable.” And formal wear, Not only have service opportunities kept Harmeyer says, isn’t just about walking across a Koester’s heart for pageantry beating, but the stage and back. relationships with other women in the industry “Most times, people see something have kept the blood flowing. Upon competing at and are like, ‘Oh wow, she just walked Nationals, Koester realized it didn’t feel much out, did a couple spins and just like its title: competition. Instead, behind the walked off,’” she says. “No, it’s scenes, women are bonding, creating “lasting actually like every single move- friendships” between interview, community serment that that girl did is pretty vice and formal wear categories. much a choreographed dance “When we go compete out at Nationals in down to every single gesture, head California, you meet all the other queens and turn and everything.” it’s crazy how close you guys get because I It’s a package, but not simply one remember going to other girls’ giving-awaywith beautiful wrapping paper, a pretty their-crowns ceremonies and bawling watching bow and a flashy To and From tag. Instead, when you open it up, the contents are impres- them give up their title,” she says. And it’s clear that Stier, an alum of American sive, with value and purpose attached to each Musical and Dramatic Academy, wants to fill one. The resume, biographies and achievements of the women in pageantry are bountiful, other women up rather than deflate them. Around the age of 12, Stier began to post YouTube videos Harmeyer says. Perhaps the best gift of them all is the plat- about the industry, covering topics like how to form contestants are required to take. Magoto, stand on stage and how to answer during the interview portion. Before she knew it, one of her a freshman double-majoring in fashion design videos was at a half million views. She was doing and fashion merchandising, took a stand on a what she loved, stepping out of her pageant heels platform called “Beauty Unedited: Redefining and helping others try them on for size. Beauty for the Next Generation.” Magoto was the “It kind of went a lot further than I thought, first 18-year-old in 55 years to win Miss Ohio in and as I got older, more people were asking me the Miss USA competition. Her goal was to for advice and stuff like that and it just kind of combat unrealistic standards set by the media, turned into a small little business,” Stier says. to disaffiliate from Photoshop and to promote According to these four women, a pageant authenticity on social media and in real life. With “Conquering the Confidence Curve,” contestant assumes every role: public relations spokesperson, humanitarian, public speaker and Magoto brought messages of empowerment to entrepreneur. The package is a present, a gift to middle and high school girls through four topics surrounding photo manipulation: setting goals, the surrounding communities, overflowing through the careful taping job trying to contain it. respecting themselves, fleeing gossip and cutting In other words, the contributions to their counties down on social media usage. offer more substance than a handshake and a wave. “I would get the girls up and we would stand “The typical stereotypes are: You’re a bimbo. in a big circle in the gym or the auditorium and You’re not intelligent. You’re just some ultra-femI would sing ‘Scars to Your Beautiful’ by Alessia inine, beautiful, perfect woman who is narcisCara and I’d have them sing along,” she says. “It sistic and basically just wants to be a model,” was always the best part because at that point I Harmeyer says. “They don’t really realize what had gotten through to the girls and I would get goes into pageantry is very much like any sport a lot of tears. I would get a lot of hugs, I would get or activity that anybody would do.” a lot of happiness and I would make them stand Although Magoto refers to her time in pagin a circle because you’ve got to look at each other.” eantry as “opening up so many doors,” she’s Magoto wasn’t the only one making waves refreshed that personally, she skipped the childin the pageant pool. Koester, a senior studying hood training and caught up at a later age. Her aeronautics and engineering, started competing with roots in humble soil around age 6. Compet- coach called her “the quiet storm,” as most people underestimated her abilities due to her late ing in the same circuit as Saculla, National entrance into the industry. She said no one knew American Miss, Koester took advantage of the service opportunities her small town had to offer, “she was going to come this hard.” To their knowledge, she was immature and naive. Little did partnering with “Meals ‘til Monday” to fulfill her they know, she was entering the atmosphere with platform requirement upon placement at the national level. strong gusts of wind from day one. “We would provide them with something on Magoto’s ascension to Miss Ohio 2016 did Friday and we would give them a full bag of lunch, not start with a high-end training facility.

Once that crown is placed on your head, you are stepping out of your own world and you are traveling and you are volunteering and you are helping others.” —ALICE MAGOTO

Photo by Kassi Jackson

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A lot of people think (pageantry) is a very self-centered hobby, when if you are in the right system, it is the complete opposite.” —ALICE MAGOTO

Photo by Kassi Jackson

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Instead, it began in her high school classes. Hallie and her sister further out of their “rather not be seen than seen” mentality, Cheryl says. The “I was answering questions in class like I pageant was addressed more as a communication would be answering interview questions because campaign as opposed to a glitz and glam outlet. the other girls I was going to be competing It embraced philanthropy rather than vanity. against were in college,” she says. “I didn’t have “I was delighted as a parent, and I was really that free time yet, so I had to utilize what I was wholeheartedly believing that it was a worthwhile given and be just as prepared as they were.” endeavor, just like any parent would in a sports It’s all about flexibility before, during and arena or in a speech and debate pursuit or anyafter the pageant. In Magoto’s case, this meant thing you do with your kid at that age,” Cheryl says. questioning if she was a bad titleholder because “To pursue something good is what I felt this was she was not doing the same amount of work her a part of, and I still feel that way. And the sad part predecessors had done. In order to make it to all is, I feel like it’s terribly misrepresented.” of her appearances, she lived out of her car, essenAfter watching Saculla present at the tially, for her year with the crown. She often Youngstown State University’s Annual Reading needed to fill her fuel tank in the middle of the Conference, Cheryl was convinced pageantry night after events ended, resulting in “lots of could hold its own in the world of extracurriculars. creepy nights at the gas station in a dress and a Saculla read to her grandparents, read at church crown and purse.” and was now addressing an audience of 700 about The “visual, eye-candy experiences” were the importance of letters on a page. Often, Cheryl frustrating, but events with substance filled says, competition judges wanted to know about the gaps. these things: “Did you collect books for underpriv“It’s just so much more than standing on stage ileged children? What did you do to show your and looking pretty because what a lot of people patriotism? How did you inspire others?” don’t understand is that it’s a year of service,” Pageantry is not for the faint of heart. Not Magoto says. “Once that crown is placed on your only do competitors need to present themselves head, you’re stepping out of your own world and as inspirational on stage, but Cheryl claims they you’re traveling and you are volunteering and you are inspirational in the back wings, too. Women are helping others. A lot of people think it’s a very with disabilities, women of differing ethnicities self-centered hobby, when if you’re in the right and women of alternating body types were all system, it’s the complete opposite.” present, and yet, there remained a sensitivity to In fact, pageant coaches suggest women in every difference. Cheryl says pageantry erased pageantry delete their titles from their résumé the in-crowd, too-this-or-too-that mentality. at some point in their lives if other accolades are “There are these kinds of mantras that they share; one of them is ‘I’m fearfully and wondermore current. Magoto says the CEO of Miss America recommends it should fall off eventually, fully made,’ and that’s direct from Scripture,” Cheryl says. “A lot of this you can take to a faithas it is considered a stepping stone to bigger and based place in your life, just knowing that you better things, not an “end-all, be-all.” were made for a purpose beyond your own and When it comes down to it, pageantry is about you were made for service and you were made to personal enjoyment. It’s not Toddlers & Tiaras, it’s get the goodness that shines from within you to not Little Miss Perfect and it’s definitely not Here others. And it sounds corny and cheesy, but it Comes Honey Boo Boo. Although the exaggerated goes a long way.” B side of the industry is out there, it’s part of the minority, according to all four pageant women. In KELLY POWELL | kpowel23@kent.edu fact, Saculla and Koester say National American Miss does not allow girls under the age of 13 to wear makeup of any kind. If caught wearing lip gloss or clear mascara, they are eliminated from the competition. “I think about where I was when I was 14 and I did my first pageant; I was so clueless, but I had so much fun,” Saculla says. “That’s really what it’s about. It was never (about) being the prettiest girl or the skinniest girl. It was just about creating a better version of myself each time I competed, as cheesy as that sounds. I want other girls to have that same feeling and opportunity.” As a matter of fact, Saculla’s mother, Cheryl, was the one who encouraged her daughters to compete in the first place. Presented as an “old-fashioned charm school-type thing,” National American Miss was the perfect way to break

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A KENT NIGHT OUT, IN A NUTSHELL Keen observations reconstruct one party-filled evening, complete with cheers, tears and beers WORDS BY MEGAN AYSCUE ILLUSTRATION BY SOPHIA DELCIAPPO

s the Saturday sun sets behind the oaks and pines across Kent, students flock on and around campus for a weekend of dating, dancing and drinking, each person searching for a momentary release, happiness or friendship. Light still lingering in the air, packs of young adults travel down the Esplanade toward downtown. A variety of outfits adorn the throngs of students resistant to the weather change. Some walk in preparation of the cold, blue jeans, leggings and tall boots insulating their legs from the chilly shadows. Flowing open sweaters grace the arms of some while others walk heads held high as if they’ve never felt cold in their lives, as they bare arms and midriff in crop tops and skirts. Many carry weighed-down drawstring bags and backpacks, a faint slosh or clank audible when closeby. One group approaches a house with a few people standing on its porch, red solo cups in hand. The shades are drawn but a subtle light sneaks through the cracks of the window covers and doorframe. Girls approach the door and ask to go inside. One of the guys by the door enthusiastically agrees, scanning each person up and down as they proceed. Color-shifting light engulfs the porch as the door opens, a muffled bass roaring from within. The door is quickly shut after the last of the group enters. To one side of the first room, a couch is crowded with too many people conversing at a closer-than-average distance from one another. As one girl tells a story, her drink sloshes a little over the lip of her red plastic cup, splashing on her hand and knee. She wipes away the liquid from her knee as she licks the drip falling down her hand, not missing a beat in the story she was attempting to tell. On the other side of the room, a beer-pong game is going strong, the table covered in a concoction of spilled drinks. The newly entered

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group stops to look around as one person takes beers and plastic bottles half full of different colored beverages from a backpack. One girl takes a pink drink while another takes a dark and bubbly one. Each winces slightly as they take a gulp. Music amplifies while heading down the narrow wooden stairs to a crowded stone basement. Closest to the DJ are mostly men, cheering as a new song comes on. Around them is a sea of people dancing as much as they can within a one-foot radius to avoid bumping into each other or spilling their drinks. A group of five girls and two guys makes it halfway down the stairs, scanning the sea of spinning and wobbling bodies to yell at one girl that they have to leave.

Around them is a sea of people dancing as much as they can within a onefoot radius to avoid bumping into each other or spilling their drinks.” They have another party to journey toward. A few streets down a different group enters a house with similar ease. It’s much darker outside now, cooler, but yells and laughter can be heard from all over the neighborhood. Inside, another beer pong game is surrounded with excited players and spectators, while the conjoined room is brimming with people. Dancers jump up and down as shapes spin on the walls from a light machine, the only source of light in the room besides the occasional camera flash from smartphones.

On the dance floor, someone passes out an assortment of canned beverages, supplying empty hands. One guy drinks from a clear bag filled with wine as someone else slaps it. Less crowded is the kitchen, people in sets of two leaning against walls and appliances while chatting, everyone with at least one drink inhand. Going out the back door from the kitchen, people sit in the dark smoking, crisp air masked by smoke. The chilly temperature deters most from staying outside long. Conversations are cut short as cigarettes are extinguished on a tree root and people head back inside, enveloped by shifting blue and red lighting, heavy bass and people dancing with bent arms so their lips are never too far from their drinks. Flooring is sticky inside and the air is humid, smelling of stale beer and sweat. Two girls giggle and stumble their way to a small bathroom barely big enough for one person, while a few couples head to the front porch searching for cleaner air to recuperate. One house down, someone throws up in a yard as someone pats their back. Some start to head home now, walking uphill back toward campus, piling into Ubers or walking to someone’s nearby apartment. Others continue to roam one street to another, looking for more parties to keep their night from ending. A small group starts singing as another consoles a crying girl. Downtown, the bars are found stocked with older crowds, aged out of the house party nightlife for the most part. Wind blows as the sidewalks become sparse, students few and far between, and cars vanish from parking spaces. Once home, these party participants will crawl into bed before sunrise, capping off a night of memories only to awaken to another search for the perfect night out. B

MEGAN AYSCUE | mayscue@kent.edu

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I’m forced to grow, forced to challenge myself and become a better teacher, a better poet, just a better person all around.” —REGIS COUSTILLAC 60 | THE BURR MAGAZINE

After dropping out of college to reassess his life, a student discovers his purpose through poetry WORDS BY VALERIE ROYZMAN PHOTOS BY SAMANTHA KARAM, JANA LIFE AND VALERIE ROYZMAN

Regis Coustillac at the Tom S. Cooperrider-Kent Bog State Nature Preserve on Oct. 13. Photo by Samantha Karam

hey chose to make the trek to the ocean at nightfall after a day of hiking. Winding their way down a steep decline, the seven-man group shuffled along through secluded trees, surrounded by towering, giant Redwoods. Much like Regis Coustillac’s life, the path through the dark was chilling, but the promise of something greater hung in the air. “I was stumbling forward in my life without any clear inclination of what I wanted to do,” he says. “And that was one of the times in my life when I realized going backward isn’t such a bad thing.” Just one month prior, Coustillac made a bold decision for an undergraduate — he hit the pause button on a college career as a finance major and withdrew from Kent State, a decision his family supported. In a final attempt to rejuvenate his fountain of inspiration, Coustillac and a group of high school friends embarked on a 25-day road trip across the country. Looking to explore the great outdoors, they stopped at seven national parks along the way, sleeping in cars to save money and showering at the beach. Coustillac took this trip, which he calls a “religious experience,” in August 2014, writing poetry along the way. This expedition was symbolic of a period of growth in his life. He worked to identify the root causes of his emotional upheaval, focusing on clean eating, meditation and getting his mind right. He recalls the phone conversation with his father shortly before deciding to withdraw from school. “I was in a really bad place in my life and it was affecting me emotionally,” he says. “(My dad)

could just hear it in my voice. He’s like, ‘You don’t sound right, man.’” The two met for dinner on campus when Coustillac’s father, also named Regis, offered advice few college students hear from their parents. “He just looked at me and goes, ‘Drop out,’ and in my head it didn’t even register to me what he said.” Not a religious man (although he was raised Catholic), it was under the night sky on his expedition that he found spirituality as a driving force in his poetry. Swirls of purple, gold and orange engulfed the sky, leaving only the outline of Wyoming’s Grand Tetons visible in the pitch-black atmosphere under the glittering Milky Way. “You realize that you’re very, very small, like not insignificant, but very, very small,” Coustillac says. “You’re a part of the mountain, you’re a part of the trees, you’re a part of everything. In that moment, I was like, ‘I get it, this is it. This is God.’” Now an English major, Coustillac is a senior student administrative assistant at Kent State’s Wick Poetry Center. As a teaching artist in the community, he relies on his natural abilities in Northeast Ohio where he interacts with a vast spectrum of ages, languages and cultures. He works closely with immigrants and refugees, giving a creative platform to share their stories. Coustillac merges poetry with English-learning for adults recently resettled to the United States at the International Institute of Akron. Additionally, he works with elementary and middle school students at Urban Vision, a weekly after-school program that acts as a poetry workshop for young writers.

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(Top) Coustillac teaches a poetry workshop at Urban Vision, an after-school program in Akron, on Oct. 11. Photo by Jana Life (Left) Coustillac works one on one with a student at Urban Vision on Oct. 11. Photo by Valerie Royzman

Coustillac, a native of Mentor, calls this a “really fortuitous bunch of events” that led to his job as a teaching artist. He has discovered that his passion in life is to utilize his way with words to help others find their voices. For this 23-year-old, the empathy he brings to his global circle of friends is all out of love for poetry. “What I’ve realized in teaching to all these different populations is that the people you would least expect to be poets have the most beautiful stories to tell, the most wonderful poems to share,” he says.

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Though Coustillac has loved words since childhood, he hasn’t always known that poetry was his calling. Only after his pursuit of a major in finance — a career he knew he could make a living in but not be fulfilled — went awry did he take a hard look in the mirror and decide to make a change. David Hassler, director of the Wick Poetry Center, taught Coustillac even before his return to the university. Hassler remembers the first time he noticed Coustillac’s poetic abilities, which

happened when he read a poem about his favorite color during a democracy symposium course Hassler co-taught in 2014. “I remember his presence, the tone and timbre of his voice, the way he read his own words,” he says. “(He) was not afraid of being vulnerable, (he) was impressive in the ability to show us his heart.” The two didn’t reconnect until one year later when Hassler offered Coustillac an internship and commented on his poetry after returning from his time traveling. Hassler commended him for his daring decision to walk away from his original plan. “Of course it’s bold,” Hassler says. “All of our real work comes out of a sense of bravery and a sense of willingness to take a risk and to be courageous.” In his year-long break from college, he channeled his creative energy into poetry, proving to himself it was worth pursuing and that it mattered to him outside the classroom. As his infatuation with words amplified, realizations began to unfold; there was something more he wanted to

(Above) Coustillac’s students, immigrants part of the International Institute of Akron, write poetry inside a classroom at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Akron on Oct. 25. “Whether you were born in Syria or Akron, Ohio, poetry has that unique ability to connect us on that deeper level of a shared human experience,” says David Hassler, the director of the Wick Poetry Center. “Regis models that sensitivity and passion.” Photo by Valerie Royzman

give the world. “I took a hard look at myself and realized I want to write. I want some kid to pull me off a shelf one day and for it to make a difference in their life.”

The monotonous three-day rain slides down the windshield, tiny droplets exploding as the car finishes winding through Kent, entering Akron. Coustillac turns his volume dial up. Childish Gambino’s voice echoes from the radio. “I remembered to sharpen all the pencils today,” Coustillac jokes. Stepping out of the vehicle, he hurriedly parades up two flights of stairs and begins writing on a dry-erase board. Kids scuttle into the room, take their seats and eagerly await instruction. Coustillac illuminates the entire space not with the click of a lightswitch, but rather the 100watt upward curve of his mouth. The first thing eyes gravitate toward is his smile and the way it inspires others to return the kind gesture. What follows is an attribute easy to overlook but well worth noting. Underneath his cuffed, light-wash jeans and scuffed Vans is a pair of colorful, eccentric socks. These pieces reflect his energetic spirit. Coustillac’s job as a teaching artist is to encourage free thoughts and the telling of familial stories, all intended to advance students’ confidence. Teaching artists work in both group settings and individ-

ual sessions to create poems meant to inspire a generation of young, culturally diverse poets. As he tries to explain the meaning of the word “celestial” to second and third-graders in honor of Earth Day, he urges them to “put your thoughts on paper.” Giggles emulate in the room and hands shoot up into the air, some kids restlessly wanting to be called on, some blurting out responses from the excitement they cannot contain. “Heaven.”

“A huge refugee place.”

“When I think of Earth, it feels like I’m holding a hand.” Sarah Wallace, one of Coustillac’s poets from last spring, says writing poetry can be a challenge, but once she begins creating a poem, she can write forever. “It takes a long time to understand,” she says. “But once you get it, you’re like, ‘Oh my God, that’s amazing!’” Coustillac encourages students like Wallace to delve deep into their emotions. The 12-year-old says writing a poem sometimes depends on her mood. “Sometimes I don’t feel like writing,” Wallace says. “The hardest (part) is when you don’t feel like writing and Regis tries to make you. Then you feel like writing again.” As the last crowd of thankful faces from Urban Vision heads home, Coustillac pauses for a brief moment, quietly mouthing, “I’m going to really miss those kids.”

For most, the journey to self-discovery isn’t always smooth sailing. Coustillac has, through the years, crafted a balance in life. He melds his passion for writing and his way of making sense of the world, with a newfound purpose: education. “I think that the education system is broken,” he says. “We need to be able to cater more to the students’ needs, to play their strengths rather than show off their weaknesses.” Hassler, who Coustillac could go as far to call his “poetry dad,” thinks Coustillac’s newfound voice is what brings him success in teaching. “He felt that transformation himself before he could become the teacher he is today and certainly the person he is today,” Hassler says. This fall, Coustillac mentors three new groups of students. Trevell Thomas, a 10-year-old at Urban Vision, says poetry makes him happy because when he enters the classroom, “you can go crazy with words.” With a wide grin, Thomas says Coustillac “doesn’t care if you make a mistake” and that poetry doesn’t always have to make sense. “You just have to like it,” Thomas says.

The smell of a traditional Bhutanese rice dish and spices wafts through the stuffy church room air. “Just a snack,” explains one of Coustillac’s students at the International Institute of

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Akron. For several folks in his class, this reminds them of home, a feeling Coustillac urges them to articulate out loud and on paper. Other than Bhutanese students, Coustillac interacts with a wide variety of languages and backgrounds. Akron’s North Hill neighborhood is home to a myriad of immigrant and refugee populations, predominantly those from Nepal, Uzbekistan, Syria, Iraq and the Republic of Congo. He turns to his students, a true melting pot, and instructs them: “Talk about your food. I am from … whatever, right? I am from spaghetti with marinara sauce and garlic and onions.” Faces of all ages smile across the room, a universal understanding. Coustillac is referring to his Italian ancestry. He says it can be difficult to picture walking around in the shoes of the immigrants and refugees he teaches, but his family history and stories from grandparents help. Coustillac’s humility aids him in connecting with populations at IIA, even through language barriers. “You just need patience,” he says. “Most people don’t give them the time, and it can take a lot of time, to figure out what they’re trying to say or to help them. These people are just in a tough spot.” For Fatima Mardi, 41, a Moroccan immigrant who came to the U.S. 11 years ago, writing poetry didn’t come as an easy task, but proved to be helpful in coping with childhood memories after her mother died. Mardi lost her mother at 13, left to fend for herself and five younger siblings all on her own. Her father forced her to drop out of school to raise her siblings, as he, she says, no longer cared to be part of the picture. “When I write a poem about my mom’s life and my mom’s death, I am so emotional. (Her death) hit me like a storm when I was little,” she says, tears in her eyes. “This is like a therapy so I can smile again.” For her, poetry is a creative outlet of emotion and thought, pure honesty without judgment. Coustillac says poetry is an excellent way of dealing with sorrow without masking it. He wants his students, young and old, to understand that even through pain, there’s always something there, there’s a reason for it. After years of living in the dark questioning why she was “punished” after her mother’s death, Mardi says poetry answered this question for her. “Poetry helps realize,” she says. “This is something you can’t control. Do not save it inside of you. Put it on paper. Just leave it in the air. Say, ‘Air, take it away.’” Mardi adds that individuals like Coustillac have really made the difference, giving her opportunities she’s never had before. “I appreciate so much from him and I will always be thankful,” she says, going silent for a moment, unable to find the right words. “I don’t know how to describe him. It’s everything about him. I want to say, ‘I wish I had a son like you.’” Though Coustillac feels grateful for the praise, he said it’s really the stories of the refugees

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(Above) Fatima Mardi (left) interacts with Coustillac, discussing her latest poem in Akron on Oct. 25. (Left) Coustillac writes on Oct. 13 at the Wick Poetry Center. Photos by Valerie Royzman

and immigrants that make his work rewarding. “At the end of the day,” he says,“I feel like I did something worthwhile. I feel like I reached people.” Coustillac explores syntax, sentence structure and native sounds with his students. He says traditional English classes sometimes cause learners to fall into rhythms that don’t always work. In poetry, they’re forced to play with language and think creatively. Coustillac hopes his students feel proud after they leave a two-hour session with a poem in hand. It’s more than learning English, he says; it’s a creation they go home with, not just another sentence to throw away. “A lot of people think that with immigration, once someone immigrates to America, the work is done,” he says. “No, because now they’re living in communities, they may be isolated, they may not be accepted. It’s our job to make sure not only that they get here, but that they feel welcomed, that they feel part of society. If we’re not doing that, we’re only doing half the job.” Mardi feels that in stepping foot into the world of poetry, she gains a voice not only for herself, but for everyone like her. Poetry helps her realize the message, she says, all immigrants and refugees in the community should hear: “Let’s let love grow and come in. In the end, we are human beings; I love you and you love me. All these people come and teach me — that’s love right there. I don’t think I can ask for more.”

Coustillac, who’s preparing to graduate in December, brushes off compliments with humble smiles and quiet gratitude. He tries to find the words to explain how he feels knowing he helps give others a new voice. Using the skills he knows best, he offers a metaphor, comparing himself to a copper wire. “That’s all you need to be because it’s the most unsung thing in the world, yet it’s everywhere, it’s all around you,” he says. “And you get to transport all this energy, all this electricity from one place to another.” He says the children and adults he interacts with have so much energy in them, but sometimes they don’t know how to get it from one point to another, which is where he steps in. “If I can be that in-between, if I can be that wire that runs from their community to another place to amplify that voice, it feels awesome,” he says. If society was made up of people who wanted to be copper wires, Coustillac says the world would function differently. As he sees it, the problem is that everybody wants to be the light at the end of the wire. “They all want to be the star; they all want to be famous — why?” he asks, shaking his head. “I don’t think it feels any better. Light bulbs burn out pretty fast, wires last forever.” B VALERIE ROYZMAN | vroyzman@kent.edu

Illustration by Dean Sweetnich

Laws of Entropy ie George State by Carr After dark, you told . about your wish to cut oﬀ your arm How we fool the mind with appearance: skin mistaken for armor,

armor for intus strength. Xere, officid es vendebit dolorepe dolora corectemped ut quemistaken nia veliquiae coria exceritint.Ucias vernat. The wild orange in the tea curdled the milk. Tiny chunks, grains of white, whirlpooled in the night-colored mug. What else can we ruin tonight? Methods of destruction spelled out for us with the letters of parachuting leaves. Sunset colors leaping from shadow-cast trees in autumnal fury. Dry smells in the distance. Everything tends to disorder. Our right arms, our hair curling, the white grains, small swirling pieces of universe.

Luna Negra

We represent the artistic spiral of an unrelenting creative student body that will never stop ﬁghting to be heard. Share Your Creative Work lunanegramag.com / lunanegramag@gmail.com

Kent State’s Literary and Arts Journal

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THE LAST SHOT WORDS AND PHOTO BY CLINT DATCHUK

ountless wailing sirens fill the air, answering to the hypochondriac and the genuinely afflicted alike. How many people are blinding themselves right now? Afraid to look up, I pull the front of my cap down and avert my eyes from the sky. I bet there’s some kind of black magic happening right now, a ritual that can only be done during a eclipse. We aren’t experiencing a total eclipse here in Kent;

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we only have a partial glimpse at one of nature’s most curious spectacles. How many people have no idea the eclipse is happening today, Aug. 21, and think there’s some new virtual reality 3D movie everyone’s going wild for? Well, in all honesty they wouldn’t be far off — it was a 3D movie, broadcast in the great big blue sky by Mother Nature herself. And all of us in Kent were watching.

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