Issue No. 1: The Break by The Collective X Liberation

Spring 2017

WARNING: May contain representation not often portrayed in modern media. Confront perceptions before reading.

ISSUE NO. 1 THE BREAK

THE COLLECTIVE X LIBERATION

C O N T E N TC O N T E N TC O N T E Models: Baba Adejuyigbe Maurice Bradford Malik Leary Marquan Jones Jelani Taylor Khalon Wilson Hailey Lam Peter Meyer Rana Sulieman Eva Jahan Chidera Joseph Cache Bisasor Cody Morris Laurence Zhang Amy Shan Delmar Fears Khansa Mahum Noah Gear Bill Eldo Leah Eshelman Gaylord Minett Kimberly Okoli Stephanie Carter Brittney McFarlane Allen Porterie

THE MODEL MINORITY CONFRONTING ISLAMOPHOBIA TIRED DEAL WITH MY HAIR TO LIVE IN LAVENDAR THE DIVERSITY OF FASHION POC @ PWI THE FRAGILE MASCULINITY

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A LETTER FROM OUR FOUNDER.... We live in a world of endless possibilities and identities, and yet we live in a world of extreme isolation at the same time. The Collective X at Cornell University is about visibility.

For those of us who do not (nor desire) to adorn the bone structure, skin color, height, weight, garments, sexuality, gender identity, abled capacity, or background of the eurocentric standard of beauty that overwhelms all major media platforms within the US, our narratives are our fashion, and we deserve to express and wear them in equitable capacities, because the fact that we live them is beautiful. Like race, fashion to me is a social construct that needs to be decolonized. Because I did not find an organization or space to meet this need on our campus, I decided to make one with help of others, and “Break” is the culmination of my colleagues’ dedication and hard work.

I wanted to extend my deepest gratitude to everyone who worked on bringing this publication together. You all are responsible for bringing this vision to life. Thank you. Alex Devante Hernandez

Presidents

Marquan Jones Rebekah Jones

Photography Head

Nicholas Rahim

Literary Head

Isabelle Philippe

Web Directors

Aimee Slupski Jillian Soloman

Layout Contributor Erica Larsen

Treasurer

Suzette Abreu 3

WHO IS THE M MINORITY Written by Shivani Parikh

No, I’m not good at math. Actually, I’m a development sociology major (which covers understanding the complexities of societies in developing and deeply unequal contexts - different from human development). Yes, I want to be a lawyer - but I want to practice international humanitarian and public interest law, and not to practice in the corporate

world. Because let me tell you something you don’t get to judge me, you don’t get to tell me what you think I should be majoring in, and you don’t get to label me with your colonized mind that has bought into the model minority myth. The model minority myth (MMM) is the idea

MODEL

that one racial group, or most often in the United States, the AAPI community, is held above other minorities for being “model” or successful, and further underscores this with an

implicit assumption that other racial groups that are struggling are at fault for their position in society. I’ll never forget week 7 of Intergroup Dialogue, and seeing blank faces when I asked if anyone knew what it was. I felt furious, burdened and silenced. Because let me be clear - members of the AAPI community are oppressed and marginalized in this country. While many members of the AAPI community may not acknowledge this, and there are certainly several that buy into the model minority myth and stigma, the reality is that the MMM is a multifaceted, nuanced and wholly ingenious way created the 1960s as a response to the introduction of the civil rights movement. It has long isolated Asians from connecting with other people of color and their

struggles, and has created tension and isolation within our communities as well. The consequences are hidden from mainstream view. Asian refugee communities, such as Laotian, Cambodian, Vietnamese and Hmong people, have low rates of graduation, high rates of poverty, and their suffering is masked by aggregated data that is skewed positively by the high-performing statistics of ethnicities such as Chinese, Korean, Indian and

Japanese. Our working class communities are obscured, as their livelihoods do not align with the “doctor, lawyer, engineer” stereotype. Attributes of being quiet, compliant and humble are used to emasculate our men, as seen in countless

ways, like Raj in Big Bang Theory and Han Lee on 2 Broke Girls. The MMM also has us scattered and divided. The racialization and criminalization of brown bodies and the Muslim identity endanger us, regardless of our faith and national origin. In light of the recent murder of Srinivas Kuchibhotla, we are reminded once more of the reality that our place in America is tenuous, in spite of a model minority myth that is otherwise meant to “protect us.” Likewise, an 83 year old Korean grandma attacked by woman shouting “white power” will likely never see her attacker brought to trial. Police officer Eric Parker, who paralyzed Sureshbhai Patel (a 57 year old Indian visiting his son that was mistaken as black), was acquitted of all charges and reinstated. We are seen as expendable, tolerant of a justice system that does not serve us, and of these acts of terrorism against us are labelled accidents. Samir Durvasula, a fellow South Asian student and activist, and I recently co-wrote a letter to the Cornell Daily Sun, detailing our stances on our treatment in coalition building spaces. We detail in this piece the

barriers we face in People of Color (POC) spaces, in which we are constantly working break down students’ assumptions about what they assume our privileges, backgrounds and stories are, because of how they too have internalized the MMM. However, over these past few months, I feel increasingly interconnected to students from backgrounds so different from my own, as we remain resilient together against rhetoric and policies that seek to minimize our agency and the validity of our Americanness.

So let me be clear: the AAPI not an apathetic monolith. Asian Pacific Americans for Action, as well as unaffiliated individuals across campus and beyond are mobilizing, speaking out, and growing in number. I reject your labels: I am not an indifferent slave complicit to a neoliberal mindset that dictates that my worth as a human bing defined by how much money I will make with my Cornell degree. I recognize the roots of my privilege, I raise my voice to amplify the stories of those in my community too afraid and powerless to organize, and I reject this model. minority. myth.

Confronting Islamophobia

Written by Jamila Bakhit

I am not your enemy. It is not my purpose in life to bomb you, your family, your loved ones, or your friends, nor is my presence simply for the benefit and use of man. I am a young woman who has aspirations,fears, strengths, weaknesses, and standards to which I hold myself accountable and represent through my actions and the way I carry myself each and every day. I am human. I am an Afro-Arab woman. I am an Ivy League student. I am a cheesecake enthusiast (yes, I just made that a thing). I am a believer of Islam, and no, my parents do not intend on sending me off to Africa and having me get married by the end of this year. It is 2017. I repeat: It is 2017. It is time for western intellectuals to gain enough sophistication, maturity, and cultural competency to stop confusing certain cultural practices with a religion that has been promoting, and enforcing women’s rights since before all of us came out of our mother’s womb. But you know, who am I to speak? Just a believer of Islam who clearly has no idea what she’s talking about. Hey, you never know, maybe I was brainwashed by my parents at an early age to be delusional enough to write this piece. You never know. “To whoever, male or female, does good deeds and has faith, We shall give a good life and reward them according to the best of their actions.” (Quran 16:97) I am proudly the daughter of parents who emigrated to the States from Sudan during the

summer of 1993. Interestingly enough, as a child, I always questioned why they didn’t share the same last name, especially if they aren’t divorced. When I was old enough to finally discuss this matter with my mother, I had come to find out that she simply did not find it necessary to change her last name, nor did my dad take it upon himself to put her in a choke hold and force her to change it. In their marriage, my mother was “with him, and not under him” (Mcleod). He’s chillin’, and they’re doing just fine if you were wondering. Surprised yet? But wait, there’s more. I will turn twenty in March, and have yet to wear the hijab. Woah there. So I’m really sitting here making life decisions about the way I choose to practice my religion without it being forced upon me by my parents? I must be a fake Muslim, somebody call a sheikh (the equivalent of a priest, pastor, reverend, bishop, rabbi, etc.). Point is, the hijab is a personal decision made by women who can determine for themselves whether or not they are ready to make a commitment of which I personally hold to high regard and importance. Don’t get it twisted. “There is a share for men and a share for women from what is left by parents and those nearest related, whether the property be small or large – a legal share.” (Quran 4:7) Growing up, I, often times found myself being exposed to the world around me due to certain circumstances I had found myself in, in addition to the lack of coddling by my parents (which is something that I am

extremely grateful for every day). These circumstances, along with three simple standards that my parents have ensured to hold me accountable for, have resulted in my appreciation for Islam being a guiding force and in times of hardship, triumph, comfort, ease, and misfortune. These three standards are: 1. Practice tolerance 2. Be resourceful of your education 3. Be aware of your surroundings “Seeking knowledge is mandatory for every Muslim (male and female).” (At-Tirmidhi) At the age of fifteen, I was travelling to Africa with no parental supervision, and was paying for almost all of my belongings through my job at the local supermarket. At the age of 16 up until it was time for me to go to college, I found myself building my network and community relationships through the customers I’ve met, while unapologetically chasing after my goals and aspirations. Not once did Islam make me question the ethics of wanting better for myself, my family, and my community. Contrary to popular belief, through what practicing Islam spiritually offers me on a daily basis, I have found myself having the privilege of being able to stay sane when taking into consideration our nation’s current political climate, in addition to balancing all of these problem sets that are due for my Economics of Wages and Employment course.

Written by Khansa

Art by Khansa Mahum Class of 2019 10

TIRED Written by Shivani Parikh

Tired of seeing their stares and judgements as they ascribe privileges to me that I do not have. Tired of fake SJWs claiming they want to share space but never acting on it. Tired of hearing “self care is important” but then they ask why you weren’t at that last protest. Tired of explaining how anti-brownness and racial profiling are real to me and people of many faiths and shades. Tired of defining the model minority stigma only to receive blank stares and uncaring faces. Tired of ignorant “allies” and being burdened with a responsibility to educate. Tired of being tired but too tired to care.

DEAL WITH MY HAIR

Written by Christy Felix

I had my fair share of struggles dealing with my hair. In the 3rd grade, it was permed. In the 6th grade, the breakage put an end to that. In the 8th grade, I did the big chop. My hair journey seemed like the ultimate struggle, but the greater struggle was trying to convince others that I was comfortable with my hair and that I loved it the way it was. I love my natural hair, but I continue to wear weave and braids. I’m not ashamed of my naturally short, curly hair - I simply like to give it a break. I find it tedious to style every morning, and I can’t afford to lose 3060 minutes of my time doing it every night and day. During the winter, my hair gets very dry and styling it in braids gives it the protection and moisture needed. Besides, I love the way braids and weave look. I personally feel beautiful with both my natural and unnatural hair. Learning to love my hair took a while. I used to get bullied about my braids and my natural roots. People, mostly men, would call it horsehair and ignorantly comment about my different styles. I didn’t like my natural hair because of the teasing I received, but once I stopped caring, their opinions and jokes no longer had a claim over me. Once my attention and feelings ceased to exist for them, so their comments ceased to exist for me. It was necessary to make these individuals recognize that I am in fact comfortable with my hair. At times people just wish to see the worst of you but the secret to escaping that is seeing the best in yourself. As a black woman, scrutiny is something that I cannot escape from. However, it is something I can overcome. Loving my hair was the first of many steps that I had to take to reach self-love. After concluding that the hair that grows from my scalp is beautiful, I grew closer to my Haitian heritage and black roots. I embraced afros and head wraps. I began to use more natural and organic products, and I stopped treating my hair as strange object, as if it was unknown to me. In short, I began to love my hair and thus myself. This self-love comes with loving all parts of yourself. It means loving both the inside and outside of your body, and paying due respect to how God made it. I grew closer to my roots because of my hair, and my hope for other black women to is grow closer to their own too.

To Live In Lavender

Written by Cody Morris Imagine being called the wrong name in front of a large group of people. An awkward smile might brush across your face, but you don’t pose a correction for fear of an uncomfortable encounter. As the day goes on, you continue being called a name that is not identifiable with you. Maybe every now and then you try to correct the person at fault, but it happens so frequently that you stop protesting. You begin to surrender to it. You start responding to this name because it’s easier, even though it bothers you. This is the common experience for many non-binary individuals regarding their gender. The term non-binary encompasses those who feel that

the noun man or woman insufficiently describes their gender. Non-binary, or the more politicized term “genderqueer,” is an umbrella term that relates to several gender identities. While every person in the community experiences gender uniquely, there are commonalities found in most genderqueer individuals. The most saddening thread found with most non-binary folx is the questioning of their identity. It would be hard finding a non-binary individual who at one time or another has not been told their identity is “just a phase” or “isn’t real.” Self-identifying with this continuously questioned notion of self can be…awkward. It’s living a

life where nobody believes your identity - sometimes, not even yourself. There will be times that people do refer to you by your honored pronouns, won’t probe you for your story, and will get to know you for your true gender. These instances are so meaningful and so impactful as you start to think “Yes. This is me. This is who I am.” However, with every moment of reassurance there will be another bathroom, another line, another clothing store that completely erases your existence. A great deal of non-binary individuals, if not a majority, experience being misgendered throughout their life. While to some this may not seem like a big deal, try and

think about how invalidating this would be. If you are a cisgender woman, a woman who identifies with her assigned sex and gender at birth, take a second to imagine being called a man your entire life and being expected to behave as one. If you are a cisgender man, think how it would feel to be called a woman and assume the expected gender roles. In many cases, this is a hard task for cisgender people to even conceptualize. Gender is such a cornerstone in American society that to even question your own assumptions is nearly impossible. This contributes to the mere existence of non-binary folx as being political. I don’t wake up in the morning and paint my nails, put on lipstick, or wear a dress as an act of resistance. I make these aesthetic decisions because it is largely the only vvessel I have for the outside world to see how I feel about my gender on the inside. Yet, these small acts of personal expression disrupt and challenge many preconceived notions about what is acceptable for someone assigned male at birth. The idea of being genderqueer is so foreign that there is often a conceived pressure of performance surrounding these individ-

uals. But I assure you, there is not. There is no right way to be non-binary, agender, transgender, or gender fluid. For many in the community, it’s a lifelong transition. This comes in terms of names, clothing, pronouns, physical transitions, or medical transitions. It is a process, and people need to honor these individuals. Some genderqueer folx do not transition aesthetically or change their pronouns, while others may legally change their name and undergo surgery. No matter the transitions or lack thereof made by non-binary individuals, it does not change the validity of their identity. This is particularly important when seeing the intersection of gender with other social identities. Going to Google Images and typing in “genderqueer clothing” immediately brings up an overwhelming majority of pictures featuring white, skinny individuals. Many people do not find a home in they/them pronouns or wearing new clothes because the idea of neutrality is largely perpetuated by white masculinity. As a result, some already on the margins of society, people of color, low-income folx, and people of size, do not find these transitional options comforting.

afraid to present myself in a more feminine way. I thought it was enough for me to say I don’t see myself as a man, but not transition any further. I realized a lot of the reasoning behind my lack of transitioning was because I thought it would result in a loss of friendships, make romantic connections harder to come by, and make me subject to harassment. This suppression of identity caused severe mental health issues and made me greatly unhappy in my own body. I’ve wanted to wear dresses and grow out my hair since I’ve been 4 years old. It’s just now, at the age of 20, I’ve allowed myself to indulge in that self-expression. It’s still a struggle and something I constantly renegotiate within myself. But the willingness I’ve had in the past year to express my true gender identity has brought me more liberation than ever before. Transitioning to become genderqueer has opened my eyes to so much about society. You start to realize how gendered the world really is and the arbitrary divisions constructed to fit the mold of man or woman. To see the world not as blue or pink, but to live in lavender, is one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

When I first came out as trans non-binary, I was so

The Diversity of Fashion Written by Isabelle Philippe - Literary Head

The first ever issue of Vogue Arabia features supermodel Gigi Hadid depicted in a hijab. Traditionally, the hijab is a head covering worn by Muslim women when in public. The model’s depiction of the hijab was not the problem, however, her origin and self-identity led to sparks of outrage and calling of cultural appropriation by many audiences who did not approve of the misused embellishment of such a meaningful piece. Throughout the fashion world, such occurrences that question the line between fashion and cultural appropriation become very thin and in some cases invisible. In the modern day, with the blending of culture, the ambiguity of such cultural and ethnic marks that are used to define certain social groups have been the causes of outcry within the fashion industry as many onlookers’ express distaste and rage in regards to what appears to be the appropriation of a certain social group’s traditional dress. The question now raised becomes should one’s own personal culture and ethnic background determine what can be appropriately worn in the name of fashion and modern art? Where is this line drawn? This issue is further complicated when taking into consideration whether the basis of what is being worn and depicted is solely determinant of personally self-identifying with a particular culture versus actually practicing and advocating the culture’s ideals. In the case of Gigi Hadid, who is of Palestinian decent, the latter was the complaint of many critics of the cover who claimed Hadid’s lack

of advocacy of Muslim culture did not grant her authority to depict a culture she self-identified with but did not practice. It is situations like this which prompts many to question what the role of culture and societal acceptance should be when it comes to fashion. One thing perhaps can be boldly said: fashion is indeterminate of color. Whether Black, White, or of Hispanic or Asian descent, one’s style of dress should be utterly colorblind. The conception that the famous footwear Jordan Sneakers are only worn and should be worn by Black men or that the brand Sperry is solely comprised of White individuals represents consumer misinterpretation and prejudice in the fashion industry. In response to backlash from the issue cover, Hadid stated, “I think the beautiful thing about there being international Vogue’s is that, as a fashion community, we are able to celebrate, and share with the world, different cultures. I hope that this magazine will show another layer of the fashion industry’s desire to continue to accept, celebrate, and incorporate all people…” Such should always be the case in the designer world as clothing, trends, and art forms alike all comprise of a greater effort to bring people of different origins together both in terms of commonalities and new found conceptions. By being informed and taking into consideration the standards and norms of certain cultures, the line between appropriation and acceptance becomes clearer and fashion is diversified for all.

POC @ PWI

Written by Eme J. Eban

During my freshman year at Cornell, I went to a fraternity party with my three Caucasian housemates. I was incredibly excited for the party, as it would be my first on campus. As I entered, someone shouted “All I can see are her eyes and her teeth!” Within that moment, I knew that even with my Caucasian friends as a shield, my melanin was still visible. Not only visible, but in that moment, glaringly out of place. It was as if the only wanted parts of my body were those that were white, as if I had to cut out my eyes and teeth and leave them at the fraternity door. After this cruel statement, I left the scene and never attended another party again. In the same sense, doesn’t the United States represent just this - a party, where people of color have to leave? A party that is meant only for Caucasian people. A party that singles out anyone with melanin unless he or she has a “white shield” so strong that his or her person is rendered colorless? It is appalling. People should not have to

lose the color of their skin, their homes, or their right to travel to assimilate into American societal acceptance. We as humans often ponder over these “color based” problems, never realizing that the solution lies directly in front of us and can be found through a simple commonality: water. Water is a product of a reaction fueled by polarity. 70% of the world comprises of water. If the earth had not settled in the right degree, this by-product could not have been formed and life would not be sustained. When hydrogen and oxygen molecules collide, they form something greater than their original parts. We as humans are made of this same 75% polarity. If humans continue to divide and separate into different groups of hydrogen and oxygen, just as life would be unable to be sustained, we as well would fail to sustain ourselves. If we continue to see color, we will forever be blind to the harms, derogatory, and life threatening conditions we place ourselves in.

The modern day poses as a progressive, post-racial society, yet we continue to touch each other with the words of the past, the same words our grand and great-grand parents once used to embody ideals. The power to make a functional human ecosystem rather than a human landfill lies within our hands. I created People of Colors to encourage that notion, to encourage a human ecosystem within Cornell University. POC is a celebration of people of color and their allies. Every single participant in the photograph campaign was asked to simply think of a memory associated with strong emotion and select the color backdrop that corresponded to

that feeling. The concept was simple People of Color getting to choose their own color. I am black, and my color has often been used to demean me, and make me one dimensional. With the POC campaign I aspire to showcase people of color having the agency to show how they are portrayed and to have the strength to not let others speak for them. I am beyond grateful for this campaign, and cannot wait for future campaigns. Lastly, I would like to thank Collective X for this collaboration and for the positive message the magazine spreads within this very meaningful community.

The Fragile Masculinity

Written by Allen Porterie Wake up. Shower. Step into pants. Button up shirt. Slide into jacket. Tighten tie. Slip on dress shoes. Apply two squirts of cologne. Exit. Each morning, thousands of men follow this routine to present themselves to the world. Each morning, thousands of men follow this routine to showcase their manhood. Each morning, afternoon, and night, thousands of men perform the role of masculinity. Embedded in our psyches is the notion that manhood stems from sexual conquests, the clothes we wear, the gait that we display, and the tone of our voice. Speaking on experience, black men are especially subject to this train of thought. In a world of mainstream hip-hop artists like Drake, Chris Brown, and Future, there is almost no room for a Frank Ocean. Non-heterosexual black men becoming mainstream, particularly in the hip hop industry, is an uncomfort-

able thought for some consumers of this genre. This has become reality because listeners are constantly consuming lyrics that glorify the sexual or romantic relations between men and women: “B*tches ain’t sh*t but hoes and tricks. Lick on these nuts and suck the d*ck.”— Snoop Dogg, “B*tches Ain’t Sh*t” I. Sexual Conquest Along with excluding the perspective of non-heterosexual men, hip-hop culture paints an image of masculinity that even heterosexual men have trouble living up to. According to hip-hop culture, being man is having authority over a woman’s body—treating her as through her only use is sexual gratification for the man. This idea of the woman being a conquest or “collectible just like fine China,” as Chris Brown puts it, is perpetuated constantly.

For young men, especially, going against this hegemonic ideal of masculinity can ostracize them from their peers. I recall being in a locker room one day and overhearing two guys discussing how many girls they had slept with, and how many more they hoped they could add to their list. This scene, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sure, is nothing foreign to you. In

fact, if you have never experienced it personally, you may have seen it depicted on T.V. or in a movie. The point is, we are continuously fed the ingredients, if you will, to masculinity without questioning their effects on our lives And what would happen if we were to stop drinking the Kool-Aid?

That is, to stop purveying the belief that our power, our essence of manhood, comes from sexual conquests, our clothing, our way of walking, and tone of voice. II. Clothing Abdul Dremali recounts on his YouTube channel that while working out in the gym another man walked by, pointed at his bright pink shoes, and said, “Hey, nice shoes f****t.” Unfortunately, this scenario is nothing new. However, it still does not negate the issue of frail masculinity present. Amongst all the colors of the rainbow, how and why must we assign genders to them? And how might a color determine one’s sexual preference? Though these questions seem rudimentary, thousands of men, consciously or not, take pause to be sure not to portray any semblance of femininity in their wardrobe. This is because the perception of others is what motivates the performance of masculinity. So long as there is no questioning of one’s performance—no critique of one’s skill—there will be a continuation of this cycle. III. The ‘Straight’ Gait Another important aspect of the masculine performance is the way in which a man walks. In order to be perceived as the Alpha Male, a man must “take long strides, 1-1 ½ times longer than a woman’s, face palms backwards, and angle the head down with eyes facing the ground,” according to MadeMan. com. In essence, to achieve the most perfect walk, a man must convince

himself that he is the most powerful and dominant person in the room. While I believe confidence is a virtue, I find it difficult to think that the way a person puts one foot in front of the other makes them any more or less of a man. IV. The Tone of Voice Perhaps the most important tool in masculinity’s performance is the voice. From the moment a man opens his mouth, the listener’s ear decides whether the pitch is low enough to grant the masculinity card. Though a bit of a stretch, there certainly is a distinctly positive reaction to hearing lower-pitched voices. In general, we perceive lower voices as indication of strength, competence, and power. So, as long as your voice is deep enough, the critics will give rave reviews of your performance. V. Conclusion To perform masculinity is to subject oneself to a role of stereotypes. In general, masculinity is construed by the visual. That is the outward appearance, or performance, that is put on by men. I ask that we question the normalized concept of masculinity. We must not constrain ourselves to a checklist or step-by-step process by which masculinity is achieved. In a day and age in which a reality T.V. star can become President of the United States, I certainly believe it possible for men to live loud, free, and unconventionally unashamed.

the x.