The Fine Print, Summer 2016

VOLUME VIII, ISSUE IV

thefineprintmag.org

SUMMER 2016 FREE

Local climbers persevere despite Gainesville Rock Gym closing, pg. 24

from the

EDITORIAL DESK

I

’ve been combing through my stuff lately (shedding for an impending move), and in the process I’ve found that the more I dig, the more old Fine Print issues I discover. Yellowing and dusty, fragile with age, I’ve excavated several from weird places: shuffled among long-irrelevant course notes, under a pile of vaguely useful cords, the top of my bookshelf. They’ve worked their way into the remote corners of my room, from each time I’ve absently put one aside after checking for errors, or tossed a small pile onto my desk after distributing around town. I live in a nest of newsprint; I am saturated with The Fine Print.

This kind of accumulation is, I suppose, what happens when most of your brain is constantly occupied with something. It sneaks into unexpected places. For example, conversation with my landlord, or the bottom of my closet. When I flip through an old issue, I can remember every step of its creation, especially the long nights spent on it. I like having these totems of hard work. They weigh something; I can hold on to them, let them activate memories so acute and strong that I’m reduced to laughter. But they had to go. I woke up one

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day, and the recycling bin where I stacked them was empty.

The other night, I sat at my last editors meeting and marveled at how smoothly it operated without me. I close off this issue a little shocked that I won’t be around for the launch of the next. It seems not very long ago that I sat terrified and fidgety at my first meeting, unsure where it would take me. Then there came a point where The Fine Print was so habitual and necessary that I identified foremost as an editor (then as a student, a Floridian, a human girl).

The Fine Print has introduced me to a Gainesville that made my four years here worthwhile: a group of passionate, driven, creative people; the parts of the community that require investigation and exploration; its droopy, prehistoric, overgrown beauty. I can’t wait to see where the magazine goes next, and I’m so proud of the people who are carrying it into the next generation.

That’s all, folks. Thanks for reading.

Enjoy this issue, and those in the future. I know I will.

thefineprintmag.org

Multimedia, more stories, blogs and a merch shop.

PLUS! Comment on stories, see photos from the printed issue (and more!) IN COLOR, flip through a digital version of the printed edition and much, much more, all updated throughout the month.

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Published with support from Generation Progress/Center for American Progress (online at GenerationProgress.org).

Editor-in-Chief

Samantha Schuyler

Managing Editor & Layout Director

Sarah Senfeld

Print Editors

Michael Holcomb Molly Minta Shayna Tanen

Photo Director

Sean Doolan

Art Directors

Shannon Nehiley Sydney Martin Sara Nettle

Creative Writing Editor

Victor Florence

Copy Editors

Kai Su Adriana Barbat Lilly Dunaj

Web Editors

Samantha Schuyler Sarah Senfeld

Social Media

Erick Edwing

Page Designers

Molly Minta Sarah Senfeld Samantha Schuyler

Advertising Directors

Leanne Sheth Ann Marie Tamburro

MISSION STATEMENT

Our mission is to serve the Gainesville community by providing an independent outlet for political, social and arts coverage through local, in-depth reporting.

CONTACT US

Email us at editors@thefineprintmag.org.

FREELANCE SUBMISSIONS

The Fine Print accepts freelance writing, photography and illustration. Submissions should be sent to editors@thefineprintmag.org.

ADVERTISING

The Fine Print distributes 5,000 copies of each bimonthly issue and is currently looking for advertisers. For more information, email ads@ thefineprintmag.org.

DISCLAIMER

The Fine Print reserves the right to deny or accept the publication of articles or advertisements according to the decisions of its editorial board. The views of our writers do not necessarily express those of The Fine Print.

IN THIS ISSUE

Cover art by Shannon Nehiley.

COLUMNS Monthly Manifesto, p. 05 Alachua County Recycles works to transform your idea of waste.

Opinion, p. 06 Bo Diddley rennovations create a space for some but not others.

For the Record, p. 10 The scoop on locally grown tunes from Endless Pools, Just Neighbors and Daniel Kinsey.

Simply Science, p. 12 “Green” burial brings us back to our roots.

Homestead Instead, p. 14 A summer survival kit to protect you from the sweltering heat.

Art & Literature, p. 34 Art by Steven Zill and prose by Jordan Dong.

SPOTLIGHTS Cat Callers, p. 16 Meet the women who care for local feral cat colonies.

Food For Thought, p. 22 This edition highlights Gainesville’s abundant corn-ucopia.

Potty Talk, p. 19 A thorough guide to downtown’s queer-friendly bathrooms.

FEATURES Rock On, p. 24 Local rock climbers prevail despite Gainesville Rock Gym’s closing.

Break the Scilence p. 30 Our final installment on human trafficking in Alachua County.

Investor Syndrome, p. 27 Part three of our series on gentrification follows the impending development boom in Porter's.

FEATURED STAFFER Gabrielle Calise

Food For Thought, p. 22

Read Up Chow Down, p. 08

Gabrielle Calise is a third-year journalism student at the University of Florida. She is a writer and photographer for The Fine Print. In her spare time, Gabrielle can be found listening to ‘80s one-hit wonders, flipping pancakes and taking pictures of local bands. After graduation, she wants a job that allows her to tell stories. Her other goals include traveling abroad and finally taking a pasta-making class.

Govinda’s vegan blueberry crumble will satisfy your sweet tooth.

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 03

COLUMN / PAPER CUTS

Paper Ouch! That hurts, doesn’t it? Paper Cuts are our short, erratic and slightly painful updates on current, local and national events.

See our website for more Paper Cuts at thefineprintmag.org.

Marginalized Error to ask what the leading causes of death are in the United States, what would you say?

There are, of course, the big ones: heart disease and cancer. They’ve been No. 1 and 2 for a long time, accruing cleverly sloganed campaigns and entire months devoted to their recognition. But according to a study by researchers at Johns Hopkins Medicine, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has been neglecting to identify the third leading cause of death in the United States: medical error.

In an open letter sent to the CDC in early May, the researchers wrote that the oversight is a product of the centers’ data collection, specifically which causes of death are assigned a code and which are not. Diseases, morbid conditions and injuries receive an official designation, called an International Classification of Disease billing code.

Human and system factors aren’t classified.

Because the CDC uses only coded causes to determine its rankings, it skips over the hundreds of thousands of deaths caused by things like diagnostic errors, system defects and preventable adverse events — all of which the researchers said amounted to a low-balled estimate of 251,454 deaths in 2014.

The current leading causes on the CDC’s list receive the vast majority of funding and research proposals, the researchers pointed out (to the point of redundancy), while if i were

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research on reducing preventable harm is severely underfunded and largely ignored.

But aside from helping fund research that could solve these issues, a corrected ranking would open an honest conversation about medical errors, which are often discussed internally and without fanfare. So how are doctors across the country supposed to learn from each other?

Admitting to the prevalence of something harmful, especially something that implicates the people who are trying to mitigate death, is difficult. But then, it’s also the first step to recovery. •

By Samantha Schuyler

De Ra y-l ed ago, 18-year-old Michael Brown was shot, and DeRay McKesson quit his job in Minneapolis, drove nine hours down to Missouri and joined the protests that engulfed Ferguson.

Four months ago, McKesson made the journey back from activist to politician and declared his candidacy for mayor of Baltimore. On April 26, he finished sixth, with only 2 percent of the vote.

McKesson joined the race on the last possible day. With only 80 days before the election, this left him little time to assuage the perception that his campaign represented opportunistic and outside influences. The city went to the polls a year and seven days after the death of Freddie Gray. Every nearly two years

candidate had a plan to reform the police force — not even McKesson’s work with Black Lives Matter (BLM) could help his campaign. Rather, it prompted local activists to question where he had been before the election — why was it not Baltimore?

“For him not to have interacted with people involved in the movement from Baltimore City,” Baltimore activist Kwame Rose said to the Huffington Post, “I think that’s very problematic.”

McKesson was born and raised in Baltimore, but his work with BLM and his massive Twitter following (nearly 350,000) catapulted him to prominence far beyond the city’s mayoral office. Only 2 percent of his Twitter followers live in Baltimore; national publications covered McKesson’s bid for mayor closely, but local newspapers were silent. Former mayor Sheila Dixon told the Baltimore Sun she had never heard of him.

In the past year, Black Lives Matter has found some success in transitioning from a protest movement to a political one. In Chicago, BLM-backed Kim Foxx unseated Anita Alvarez, and in Cleveland, BLM organizers ousted Tim McGinty, the prosecutor who failed to indict the officers responsible for 12-year-old Tamir Rice’s death. McKesson’s campaign failed to join that list of victories. But he’s optimistic.

“Sleep well, y’all,” McKesson tweets nightly. “Remember to dream.” •

By Molly Minta

COLUMN / MONTHLY MANIFESTO

AL ACHUA COUNTY RECYCLES

BY EILANWY SLYBOOM, WASTE ALTERNATIVE SPECIALIST ‘90s, Alachua County’s last public landfill was closed. A new landfill site was determined, but the project was stopped by protests from surrounding neighborhoods. Instead, the county built a transfer station and began sending waste to a landfill 35 miles away in Union County.

Though the county has carefully conserved landfill space, Alachua County is still producing 500–700 tons of waste daily. It’s becoming more difficult to build new landfills; no one wants a landfill in their backyard. The reality is that landfills are closing without being replaced.

Alachua County Recycles believes preventing waste, recycling and rethinking the idea of “trash” are essential to extending the life of our landfills and preserving our environment. As part of Alachua County’s Department of Solid Waste & Resource Recovery, we strive to make positive change toward our recycling goals. in the late

how do we do that?

We foster environmental stewards by providing educational presentations and facility tours to schools, scout troops and community organizations in Alachua County. We can also suggest waste reduction strategies to businesses and schools that wish to fine-tune their recycling programs.

We offer education and support to commercial entities and at public events on how to meet the Mandatory Commercial Recycling Ordinance in Alachua County.

This includes regular site visits, employee presentations, waste assessments and informational packets.

We also partner with local organizations to combat litter and engage the community in rethinking “trash.”

We host the annual Great American Cleanup through

Keep Alachua County Beautiful, and we also judge the annual recycled art competition, Trashformations.

Middle school, high school and college students are invited to participate in this fun event. what can you do to help?

You probably recycle at home or work. That’s awesome, but what is even better is preventing waste in the first place.

Start engaging your community in waste prevention and conservation initiatives by forming a green team.

Need help with this? Give us a call!

Avoid packaged goods, a huge portion of our waste comes from packaging. Find an alternative to the packaged products you enjoy. Either buy local at the farmers market, or take bags and containers to refill with bulk items and produce. You can also recycle plastic bags at most grocery and department stores.

Reuse and refill! The U.S. uses and disposes of over 1,300 plastic water bottles every second, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. This is wasteful and, because many plastic bottles contain synthetic chemicals, harmful.

We can live closer to waste-free by avoiding packaged goods and single-use items, by reducing consumption and by recycling everything possible. Let’s work together to eliminate wasteful practices. • You can continue the conversation with us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AlachuaCountyRecycles. If you need additional information on waste prevention, recycling or our educational presentations, please contact Eilanwy (eye-lonwe) at (352) 548-1278 or ESlyboom@alachuacounty.us, or visit our website at www.AlachuaCountyRecycles.com.

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 05

Bo Diddley Plaza has been renovated.

But at what expense, and for whom?

BY KYLE GEIST ILLUSTRATION BY RENANTA ROJO

A

fter a year-long renovation that added — among other things — a colorchanging water wall, a green room for performers and space for a soon-to-come cupcake shop, the Gainesville Community Redevelopment Agency (CRA) has, as they told me in an interview, “accomplished amazing things” for Bo Diddley Plaza.

But while the $1.8 million renovation appears mostly cosmetic, it’s much more than that.

For example, the CRA hired a local artist to paint geometric guitar shapes on the utility 06 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

transformer boxes. They look great, adding a pop of color to the ugly green boxes. But just a few feet away from the new “street art,” I came across an addition not promoted by the CRA: padlocks that make electrical outlets on the new lampposts — a source of electricity for the propertyless — inaccessible.

And looking more closely at the plaza, you start to notice small tweaks like these everywhere. Concrete barriers that double as seating are furnished with wooden accent pieces, complimenting the water wall on the north side; but the fleet of benches once scattered in the shade around the perimeter of the plaza have been removed. A new marquee provides information on upcoming events,

COLUMN / OPINION but underneath is stationed a kiosk for a “plaza ambassador,” tasked with calling the Gainesville Police Department if they see anything suspicious. What a CRA project manager described as “static and dilapidated” tables in the southeast corner of the plaza have been removed to increase the space’s flexibility. Now the square will be used for art installations and as a VIP station during events, but the dominoes players who once used the space daily have been quietly evicted.

Each individual change may seem insignificant; but together, they accomplish an amazing thing: Bo Diddley Plaza is no longer a true public space “Public space” is a term used by sociologists to designate an area where unmediated social interactions and public activities among all members of the public occur. In a public space, as political theorist Iris Marion Young writes, “one should expect to encounter and hear from those who are different, whose social perspectives, experience and affiliations are different.”

According to Don Mitchell, an American sociologist who studies public spaces, these ideals are especially important to groups that have been forced to struggle to gain membership into a white, maledominated society. “The admittance of women, the propertyless and people of color into the formal ranks of ‘the public’ has been startlingly recent (and not yet really complete),” he writes in his book “The Right to the City.” These spaces are a necessary platform through which marginalized communities may “argue for their rights as part of the active public.”

Prior to the renovations, Bo Diddley had its faults, and it wasn’t always the most aesthetically pleasing space. Trash was sometimes strewn about; the bathrooms needed an overhaul. But the excluded and overlooked had a right to the space, and by extension, a right to the city. Before the renovations, everyone could use the space, as long as they were willing to coexist with people whose looks and behavior didn’t necessarily align with middle-class consumer norms. Those made uncomfortable by what the CRA has called “undesirable activity” had their private property to retreat to.

These changes don’t just affect the propertyless, but any person who is tired

or not physically able to lay down, or who has bad knees and wants to escape the hot, Florida sun. Without benches, they have lost their right to this so-called “public space.”

But then, they’re not the students and young professionals whom the plaza redesign caters to.

Sarah-Vidal Finn, interim director of the

NARROWLY PRESCRIBED

STAY UNAWARE REAL PROBLEMS HOMELESSNESS RACIALIZED POVERTY CRA, suggested that people could use the shaded seating at Steamer’s or Patticakes, the coming cupcakery. And this is true; their seating is shaded and plentiful. But having that as the only option creates an admission fee to a supposedly public place. It should be obvious: People shouldn’t be forced to be consumers if they want to stay at the plaza for longer than they can bear the sun.

Not only that, the new renovations aim to regulate park behavior. Along with the security guards and cameras, colorful signs

— reminiscent of entrance signs to a theme park — prohibit profanity: Even people’s language is controlled. Bo Diddley’s focus is now on discrete events — programs like concerts, farmers markets and Zumba classes — where crowds and interactions can be controlled, rather than random encounters between different classes of people.

So why does any of this really matter?

You might really enjoy Bo Diddley’s new aesthetic; I was also thrilled to see Wednesday’s farmers market return to its old home.

But by using the rhetoric of an all-inclusive space, students and professionals — who fit under the banner of predominantly white, middle-class consumers — are shown an image of the public that excludes those who have been purposefully shut out from the plaza. In doing so, the city is creating a public that is narrowly prescribed, encouraging those to whom the plaza is being marketed to stay unaware of the real problems of Gainesville’s homelessness and racialized poverty.

As the city of Gainesville attempts to “revitalize” Downtown by attracting developers and businesses that, in turn, sell eco-conscious, high-tech, organic, urban lifestyles to predominantly white, middle-class consumers, Bo Diddley plaza has become not only a way to promote consumption of goods, but also a symbol the city uses to sell itself. True public spaces, with all their discomfort and collapsing of the classes, don’t sell as well as sun-glistened astroturf.

The city of Gainesville, just like every other redeveloping city across the U.S., will continue to sell its downtown as a playground for middle-class work, play and consumption. The public spaces, where the people who most need to be seen and understood by society at large, will get redesigned to promote pleasant and comfortable experiences that shut these people out. The middle class, through all of this, gets to enjoy its Wednesday farmers markets and bike rides to work, increasingly oblivious of its role in the displacement and oppression of others in the budding theme park that is downtown Gainesville.

So, here’s what I’m asking: Do we demand benches for Bo Diddley again? Or do we ignore it and enjoy Disneyland? • Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 07

P U D REA

N W O D CHOW

PHOTO BY SEAN DOOLAN

BY SAMANTHA STONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY ELIZABETH RHODES

O

n weekdays when the University of Florida classes are in session, campus-goers can count on the vegetarian Indian fare known as Krishna Lunch to fill their bellies. Over four decades ago, Hare Krishna devotees established themselves in the Plaza of the Americas, where Krishna Lunch is served, by teaching chants and serving food to students. Today, Krishna Lunch is served from 11 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. on campus and is available for delivery from the Krishna House until 3 p.m.

But for those off-hours or weekends, Govinda’s Bakery & Café, which opened in March, is a dream come true for Krishna Lunch regulars and novices alike. Govinda’s was born from the high demand for Krishna Lunch and a desire to have a permanent location. Its menu is different from the rotating cafeteria-style selection on campus, and it’s open from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. Monday through Saturday. Even still, the vegetarian foods at the café are just as tasty as the dishes from Krishna Lunch.

The food practices of the Hare Krishnas are not unique to Gainesville; there are restaurants all over the world that share the moniker Govinda’s. Amy Hollis, assistant manager of Govinda’s and a member of its board of directors, said Govinda is the form of the god Krishna when he is herding

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cows. Govinda is also another name for the god Vishnu and means “one who gives pleasure to the senses.” This is something the restaurants tackle through the food they serve.

Recently, Gainesville became home to the first Govinda’s restaurant that also includes a bakery, Hollis said.

The restaurant is located close to both UF and the Krishna House, just six blocks north of University Avenue and 13th Street. Hollis said the restaurant has been well-received in Gainesville.

“I didn’t expect there to be an immediate community feeling,” said Hollis.

Unlike many restaurants, Govinda’s is a nonprofit. Rather than having an owner, it has a board of directors, and Hollis described the staff as team-oriented. Govinda’s operates as a bakery and restaurant, with a kitchen and front-of-house staff alongside pastry chefs and a baker.

Govinda’s caters to the hungry and the very hungry. The entirely vegetarian and mostly vegan menu features one free refill on all soups. These include an Indian-spiced yellow mung bean dhal, a creamy broccoli cheddar and a rotating vegetarian option. The sandwiches are consistently rich in vegetables and incorporate various flavors, such as pesto and barbecue sauce. Customers can also look forward to the classic Krishna Lunch salad, complete with optional almond dressing. Diners can mix and match two items for $7.95 or get a full plate of three items plus dessert for $11.95 — and all

meals include unlimited cold tea. The desserts, which vary daily, are one of the most enticing aspects of Govinda’s. There are familiar treats, at least to the Gainesville vegan palate, such as the vegan walnut chocolate chip cookie. And Govinda’s pastry chefs and bakers are constantly devising unique creations, like the chocolate and rose infused cupcake, and Hollis’ personal favorite, the pumpkin cupcake with ginger frosting.

For those who feel equally tempted by a cupcake or a cookie, or want something outside the norm, there is a simple solution: The coconut date ball is a small, unsuspecting morsel of finely chopped dates and almonds rolled in shredded coconut. The sweet and nutty sensation is simple but energizing; you would never suspect it to be vegan, glutenfree, sugar-free and all-natural.

The food at Govinda’s is only half of the dining experience. Natural light pours into the building through large front windows, pleasantly

illuminating your lunch. The paper plates of Krishna Lunch are replaced by stainless steel plates, and there is plenty of seating, so you won’t have to balance your plate on your knee like you might at Krishna Lunch.

The ambient Indian music adds to the serene atmosphere.

“We wanted it to be a place you can come be yourself, relax and be welcome,” Hollis said.

And relaxed you shall be. Included in the menu are not-so-edible weekly yoga sessions, which can be combined with lunch, dinner and — for kids — a cookie. Check their website for the schedule and combo pricing.

Govinda’s unique approach to dining is one that is sure to find its home in Gainesville and please its customers.

“We didn’t just want to open a café,” Hollis said. “Our hope was to connect with people, and that’s been my favorite part.” •

GOVINDA’S

Vegan Berry Crumble

INGREDIENTS CAKE

3/4 cup nondairy milk 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar 1/3 cup sugar 1/2 cup coconut oil 1 teaspoon vanilla 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 & 1/4 cup flour 2 teaspoon baking powder

CRUMBLE TOPPING 1 cup of flour 1/3 cup of brown sugar 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg 1/4 cup coconut oil

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Mix crumble topping ingredients in small bowl.

2. Mix dry cake ingredients in seperate bowl.

3. Mix wet cake ingredients in seperate bowl.

4. Combine all your ingredient into one bowl.

5. Add 1 cup of berries.

6. Spread cake mix in 8 inch square pan. Top with crumble.

7. Bake at 375 degrees for 3540 minutes.

LOCATION

604 NW 13th St.

HOURS

Monday to Saturday 11 a.m. to 8 p.m.

IN SEASON A N D F R E SH pineapple • blueberries • celery eggplant • guava • honey orange • endive • papaya

Summer 2016 | T H E

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FOR THE RECORD

Showcasing local bands, the next big thing, and all your friends.

If you’d like to see your band reviewed in For The Record, or if you want to be considered to play at our next benefit show, email

Endless Pools in Supermoon Studios, where they recorded Make Waves. Photo by Gabrielle Calise.

ENDLESS POOLS Make Waves

Dreamy psych rock

Jan. 2016 Supermoon Studios sounds like Surfer Blood, Real Estate, Deerhunter inspiration A day at the beach, Dick Dale key tracks Again, Lost where to get it endlesspoolsmusic. bandcamp.com, Spotify, Google Music released

recorded at

upcoming shows tba

guitar, vocals

bass

guitar

Jacob Adams Thomas Deaton

drums

in a practice space nestled next to a boxing ring and a pow-

erlifting gym, the members of Endless Pools perfect their mystifying blend of surf rock. Their instruments fill the lofted room with waves of warbly guitars and bouncing riffs.

Since forming in December 2014, the members of Endless Pools have already cranked out an EP (with plans for a full-length album by the end of 2016); built a recording studio; and opened for some of their biggest musical influences.

Endless Pools, named after a pool company in a commercial that singer Jacob Adams heard on NPR, plays music with a moody, ambient twist.

The group’s unique blend of sounds comes partly from the unconventional musical upbringing of guitarist Thomas Deaton. He taught himself how to play while listening to ‘80s new wave music, citing bands such as The Cure and New Order as big influences. Before he met Adams on Craigslist, Deaton had never made, or even listened to, surf rock music.

Endless Pools’ sound is influenced by classic surf rock groups such as Dick Dale & His Deltones, as well as shoegaze bands like My Bloody Valentine, Real Estate and Deerhunter. Deaton and Adams are also inspired by the way Radiohead guitarists Jonny Greenwood and Ed O’Brien use pedals to create atmospheric washes of ambient sound underneath the guitar.

“The goal’s always to make music that would be good to

10 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

Ryan Allen Damian Caraballo

editors@thefineprintmag.org listen to at the beach,” Adfor more information. ams said.

Endless Pools received exposure while opening for Dick Dale last April and Surfer Blood earlier this year. The latter band even made a point to see Endless Pools play and complimented them on the rhythm and tempo of their music after their set, Adams said.

“It kind of makes you feel like you’ve arrived,” Deaton said.

The members of Endless Pools also built a digital recording space called Supermoon Studios, where they recorded “Make Waves.” In addition to recording their own music, the group hopes to work with other bands.

“The goal of this is to give people who record with us a way to quickly release [music],” Deaton said. “We want this to be something that is simple to access and affordable.”

The band also prides itself on being carbon-neutral, selling USB drives pre-loaded with their EP as a sustainable way to listen to music.

“From the footprint aspect, we give you something that you can continue to use,” Adams said.

No matter how fans access the music, Adams said he hopes the songs make listeners feel something.

“I really just want people to get up and dance,” he said. •

BY GABRIELLE CALISE

JUST NEIGHBORS Just Neighbors

Cozy punk

Mar. 2016 Black Bear Studios sounds like Post rock and math rock with a jazz influence inspiration Rooftop, Cavemen, American Football, Pretend released

recorded at

Jackoriah, Reverie,

key tracks

Pockets where

to

get

it

justneighbors.

bandcamp.com upcoming shows

July 29 at Loos-

ey’s

Teenage lo-fi Feb. 2016 Kinsey’s back-porchturned-music-studio sounds like Thom Yorke stole Neutral Milk Hotel’s instrumentals inspiration Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, John Frusciante’s earlier albums key tracks In the Grass, Days Were Late where to get it danielkinsey. bandcamp.com upcoming shows Play’s at Cymplify’s open mic nights released

recorded at

guitar, bass

Justice Diamond Dan Lohr

for the four members of Just Neighbors,

making music together comes naturally.

From writing to rehearsals to naming the band, their process is organic. The final product reflects this: Songs flow easily from one to the next, creating an album that exudes warmth and comfort.

The group met their freshman year at the University of Florida. Despite different majors and interests, they coalesced around a shared passion for music. After meeting casually a few times to jam, the group fell into place.

“We were friends before, and we’re still friends,” said Dan Lohr, who plays guitar and bass. “We were just having fun. And that’s still all we’re doing.”

Just Neighbors released its debut selftitled album in March and is working to release another project this summer, likely in May. Their writing process is collaborative, with all members constantly revising and contributing.

“Everybody’s voice is heard on every

DANIEL KINSEY Lover’s Trip

guitar, bass

to

daniel

kinsey’s

Jarrett Haines

BY ROMY ELLENBOGEN

song,” Lohr said. “I don’t think we would sound the same if it weren’t that way.”

The album is mellow and relaxed yet keeps listeners engaged. Instrumental tracks transition smoothly, creating a peaceful atmosphere of easy listening.

The music has a distinct math rock sound; it uses complex rhythms; clean, bright tones free of distortion; and unusual meters not traditionally found in rock music. The band also cites jazz as an influence in the choice of chord progressions.

These influences create a traveling sound that evokes different moods, from the jazzy “Sandwedge” to the daydreamy “Reverie.” Even within a song, moods shift seamlessly — another hallmark of the math rock genre. The album’s final song, “Pockets,” begins upbeat and shifts into a slower, more stripped-down and thoughtful end.

Although its first album is purely instrumental, the band has been

guitar, bass, keyboard, drum machine

two albums, “Lover’s Trip” and “Days

by Day,” and you’ll find yourself zoned out, stuck in a reverie only the droning white noise of indie lo-fi can produce. Then, as Kinsey’s deadpan voice punctures your daydream, you’ll realize just how much time has passed since you clicked play.

Kinsey is as shy and self-aware as your typical 17-year-old singersongwriter. He’s naturally expressive and recalls dancing in public at a reggae festival he attended as a child, overcome by the rhythm of the steel drum.

Though the tendency to move has been suppressed with age, it sneaks out when he talks, his swinging shoulders and bobbing head enveloped in nervous energy.

“I don’t compose. I don’t read music. I just go off of whatever I feel,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I’ll just pick up my guitar and I’ll look at the neck and I’ll think, ‘OK, where in these areas are the notes that are listen

guitar, bass, keyboard

Daniel Kinsey

preparing songs with vocals for the next project. They believe adding vocals will let them expand on their existing sound, making it easy for people to connect with their music.

“I want them to just enjoy it,” said Justice Diamond, who plays guitar and bass. “Just enjoy it, and not have to be distracted by it or anything.”

As the band moves forward, the members hope to play more shows in more locations. Jarrett Haines, who plays guitar, bass and keyboard, said he wants to launch a small southeastern tour over the summer.

“It’s a challenge but it’s exciting to have the ideas that I’ll hear late at night come to fruition,” Lohr said. “That goes for everyone. Everyone has these ideas.”

Easy communication of ideas is what makes the band work, Diamond said.

“It’s absurd,” he said. “I don’t know how it works, but it does.” •

BY MOLLY MINTA

going to represent how I’m feeling?’”

Kinsey has experimented with art, from poetry to stop-motion animation, his entire life, but he only started composing music in late 2015.

“I feel like I wasn’t able to represent this human quality of myself before. I wanted [my art] to be a very big, personal reflection, and I feel like I couldn’t do that through the [art] I was doing before,” he said.

Something else happened in late 2015: Kinsey met a girl. His first album, "Lover’s Trip," is inspired by their relationship.

“It was a winter day, and we were alone together,” he said. “We tried listening to music, we tried watching movies, but it didn’t feel right, so I ended up lying on the couch with her for — I don’t even know how long … It made me realize just how perfect her and I were for each other.”

The song “Lover’s Trip” has no vocals. Kinsey said this is intentional,

an attempt to put a sound to his experience of quietly being together that day. The album is dreary but peaceful, with solemn emotion wallowing inside each guitar note.

“Most of the songs on there are written not really about her, not really about that event,” he said.

“The rest of those songs are really just about how somebody else, who can be similar to you, can make you feel more familiar with yourself.”

Kinsey is not just a boy in love, nor is he just a singer-songwriter.

He is also a high school student who feels the anxiety that comes with realizing life’s limits. “Days by Day” is striking in its teen spirit.

A lot of the album, Kinsey said, has to do with living a life you never really wanted to live.

“And once it’s too late to realize it,” he said, “that you wanted a completely different life to live, you can’t do anything about it.” •

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 11

ASHES to ASPEN Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery offers a sustainable alternative to traditional burial.

BY BRANDON CORDER ILLUSTRATION BY SARA NETTLE

S

pring at the Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery paints colors drawn from the palette of native Florida plants and wildflowers. In the far margins of the cemetery are the pale purple flowers of spiderwort. Near the stately oak hammocks are the soft reds and yellows of coral bean and honeycomb-head. Green, palm-like fronds of coontie dot the small shrubs and wiregrass.

Conservation Burial Inc. (CBI) director Freddie Johnson, who operates Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery (PCCC), wouldn’t want it any other way.

PCCC is located in southeast Gainesville, off Highway 20 and adjacent to a crossing of the Hawthorne bike trail. However, on the 87-acre easement you won’t find rows of headstones or mausoleums. Instead, people who choose to lay to rest at Prairie Creek do so to return their remains to the earth in a sustainable fashion, what PCCC’s mission statement describes as “reuniting people with the environment” without the use of embalming fluids or nonbiodegradable burial containers. Johnson calls this practice natural, or “green,” burial. Before the ubiquity of tombs or preservation fluids, all burials were more or less done this way.

12 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

At PCCC, every aspect of the remains and burial is closely examined to ensure the environment is modified as little as possible. For instance, PCCC only allows burial containers that are biodegradable, such as wicker caskets or natural-fiber shrouds. Done right, Johnson says, the process is completely sustainable and environmentally neutral. Illustrative of this is the flat, or nearly flat, ground that is left over from the subtle mound as a person’s remains decompose over the course of a few years.

Also discouraged at PCCC are any burial markers that may detract from the natural beauty of the grounds’ sandhill, upland pine, hammock or wetland communities.

The memorials that do exist — stacked wood, native flower plantings and small boulders — are all found objects from the easement selected by loved ones. Small brass markers also indicate burial sites and are coordinated with GPS location technology.

Importantly, embalmed bodies are not accepted at Prairie Creek, Johnson said. Modern embalming fluids are made of a cocktail of preservation chemicals, such as formaldehyde and glutaraldehyde. Although these chemicals, along with energy-intensive refrigeration processes, allow remains to be

COLUMN / SIMPLY SCIENCE preserved and viewed for days following death, their environmental impact is immense when they leach from burial canisters at traditional cemeteries.

Formaldehyde in particular is known to cause cancer in humans and animals, particularly crustaceans like lobsters.

Therefore, those who have elected to be buried at PCCC are laid to rest shortly following their passing. They may also be preserved at home using dry ice until it is possible to move them to the cemetery. This way, chemical input into the ground is eliminated.

Around 200 people’s remains have been laid to rest at Prairie Creek, Johnson says. Some people also choose to make PCCC the final resting place of their small furry or feathered companions.

The common theme, however, is a reverence for the health of the Earth

sits peacefully alongside the remains of her dog in a sunny, open shrubland of native grasses and a field of wildflowers.

To facilitate the goal of conserving Alachua County’s native landscape, both PCCC and CBI exist in conjunction with the Alachua Conservation Trust, which is also headquartered at Prairie Creek. The trust helps maintain and manage the grounds of PCCC, among other land in Alachua County, said assistant land manager Mark Larson. The main priority of the land management is to restore the land to the way it was before widespread land use altered Florida. Accordingly, land managers at PCCC like Larson plant native wiregrass and longleaf pine, remove invasive species such as coral ardisia and implement controlled burns every few years.

The common theme, however, is a reverence for the health of the Earth and the conservation of the plants and animals that live on it. and the conservation of the plants and animals that inhabit it. For that reason, a portion of the burial fees go toward maintaining and conserving the land.

But it’s not just the conservation or the sustainable practices that Johnson is proud of, it’s how the grounds of Prairie Creek are used to celebrate those who have passed.

“A lot of times people come out here and have a picnic or go on a hike,” he said. “That’s part of the model. It’s just joyful.”

PCCC is a joyful place indeed.

Along the burial sites are three miles of trails, including the Dr. Kathy Cantwell Trail, named after the beloved Gainesville physician and environmentalist. Cantwell was the first person to be laid to rest at PCCC just after it opened in 2010. Her grave

“When places like this burn,” says Larson, “a lot of the native vegetation responds very quickly.”

And when they do respond, says Larson, they do so with vigorous germination, flowering and seed production — and with that, the health of the easement resembles its natural state more and more.

It’s harrowing to realize the impact humans have on the Earth. However, choosing to live in a way that doesn't cause problems for your posterity, but instead gives back, is the ultimate form of “thinking ahead.” In Alachua County, people like Johnson are working to ensure the dream of a sustainable future of those sleeping in Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery becomes reality. •

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 13

Beach,DON’T

KILL MY VIBE

TEXT BY HELEN STADELMAIER ILLUSTRATIONS BY SARAH SENFELD AND SHANNON NEHILEY

a day trip to the coast or you're in the mood to take your summer outside, nothing ruins your day like being sandy, sweaty and sunburned. Luckily, we’ve got you covered with three projects that are sure to keep you vibin’ in the rough months ahead. whether you’re planning

SUNSCREEN materials

• 1/4 cup of almond oil • 1/4 cup of coconut oil • 1/4 cup of beeswax (or soywax for alternative) • 2 tablespoons of zinc oxide powder • 2 tablespoons of shea butter • Essential oils for scent (optional)

directions

ingredients, except the zinc oxide and essential oils, using a double boiler set-up.

Simply put the ingredients in a metal or glass bowl and place the bowl, over a pot of boiling water.

2. stir the ingredients together, then remove from heat.

3. thoroughly stir in the zinc oxide and essential oils, if using.

4. pour finished product into the container of your choosing, and store in a cool dry place.

5. rub into skin before going outside for all-natural protection from the sun, free of any mysterious or harmful chemicals.

1.

melt together all

14 | T H E

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EMBROIDERED BASEBALL HAT materials

• Plain baseball cap in the color of your choice • Embroidery floss • Embroidery needle, or needle with an eye long enough for the floss • Pencil, or white pencil (depending on the color of the hat)

directions

1. plan. Try to go simple in design and color. For example, a red heart on a black hat, or a four leaf clover on a white hat.

2. using the pencil, draw an outline of your design on the hat.

3. thread the floss through the needle and tie a knot so it doesn’t slip while you’re sewing. Then, estimate how much floss you will need, snip it at the end, and tie a knot.

4. using a basic split stitch, embroider along your outline. Repeat this to create the basic sewn outline.

5. to fill your embroidery, sew a longer version of the split stitch across the inside of the design.

6. tie off your floss inside the hat and remove any excess string.

7. to add another color to your design, simply repeat steps 4 - 6.

8. once your embroidery is complete, put your hat on your head and go out and enjoy the summer sun just a little more stylishly than last year.

COLUMN / HOMESTEAD INSTEAD

BEACH TOWEL BACKPACK

materials • Cotton webbing • Needle and thread

• Hand towel • Full-sized beach towel

directions

1. gather your towels together. They can be matching for a uniform bag, or you can choose to mix and match and upcycle old towels for this project.

2. lay the hand towel out horizontally. For the backpack straps, cut two 10-inch pieces of cotton webbing and place them evenly spaced on the right side of the towel. They should reach from the right edge to the center of the hand towel.

so Good

It should look like this whensomething you start

3. pin and sew the straps to the hand towel. Then fold it in half (hamburger style) and sew up the edges. Do not sew the top. This is where the beach towel will go inside once the backpack is complete.

far ?

4. lay out the beach towel and place the sewn-up hand towel at the top in the center. Sew the lower layer at the opening of the hand towel to the top edge of the beach towel.

5. once you’ve sewn the hand towel to the beach towel, flip over the whole thing to fold it up. Fold the sides in towards the center first, then fold up the bottom. Stuff the larger towel into the hand towel bag.

6. throw in your ball-cap and homemade sunscreen and head off to the beach! Or the pool. Or your backyard.

basic split stitch

Push your threaded needle through from the inside of the hat (Point A) then, from the outside, push it back in (Point B). Next, push your needle up in between the floss that connects Point A and Point B. Repeat.

Point A

You're done !

Point B

Summer 2016 | T H E

FINE PRINT|

15

cat

callers

Gainesville is home to an organized network of feral cat feeders. It all started when two women accidentally crossed paths.

BY MOLLY MINTA ILLUSTRATIONS BY SHANNON NEHILEY

I

t was a bright afternoon in mid-2001, and Adele Franson was on a mission. Armed with a cat food can in one hand and a decanter of water in the other, she marched toward the Salvation Army on the corner of Northwest Second and Main Street. Her plan was to feed the feral cat colony that lived behind the store.

Feral cat colonies tend to be located in the invisible parts of town — deserted parking lots, abandoned restaurants, desolate roads. Just as you wouldn’t expect to stumble upon a colony midday downtown, you don’t anticipate crossing paths with the feeders: people in the community who are dedicated to providing feral cats with food, water and care. They operate quietly, behind the scenes.

Which is why when Franson, confronted with the sight of another woman walking, same as her, with one hand gripping a food can and the other holding a bottle of water, her first reaction was to ask, “What are you doing?”

The woman, Debbie Nichtberger, was on her way to the Salvation Army to feed the same colony. But rather than say this, she shot back, “What are you doing?”

It was the start of a 15-year-long friendship. And even more, it was a turning point for the feral cats of Gainesville.

16 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

SPOTLIGHT

need, you get attached to the animals — that’s what keeps you going.” ranson’s friendship with Nichtberger started off slowly, but the two stayed in contact, leaving each other notes outside of their shared colonies and occasionally collaborating to rescue a sick cat. Over time, they developed a strong bond.

“I just think we connected,” Franson said. “I’m a person, and she is, that’s interested in helping others … in our little world of feeding.”

Though Nichtberger’s first colony was the one she shared with Franson behind the Salvation Army, she’s always loved cats. She grew up with them —

F

“

You see the need there and then you get attached to the animals. That’s what keeps you going. Then you can’t let Franson and Nichtberger down.

“

T

here are 41,000 feral cats in Gainesville, according to local spay-and-neuter nonprofit Operation Catnip — a population that rivals the University of Florida’s student body.

But, so many cats cannot sustainably exist on their own. Without some kind of human intervention, they’d overrun the city, their unchecked growth resulting in disease and decreased bird populations.

To prevent this, animal lovers practice trap-neuter-return, in which feral cats are trapped, spayed and neutered — typically at a clinic — then returned to their colony. Feeders take it a step further, caring for the the cats and providing the colonies with food and water so they don’t turn their hungry eyes to lizards or birds.

While it tends to be an independent job tackled on a cat-lover-by-cat-lover basis, the feral cat feeding game has grown more sophisticated over the past decade, with organized networks of feeders working together to strategically find and care for colonies.

Here in Gainesville, Franson and Nichtberger have organized one such network — a group of 10 consistent feeders.

Feeding feral cats and ensuring they’re spayed and neutered costs time and money — feeders attend to them twice a day, every day. They receive some help, in the form of free spaying and neutering, vaccines and supplies from Operation Catnip, but for the most part they must buy their own resources.

The group is organized remotely through a meticulous schedule Nichtberger emails to everyone at the beginning of each week. The feeders know they can count on one another to help house a sick or injured cat, as well as to cover shifts in the event that they do not have time to feed their colony that day.

“Even with rain and thunder, you have to wait ‘til it’s over, and then the cats are waiting for you with their little tails,” Trish Garibaldi, a fellow feral cat feeder, said. But “once you see the

her family, she said, always had at least three at a time. When she moved to Gainesville in her early 20s, she naturally took in a small feral kitten.

“It had maggots in it,” she said, “and my husband was kind of a control freak.”

He told her to drown the cat and, when she refused, he forced her to.

“I think that’s why I am the way I am now,” Nichtberger said. “I have a lot of compassion for animals. I don’t know if you have any pets, but they’re just balls of love, and you just feel sorry for them.”

As she and Franson grew closer, they realized they knew many of the same people who were also feeding ferals. They began to consolidate their

individual connections into a Rolodex of people they could rely on — a prototype of what the group would eventually become.

“I consider her my best friend,” Nichtberger said. “Because of the cat thing, we understand each other …

She’s like the mom I never had, or like a sister. We’re just so alike.”

Then, Mrs. Kitty disappeared.

It was late 2003 when Mrs. Kitty, one of Franson’s house cats, jumped into the back of her car on her way to feed a colony. Then, somewhere along the way, she escaped.

Desperate to find her, Franson solicited the help of John Keane, a pet detective (alias: Sherlock Bones) based out of California. Though he advised her to print wanted posters (which soon covered her neighborhood), he urged her against offering a large reward. She settled on $3,000.

“To lose Mrs. Kitty had a lot of meaning — nothing else meant anything, in a way,” Franson said. “I would sell anything, not being foolish about it, but I would do anything to help the cats.”

Her work paid off, and Mrs. Kitty was found. Or rather, Mrs. Kitty found her, surprising her neighbor Mary Santello (another feral cat feeder) by poking her head out from between her azalea bushes.

Franson was already widely thought of as a good neighbor — someone who would bring in your trash cans or look after your cats while you’re away, Mary Ellen Delaplaine, Franson’s neighbor, said. Before Mrs. Kitty’s disappearance, Franson had cajoled many of her neighbors into accompanying her when she would go out to feed.

But it was her tenacity during the search that attracted even more feral cat feeders in the community to her.

Like Garibaldi, who first met Franson as she was going door-to-door for Mrs. Kitty, many of them would go on to eventually comprise the group that exists today.

SPOTLIGHT

PHOTO BY ILANA BARNES

Adele Franson, one of Gainesville’s feral cat feeders. Franson has been feeding Gainesville’s feral cats for 14 years.

“She really went all out,” Garibaldi said. “Very few people go out of their way to find people, much less animals.”

Nichtberger and Franson are relentless in their pursuit of helping cats, Kate Boisseau, programs coordinator at Operation Catnip, said. Their doggedness has earned them both comparisons to Mother Theresa. And it’s an apt one, considering Nichtberger refers to herself as a “feral cat hospice.”

But it’s also earned them another name: cat ladies.

Nichtberger said she deals with this every day at her work, where repeat customers refer to her by the moniker.

“They’ll come in, and I’m like ‘Hey, Mitchell,’ and he’s like ‘Hey, cat lady,’” she said. “I’m like, ‘Mitchell, I’ve been waiting on you for 30 years, and you don’t know my name?’”

Franson, however, has a different perspective.

“Oftentimes, when people have said it to me, it’s because they’ve recognized me,” she said. “I think it’s wonderful that they’re aware, and I think it’s a way to bring recognition and awareness.”

Most days they’ll feed two colonies, Nichtberger said. On others, they might feed six.

“A lot of times, people just focus on the cats that are in their own yards,” Boisseau said. “But they go all over.

They’ll hear about a cat, and they’ll go 18 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

seek out that cat and help them out.”

Part of the reason she got involved, Garibaldi said, was to give Franson and Nichtberger a third person to rely on.

“You see the need there and then you get attached to the animals,” she said. “That’s what keeps you going.

Then you can’t let [Franson and Nichtberger] down.” n a Friday afternoon, Franson has three colonies to feed.

She pulls off an isolated road, bouncing onto a dirt patch and parking askew. She walks around to her trunk, where inside she keeps her feral cat feeding kit: a can of wet cat food, an opened bag of dry kibble and a decanter of water with a glass stopper.

The food and water will go into three white ceramic bowls in the dining area Franson has set up for the colony in the shade of some fallen tree branches.

A woman wearing a Miami Hurricanes jersey bikes past, the wheels making a zippering noise in the puddles left behind by a recent storm.

She calls out to Franson, “Back at feeding the cats again?”

Franson said the woman is probably homeless.

“It’s their territory, too,” she said, referring to Gainesville’s homeless population, around whom ferals tend to congregate.

O

The appearance of a meowing ginger tabby cat diverts her attention. It’s time for Piglet, Momma and Blackie to be fed.

“Piggy-let-let-let-let,” she trills, tapping the spoon against the can. “Momma’s by. You hungry?”

Piglet agrees and darts down the road to nudge Momma, a skinny black and white cat, who stands, waiting, her tail at attention. Franson follows, hunched forward.

With no nonsense, she cleans out uneaten food from two of the ceramic bowls and refills them. Piglet jumps for the food as Momma stands back and watches Franson pour her water. Blackie, who is “very timid and shy,” Franson said, appears from behind a branch and approaches the food.

As the cats begin to eat, Franson coos at them, talking like one would to a baby.

Then she turns.

“On to to the next,” she says.

Neither science, nor the feeders, can explain what causes feral cats to form colonies — they just do.

According to nonprofit Alley Cat Allies, which advocates for trap-neuter-return, colonies tend to coalesce around food or other available resources, with the females and their young forming the core social bonds. They act like a family, each cat retaining its own personality.

“Cats are not unlike us,” she added.

“They have the same anatomical sense.

They have nerve endings. They feel pain. They grieve. They’re joyful.”

But “animals are seen as possessions,” Franson said. “So, as possessions, you can do as you want. You can throw them pizza, and that’s good enough for them to eat … It boils down to people not viewing these creatures with rights.”

In the long run, Franson’s goal is to work with other organizations — Operation Catnip and Alley Cat Allies among them — ­ to help animals obtain legal rights.

“It takes a village to accomplish a lot of things,” she said. “We’re all trying to do our part.” •

POTTY TALK TEXT & ILLUSTRATIONS BY SAMANTHA SCHUYLER Molly Minta, Alex Morrison, Helen Stadelmaier, Leanne Sheth, Shayna Tanen and Anne Marie Tamburro contributed to this report.

How queer-friendly are downtown Gainesville bathrooms?

Y

ou’re gr a bbing d inn e r w i th a f r i e n d , an d the s u m m e r he at has yo u d ow ning sever a l gla s s e s o f w ate r. Or i t’s a f r i e n d’s b i r thd ay, s o yo u’re ba r hopping to celeb r ate . Yo u c o u l d e ve n ju s t b e s tro l l i n g d ow n town , enj oying the end o f the d ay, w he n i t hi ts : Yo u re al l y have to u s e t h e ba throom.

This ma y not sound like a d ilem m a, b u t f o r tr an s an d ge n d e rq u e e r p e o p l e , f i n d in g a com f or ta ble a nd sa fe pla ce to go i s a c o n s tan t o b s tac l e . It’s at the p u b l i c b athro o m, f ace d with signs tha t reify the ge n d e r b i n ar y, w he re p re s s u re to c o n f o r m to o n e o r t h e ot h e r gend er hits ha rd .

K r y s Eli Vyne, a loca l tr a ns a d vo c ate w ho i d e n ti f i e s as n o n - b i n ar y, has f ac e d th i s di le m m a . T hough they present m as c u l i n e — we ar i n g m e n’s c l o thi n g, hai r s ty l e s , et c .

— t h e y d o not find tha t men’s re s tro o m s o f f e r e n o u g h p r i vac y, an d f o r thi s re aso n t h e y us e the women’s.

THE BREAKDOWN

55%

83 out of 128 business have single stall bathrooms.

Of businesses have a gender neutral option.

s inesse 15 buvse more d ha e an

on than eparate s t ’ n do ders.

businesses downtown have gender neutral, multi-stall bathrooms.

others said they had not thought about their bathrooms. Some, like Rich Pustari, owner and manager of Bank Lounge, said the signs were more of a suggestion, and added that the setup had come out of “social norms.” But Beverly Webb, owner of The Midnight, liked the idea of removing signs altogether. Though The Midnight has unisex bathrooms, each door is flagged with the traditional unisex sign, showing a male and female figure. Webb is now considering removing the signs.

“We have some trans — or people who don’t identify with a gender — [customers],” she said, “and I wouldn’t want them to feel weird.”

But multi-stall bathrooms — those that accommodate multiple users — don’t receive paStrieS · SaNDWicheS · SalaDS · SNackS the same leniency. When asked if the restaurant would ever opeN MoN–Fri, 7aM–12aM / Sat–SuN, 9aM–12aM consider making its multi2029 NW 6th St., GaiNeSville, Fl 32609 stall bathroom gender neutral, Event info at facebook.com/curiaonthedrag Dragonfly general manager @curiaonthedrag on Instagram Katie Talbert said there are no plans; the restaurant does not want to be political. Jessica Foltz,

coFFee · tea · beer · WiNe

20 | T H E

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www.thefineprintmag.org

gen

zero

But for many local bathrooms, there are still only two options: male and female. This leaves those who don't fit in the gender binary without access to a bathroom.

In many cases, downtown businesses offered two single-stall bathrooms — that is, the bathroom had amenities for one person — but still separated the rooms by male and female.

Businesses had different reasons for doing this: Anthony Rue, owner of Volta Tea & Chocolate, cited county building codes; if not for that, he would remove the gendered signs. Several

For a full map and more information, visit

Gender neutral bathrooms by business type. assistant manager of Mark’s Prime Steakhouse, said she had nothing against transgender people, but there were no plans to change the multi-stall bathrooms “because a majority of people identify with a certain gender.”

Adam Rogers, manager of Liquid Ginger, also said there were no plans to change the bathrooms.

“Nope, never,” he said. “‘Cause that’s the way it is. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

But in some cases, the customers brought about the change. Hardback Cafe, for example, had a circuitous route to gender-neutrality.

Bar manager Julia Bushnell had wanted the bathrooms to be gender neutral when the bar and concert venue reopened earlier this year.

Her father, the owner, had put up gendered signs anyway.

One night, Bushnell said, a customer yanked the signs from above the doors and tossed them on the ground. The signs — one male, one female — are now taped to the side of a fridge behind the bar. She created new ones in their place: “Bathroom 1” and “Bathroom 2.” It’s been that way ever since.

Her father hasn't noticed the difference. •

closed; employees only; no bathroom; or unavailable

gender neutral option

multi-stall(s)

single stall(s)

Where can you find ‘em?

Cut it out and take it with you!

SPOTLIGHT

FOOD FOR THOUGHT:

CHILDREN OF THE I CORN

Have you ever considered how much corn you actually eat? It’s a southern staple, and it sustained Native Americans for centuries. While it doesn’t thrive naturally without the aid of humans, it’s everywhere, and it pervades the menus of our favorite restaurants. It even stays with us until the next morning, long after it’s eaten. For this edition of Food for Thought, we took “stalk” of the most delicious dishes in the city that highlight this summery, sweet and — dare we say — amaizeing grain.

BY KYLE HAYES & SHAYNA TANEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY SAMANTHA SCHUYLER

Sara Nettle contributed to this report.

22 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

t was about to rain. The clouds gathered overhead as The Fine Print writers Shayna and Kyle convened Downtown. They were about to begin an epic journey of friendship — and corn.

They were relative strangers. Having only spoken about three times, Kyle and Shayna would learn a great deal about each other over two summer evenings and eight different preparations of sweet corn. Maybe it was the margaritas they ceremoniously began the first night with.

Or maybe it was just the corn. Either way, the two quickly cobbled together a budding friendship.

SHAYNA: We began at Boca Fiesta. Before we had the chance to order our first sampling, the smell of corn arriving at a nearby table wafted over to us like a siren calling us to the rocks. We knew we were in for a cornucopia of flavor.

Unannounced, the waiter delivered a fresh basket of corn chips, an unexpected beginning to our feast. Even the salsa had a few stray kernels of corn intermingled in its tomato-y plasma. We each ordered the “street style” elote corn, as well as some much-needed margaritas. I didn’t know it, but each order would come out with two whole corn cobs, slathered in sour cream, spicy cotija cheese and lime, then pierced with big wooden skewers.

In the name of pacing ourselves and spreading the cornis-good gospel, we reserved two of the corn cobs for Kyle’s grateful friend, Angie.

KYLE: With an eerie ability to detect the presence of corn in all its glorious forms, Shayna led us to The Hyppo.

She had a hunch the popsicle store might have a festive corn pop, and indeed, it did: the sweet corn poblano pop.

“Don’t do it,” said Madeline Baker, an employee at The Hyppo. She wasn’t crazy about it, but we all dove into sampling the slightly spicy yellow pop. While the taste wasn’t something people usually seek in a popsicle, it did, undoubtedly, taste like sweet corn and poblano peppers — a high-brow popsicle for only the most refined palates.

AW, SHUCKS. TORN FOR MORE CORN? POP INTO ONE OF THE PLACES BELOW TO GET YOUR FIX. DRAGONFLY

After, we moved on to The Top in search of its famous corn nuggets. The perfectly fried gold orbs, which came with a little cup of their irresistible creamy garlic dipping sauce, were crunchy on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside, studded throughout with bursting sweet corn kernels.

S: The power of those little corn nuggets was so strong that Kyle couldn’t leave them; he got a job at the restaurant as soon as he could!

K: With hearts and bellies full of corn, we decided to call it quits for the night; better to end on a high note.

• yuzu butter corn • dumplings served with popcorn cream sauce

S: Our adventure picked up one week later, this time with a new friend and member of The Fine Print team, Leanne, joining us in our culinary journey.

Our first destination was Southern Charm Kitchen, home of the fabled vegetarian corn succotash, a luscious mosaic of lima beans, green beans, tomatoes, carrots and corn. I was prepared for just one corn dish, but further inspection of the menu revealed two others: cheesy corn grits (great doused in Louisiana hot sauce) and a moist, not-too-sweet sugar-glazed cornbread. It was truly a marathon of corn eating.

K: We continued our mission by traversing downtown to Flaco’s, a restaurant up to its “ears” in corn recipes — they’ve really cornered the market. We decided on the sunshine arepa, which consists of two cornmeal patties, a layer of queso blanco, and a motley assortment of vegetables like peppers, carrots, mushrooms and — you guessed it — corn!

The corn in our stomachs slowed us on our walk to Dragonfly, but only slightly. We knew what we wanted: the togarashi yuzu butter corn. Similar to the elote at Boca Fiesta, this cob is grilled to perfection. It’s sliced into funsized disks and slathered with yuzu citrus, butter, togarashi (a Japanese chili blend) and minty shiso leaves.

When we finished — two days of corn meals under our belts — we were sure that one more kernel would surely kill us. So was it really worth it? Did we learn anything?

S: The magical bounty and prosper of Florida’s summer sweet corn not only feeds the body — it feeds friendships, too. So was stuffing my face with corn really a good idea?

Hell yeah it was, because now, not only am I very full of corn, I’m also full of gratitude and appreciation of my new friend Kyle. • Did you spot all 97 corn puns? Email The Fine Print at editors@thefineprintmag.org, and we’ll send you a lifetime’s supply of corn! Expect your first shipment no later than July of 2020.

SOUTHERN CHARM

BOCA FIESTA • elote corn

THE TOP

• corn nuggets • corn succotash • cornbread

FLACO’S • arepas

BURRITO FAMOUS • corn salsa

OFF THE GRIDDLE (FOOD TRUCK)

• corn nuggets

SOUL SHACK

• corn bread muffins

THE HYPPO

• sweetcorn poblano pop

SOUP TO NUTS (FOOD TRUCK)

• crab & corn chowder

LA TIENDA • tamales

BLUE GILL

• cornbread Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 23

FEATURE

ROCK ON

A crack in the ground brought the Gainesville Rock Gym to a close.

The rock climbing community won’t let that stop them.

STORY AND PHOTO BY GABRIELLE CALISE ILLUSTRATION BY SARA NETTLE

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ast a stretch of grass and a sprawling canopy of trees, through the mesh entrance of the Robitaille family’s patio, is a climber’s oasis.

The room is chaotic, packed with climbing gear and smelling strongly of sweaty feet and chalk. A patchwork of old mattresses and chunks of padding cover the floor, all sandwiched together to create a surface soft enough to break a fall.

Towering above, a homemade rock wall stretches 10 feet up to meet the ceiling of the screen-enclosed patio.

Eighteen-year-old climber Jordan Robitaille, a forest resources and conservation freshman at the University of Florida, dips his fingers into a sack of chalk before approaching the wall. He grips two of its colored rocks, gracefully hoisting himself up. The muscles along his back coil as he focuses on ascending the wall he and his friends constructed on the patio of his parents’ house in one weekend.

The wall has existed in different forms for about six years, but Robitaille is happy that it exists now more than ever: It’s one of the last places left in Gainesville to climb. ainesville may be flat, but it teems with people gripped with the urge to climb things. And for a while, the center of it all was the Gainesville Rock Gym. The gym was central to the city’s climbing community since it opened in 2000, said former employee Isaac Knudson, with people streaming through its doors to climb up and down its rock-studded walls. The gym was even known as a bucketlist item for college students — something you had to do at least once before you graduated, he said. As the only full-service rock gym in the city — the next closest,

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Sun Country Sports located in Jonesville, about 11 miles from Downtown — it was immensely popular.

But in December, a crack in the floor stopped it all.

After peeling back layers of padding in the process of constructing a new wall, gym employees discovered a crack in the concrete underneath, Knudson said, big enough to put the project on hold. After the building was inspected, the owners realized the problem was worse than anyone could have expected: Concrete slab damage ran throughout the gym.

The faults in the floor made climbing at the gym a safety hazard — and repairing them would be costly.

The owners launched a GoFundMe campaign that December, setting a goal of $100,000. Climbers donated over $10,000 by January. The donors had been under the impression that with their help, the gym would reopen at some point. For months, updates slowed, then came to a halt by the end of April.

“Unfortunately we have been left in the dark from our insurance company since our closing,” said the update on the gym’s GoFundMe page.

The post said another group of engineers would be visiting the gym to further assess the damage.

“We hope that their report will help push the process along,” the update read.

“We are doing everything in our power to get our community climbing again.”

In the meantime, no one is sure what’s going to happen next, Knudson said.

“It would be great to see some progress, and I would love to have the gym back,” Knudson said. “But it seems like there are some major obstacles.”

The owners didn’t respond to interview requests from The Fine Print.

Once a chalky oasis for climbers, the Gainesville Rock Gym remains closed, and until something changes, it leaves a community of climbers without a home. ut climbers, Robitaille said, will always find a way to climb.

Some have headed to the walls at Sun Country Sports. It has a climbing team and a few walls, making it the next best choice. But it’s not quite the same, Robitaille said. The climbers share the space with gymnasts and martial arts classes. It’s not the climbing-centric space of the old gym, packed with people who

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just wanted to climb.

After the Gainesville Rock Gym shut down, gyms in Tampa, Jacksonville and Orlando — the climbing community stretches far across our mountainless state — offered to honor Gainesville memberships, either with discounted rates or free access.

Some Gainesville climbers have taken them up on their offers. Others travel to parts of the country where you don’t need a gym: Tennessee, Alabama or Georgia — states riddled with jagged cliff faces and towering, rocky heights.

But having walls in town has allowed climbers to practice the sport close to home.

Robitaille’s wall is made of pine plywood and is speckled with climbing holds, colored slabs of material to grasp during a climb. The first version of the wall was built about five years ago. The second version was assembled about a year and a half ago. Each time, the project was completed over a weekend.

Robitaille grew up in Gainesville, climbing with the Gainesville Rock Gym youth team until he aged out. Before the gym closed, he was coaching the team that he had grown up climbing with.

“I kind of went full circle,” he said.

Though he said he practically lived at the rock gym, Robitaille convinced his parents to let him build a rock wall in their home about six years ago.

The wall itself, in many ways, is a symbol of the resilience of the climbing community and the teamwork ingrained in it, Robitaille said. Most of the material was donated from old climbing coaches and gyms from around the state, including the slabs of padding that line the floor and the holds of different shapes and colors.

And like the community, the wall is constantly shifting. Robitaille and his friends can switch the position of the holds, challenging themselves to conquer new routes.

Robitaille said he comes home to climb as much as he can now that the gym has closed, something that delights his parents.

Friends like Knudson drop by to climb for a few hours when they can.

With just one room and one wall, Robitaille’s setup is clearly smaller than the rock gym, but it still breeds that supportive, familial atmosphere.

“That’s it dude, nice!” Robitaille calls out to Knudson as he heaves his body to the top of the wall. “Solid. Bring it. Sick!”

As Knudson makes his way down, Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 25

Isaac Knudson climbs a homemade rock wall at Jordan Robitaille's parents' house.

Robitaille waits for him at the bottom, his arm already outstretched to give his friend a celebratory fist bump or Katie Meyer, the Gainesville Rock Gym was her safe place.

Meyer used to come to the gym to escape from a bad roommate situation at home. And as the president of the UF Climbing Team and a GRG employee, she would climb several times a week. But she also went there to do homework, see friends and enjoy the atmosphere.

The Gainesville Rock Gym was more than just a place to climb: It was the beating heart at the center of the community, Meyer said. Youth teams, coaches and college students seeking to melt away stress all gathered under the same roof. It hosted member nights and community potlucks; it was where a culture of support and friendship blossomed.

Meyer had been a competitive swimmer for 13 years — and a good one, sharing the pool with Olympics-bound teammates.

But when it came time to choose a college, she decided to look beyond Division One schools.

“Swimming became very much of a job for me,” she said. “There was a lot of pressure to perform well.”

Hoping to escape that pressure, Meyer began climbing. She liked the mental

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stimulation that came with climbing, the way conquering a route felt like solving a puzzle. But more than that, Meyer was drawn to the people.

“I was really astounded by how friendly people were,” Meyer said, especially coming from swimming’s cutthroat culture.

Even at competitions, climbers are welcoming and supportive, Robitaille said.

“Everyone there is spotting each other and helping them work through routes,” Robitaille said.

There is a competitive edge, but it’s mostly internal, he said. The pressure comes from wanting to improve your own technique. Other climbers want to see you succeed — they’ll even cheer you on.

“It’s not like a sport where they won’t pass you a ball if you aren’t good,” he said.

“If you’re bad, you’re the first one picked.” hough he’s been climbing for less than a year, Derek Ward has already learned one of the most important aspects of the sport: perseverance.

“You will fall 99 times and get it on the 100th time,” Ward said.

Without a gym, he said, finding a place for a less experienced climber to get involved has been difficult. So Ward uses Robitaille’s home wall, which he helped his childhood best friend build even before he started climbing.

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“The wall itself, in many ways, is a symbol of the resilience of the climbing community and the teamwork ingrained in it," Robitaille said.

The sport is difficult, he said, but the community’s philosophy pushes new climbers to try again.

“There’s a lot of heartbreak,” Ward said.

“Every time someone comes out here, Jacob says, ‘Don’t worry, 90 percent of it is falling.’”

Even when a route is frustrating to climb or his forearms burn with pain, Ward knows how to keep going. It’s a quality he has learned from the rock climbing community, the same one that always keeps them finding the next thing to climb. But establishing new headquarters for the city’s climbers is a much harder task.

“It’s still a transition for people,” Meyer said. “It was just this core place.”

Robitaille and Knudson both said something will happen soon. The Gainesville Rock Gym could still reopen; another company could swoop in to take it over or build something from scratch.

There will be another place where people will come to climb until their bodies ache and their hands bleed.

“There’s too much of a love of climbing for it to go away,” Robitaille said.

In the meantime, the members of the community are doing the best they can — gym or no gym.

“I’ll make do,” Robitaille said. “There will be no shortage of climbing in my life.”•

FEATURE

Investor Syndrome In part three of our series on gentrification, we talk to the people investing in the Porters neighborhood who see development on the horizon.

BY SAMANTHA SCHUYLER

A

lpha Davis lives in one of the many identical clapboard houses clustered at the southeast corner of the Porters neighborhood, a subdivision called Porters Oaks. At 64, she has lived in several parts of the city, including the northwest Pleasant Street neighborhood — back when the area was almost completely populated with black families.

Now, she said, it’s over 65 percent white. The few who have stuck around can do so because they own their homes. But they’re aging, she said. They’re in their 70s and 80s. She’s known them since she was a child.

“I go through the neighborhood, and I can still identify where I used to stay and what I used to do. And I tell my kids, and I tell my grandkids,” she said. “But I mean, it’s different.”

After retiring eight years ago, Davis moved to Porters Oaks. It was what she could afford, though she said the house is poorly constructed with flimsy materials. But living month-to-month on social security, sometimes struggling to pay her taxes, means she has limited choices.

Recently, Davis has started to notice something familiar: an influx of students and young white couples. Not an overwhelming number, she said, but enough to be noticed.

She’s seen this pattern before. And she said it’s inevitable because of the neighborhood’s proximity to the University of Florida.

“All of this is just slowly moving from 13th and University, moving east,” she said, referring to the apartment buildings and other large-scale development. “So this is going to be swallowed up. Not right now, but I’m seeing it...This is the next step.”

Davis has noticed what many landlords, rental agencies, developers and other officials have sensed for a while: Porters is in the middle of the city’s developmental

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 27

FEATURE crosshairs. The recent beautification efforts, public works projects and influx of boutique businesses has caught the attention of not only possible tenants, but the people who control the rent.

According to Toby Foster, an appraiser at the county’s property appraiser office, the development closing in on the Porters neighborhoods is coming from three directions: Main Street with the Cade Museum and Depot Park; businesses from University Avenue; and Fourth Avenue with Innovation Square.

“It’s primed to be completely different than we know it today,” Foster said. “Ten years from now, it might not look at all like what it is now.”

Alachua County Property Appraiser records show that only 33 of the some 127 properties in the Porters Area Southwest qualify for the homestead exemption, meaning

Keep up certain rates, you keep out certain people....Doesn’t have to be real high, but you have to keep it at a certain height, or you get a lot of people you don’t need.

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the property is owned by the person living in the house.

Seventy of the some 187 properties in all of the subdivisions — Porters Area Southwest, Porters Oaks and Porters Court/Place — list the property itself as its mailing address. And at least 46 of the properties, the office’s records show, are owned by developers; construction, real estate and rental companies; or speculators.

Steven P. Sparks, a senior land title examiner at Attorney’s Title Fund Services based in Jacksonville, is one of these speculators. He purchased a small sliver of land in the Porters neighborhood, which he expects will appreciate as development continues.

Eventually, he said, he’ll sell it to the adjacent property owner, who he expects will want to expand.

“Many times when an area is surrounded, for lack of a better word, by current development, it’s really just a matter of time before it itself falls into the same category,” Sparks said. “When you have areas like that, and you have the potential to keep rented multiple units at one time, it makes sense that, well, if you can afford to own one or two, you can own four or five or six.”

The people who own five or six lots after the development potential exerts its influence are the lucky ones, he said.

Britton Jones, president of the residential construction company Duration Builders, said he started purchasing property in Porters four years ago after noticing how development was slowly moving outward from UF. “I timed it pretty good on

that one,” Jones said. “The development of the Innovation Square there; the stuff happening at Depot Park and Depot Road; all the money being spent by the city and the university. As other folks around that area invest, including us local developers, it will continue. It’ll help the appreciation of the property values of that neighborhood.”

Ryan Saylor, a realtor with Trend Realty, agreed that the neighborhood has significantly changed since he started investing in 2002, especially over the last eight years.

“Continuum wasn’t there,” he said. “And across Sixth Street there’s Savion. All this development is creeping closer and closer.”

Saylor, who also lives in the neighborhood, said he isn’t bothered by the development.

He said he likes it; it helps raise property value, which is good for his business. He said that fellow residents don’t see it that way.

“To them, higher property values means higher taxes, and they don’t like that,” he said. “I think it’s going to change even more as houses continue to become available. More and more investors are going to be buying there, and injecting more and more money in there, and fixing places up and renting them out.”

As property value increases, so can rent, which can be toggled at the landlord’s or management company’s leisure.

An agent at local property management firm Gore Rabell Real Estate, who preferred to remain unnamed, said that rent prices can be used to curate tenants.

“That side of Main Street,

FEATURE

ILLUSTRATION BY JORDAN DAY CLEMMONS

Gainesville’s really hopping right now,” he said, “as long as you have good management, where you keep out undesirable people. Keep up certain rates, you keep out certain people....

Doesn’t have to be real high, but you have to keep it at a certain height, or you get a lot of people you don’t need.”

The Cade Museum and Depot Park are both projects spearheaded by G a i n e s v i l l e’s Community Redevelopment Agency. According interim director of the agency Sarah Vidal-Finn, the agency is sensitive to the link between development and rising cost of living.

“I don’t think you’d find a group that’s more sympathetic, or empathetic, to that plight than us,” Vidal-Finn said.

“A lot of our efforts have moved to work with the neighborhood, to really re-establish where they are in their history...to establish that Porters is a destination in itself.”

Vidal-Finn was referring to one of the CRA’s recent projects, where the agency installed an updated sign for the Porters Community at the corner of Main Street and Southwest Fifth Avenue. But when asked what the agency is doing to prevent the neighborhood from becoming a highturnover area like Pleasant Street, filled with transient students who can split costly housing among roommates, the CRA only really offered one option: Urban Infill Housing, a program where the agency builds new houses on cityowned lots that incentivize long-term home ownership by offering $25,000 off the cost of the house; if you stay more than 10 years, you don’t need to pay it off.

“It’s specifically for Fifth Avenue and Pleasant Street, so we’d have to rewrite it to include Porters,” she said.

“But during our work plan and strategic planning for the next two-year budget cycle, we talked about trying to get that program going over there.”

But this kind of program can only happen on government-owned land, and the only other city-owned land in

the neighborhood, aside from two small plots, is the entire Porters Oaks subdivision, where Alpha Davis lives.

And when asked what is being done to catch the people hit hardest by the development projects, Vidal-Finn said that the city has a lot of resources.

“What we [the city] lack is some sort of central place where you can learn about all those resources and get the assistance that you need,” she said.

“It’s a gap. Unfortunately one that we can’t take on....To me, it’s more: What are our city’s priorities, and our community’s priorities, and how do

we all come together...to help address a problem, or a perceived problem.”

In the meantime, development is still happening at a rapid clip.

According to Foster, Porters is on the cusp of a development boom. And Davis knows the consequences: Those who have lived there longest will be forced to leave.

“That’s the reality of it, they’ll go wherever they can afford to go,” Davis said. “The people who make those decisions aren’t looking at where these people are going to go. They’re looking at what their bottom line is.” •

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 29

BREAK THE SILENCE Changing the dialogue around human trafficking is an important step toward preventing it.

This starts when survivors are empowered to speak out.

BY ASHLEY LOMBARDO ILLUSTRATION BY SYDNEY MARTIN

J

erome Elam sat down at his computer in November 2011, preparing himself for the plunge. He wanted to write.

He began with Jerry Sandusky.

Sandusky, over the course of a decade and while coaching football at Penn State University, sexually abused boys. Many were selected from a pool of at-risk youth in his charity, Second Mile.

Elam watched as television reporters showed Sandusky’s supporters accusing victims of lying about their abuse for a payout. His rage bubbled. He pointed out that since Sandusky’s grand jury report that November, more and more victims were coming forward to talk about their abuse.

Elam — who spent more than 12 years researching Crohn’s disease for the University of Florida — had written only for himself: song lyrics, a play in eighth grade. But he seldom shared his personal writing. Instead, he kept to scientific reports.

As he wrote about Sandusky, nightmares from nine years of abuse resurfaced. He thought about his stepfather and became physically ill.

He didn’t let the past stop him. He channeled it.

“The Penn State scandal has begun the demolition of the wall of silence surrounding pedophilia,” Elam wrote, “and like the liberation of East Germany, those victims of childhood sexual abuse now have a fighting chance to find justice for stolen childhoods and vandalized dreams.”

Elam’s voice, long silenced by shame and self-blame, erupted onto the page. With each word he wrote, the weight he had borne over 40 years of silence began to lift.

He was writing from experience. Elam’s mother gave birth to him when she was a teenager. His stepfather began

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sexually abusing him at the age of 5, trafficking him to a ring of pedophiles in Jacksonville. His mother’s alcoholism kept her from intervening, and the abuse continued. The dysfunction and lack of attention made Elam vulnerable to his stepfather’s manipulation.

“Statistically one in eight males are a victim of abuse and a child has to tell seven adults of suspected abuse before he or she is taken seriously,” Elam wrote. “Rates of suicide among male victims of childhood sexual abuse are 14 times higher than the norm, and they are 38 times more likely to die from a drug overdose.”

Elam remembered the day his own abuse was discovered. It was when he was 12 years old, after he had attempted suicide with alcohol and pills.

He knew in the marrow of his bones that if Sandusky went free, sexual predators would believe they could abuse children without consequence. It was then that he addressed the veil of silence that stifles victims’ voices.

“Victims and their supporters are subjected to immense pressure to retreat to a world of invisible suffering,” he wrote, “and that has to become unacceptable in a society based on each voice being heard.” lam, like others who were trafficked as children, came out from the shadows to share his story, which was eventually published in The Washington Times in 2011. In doing this, he influenced the creation of new policies that recognize and protect survivors of human trafficking.

“There was a point in the whole process where I said to myself, ‘Either I’m going to have the nightmares, or the nightmares are going to have me,’” he said.

For some survivors, speaking out can be cathartic. But it

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FEATURE also hurts. As Elam was writing his first piece, he became depressed. Confronting his past is emotionally draining, he said, and it took him a long time to get to a place where he felt ready.

“It took me 25 years of therapy every week to deal with this and get to the point where I could actually talk about it,” Elam said. “To resurrect those monsters, even if it’s only in your mind, you have to face the impact of the emotions that you couldn’t process as a child.”

In Alachua County, there are no shelters and few resources for adult victims.

Most, said Marie Samec, vice president of the Alachua County Coalition Against Human Trafficking, are geared toward helping children, especially after the Safe Harbor Act passed in 2013, which creates safe houses for sexually exploited children funded by increased fines for those soliciting prostitution.

The act, which assigns a legal advocate to each dependent child and provides “security, counseling, transportation, food, clothing, health and dental care, and other services,” is only a short-term solution. Long-term aftercare is still blighted by a lack of funding, Elam said.

For adult victims, having a place to go is also important, said community advocate Trish Kearney, who has worked with several organizations including House of Hope, a local shelter for vulnerable women, though not specifically victims of human trafficking. Victims who have yet to begin recovery need a place equipped with people who can help them through the trauma that comes with human trafficking, she said.

Ann*, a survivor of child sex trafficking who spoke at the Alachua County Coalition Against Human Trafficking

symposium in 2012, wrote in an email that something changes when you are sold for money. Most therapists and doctors didn’t know how to handle her recovery.

“Do you know how utterly discouraging it is to have professionals who are supposed to help you not know how to handle you?” she wrote in an email. “It just adds to the isolation and displacement.”

House of Hope, which also works with men, can only accommodate a limited number of people. Because of this, the only other option is GRACE Marketplace, a homeless shelter in northeast Gainesville that provides supportive resources like counseling, food and clothing. And while the shelter is expanding, Richard Tovar, president of the coalition, said it’s

potentially dangerous one,” she said. “I’m not saying all homeless shelters are unsafe, they aren’t. I’m also not saying that about GRACE Marketplace. However, when coming out of trafficking, [survivors] need support.”

Because of this, members of the Alachua County Coalition Against Human Trafficking are searching for a building to dedicate to adult victims of human trafficking. To get a sense of how this shelter might operate, Tovar and Samec visited similar ones in Central and South Florida.

The shelter, he said, would be donations-based, rather than part of the local government, allowing the coalition to accept all survivors of human trafficking, not just those without prior offenses.

After two years, the coalition hopes to rent a five-bed shelter by the end of the year. The coalition would partner with local rehabilitation programs to address substance abuse and with businesses to assist in job training.

“If you’re not trained, you do more harm than good,” Tovar said. “We try to make sure the people interacting with victims are qualified. They can make mistakes, end up in relationships with victims… you name it.”

Tovar said he and the coalition also plan to create a database of trafficking victims. He wants to develop a smartphone application that would allow social workers to collect data on victims.

The information would be general and anonymous, but it would show what services are already utilized and therefore necessary.

“The ability to gather information

“Once you’ve looked in the face of evil, you never forget it. That’s why I fight so hard,” Elam said. “I’d rather live speaking my mind and deal with the consequences than suffer in silence.“ problematic to group people who have survived human trafficking with other vulnerable populations.

Tovar said victims who haven’t fully recovered have entered shelters like GRACE only to end up recruiting those there into trafficking. Elam added that turning to sex work is common among victims, who have difficulty associating sex with intimacy. “[There’s also] the need to have a shelter in an undisclosed location to prevent traffickers and pimps from having access to the survivors,” Tovar said.

Though GRACE, Kearney added, is equipped to address the needs of the homeless, it’s not always able to prevent crime.

“You can’t pluck a victim out of one bad situation and put her in another

*Name has been changed to protect her identity.

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FEATURE about cases can be an invaluable tool in increasing the quality of services provided,” Tovar said.

“What we’ve learned is every case is totally unique, so you can’t just give a blanket statement,” Samec said. “There’s a lot that has to be available for individual needs.” lam thought the blog post would be a one-time thing, but it transformed into a weekly child advocacy column called “A Heart Without Compromise,” published in Communities Digital News.

Then, Elam began to receive invitations to speak.

During his first speaking engagement, at the Child Advocacy Center near the Marine Corps base at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina, Elam addressed his fellow Marines, the Naval Criminal Investigative Service and Army Criminal Investigative Service. He felt honored being able to educate these groups on how to help rescue exploited children from sexual predators.

“I was so overwhelmed by the response I got,” he said. “I had people in their 60s contact me and say that I’m the first person they’ve told about their experiences.”

That snowballed into a career as a full-time advocate, with Elam sharing his story two or three times a month at speaking engagements for local and national advocacy organizations — at one engagement, he raised half a million dollars. Elam’s firsthand perspective has also qualified him to give feedback on legislation. He’s assisted in passing a bill that officially defined a juvenile victim and another that barred use of the excuse that someone didn’t know a child’s age when they bought their services.

And each time he speaks, five to 10 people approach Elam after to say they’ve been victimized too.

“We’re scratching the surface of what’s really out there,” Elam said.

Female victims might be recognized at hair and nail salons while traffickers prepare them for their dates, but it’s more difficult to identify male victims, Elam said. The signs of abuse are usually noticed in the emergency room or the juvenile justice system.

“Men are raised to feel like they’re

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always in control and in power, so men don’t admit that they’re victims,” Elam said. “They just endure the burden of what’s happening to them.”

He said it’s a struggle to move from the victim stage to the survivor stage. By voicing his experience, he allows people to feel comfortable enough to come forward.

“You can’t go from having your entire identity stripped from you and reduced down to a number and then just go back to being a member of society,” Ann said.

“It’s almost impossible to do it alone, but a lot of times people don’t know how to support someone through that because they cannot comprehend it.”

“I would not be here today if it wasn’t for a female survivor who taught me that vulnerability isn’t weakness,” Elam said.

As the coalition plans to better assist the needs of victims, a Gainesville nonprofit called Fight Injustice and Global Human Trafficking (FIGHT) is working in tandem to raise awareness about local human trafficking issues.

Not only does FIGHT work to inform people about what human trafficking is and who is affected by it, they also work to derail cultural norms that keep the demand for trafficking alive, Tovar said According to Tovar, the root of human trafficking is a culture that commodifies people — often women, who are objectified in mass media and pop culture — in a way that renders them inhuman.

“It’s the root of slavery,” Tovar said.

“You treat a human being as an object.” or survivors, feeling free and human isn’t a given. These things only come after intense care, constant support

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and lots of time.

“I wish that you became a survivor the moment your feet took a step of freedom,” Ann wrote. “But surviving cannot be defined as breathing and freedom isn’t as simple as no chains.”

“Every step towards reclaiming your life for yourself is a mountain,” she wrote.

Elam said that as he became more vocal and people started reaching out, the process became easier.

“When you’re a victim, especially in relationships, you feel like when you tell someone they’ll run the other way,” said Elam, who didn’t tell his wife until after they were married. “You really feel like you’re a broken person. But you find that it’s just the opposite.

“Once you’ve looked in the face of evil, you never forget it. That’s why I fight so hard,” Elam said. “I’d rather live speaking my mind and deal with the consequences than suffer in silence.

“There’s nothing that compares to trying to keep all of this hidden inside.” •

We do not accept war as a legitimate means of conflict resolution.

Learn more at vfpgainesville.org

ART & LITERATURE

The Incubator’s Electric Bill, STEVEN ZILL

34| T H E F I N E P R I N T | thefineprintmag.org

ART & LITERATURE

What Would the Ants Say?

BY JORDAN DONG

There was a family: white woman, white man, their baby and dog, if you count dogs in families. They were cute.

The woman said to the man, “Let’s go on a trip.”

The man, who had become an agreeable person in marriage, said, “Sure. Where to?”

The woman said, “Australia!” And so the man and woman and baby and dog went.

There are a lot of things in Australia that can kill you.

Have you heard this? Apparently, Australia has more animals that can kill you than any other continent. I was wondering, do kangaroos count, or is it just snakes and scorpions and other ugly things? A koala might not be able to kill you, but she can definitely kill a baby. Can you imagine that? Let me give you a hand. There are two things about the same small size: One is a killer; the other is a nincompoop. The killer tears the other one apart into as many pieces as she wants, if she is given a reason, or maybe if she is not. Do you see what I’m getting at?

It was ants, and there wasn’t anything dramatic about it.

A scorpion will watch and wait and get himself riled up to kill a baby. (Even koalas have an approach.) But ants have no sense of suspense. In one moment the baby is enjoying a nap (so cute) while the man and woman drink beer with some people camping nearby, and then the baby is being eaten by ants. Do babies cry when they are eaten alive? Not this one.

Does a dog naturally feel empathy for a baby being eaten, or is it just his training? Is he jealous? Does a dog think, If anyone is going to eat that baby, it’s me! In an effort to save the baby, the dog was eaten as well.

The ants, Australia’s best, were strong and fierce and large, bulging like they had sucked in blood, except it wasn’t blood, just lean ant muscle, or whatever it is. That’s

just evolution, Baby, the ants would say. We’re all queens!

And they would flex, if they could, and the actual queen of the colony wouldn’t even mind that all of the other ants felt like queens, because these Australian ants had a sense of purpose—no individuality, no celebrating, nothing but eating dogs and babies.

The man and the woman returned feeling the perfect amount of drunk. With their baby now a baby skeleton and the dog half-dead, they could have said that those fierce Australian ants were a real buzzkill. They didn’t though.

The woman decided to focus on the baby while the man tried to rescue the dog. To caress a skeleton is difficult, she found. There wasn’t much to grab onto, and the bones themselves were falling apart, since the Australian ants, a truly resilient group, even tried eating the bones of the baby.

Even the bones, they said. If you think they are on the harsh side of ruthless, that’s fair, but how would you feed a billion friends?

Did you know that ants are the only other species besides humans that wage war? To war! they say. The man did not know this. It made things complicated. To ants, at least the large and strong and resilient ants from Australia, every killing is a war. The dog, almost dead now, had already surrendered. There was no way to help him. But the man could not stand to see him eaten alive, so he tried to brush the ants away.

The man, who in hindsight should not have intervened, began to be eaten along with his dog. Stay with me now— this is not an allegory for the Middle East—this is a man and his dog being eaten.

The woman rushed away to find help for her husband.

Now, does a woman who sees vicious ants eating her husband lightly place her baby’s skeleton back in his bed, or does she drop it like a hot potato?

The answer is like a potato.

She returned with some other campers who had been there before, who had apparently seen this sort of thing.

They groaned and sighed, as if their favorite team was losing, as if to say, This isn’t even close.

She asked if there was anything they could do. They said no. The man was overtaken quietly. See, the ants have a way of shushing you: They say, Shh, it’s only dying. It’s OK. And they eat the parts of you that can make sound first.

Does a woman whose family was taken by ants become closer to her God, or less close to her God? Is her misfortune too gruesome to pity? For the person sitting next to her on the plane ride back, probably, but what about the next man she starts to sleep with? How does she tell him?

In bed with the new man, when he has fallen asleep, what does she feel?

The answer is restless. What would the ants say? Wake up, I want to tell you something. •

Summer 2016 | T H E F I N E P R I N T | 35