No. 11: Creation

COLLECTIVE X Fashion with perspective Fall 2022 NO.11

Letter from the Editor

What does creation look like to you? Is it building from scratch? Distorting that which currently exists? Forming something concrete from chaos? For many, our need for finality has degraded our sympathy for the journey; we offer this space as tribute to the exercise of creation.

As we explore ideas of generation and refinement—in our art, in our identities, and in our communities—we are challenged to synthesis old and new knowledge alike to construct understandings of the rapidly evolving world around us. In this issue, we invite you to re-engage with the beauty within the process of formation. Slow down and bear witness to the narratives of re-discovery born through our artistic collaboration.

I am honored to present the fall 2022 issue of Collective X magazine; I hope this edition may serve as a reminder that creation is many things, but it is never finished.

-natalie kalitsi

Acknowledgements

First, I would like to acknowledge the we are on stolen and exploited land. Cornell University is located on the home lands of the Gayogo̱hó:nǫ, the Cayuga Nation. I ask you all to remember and acknowledge what lands we are on. I would also like to acknowledge that we are still in a pandemic, but as we heal from the people and time we lost, we create beauty. There is something so special about creating, and doing it collectively. This is truly a labor of love and I would like to thank everyone who came on this journey with us. Thank you all for being patient and having a desire to learn.

Since my freshman year, I have never seen a turn out for CX this big until this semester. I thank you all for holding space with us and bringing your vibrant energy. I would also like to thank our CX alumni, especially Kemba, Olivia, and Tayyaba for taking time to guide us! AHH omg, also miss soon-to-be alumna, Natalie, I could have not done this without you. I’ve learned so much from you and I’m grateful I got to experience this with you (Wow a true Capricorn! ). I would also like to thank our e-board, our very own executive team of amazing and dedicated artists and leaders. Big shoutout to our art director Catherine, we all really stayed up *nights* completing this mag for y’all!! I hope you eat this up, because we def did! Thank you to all the the people who contributed to this mag, your time and vulnerability is everything.

Lastly, I would like to extend my gratitude to the QBIPOC community of hotties! You are our drive, you are our people and I hope you all feel seen in our mag. Love y’all!! See y’all again next semester.

Xoxo Marz

Generational Trauma

Written by Arbany Jimenez-Castro

Photos by Ana Carmona-Pereda, ChapLum Lau, Sydney Kang, Kitil, Iman Thiam

Fashion Feature: Della

Interview by Priya Phillips, Aaliyah Taylor

Photos by Chris Desir, Iman Thiam

Written by Loren Hunt

Photos by Kitil, Sydney Kang, Lauren Lam

A Prayer to a Mother

Written by Pareesay

Photos by: Yemisi Mustapha

Fashion Feature: Marwa Interview by Pranathi Adhikari, Tiesa Green

Photos by Kitil, Iman Thiam, Sydney Kang 47 Snack Time

Written by Ana Carmona-Pereda

Photos by Chris Desir, Aishwarya Rajapolan 54

Fashion Feature: Yonny Interview by Pareesay, Praise Makinde Photos by Iman Thiam

Chipping

Writing by: Deb Suarez

Photos by: Amanda He and Iman Thiam

TRAUMA.series TRAUMA

Generational Trauma

Arbany Jimenez-Castro

Despite being planted tragically, the seedling watered with acid and sunned with shame, grew weak and rose downwards into the nostalgic, rich soil of home and bones of death—giving life native tongues whispering* hairs quivering on its green core hands bowing down to the ground Defeated. Yet praying to its ancestors, who stood proudly in their village against the Mayans asking how to cleanse the sins of their planter even after the church built their tower— Y los niños solo jugaban por el Zócalo, while natives mutter a dead dialect to the lone seedling wrapping its arms around itself not knowing they are chanting grow grow grow

*Whispering refers to what the seedling “hears” at the end. The ancestors are not in the literal space of the plant as they are in a spiritual realm, hence them being ancestors and not people in the modern day. Plants also cannot literally hear. Indigenous culture refers to and relates a lot to the physical and spiritual connection between plants and people.

OI

FASHION FEATURE:

DELLA KEAHNA WARRIOR

Della (they/he), a 2nd-semester senior, studies environment and sustainability with a concentration in environmental humanities and minors in American Indian Indigenous studies and fash ion studies. Interview by Priya Phillips and Aaliyah Taylor.

PP: There’s a notion that if you get attached to material objects, you’re somehow standing in the way of personal spirituality. Being a sustainability major, do you have anything to say about that?

I have seen a lot of people pivot: they’ll go to the mall and their little Forever 21 high school stuff, but some people will shift into thrifting. I’ve seen some people take it a step further and be like, “I need to think critically about how much I’m thrifting because a haul is still a haul.” I feel like there’s just so much beauty in the world and, as long as you’re actually appreciating it, who cares if you’re dropping $50 at the local

thrift store?

AT: How would you describe your sense of style?

I’m very much—one of my friends identifies as an “anti-capitalist maximalist” and that resonated with my soul a lot ‘cause everything I own is second-hand. I upcycle. I love patches, pins, and customizing pieces. Whether that’s paint ing or beading them, it’s a very messy, chaotic, not-particularly-curated collection. It doesn’t always represent who I am as I can be very practical, which is the small-town piece of me, so I’m a little bit of both.

PP: What’s the emotional process of creating a piece like?

I rarely plan out my pieces unless I really have to for measurement’s sake. It will very much be, “I had an idea and I need to execute it before my head explodes.” It usually works out better when it’s that sort of intense, creative energy. I feel like I can’t rest until it’s done, so it just needs to get out there before I forget.

AT: Is there anything within fashion that you feel in tensely passionate about?

I have a very strong sustainability focus. I don’t think new things are impossible to create and I do think that there’s a very promising nature to this closed-loop/cir cular economy stuff people are bringing up. So, I do feel very passionately about not being wasteful—finding things that you like and wearing them to death. On a more social level, I’m passionate about people being able to express themselves. I feel like there is pressure not to stand out, even though a lot of people kinda want to!

PP: Within that social level of expression, has fashion functioned as a form of communication for any of your personal relationships?

It has opened conversations, especially because I grew up with a lot of hand-me-downs. I’ve got a little roster of aunties that are really cooky and give me their stuff since age eleven. I’ll still wear their stuff now and send them pictures and be like, “look what I wore to this thing.” If I saw someone wearing something I felt a connection with, I’d probably feel comfortable talking to them about it as I’ve been able to bond with a lot of people through this form of expression.

AT: Jumping off of the idea of roots, how do you feel that your culture and upbringing have been incorpo rated into your fashion and the pieces you collect?

The fact that I grew up in

so many places definitely added to it as I wanted to have pieces from all of the different homes. I’m from four different indigenous American backgrounds, and they’re really far away from each other. I’ll be getting gifts from people in different places that I’ll just wear all at once and go “hang on, this is giving a message.”

Both of my parents are also very im passioned artists. My dad used to make custom jackets. I wear one of his jackets all of the time to the point where people associate it with me and who I am. It’s inter esting since it’s literally who he was.

AT: Since identity and style are personal expressions, do external expectations make fashion a creative challenge or creative freedom?

I can’t say I don’t feel the pressures of socie tal expectations, but

I feel like I’ve had the freedom and the confidence to be a little bolder, whether that was to show my identity as an indig - enous person or a non-binary person. Or, you know, even as an artist. When I feel ner vous or unappreciated, the thing I still have on is what I put on in the morning. That was one method of control I had in unsafe environments, I will say.

PP: You mentioned being an artist, would you say that you’re creating a feeling of beauty or another sense of self with fashion?

Beauty has very little to do with it. I actually went through an arc where I was known as the “Indigenous Barbie,” but I felt like I was putting on a show because I didn’t feel like myself. Since then, I stepped away and learned not to think about the beauty, but the sensation instead. And obviously, [my clothes] still come together cohesively visually. Yeah, I don’t know, *laughs* the goal is to feel cool.

By Loren Hunt

WHAT IF LIFE IS FABRICATED?

What if life is fabricated?

It is the beginning of everything and nothing all at once like talking with a friend for hours but somehow not discussing anything at all. It is the beginning of Creation.

Am I created in His image?

The paths I have walked and the paths I will walk are predestined, cultivated from His mind.

The earth was without form and void, an abyss of darkness, really, until He said:

“Let there be light,” and there was light.

Is Creation personified when we utter words with intention?

Do we embody the very construction we are building when we say what we mean and mean what we say?

I suppose those people who recite affirmations are not just a cliché. So, does my purpose dictate my actions or do my actions dictate my purpose?

Is Purpose linked with Creation?

Because if creation means to bring something into existence and existence is the state of being, then the purpose of my existence must be to create… But, maybe it is to pro-create, cuz “Ain’t I a Woman?” Is that not my job— to give birth and populate the earth?

To speak my Truth, I say [redacted] the anti-feminists and the your-body-but-not-your-choice believers and the human rights stealers cuz y’all got me fever dreamin’.

Butwhatif I am thecreator?

But what if—

I am the creator?

Do I hold the paintbrush upon the easel, the power of the pen upon the paper? Yes, life is fabricated, but I— I am the seamstress.

As I lay my mind to rest, it is filled with the dreams I manifest.

CREATIVE FEATURES

Dedicated to Cornell’s community of creatives exploring new realities with their art. This semester, we asked: What does creation mean to you?

Poems, drawings, pho toseries, hip hop chore ography; We invited you to respond to our prompt, and

y’all had a lot to say. The following is collage of vi sual interpretations of our Fall 2022 theme. Thank you to all the cre ators who shared their work with us! Enjoy our creative collage <3

FashionwithperspectiveFashi

Jasmine Chang

Angel Lagumas

ion with perspectiveFashionw

Cutout: Albert Zhou Print: Savannah Flores

Savannah Flores

Jianing Zhao

MISSION

Collective X is a fashion, art, and literary publication platforming the narrative experiences of oppressed and disregarded populations at Cornell University. With a focus on highlighting the diversity of creative talents within ethnic/racialized diasporas, we employ artistic exploration as a means of fostering community. Art is a healing medium, and we aim to hold space for its commen taries alongside its beauties.

PattyMeza

Albert Zhou

Brenda Umwali

prince abrahams

Fataha Rahman

Albert Zhou

PRAYER

trigger warning: the content below deals with themes of female infanticide/femicide.

paressay

LET ME CHOOSE HOW TO GROW

i wasn’t created by the fierce, malevolent God of men. i was twisting and turning in the holy waters of your womb, unaware of the fate i’d be condemned to: being a Woman. mother, if they choose to let me grow, let me choose how to grow, just shield me from the brutal storm. let me play in the dirt with the boys, don’t cover me up. feed me from your hand but don’t ask me to cook. and if you need to cry, hold me close, just don’t give my hand to another.

mother, i am made from the same stardust as the universe, in the image of a God not my own. i am meant to grow like tendrils crawling from the earth even if it’s through cracks. i am a battle fought before it’s started: i am a Woman.

mother, cradle me in your warm arms and sing me a sweet song one more time before laying me gentle, if they force you to, with all the unnamed ones laid to unrest— in rotting remains and murky waters our last breaths.

mother, don’t fret—this isn’t over, i lived, inside you, and i still will. i am a breath uttered as a prayer into the cosmos, a cry untamed before it is silenced. i am neither life nor death. i am free.

There are certain things—styles, trends, conversations—that you just can’t really be a part of when you have different interconnecting identities, so you have to find a place for yourself. Mar wa (she/her), a junior majoring in Information Science, talks about how her style intertwines with her identity. Interviewed by Pranathi Adhikari & Tiesa Green.

PA: Let’s start by asking: how do you define fashion?

MB: Fashion is the art of using clothing and materials to express yourself or a certain idea that can help you identify with a certain group within society. I feel like fashion can be a means to help group you into another society, or even ostracize you away from society, depending on how you’re perceived.

TG: How would you describe your style?

My style is a mix of everything I’ve grown up around, so I would say it’s pretty unique. A lot of it definitely revolves around my hijab identity with a bit of streetwear, and cottage-core too, because I like earthy tones a lot and flowiness. There’s some goth and emo, too; it really does fluctuate every where. It’s very scattered; I’m still exploring.

PA: How do you incorporate your culture and cultural background into your sense of fashion?

My identity as a hijabi has changed over time, but my culture has always stuck: no matter what style I end up wearing or how my hair is styled, I’ll always wear a scarf. In both of my parents’ cultures, from Eritrea and Sudan, gold is a big thing for women, so, for me, accessorizing with gold has always been a pretty big constant. I express the certain identities that I have—being a girl and a black woman—in a way that’s true to me.

TG: You’ve talked about your hijabi identity as a label. What did that label entail and how have you created a unique identity for yourself beyond that?

Wearing a hijab comes with a hyper-awareness that I’d be perceived based on the way that I dress. Women who wear a hijab aren’t a monolith; we don’t all behave and dress in the same, submissive way.

PA: How did you intertwine that identity into fashion?

When I was younger, my style was mainly influ enced by hijabi influencers from social media and Youtube. But later in high school and into college, I started to take issue with larger hijabi influencers because they just took popular clothes that ev eryone would wear and made it modest, by, like, putting a long-sleeved shirt under a tank top. And I didn’t really like that because it was more imitation than actually being a different style. So that’s what made me want to try my own style.

TG: How did your childhood influence your fashion styles?

I didn’t grow up very rich. I grew up pretty low-income actually. I’d always see people wearing designer stuff like Jordans, LV bags, and just like nice stuff that I couldn’t have. I was big on shoes and sneakers, even if I couldn’t afford them. I think those were the biggest things that I felt like I wasn’t as included in sometimes.

Now that I’m exploring my fashion and have more money, I’m healing my inner child by

THERE’S SOMETHING COMPLEX ABOUT THE IDENTITY OF A HIJABI THAT HAS INFLUENCED ME; FIGURING OUT WHAT WEARING A HIJAB MEANS TO ME AND LEARNING HOW TO SEPARATE MYSELF FROM THE HIJABI INFLUENCERS I SEE ON SO CIAL MEDIA HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE

getting stuff that I wanted when I was younger. Like I got my first pair of Jordans in college because I never had Jor dans growing up. I have a chance now to go back to what I liked before and incorporate that [into my style] now that I have the money and a sense of what I like.

PA: How has your relationship with fashion changed through different phases of your life?

So I have a twin sister, which adds some context to how I was raised. My mom always had me and my sister match when we were in elementary school. In middle school, my relationship with fashion was pretty neutral. My fashion was pretty much just trends that I had access to at the time.

I had Vans, Adidas superstars, and that green jacket that everybody had in middle school.

I would say that in high school, I started becoming more aware of how outfits are put together.

THE BIGGEST THING I WAS FOCUSING ON IN THOSE YEARS WAS HOW IT FITS MY BODY AND IF I FELT CONFIDENT IN IT.

I think that the relationship that I have with fashion has a lot to do with my own sense of self-worth. I feel like I’m at my most confident, most secure place, with my fashion.

TG: What is your day-to-day process of putting together a fashion look? Why is that valuable to you?

I try to be aware of how fashion pieces go together: color balance, how accessories compliment an outfit, the importance of materials and textures, you know. If I’m wearing flared pants, I’ll wear some thing tighter on the top, or chunkier shoes—maybe even platforms—but if I’m wearing tighter pants, I’ll wear something more low-profile, like sneakers and a bulkier top.

Because I always have to have something on my head, my hijab has become an accessory that I have to work out in my outfits. I have a ton of satin and chiffon scarves, so I end up tying together the outfit with that because I don’t like to get stuck in a certain style. If I’m wearing something that I’ve never worn before, I see it as an experiment.

snack time in an idyllic garden is not for all

snack time in an idyllic garden is not for all

Ana Carmona-Pereda

a gate opens, the sign reads “for everyone” where captivated dreams can be lived and relieved. “everyone has a chance in the idyllic garden.”

a gate opens, the sign reads “for everyone” where captivated dreams can be lived and relieved. “everyone has a chance in the idyllic garden.”

pale skinned kids, please take a seat. zip lock bags with the most organic heaven-sent carrots.

pale skinned kids, please take a seat. zip lock bags with the most organic heaven-sent carrots.

a cup of ranch dressing, it’s impressive how it sits alongside tempting, crafted with love, exact proportions of earth’s greatest invention. it fills their bellies, preparing them for life outside so someday they’ll sit in an office, veggie fried brain, they’ll teach your children someday in schools where dreams shine brighter than skyscrapers, all they’ll ever do, is shine

a cup of ranch dressing, it’s impressive how it sits alongside tempting, crafted with love, exact proportions of earth’s greatest invention. it fills their bellies, preparing them for life outside so someday they’ll sit in an office, veggie fried brain, they’ll teach your children someday in schools where dreams shine brighter than skyscrapers, all they’ll ever do, is shine

because away from the idyllic garden is an alley. a garden of wild flies buzzing, decomposing fruits root deeper into the ground, burying years of untouched dreams, of those who didn’t make it past eighteen, missing bullets, they pull up to guard our avenues.

this alley wishes to grasp just a speck of refreshable, savory, delightful fruits, providing a home to the unfortunate because snack time isn’t the same and not everyone is lucky enough to get chopped up carrots and ranch dressing at their service because brown-skinned kids, stiffed bodies, follow the rules.

this ain’t no preschool. listen to elders, don’t follow your passion, sit orderly fashion, they don’t have compassion, did you say something? shhhhhhh he’ll cuff your wrists, erase your imprint like it’s never existed.

cafeteria tables crowded, chipped plastic plates, half frozen chicken sticks, unwashed, dirt infused leaves. spoiled milk of all sorts. we don’t crave, instead conversations overpower the rage of not being fed the same.

bodies programmed, to accept the little things because growing up, you don’t have the luxury to decline or ask for a better garden, instead, you settle for less.

this garden holds criminals, can’t let future entrepreneurs escape.

“your ancestors were free, but we’ll make sure no one’s looking this time.”

we’re starving, dying, weeping, malnourished. we want the sweetness of fruits at the tip of our tongues for an eternity, we want our garden to be majestic, know what it feels like to be loved indefinitely. give us a taste of what it means to be whole, not part of a whole. all we want is a decent plate on the table, give us something to thrive off of, where we can build our dreams from, be enough to survive in the wilderness. all we all want is snack time, a little bit of freshness, freshen me up. freshen us up. don’t tell us to straighten up. wake the fuck up. but eating bruised apples is less exhausting than seeking answers so we lay our dreams in a coffin every night in an attempt to manifest them, a kid sits on a table having the luxury to pick from pineapples to pomegranates. on the other end sits another kid, sipping on spoiled milk, eating oozing strawberries. getting told to eat, eat, eat, against his will.

Yonatan Mekonnen is all for branching out and voicing freedom in fashion. A senior in the Dyson Business School, Yonny (he/him) from Maryland makes music and has a clothing brand called Fall of Icarus.

PA: So, what are you wearing right now?

YM: I got these jeans from Grailed. It’s different, it’s got zips all over it. I have a shirt that says “WE SHOOT RACISTS,” cuz you know—facts. And I got these Jordans

PA: What does creation have to do with fashion?

On Instagram, there’s this account called people gallery; I love their videos because everyone is telling you the exact pieces they have, why they bought them, and what they think fashion is. Putting on different items can be all over the place, but it’s a creation of someone’s mind.

PA: What elements do you think of when you put an outfit together? It’s mostly about the way it fits me and the way it comes together. Matching is very important since you don’t want to look fully matched out. Also, you don’t need money to know how to dress. You don’t need to buy designer. Thrift ing, Marshall’s, and Macy’s all work.

PM: What would you tell someone who can’t afford designer but wants to explore their style?

I would tell them not to worry about that. People who learn how to dress before the money are the best

dressers. I don’t even have money to buy designers all the time. Just being able to look at clothes and say “I could put this together to look good” is enough. It’s all about mindset.

PA: Do you think Maryland impacted your sense of fashion?

Yes! I have friends in the DMV (DC, Maryland, and Virginia) who I look up to fashion-wise. One of my friends would wear things nobody was wearing: Odd Future, Thrasher, Supreme, and box logo hats. He was like my big brother in a way and used to give me shirts to wear sometimes. Whenever I didn’t have a fit, he’d be like “I got you.” But he’d make me create the fit myself, so it would have to look good or he wouldn’t give it to me.

PM: Do you think any part of DMV culture takes a part in your fashion?

I’m not a fan of DMV style. They wear really skinny jeans with heavy coats. I used to dress like that in high school, but it’s changed a little bit. I mostly take my inspo from people in New York and moguls like Bloody Osiris. I [also] try to get some inspiration from music [like] cyberpunk, rock, and rap. I don’t believe in one type of style since branching out is what makes you a true fashion person, which is the basis of my brand.

PM: Wow, a brand. What started it?

It was a random phone call. In a three-way call, we were just talking and I said I wanna do fashion, and they said they did too.Everything worked out perfectly and fell in together as I have always wanted to start a business and make clothes.

PA: Does your brand have a distinct vision?

Fall of Icarus gives people the wings to fly towards their freedom, so they don’t burn it off. We do this to give people a sense of fulfill ment in their goals, but also something nice to show off. We make [the price] fairly cheap [so people can] look good at a good price.

PA: Do you think your perspective on fashion has changed after your brand?

I still suck at dressing, like, really bad. One reason is my parents are very Af rican and they didn’t allow me to wear certain clothing. But, once I hit 12th grade, I just said that the way I wanna dress is the way I wan na express myself, so I tried different things. I think that it did expand once I started my brand though. I started taking more classes, learning more about the industry, and I learnt more about myself.

PA: Have you learned anything substantial from your classes?

I took a bunch of fashion classes: fashion graphics where we learned about the industry of fashion and why fashion is an art by teach ing us how to create something for a person to see and how musical notes can be woven into fashion. It was just really interesting. Now, I’m

taking fashion product management to learn how to sell in the industry, and how to handle distributors, marketers, and manufacturers for my brand.

PA: How has music influenced fashion and vice versa?

Music seems to be merging with fashion more nowadays. Playboy Carti modeling for Rick Owens, Kanye for Yeezy, and Megan for Prada. People are rapping about fashion and designers are trying to create things that mesh well with music.

PA: Have you fought any stereo types or labels through fashion?

My parents don’t understand skinny jeans or pants like this. They say you look like a gangster, you don’t wanna walk around Cornell looking like that. I’m like what do you mean? I’m just expressing myself. I don’t wanna fit in, I wanna fit out. People shun people for looking different, but I feel like the people I can be close with are the ones who are different.

PA: If you could say something to your younger self what would it be?

I would say: “Good job, ‘cause you branched out. You’re not the same. Good job on becoming yourself”

Interviewers: Praise Makinde, Pareesay A.

“GOOD JOB, ‘CAUSE YOU BRANCHED OUT. YOU’RE NOT THE SAME. GOOD JOB ON BECOMING YOURSELF.”

By:DeborahSuarez

THERE’S A MOMENT WHEN MOST PEOPLE FEEL DONE.

The creator stepped back, dropped their tools, and walked away. They can surely go back and perfect, but the most basic foundation has been made. Here, people are comfortable say ing “this is the kind of person I’m going to be.”

I thought I had reached this point. Maybe one day, I could take up a dance class or start a collection but as a person, my morals, beliefs, and personality were supposed to have been etched in. Dissatisfaction with myself, carved and purposeful, is forever a part of me.

I stand in the museum and pose how I was always meant and made to. People walk by every day and most will pass and never see me again. Maybe they were headed for post-modern paintings, so I am not the piece for them. Some stop and take a picture to post on an Instagram story along with a song that will ruin the quality of the photo. I cannot blame them though. The song is catchy and I look damn good in the pho to. The phone turns off. Maybe they will read the little note card, catch my name, and leave. I am unchanged.

A small group walks up to me and reads my note card first. I’m touched. They catch my name and a bit of my background: the kind of stone I’m made of and where it came from, stuff like that. Maybe they will pull out a Moleskin, jot down a few notes about me, and snap a picture, while cautious not to cross the velvet rope or touch me. They promise to visit again, and some do. I look forward to the next time they visit, but when they don’t, I accept that they simply haven’t found the time. Still, I am unchanged.

Then, the most conflicting group. They run up and blab about my beauty—how timeless I am, how I could nev er be more perfect than I am now. I’m shocked by their enthusiasm. I am not the Mona Lisa or Venus de Milo. I am me. They snap photo after photo and rave about how they will be shared worldwide, but they keep the flash on. I assume they didn’t see the No Flash Photogra phy sign. I hear them tell their stories and passions with such eagerness. I feel fluid though I am stone. I’m sure they must’ve read my notecard among the commotion. But just as quickly as they come, they disappear. I go days to months without a visit. And each time, their pas sion dims with their admiration. They wish I was made shorter or that I’d been given a different nose. Never outright, but I can read between the lines. I’m smart for a statue. Every time they ask if they can move the velvet rope and touch me, I am met with frowns and rolling eyes when I say no. They tell me that we are so close now, that they should be allowed to ignore the rules meant for everyone. The manner in which I was constructed, the secrets I hold, and the story I tell have begun to bore them. I fear that one day, they will leave and never return.

Nausea and tension build in my structure. I must change.

The approval of these museum-goers has become addicting and carved something new into my foundation. I wonder if they’re right: we have gotten to know each other for so long, why shouldn’t I trust them to cross the rope? I couldn’t imagine them trying to harm me. The next time they arrive, I greet them with a smile and tell them to ignore the rope. I want them to cross. If I could live in that moment forever, I would never feel sorrow again.

They start to visit much more often. Every day, they lean on me and ask me to hold their things while they visit other exhibits. I feel electric; I have established my worth.

Time goes on and I age. My pieces, so delicately carved, are becoming weaker. Fear returns. If I snap or break or chip, I may lose my value. No one wants to visit rubble. But, these museum-goers must be my friends now. They must care. They will surely understand if I tell them I can’t take any more touching.

And so I swallow my fear. I confess. They tell me not to wor ry and that they understand, but their voices feel hollow. Their eyebrows furrowed in that familiar annoyance. For a time though, they do listen. They don’t cross the rope. But one day, one of them comes to visit. I think I no tice that they’re slowly pushing the rope back, but when I ask them what they’re doing they always have a response: “Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t even realize” or “Relax, I haven’t even done anything.” I convince my self I’m being paranoid, but its undeniable when they finally cross the rope and lean upon me. Terror. A moment passes and I think maybe, just maybe, I am strong enough to keep supporting my museum-goers.

Then, I feel it. Crack. First, my arm goes. The abrupt movement knocks my museum goer into me further, causing my head

to hit the arc I stand in. My neck fractures and my head falls to the ground. Soon goes my other arm and torso until the only thing left standing is my base.

The museum-goer steps back, and I can see the guilt well up in their eyes. Staring at what remains of me, the most devastating phrase falls from their mouth: “I’m sorry you were made so poorly.” This is the last thing I hear before they walk to the next exhibit like I never existed. I am no longer worth visiting. I am changed. I don’t even know who to blame. I told them it was okay to lean on me. How could they have known one more would be my breaking point? I blame myself. I had rules and ropes and I ignored them. They broke me but I am the one who let them. I broke myself. In my shame, I consider letting myself stay bro ken. The custodian would come and sweep up the dust and a new piece would take my place. But, I don’t want to be broken. I was made to be a beautiful piece of work so dammit, I will be this piece.

I yell out for help, and someone appears at my side. It’s one of the people with the Moleskins. She asks me what happened but I’m too embarrassed to answer. Instead of leaving, she seems to accept my silence and simply asks if I want her help. I say yes. She tries her best to fit my cracked limbs together. She comes back every other day to glue me together until I stand nearly as tall as I once was. I tell her which pieces feel right, and which just don’t seem to belong anymore. She takes my rope and makes it a chain, “so they’ll take it more seriously next time.” She slaps another No Flash Photography sign next to me.

I learned that I wasn’t really “done.” My destruction forced my reconstruction. I am missing some parts, but now I am my own piece. I even had a say in how I was made. From my downfall came this more com plete me—one with a greater sense of self-worth, per spective, and boundaries. One with a new friend. One with a desire to be appreciated, not just admired.

I am changed.

I am Changed

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