MADISONJOURNAL OF LITERARY CRITICISM
REVOLUTION REVOLUTION
Major Tom Kasden Phillips
YZYZ
Landis Varughese
Shu Lan Schaut
Jonathan Tostrud
Rissa Nelson
Sofia Borden
Meera Gajria
Hannah Herbst
Celeste Li
Lexi Spevacek
Sreejita Patra
Will Hicks
Sarah Jasim
Mihika Shivakumar
Mary Murphy Stroth
Sophia Shashko YZYZYZYZYZ
Eleana Anderson
Quinn Henneger
02 - Major Tom / Kasden Phillips
06 - Letter from the Editor
08 - My Brother Wasn’t a Strange Fruit / Octavia Ikard
09 - New Kids on the Block / Amy Laudy
10 - Red / Martha LaBine
12 - Wisconsin Books to Prisoners: A Lifeline Cut Short? / Mihika
Shivakumar
15 - Personal Plastic / Alexis Chun
16 - Revolutionary Record
18 - A dreamed house / Mars Mittelstadt
19 - Flooded Desert Homestead / Daniel Mirer
20 - The Politics of Punk: How Anarchist Art Mobilizes
Revolutionaries / Hannah Herbst
22 - Broken Dreams / Julia Weber
24 - Susurros de la Revolución Silenciosa (Whispers of Silent Revolution) / Nilvio Alexander Punguil Bravo
28 - Will Herstory Absolve Me? Gender and Revolution in Cuba (1902-1976) / Greta Krueger
40 - Unperturbed Motion / Sasha Ivanov
41 - A prayer for complacency / Elle Green
42 - Defying the Script: Reflections on the Work of Phillis Wheatley
49 - From My Nôhkom / Emmett Lockwood
50 - Slutty Statues / Sreejita Patra
52 - Desert Pool Murals / Daniel Mirer
53 - Approach / Can Zhang
54 - Non-potable water picnic area / Daniel Mirer
55 - Any Last Words / Jeffrey MacLachlan
56 - Preliminary Instrutions on the Evolution of My Body / Kate Foster Curtis-Hawkins
62 - Virginia (So Ends My Holy Night) / Nika McKagen
63 - Belly of the Beast / Quinn Henneger
64 - Resurrection / Valerie Hammer
66 - The Father, the Son, and the Artist / Priyanka Vasavan
69 - Helen and the Succulents / Patricia Patterson
70 - Timescape
75 - Tallow of the Lost - Erin (Ari) Murphy Stroth
76 - Acknowledgements
80 - Contributors
Letter From
Dear Reader,
The Madison Journal of Literary Criticism (MJLC), originally established as a hub for undergraduate academics to platform their written work, has snowballed into something larger than anyone could have imagined. After experiencing a period of dormancy during the COVID-19 pandemic, the MJLC has blossomed into an abolitionist literary publication and study group. Historically, literary criticism has been confined to the pillars of academia, from rhetorical analyses of Camus to research papers on Shakespeare. However, the practice of critiquing the narratives that shape our world has never been more expansive or inclusive. From academic essays to spoken-word and neurographic art, literary criticism is all around us.
This semester, the MJLC, through its renewed mission, continues the pursuit of abolition from the carceral state through the lens of literary and social critique. The Revolution edition thematically follows our previous edition Dream, published in the Spring of 2024. While Dream inspired us to reflect on our ideal world and the systems that inhibit it, Revolution demands us to act on this passion to forge our desired future. The Fall 2024 edition examines revolutionary transformations throughout history, as well as the consequences of such metamorphosis on our present moment.
“Revolution” is a duality, a contradictory concept that denotes both change and continuation. Following this concept, the term “revolution” possesses two seemingly contradictory definitions.
1. A forcible overthrow of a government or social order, in favor of a new system.
2. An instance of revolving.
Thus, the very existence of revolution is thrust into a dichotomy: both a sudden break from the present, and a continuation of the status quo. However, interpreting revolutions through this dichotomy limits our knowledge of revolution to only its outcomes, and neglects to address the intricacies of its means. We cannot fathom revolution without understanding the systems of governance that past revolutionaries lived through; at the same time, we cannot ignore the movements made to nullify oppressive regimes throughout history. By submerging ourselves into this liminal space, we come to realize that true revolutionaries had to unravel the intricacies of social and political institutions which entrapped them, to realize their goal of turning these very institutions on their head. Revolution does not exist in ignorance.
The MJLC Study Group, through both community leader facilitation and illustrative discourse, peeled back the layers of revolution and our conceptions of its historical imprints. From delving into the nuances of violent and nonviolent resistance as vehicles for revolution, to having exigent discourse on the role of electoral politics in our collective strife towards liberation, our community has effectively strengthened an understanding of revolution far beyond the reductive binary its formal definition resides in.
The Editor
Our publication seeks to mirror this richness by offering its various historical and contemporary interpretations of “revolution”. This issue looks at the origins of punk as a fusion of anger and advocacy, fueling the engine of social change since its inception. This issue reproaches the Wisconsin Department of Corrections’ ban on used book donations to Wisconsin prisons. This issue highlights the work of Phillis Wheatley, whose name is rightfully etched into the history books, and whose prose inspires us all to imagine a world that comes after revolution—where the frigid winter’s stranglehold ought to disappear, in favor of the glistening sunlight on the horizon.
In curating this magazine, I have come to realize that revolution has frequently been framed as a concept existing in an alternative reality. It is easy to adopt this when looking at our current world, where ongoing genocide and global disenfranchisement persist. It feels as though revolution might be a one-size-fits-all solution to our ongoing crisis; both an anecdote to our suffering and the recipe for liberation.
However, this vision of revolution could not be more distant from the truth. Revolution is not a distant endpoint; it is not the final achievement of our abolitionist future. It is, instead, a process— a method to channel our energy towards cultivating a tomorrow where we dismantle systems of incarceration, oppression, and displacement for good. Revolution moves through each and every one of us, emboldening us to put pen to paper, speak truth to power, and to refuse the hardening of ourselves amidst injustice.
I hope that in reading this issue, you are able to thoughtfully reflect on what moves you to make change; what grounds you; what vision you have for a world blooming beyond the here and now. Remember, the ability to radically imagine and hope cannot be contained in the systems we create. The ability rightfully belongs to us: the people who finally put theory into praxis—then demanded more.
Sincerely,
Landis Varughese Editor-in-Chief
My Brother Wasn’t a Strange Fruit
Oc tavi a Ikard
dedicated to my grandmother who loved her brother
1
my brother lump, used to sleepwalk he walked for miles and miles but he would always come back, octavia
2
i didn’t know black women were allowed / to sanction war in their hearts / there are no battle
wounds from your loss / i did not fight for you they said/ you fell down a hill / they said / that
was the cause of those broken ribs / they couldn’t be sure / they left your body to bloat / for three days / the chalky coroner questioned is this even your brother?
i wanted to be your sister / in that moment i could only be afraid / i should’ve unsheathed
my grief and let it lick blood from his throat / instead / i let that silence / become / my religion / my blood / my children / my country
i’ll open the door / to let it out/ tonight i’ll open the door / for you / you’re not strange fruit / lump / they cannot chew you up and
swallow your story / you were not born / hanging from a tree / underneath the boots of four white men / you were just / a dreamer when you come in / tonight / i’ll shake you to wakefulness / and we will trash the house with our noise
3
They want me to be beautiful
In the light of day, I let red leak into the indents of my smile
And illustrate a symphony of agony Into my poems So the screams can adopt the margins and not orphan my lungs
Still they call it artistry.
The resurrection of the beast I’ve become in the country who invented my monstrosity I’m sure to them it is so beautiful when shackled to the unassuming white of a page
4
i cannot even slumber.
in the night I used to transform i walked and walked they want me to be beautiful yet sometimes i woke up running
New Kids on the Block
Amy Laudi
Lyra, my sweet girl, what could I ever warn you, my future daughter, of? What might’ve been forgotten to be passed down to me? What might be a new warning I’ve discovered amidst my twenty-three years of successful survival.
From the beginning, we are all daughters in our mothers’ wombs, but once born, we are all equal prey as women. Upon our meeting, you’ll be the youngest of women, and the ache of some of the oldest men. Love languages will be the prey of “honor,” and the food that’s on your mind as you prepare to fast through the night. Slowly, you’ll go back to the oldest of boys until the desire to be desired finally dissipates. Quickly, you’ll wonder how long boundaries last when the physically weaker party enforces them. Slowly, you’ll feel the whiplash of animated princesses and the men who helped shape them. Quickly, you’ll age forward with the news of more women like Sarah Everard who were just walking home. Who were just out for a drink. Who were just looking for physical touch. Who were just looking for words
of affirmation. Who were just looking for gifts. Who were just looking for acts of service. Who were just looking for quality time. Who were just looking for love. Women who were just. Just. Please, just listen to me…
At the ripe young age of a man’s choosing, you’ll be introduced to one specific kind of fear. A fear that will run cold as one recites to you with hot breath, “fire trucks don’t stop at red lights,” but Lyra, they do. If they’re not on the way to save someone, fire trucks do stop at red lights, and you don’t need to be saved. What you do need, however, is preventative protection. What you need is to take quick strides on walks–no matter if you’re alone or with any number of other people. You will look directly into the eyes of each man you pass because this will give you the upper hand shall you need to identify him later. On my walk today, I saw a red Ford Explorer with the license plate KCR-162–noted just in case. I will teach you because we
Martha LaBine
cannot teach everyone else to not offend, just in case. To be your mother, I first want to be a wife, and with each year, I lose faith in the courage I must muster in order to date. I lose faith in motherhood because I do not know who is capable of fatherhood. Your grandma’s friend, Courtney, was shot in the head by her husband in front of her children. I don’t want that for you. I will be a wife, and I want you to be able to be a daughter. To be safe. I want that for you. I want you to live a life that only the Lord can take you from, not an earthly man. Thirteen years-old is young to those my age, but to some men, that is the oldest age they’ll make sure you die at. I want you to die at a man’s old age. I need you to choose your death if given the choice. You must fight and scream where you are attacked, because a death in the spot you choose at that moment will end quicker than a death in the place they reserved for you. Even then, even taken silent, if a man performs your autopsy, you may be in danger. I’d prefer you to be cremated than know the second to last of crimes committed on your body, before the final crime of your mortuary assistant. What a case that’d be to see, if only it hadn’t been reported on already–Sharkur Lucas is only one offender. Case in point.
I’ve been taking precautions for many of those “just in case” situations with you in mind. I’ve been doing so for years now. I’ve been taking Krav Maga lessons and I have a police grade steel baton, pepper spray, a personal alarm, a knife, and a sharp keychain defense weapon on me at all times–day and night. I will train and arm myself in order to protect you. I’ve prepared myself so well that, when I encountered the question “Claire told her six year-old daughter never to talk to or take
candy from strangers. Why is Claire’s warning unlikely to protect her daughter from sexual abuse?” on an assignment for my lifespan development class (just yesterday, in fact), I knew the answer was “because it is far likelier for familiar people (family, friends, etc.) to assault children than a total stranger.” I hadn’t read that chapter in the textbook yet. I didn’t need to. I’m trying to write that kind of textbook with each word you continue to read on this page. We will share this information to the end. My friends will tell their daughters, your aunts will tell your cousins, your friends’ mothers will tell them, you will tell your daughters, and we will all tell the daughters of men who never viewed women as someone else’s daughter. I wish I could print this out for you to pass on, but with each new thought, I remember more precautions and warnings to add. With each new thought, another tactic has been used successfully. With each new thought, I imagine myself pushing a stroller alongside the Devil as we think of new tactics for different purposes. I must put myself in their shoes in order to tie my own. I must put myself in their shoes in order to teach you how to tie yours best. And I tell you these things to primarily save yourself, but that may come at the expense of another woman’s life. By risking her, I am no better than the one driving the red Ford Explorer with the license plate KCR-162.
Wisconsin Books to Prisoners: A Lifeline Cut Short?
By Mihika Shivakumar
In a world where isolation is often the highest form of punishment, a book can be a lifeline. For many incarcerated individuals, receiving a package of books from Wisconsin Books to Prisoners (WBTP) has been more than a moment of relief— it has been a crack of light shining through dark corners, inviting one to a brighter world of education, imagination, and hope.
Recently, the Department of Corrections (DOC) has severed this vital connection between prisoners and literature. Citing fears of organizations impersonating WBTP to send contraband, the DOC has barred the group from sending used books to people incarcerated in Wisconsin prisons.
The implications of this policy are profound, not just for WBTP and the people who rely on them, but for the broader movement toward abolition and prison reform. In this piece, we will explore WBTP’s history, their impact on people who are incarcerated, the role of the DOC, as well as what this decision means—and will
continue to mean—in the larger context of prison abolition.
The History and Mission of Wisconsin Books to Prisoners
Wisconsin Books to Prisoners was founded with a simple but powerful goal: to send free books to individuals who are incarcerated in Wisconsin. The organization was inspired by the broader Books to Prisoners movement, which began in the 1970s as a grassroots effort to address the lack of access to educational and recreational reading materials in U.S. prisons. WBTP, specifically, has been a staple in Wisconsin’s prison advocacy community for decades, committed to providing knowledge and comfort to individuals behind bars.
Run almost entirely by volunteers, WBTP collects donated books and matches them with requests from incarcerated individuals. They have helped prisoners gain access to everything they can: from GED preparation materials to classic literature, popular fiction, and manga. WBTP not
only fills an educational gap in the prison system—it also fills a human one. For many people behind bars, a book can be the only connection to the world beyond concrete walls; their only way to bond a world past what surrounds them.
What WBTP does is not an act of charity. WBTP’s mission is deeply rooted in the belief that access to knowledge is a fundamental right. The organization recognizes that prisons are designed not just to isolate bodies, but also to limit minds. Giving books provides individuals with the tools needed to resist that mental confinement by offering education, selfimprovement, and mental escape.
WBTP’s Impact on Individuals who are Incarcerated
The impact of WBTP cannot be overstated. Individuals who are incarcerated, many of whom are cut off from education and intellectual stimulation, depend on these packages for a sense of humanity. Letters from people
who are incarcerated sent letters to those at WBTP, with messages like “Your service is absolutely critical to my emotional well being,” to “Grace be to you”. Testimonials like these pour in regularly, underscoring the program’s importance. It is the resilience and humanity in those pages that keep prisoners connected with the world.
Beyond emotional relief, access to books has concrete positive impacts. Education has repeatedly shown to reduce recidivism rates. In other words, those who engage with educational programs are far less likely to return to prison. WBTP plays a crucial role in this by providing educational materials to those who may not otherwise have access. GED prep books, vocational guides, and legal resources are common requests. With these books, they can gain a sense of purpose towards fostering skills and building knowledge in things they love, all of which can help them feel connected to, and a part of, their communities at eventual release.
It’s not just academic education that’s important. Reading literature, philosophy, or history can help individuals reflect on their circumstances and imagine alternatives. At their core, they’re a non-radical source for radical humanization—a way to connect with the hopes and fears, dreams and desires of being human. Sending books to prisons is an act of resistance against a system designed to crush personal growth. While what WBTP intends to do is provide a human connection for the
people who need it most, these simple actions contribute to a broader movement defying mass incarceration.
The DOC’s New Policy and Its Implications
Despite the clear benefits of this project, WBTP’s work has been abruptly halted by a new DOC policy. The DOC claims that there is a risk of organizations impersonating WBTP to smuggle drugs into facilities. While this fear may have some basis—there have been instances in other states of drugs hidden in book bindings—the DOC’s blanket ban on WBTP’s used books seems to overreach.
This policy has sparked outrage among prison reform advocates and WBTP’s supporters. Critics argue that the policy punishes many for the actions of a few. Instead of collaborating with WBTP to find solutions—such as improved screening processes or tighter tracking of donated books—the DOC has chosen a path that cuts off a vital source of education and connection for thousands of incarcerated individuals.
It is worth noting that the DOC’s relationship with WBTP has always been complicated. Over the years, WBTP has had to navigate various bureaucratic hurdles, from book content restrictions to complex mailing regulations. However, this outright ban is a significant escalation in the DOC’s control over the intellectual lives of people who are incarcerated.
Books, Control, and the Abolitionist Movement
The DOC’s actions raise important questions about the nature of prison itself. Prisons are not just physical spaces of confinement; they are systems designed to control the flow of both information and knowledge—two of the most powerful and transformative things one can have. For abolitionists who see the prison system as a tool of state violence, this new policy is emblematic of a broader strategy to suppress the empowerment of individuals who are incarcerated.
Books are powerful. Art is powerful. Storytelling is powerful, no matter the medium. They challenge oppressive systems that have been enshrined with harm, inspire critical thinking, and foster personal growth. It’s no wonder, then, that access to books has historically been restricted in prisons. The DOC is not just afraid of drugs hidden in books—it is afraid of what the words in those books might inspire and create. In a world where the prison system works to make prisoners detached from the world, books give them humanity.
The abolitionist movement argues that the prison system, as it currently exists, is not reformable. It is a system designed to punish—not rehabilitate—and maintain social control rather than promote individual growth. The DOC reinforces this dynamic by restricting access to education
and literature, therefore ensuring that prisons remain spaces of isolation, not empowerment.
The fight for access to books is a fight for the right to learn, to grow, and to imagine a life beyond prison walls. This is the future abolitionists are fighting for beyond a world where prisons are obsolete. We are committed to building a world where individuals are intellectually fed and nourished; not starved to the brink of expiration behind bars.
The Larger Implications and What’s Next
The ban on WBTP’s books is a stark reminder of how fragile access to knowledge can be for those who are incarcerated. However, it is also a reminder of how deeply intertwined the fight for knowledge and the fight for freedom are. Wisconsin Books to Prisoners has always been about more than just books—it’s about pushing back against a system that thrives on ignorance and isolation.
This policy, though devastating for WBTP and those they serve, has galvanized supporters. Activists are mobilizing, pushing for DOC transparency and an overturn of the policy. Many are calling on the DOC to reconsider its approach by proposing alternatives such as more rigorous book inspections or direct collaboration with WBTP.
In the context of a larger abolitionist movement, this fight is just one battle in a much
larger war. Access to books, education, and personal growth are all fundamental to the idea of building a world without prisons.
As WBTP continues to fight for the right to send books to people incarcerated in Wisconsin, they remind us that the struggle for education is intertwined with the struggle for liberation. The DOC may be able to stop the flow of books for now, but the ideas held in them—the radical imagination of a world beyond bars—are not so easily contained.
Conclusion
The Department of Corrections’ ban on Wisconsin Books to Prisoners’ used books is not just a policy decision, but a statement about control, education, and who has the right to grow and learn. It is also a powerful reminder of the importance of abolitionist movements that seek to dismantle systems of oppression and replace them with systems of care.
WBTP’s fight is ongoing, and it’s part of a much larger movement to create a world where prisons are no longer seen as solutions, but as symptoms of a deeper societal failure. In this fight, books are not just tools—they are symbols of education and resistance, of resilience and growth. They carry humanity, they carry transformation, and most importantly, they carry hope.
If you are moved by this issue and want to help advocate for
the right to books behind bars, here are a few ways to take action:
1. Contact legislators: Reach out to Wisconsin state lawmakers and Department of Corrections officials to express your opposition to these policies. You can find contact information for these representatives online or through activist organizations working on prison reform.
2. Follow advocacy organizations: Stay informed and amplify the movement by following groups like Wisconsin Books to Prisoners on social media, as well as abolitionist groups such as Critical Resistance or The Abolitionist Law Center.
3. Donate to prison book programs: Support organizations like Wisconsin Books to Prisoners, Books to Prisoners, and The Prison Book Program with donations or through book drives. Every little bit helps ensure that those who are incarcerated have access to books that can transform their lives.
Direct action like this can help dismantle oppressive systems and pave the way for a future where education and growth are not privileges, but rights for everyone.
Personal Plastic by Alexis Chun
RECORD
1.BLACKBIIRDBeyoncé,TannerAdell, BrittanySpencer,Tiera Kennedy,andReynaRoberts
Ya
2. Ya Tala’aynEl-JabalTraditionalPalestinian folk resistancesong
3. Double Dare
Bikini Kill
4. El Salvador Peter, Paul, and Mary
5. Iron Sky Paolo Nutini
6. All Along the cdWatchtower
Jimi Hendrix
7. Mr. President Janelle Monae
8. BREAK MY SOUL Beyoncé
Mars Mittelstadt
A Dreamed House
When we buy a house, We must smoke inside
And let animals lay their waste On trampled floorboards
Our house will be loud
A cacophony of birds during phone calls
Howling and barking and hissing
But we shall scream the loudest
When we buy a house, Promise you’ll hate me
Pray for the moment at which I might just drop dead
Our house will be stained
Ceiling, walls, and floor decayed
Molding and dripping and sinking
But we will corrode the fastest
I feel I dreamed this home
I know I lived within these walls
Hazed memories smoked away
I yearn to remember a life I wanted to forget
Indifferent West: Flooded Desert Homestead by Daniel Mirer
The
THE P OLITIC S OF
Hannah Herbst
Anger is a heavily stigmatized emotion—especially in social justice settings—because of its volatility and capacity to cause harm. However, the denial of this emotion only fuels affective injustice: something Doctor of Philosophy and Oxford Professor, Amia Srinivasan, describes as the undue stress resulting from managing emotional responses to oppression, such as anger and resentment, with the need to behave prudentially (Srinivasan 2018). Very few activist movements have honored anger as an important tool for achieving liberation, and even less have gone so far as to encourage its expression. Nevertheless, one movement has used—rather than repressed—anger as a foundation for political and social advocacy: punk. What began as an artistic outlet for frustration morphed into an unexpectedly influential form of cultural resistance with a tenacious following of grassroots activists spanning multiple generations.
Emerging in the 1970s, the rebellious ethos of punk counterculture spread like wildfire among adolescents who were disillusioned by pacifist messaging in popular culture from the previous decade. By channeling and accepting anger in a way that few artistic movements have, punk attracted a unique fanbase with a taste for anarchy. Similar to the impact of J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, young fans identified with the angst and alienation the punk culture ex-
pressed. Bands like the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, and The Stooges pioneered the genre with their shock-value performances, renegade stage presences, as well as their fast and loud music that heavily contrasted the controlled, mild pop music showcased by popular groups of the time like ABBA and the Bee Gees. Over time, punk became more than just music characterized by vehemence and angst, evolving into a non-conformist lifestyle that embraced taboos and encouraged resistance against the status quo. The “do-it-yourself” mentality of the punk community served as a simple, paramount element to its success, declaring that anyone can be a musician, anyone can be an activist, and anyone can free themselves from the social norm. As non-conformists, the punk culture also welcomed marginalized peoples that weren’t yet accepted in society. Where mainstream culture rejected those from “deviant” backgrounds, punk embraced them wholly. United by the rage that accompanied their oppression, minorities of all kinds sought to express themselves in the safe space provided by punk.
Despite the initial accessibility of the punk community, several internal struggles manifested as the movement gained popularity. White supremacists, like Brutal Attack’s Ken McLellan, capitalized on the radical freedom endorsed by punk and recruited a following of neo-Nazis, which have since been dubbed
as “hate bands”. As a result, predominantly straight, white neighborhoods subjected minority punks to sometimes violent acts of homophobia, racism, and sexism, with a member of an all-female ensemble being stabbed by a man in 1976 (Martin 2020). Soon, there became a need for strong representation of identities facing this ostracism, and in true punk fashion, subgenres like Queercore, riot grrrl, and Afro-punk banded together in response to the emerging exclusivity in the community.
These groups transformed an already-revolutionary art form into something much more influential: a platform for activism. The riot grrrl subculture, drawing inspiration from second and third wave feminist movements, was established to challenge the patriarchal social norms still perpetuated by the standard punk community. By bringing awareness to sexual violence and calling attention to systemic oppression, riot grrrl invited a diverse, intersectional fanbase to engage in grassroots activism. On the other hand, Queercore emerged as a response to homophobia and transphobia within the punk community. Queercore notably reclaimed historically derogatory language and turned it into a source of strength, later using these terms proudly as a means to establish their presence and purpose in the punk scene. Unlike riot grrrl and Queercore, however, Afro-punk did not garner a strong following until the turn of the century.
James Spooner’s 2003 Afro-Punk documentary made waves in the Black community by showcasing a sub-
culture that had yet to be acknowledged. In response to the critical acclaim, Spooner began hosting punk shows featuring exclusively Black artists, which soon became the annual Afropunk Festival. The Afropunk Festival continues to celebrate Black alternative culture by offering a place for expression and solidarity to traditionally underrepresented groups.
The methods employed by these subcultures to facilitate grassroots activism were somewhat ubiquitous. Zines (short for magazines) and public artistic demonstrations played a fundamental part in inspiring activism amongst punks because of their wide-reaching influence and strong role in community-building. Zines, for instance, reflected the DIY aesthetic of punk-rock and empowered fans to publish “fanzines,” therefore mobilizing average punks into becoming activists of their own. The band Bikini Kill infamously published zines in which they shared writings, musings on society, and physical art. The RIOT GRRRL MANIFESTO, a piece that denounced the excess criticism female-led bands faced, went down in history as one of the most well-known zine publications. The Manifesto directly confronted the insular nature of the punk community by condemning racism, ableism, classism, and homophobia (though it has since been critiqued for being divisive and exclusionary) (Hanna 1991). Bruce LaBruce, a gay punk, co-created the J.D.s. zine for “disillusioned kids who didn’t feel comfortable in the gay community, who turned to punk, but then when they got into punk, they found hostility
“BECAUSE creating non-hierarchical ways of being AND making music, friends, and scenes based on communication + understanding, instead of competition + good/bad categorizations BECAUSE doing/reading/seeing/hearing cool things that validate and challenge us can help us gain the strength and sense of community that we need in order to figure out how bullshit like racism, able-bodieism, ageism, speciesism, classism, thinism, sexism, anti-semitism and heterosexism figures in our own lives” (Hanna 1991).
Broken Dreams
Julia Weber
there” (Nault 2017). Vaginal Davis, another originator of the Queercore movement, infamously pioneered “low-cost, high-impact” performance art (Davis). Her art, zines, and experimental productions connected thousands of queer individuals on the basis of criticizing societal mistreatment. As a black, gender-queer individual, she integrated elements of both of her identities into her art, thus attracting an accepting, diverse crowd with a passion for bringing about social change. Though honored as a punk icon, her performances were not exclusive to the punk community, which gave her the unique opportunity to directly disrupt normative society and engage non-punks in activism.
Today, elements of punk culture remain omnipresent in society, revealing just how significant
the movement was in enacting progressive change. Punk music made rich contributions to modern art by influencing rock and pop music, fashion design, and protests—demonstrated locally by UW students, who played several classic punk numbers during the spring 2024 encampment protest. Additionally, the popularity of punk helped underrepresented groups gain acceptance in Western society, and enabled the genre’s subcultures to persist in their activist efforts.
The punk movement has proven to stand the test of time, with modern groups like Mommy Long Legs, Sorry Mom, and The Oozes building on the activist legacies of their predecessors. These modern musical groups continue to make positive changes to the punk community, like moving away from self-labeling in
hopes of encouraging newcomers to join the scene. Norah Knox, drummer and singer for Brooklyn-based trans rock band Crush Fund, has previously shared that “genre boundaries aren’t so important when we can have a shared identity of being queer and trans” (Friedman 2023). With anger continuing to unite punk groups and acceptance becoming more commonplace in punk, genre boundaries are slowly fading into obscurity. Modern punks have also expanded the scope of punk activism, and now cover a wider range of injustices like gentrification, war, fascism, and the military-industrial complex. Some bands have even moved away from traditional punk activist efforts like zine-writing and turned to other tactics for encouraging mobilization. Groups like Destroy Boys, for example, have been known to share their stage with local mutual aid organizations, encouraging their followers to volunteer and participate in bettering their community. Punk has also become increasingly demonstrative in their activist efforts. Pussy Riot, a Russian group inspired by riot grrrl punk, infamously staged a punk sit-in protest of the Russian state and Vladimir Putin in 2012 (Martin 2020). Demonstrations like these serve as a powerful example of the inextricable relationship between punk and protest: that punk itself is a protest. These subgenres, supported by the dedication of their followers, championed self-expression and demonstrated the true influence of art on enacting genuine change. Non-conformity alone is a form of activism, but the punk movement utilized this rebellious attitude to facilitate real, tangible acts of revolution. The exhibition of anger that cultivated punk culture has demonstrated the value of expressing anger in social justice contexts. In accepting anger as a valid emotional response to oppression, punk has been able to catalyze countless societal changes, the likes of which may never have been possible without the community’s mobilization efforts.
Works Cited: Davis, Vaginal. “Vaginal Davis Bio”. vaginaldavis. com, maintained by Larry-Bob, http://www.vaginaldavis.com/bio.shtml, accessed 7 October 2024.
Friedman, Gabe. “Inside the queer punk revolution”. Brooklyn Magazine, 2 October 2023, https://www.bkmag.com/2023/10/02/in side-the-queer-punk-revolution/, accessed 7 October 2024.
Hanna, Kathleen. “RIOT GRRRL MANIFESTO”. Bikini Kill Zine 2, 1991, https://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon1/ riotgrrrlmanifesto.html, accessed 7 October 2024
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Arte y palabras de Nilvio Alexander Punguil Bravo
Susurros de la Revolución Silenciosa
La zorra entró en el inesperado y desconocido amplio y verdoso bosque, donde los caballeros—los árboles protectores—resguardan a los gigantes que llenan cada espacio que respiramos. Algunas de estas gigantes secuoyas siguen bien paradas, mientras otras descansan a lo largo de los senderos cubiertos de nostalgia y pureza.
El viento sopla silenciosas historias de candente fuego, su aroma a madera quemada se mezcla con la frescura del follaje, que en ocasiones tuvo que haber surgido para que estos caballeros sientan la fuerza, sientan las vivencias, sientan la grandeza, el ímpetu de lo desconocido, de lo vivido, de su alrededor.
La fortaleza de existir, persistir a pesar de todo, de abrazar cada herida del pasado. La naturaleza viva está impregnada en sus rígidas pieles.
A lo alto, las hojas cubren años de existencia.
Todo esto con la conexión pura y viva del suelo nutriente, del suelo penetrante, del suelo que produce y que mantiene a sus habitantes vivos.
Una ardillita que corre por ahí, un saltamontes que brinca. Hormiguitas alistándose para dar otro paso. Alistándose para un invierno, para un verano.
El cielo profundo azul hace que estos caballeros sobresalgan con un fondo lleno de esperanza, lleno de vida, lleno de plenitud.
La zorra camina, sintiendo en su pecho la conexión profunda, un latido compartido con estos gigantes. Cada paso resuena como un eco de mi propio ser, una revolución en marcha. En este instante, comprendí la fuerza y la fragilidad de todo lo que somos, la necesidad de estar en equilibrio, como el bosque mismo.
El azul, puro de grandeza, el verde de vida, el marrón claro y el marrón oscuro de carencias y heridas vivas. Rocas adornan el Reino de este jardín, el reino de este bosque encantado de pequeñas civilizaciones, nuevas generaciones están en marcha de crecimiento, porque serán las que reemplacen aquellos gigantes.
Varios helechos que adornan la vista, que abordan el camino, que nutren el suelo.
Las raíces se comunican bajo la tierra, compartiendo su fortaleza. Los caballeros, estos gigantes de madera, permanecen firmes gracias a esta conexión invisible.
Compartiendo el conocimiento entre ellas—una comunicación profunda y compleja, una red natural de sabiduría que el ser humano apenas puede comprender. Esta comunicación es una filosofía de coexistencia, algo que los seres humanos, con nuestra desconexión de la naturaleza, apenas podemos empezar a vislumbrar.
Ellas saben cuándo algo de afuera viene.
Entre ellas se comunican y saben cuándo el peligro las acecha—cuando la llama se acerca, cuando la lluvia llega, cuando el viento fuerte sopla, cuando el relámpago y las luces del cielo iluminan.
Ellas son energías. Ellas son el todo, siempre cambiando, siempre renaciendo en cada ciclo—una revolución eterna de vida.
El sonido de los pasos que la zorra da, ellas las pueden sentir.
Ellas pueden sentir el dolor, la alegría, la tristeza.
Ellas pueden sentir-nos a los seres vivientes—aquellos que tienen la facilidad de moverse.
Ellas no se mueven, pero sienten lo más profundo de cada ser.
Ellas están intactas, llenas de energía que son impulsadas al cielo y atraídas por el universo y que regresan hacia la tierra para mantener ese balance que es tan necesario.
Whispers of Silent Revolution
The fox ventured into the vast, unexpected, and unfamiliar green forest, where the knights—the protective trees— safeguard the giants that fill every space we breathe.
Some of these giant sequoias still stand tall, while others lie resting along paths cloaked in nostalgia and purity.
The wind whispers silent stories of burning fire, its smoky scent mingling with the freshness of the foliage, which seems to have grown so that these knights may feel strength, experience life, and witness the immensity and vigor of the unknown of everything around them.
The strength to exist, persist despite everything and embrace every scar of the past. Living nature is etched in its sturdy bark. High above, leaves hold years of existence. Everything is bound by the pure, vibrant connection of the nutrient-rich earth, the soil that nourishes, the ground that sustains all its inhabitants.
A little squirrel scurries by, a grasshopper leaps, and ants prepare to take yet another step—preparing for winter—for summer.
The deep blue sky makes these knights stand out, a backdrop brimming with hope, life, and wholeness. The fox moves forward, feeling within its chest a profound connection, a heartbeat shared with these giants. Each step echoes like a reverberation of my own being, a revolution in motion. In this moment, I grasped both the strength and fragility of all that we are, the delicate balance required to be just like the forest itself.
The blue—majestic in its purity. The green—bursting with life. The light brown and dark brown—carrying wounds and hardships still alive. Rocks adorn the kingdom of this garden, the kingdom of this enchanted forest, home to small civilizations. New generations are in the process of growth; they will be the ones to replace these giants.
Ferns adorn the view, lining the path and nurturing the soil. Beneath the earth, roots communicate, sharing their strength. The knights, these wooden giants, stand firm because of this invisible connection.
They share their knowledge—a profound, intricate communication, a natural network of wisdom that humanity can only barely comprehend. This communication embodies a philosophy of coexistence, something we, with our detachment from nature, are just beginning to glimpse.
They know when something from outside approaches. Among themselves, they communicate, sensing danger— when flames draw near, when the rains come, when the wind howls, when the lightning flashes, and when the sky blazes. They are energy. They are everything—constantly changing, continuously reborn with each cycle—a perpetual revolution of life.
The sound of the fox’s footsteps—they can feel it. They can feel pain, joy, and sadness. They can feel us—those living beings who have the freedom to move. Though “they are stationary,” they feel the deepest part of every being. They remain steadfast, filled with energy that rises to the sky, drawn by the universe, returning to the earth to maintain the delicate balance that is so essential.
Art and words by Nilvio Alexander Punguil Bravo
Will Herstory Absolve Me?
Greta Krueger
Gender and Revolution In Cuba (1902-1976)
This work explores the status of Cuban women during the Republican era (1902-58), the antiBatista movements (1952-58), and the post-revolution period (1959-75), illustrating their change in social mobility as a result of the political and economic conditions. Additional consideration is given to how gender shaped women’s participation in the anti-Batista movements, and the gendered outcomes of the Cuban Revolution.
It will look first at the Spanish-imposed colonial gender structures informing gender and womanhood in the Republican era, then analyze gendered participation during the antiBatista movements, and finally look at the gender models that emerged as a result of the new government system. Examination of the social, cultural and legal conditions of these periods will reveal the various factors like colonial gender models, United States intervention, and the gender prototypes that emerged during the anti-Batista movements that influenced the postrevolutionary gender model. While women’s legal status was shifted after the revolution, it was far more complicated to change their lived realities.
Status Quo: The Republican Era
(1902-1958)
Cuba’s centuries as a Spanish extractive colony formed the long-lasting gender structures of the society. Legal and social structures imported a traditional Spanish model of gender. Thus, Cuban society was defined by sexual morality, gendered separation of domestic versus public spaces, and male superiority. These attributes will be referred to as the “colonial”, or “traditional” model of gender.
In the transition from a Spanish colony to an independent republic in 1902, the colonial model gender norms and familial structures remained largely intact. Despite social differences of wealth, locality, and race, absolute male authority over women was ubiquitous (Allahar 1994, 94). Women had to submit to the patriarch of their household regardless of class variations. More specifically, in primarily urban upper- and middle-class families, wives and mothers were expected to be concerned with fashion and status symbols, while lower-class women, employed as maids and servants, performed domestic duties.
The distinction between the roles of men and women in society was based on a gendering of productive labor (contribution to a labor force) and reproductive labor (not only biological functions such as childbearing, but also domestic work, raising children, and caring for the elderly (Benería 1979, 205-206)), which was exemplified by the the calle (the “street” or space outside the home) versus casa (“house”) divide. Women were relegated to the casa sphere in which they performed reproductive domestic labor, whereas men (of the calle) took
on public and professional roles in productive labor (Hernández-Truyol 2017, 182).
Cultural norms affected women’s labor across socioeconomic class. Middle and upper class women were prohibited from pursuing employment, and lower class women—who needed to work for their subsistence—faced a sexual division of labor (Allahar 1994, 95). While they made up 48% of the total population and had a higher literacy rate than men, women occupied only 10% of the country’s workforce (Allahar 1994, 94-96) and 2% of leadership positions (Lamrani 2016, 113). Those who worked were employed in low-paying, “low-skill” professions—the majority of domestic servants and around half of service employees were women (Allahar 1994, 94-96). Thus, even when it was financially necessary for women to work outside the home, their paid labor reflected societal expectations of domesticity.
Throughout the Republican era, the influx of United States consumers and products shaped women’s role in society. U.S corporations owned large portions of the land and the means of production on the island, while simultaneously being a primary importer of Cuban materials and products (Guevara 1964, 590-591; Dye et al. 2004, 676). U.S. products amplified women’s reproductive role by positioning them as consumers in society. Affordable, mass-produced American products entered Cuban markets on a large scale (Chase 2015, 33) and advertisements equated women’s femininity and value with the products they consumed (Moya Fábregas 2010, 65-66).
The development of tourism in the early 20th century further solidified the economic dependence and magnified the urban/ rural wealth gap (Sanderlin 2012, 7), immensely impacting the sex industry. Prostitution predated the tourism boom and was never criminalized despite regulation attempts throughout the Republican era. The sex industry emerged as a “reflection of masculine will and desire [towards women]” (Hernández-Truyol 2017, 183), and cultural taboos around sexual purity. To preserve the honor of “respectable” urban women, Cuban men were compelled to seek sexual relations with “impure” prostitutes (Trumbull 2001, 357). With these cultural norms laying the groundwork, the sex industry expanded following the tourism boom. Wealth disparities (a result of the tourism industry) drew women to cities for employment, creating optimal conditions for coerced prostitution by sex traffickers (Hynson 2015, 129). Concurrently, U.S. businessmen and military officials patronized brothels to realize their imperialist fantasies of “exotic” women (Trumbull 2001, 357). Simultaneous conservative cultural values and economic circumstances bred the optimal environment for sex tourism. As a result, there were between 40,000 and 100,000 prostitutes in Cuba in the years preceding the revolution (Trumbull 2001, 357). Deeply ingrained in Cuban culture and society, the sex industry would become a contentious issue with the gender and economic values of post-revolutionary Cuba.
The Cuban Revolution: Resisting Batista (1952-1958)
The decades preceding the Cuban revolution were fraught with political unrest. The Batista regime, instated by a military coup (Blanco 1994, 26), committed countless human rights violations. Born out of discontent with the status quo political system, the revolutionary anti-Batista movement began with protests across the nation. The armed resistance began on July 26th, 1953 with attacks led by Fidel Castro on the Moncada Barracks, and ended with victory on January 1st, 1959 (Chasteen 2016, 284). In addition to guerilla warfare, the anti-Batista movements resisted the regime through protest, strikes, and boycotts. The contributions of women to revolution can be categorized by the degree to which they subverted gender expectations. As crucial members of the anti-Batista movements, women dissented within the norms of the colonial gender model, through involvement in civic affairs, and uncommonly, by participation in guerilla warfare. The forms of activism employed by Cubanas in the revolution began to lay the groundwork for the subsequent postrevolution model of womanhood.
Women’s dissent during the anti-Batista movements within the gender structure took place within the domestic sphere. Reproductive labor practices were applied to activism, especially through women’s close relationship with consumerism. Boycotts, “dead city” demonstrations, and “stay-athome days”(Chase 2015, 27) harnessed women’s reproductive domestic labor and
buying power to economically damage the regime and demonstrate dissent. Allwomen’s organizations spearheaded protests by repurposing “apolitical” feminine spaces such as churches, shopping malls, and movie theaters (Chase 2015, 31). The colonial seclusion within the casa role was also appropriated through protest. This colonial norm shrouded women from both the public eye and suspicion, facilitating their resistance through phone chains, letterwriting campaigns, provision of refuge for urban militants, and storage of propaganda (Chase 2015, 29-30). These forms of protest were characterized as feminine due to their non-violent nature and use of domestic tasks as forms of resistance. Women leveraged select aspects of the gender model to further the revolutionary cause without facing considerable backlash. This form of participation can be considered somewhat paradoxical, considering these women were participating in a “revolution” without breaking from the status quo.
Women’s activism in the anti-Batista movement also extended outside the colonially-defined domestic sphere, but continued to draw on familiar gendered tropes. Women were involved in both mixed-gender and single-gender civic demonstrations and organizations at the outset of the movement, selectively embracing aspects of womanhood while subverting the notion of women as apolitical (Hernández-Truyol 2017, 182). While the Castros’ July 26th, 1953 attack on the Moncada Barracks is widely considered the genesis of the anti-Batista movement (Chasteen 2016, 284), protests against the regime began the year before. The first demonstrations were led by university students, which included a significant but underrecognized female presence (The New
York Times 1952; Judson 1983, 76; Chase 2015, 25; Matthews 1953, 15). However, women undeniably played a key role in such demonstrations, as anti-Batista organizations progressively utilized spectacle and nationalist symbolism to express opposition (Chase 2015, 25-26). Due to the association of expressive clothing and performance with femininity, women were central to these efforts.
With an increase in violence and deaths in 1955, the maternal role of women expanded through the function of mourning rituals as protest (Chase 2015, 43). In some cases, these might have taken the form of mock funeral processions (The New York Times 1957, 4) or handing out black ribbons to express the sorrow inflicted by the regime (Chase 2015, 26). While the state prohibited men from attending funerals, women posed a lesser threat in the eyes of the dictatorship. They used these events as chances to appeal to pathos to garner support for the anti-Batista movement. Women spoke emotively with maternalistic rhetoric and their inherent moral authority as women (Chase 2015, 60, 80); widows wore their wedding dresses or accentuated their pregnancy at their husband’s funeral. The mourning rituals were integral in framing the male militants murdered by the police as political martyrs (Chase 2015, 58). The rhetoric of maternalism applied the role of “mother” to political involvement, leading to the formation of Frente Cívico de Mujeres Martianas (FCMM) by Aida Pelayo and Carmen Castro Porta, and later the Mujeres Oposicionistas Unidas (MOU) by Marta Fraye and former FCMM associates (Chase 2010, 442). Both the FCMM and MOU organized protests and demonstrations designed to bring awareness to the causes of the anti-Batista movement (Chase 2010, 445-446). After the imprisonment of the July 26th attackers in 1953, the FCMM had a
significant role in reproducing and distributing Castro’s “History Will Absolve Me” manifesto, as well as collecting signatures for the amnesty of the prisoners (Sippial 2020, 64). These groups uniquely extended the political power of women through organized movements using maternalistic rhetoric. Though Cubanas did not fully deviate from the gender model, they began their emergence into the public sphere as feminine, but not apolitical.
The post-revolution model of gender would be further influenced by the 1955 pivot to violent action. This turning point in the revolution aided in the creation of deeply gendered roles for men and women. The imagery of the barbudo—bearded men of “masculine honor, paternal responsibility, and sexual propriety”— emerged as the prototype for revolutionary masculinity (Chase 2015, 46). In contrast, women were characterized by maternalism, centering their political engagement in motherhood (Chase 2015, 79). This dynamic aided in the politicization of family structures post-revolution through the characterization of mother/fatherhood as revolutionary attributes.
While far less common than other approaches, there are examples of Cuban women who participated in “un-feminine” or “masculine” revolutionary activities, like guerilla warfare. However, the guerilla movements lacked emphasis on “gender egalitarianism”, thus preventing women from fully participating (Reif 1986, 162). Male revolutionaries often lacked trust and respect for female collaborators, making it difficult for them to contribute meaningfully and hold leadership positions within guerilla movements (Murray 1979, 63). One exception is Celia Sanchez Manduley, who formed a guerilla resistance force in the Sierra Maestra after the failed July 26th attack. Manduley was integral in
strategizing and mapping out the 1956 Granma landing, allowing the guerrilla forces to reenter the island after exile (Bissola 2019, 37; Sippial 2020, 68). In contrast to Manduley, many guerrilleras remained serving through care-centered work (Murray 1979, 63), such as the Mariana Grajales Brigade, which was initially formed by Castro to engage in warfare (Bayard De Volo 2018, 210). In urban areas, women participated in violent attacks and revolutionary efforts, although primarily in tandem with male revolutionaries (The New York Times 1958b, 3; The New York Times 1958a, 6). These instances demonstrate women’s attempts to break from the gender mold during the revolution, both through actions which challenged their “apolitical” gender role, and actions characterized as violent or “masculine”. Despite their attempts, women were effectively restrained by cultural norms—only a few “exceptions to the rule” were able to truly act outside the gender model. The colonial model of gender was a barrier for women—one which still remained upon the eve of the rising revolutionary government.
Celia Sanchez Manduley (right)
A New Government: Post Revolution Changes (1959-1976)
January 1st, 1959, marked the exodus of the Batista Regime and the victory of the rebel forces. From the ashes of the neocolonial republican era emerged a revolutionary government, a transformed society, and a new vision of womanhood. In the post-revolution period, various women’s organizations of differing doctrines formed. To consolidate oppositional groups, Fidel Castro established the State organization Federación de Mujeres Cubanas (FMC) in 1960, with Vilma Espín as its leader (Johnson 2011, 37). The goal of the FMC was to “prepare women educationally, politically and socially to participate in the revolution…the incorporation of women in work and raising the educational consciousness of women” (Espín, quoted in Purcell 1973). Espín made it very clear that while the organization exclusively focused on women’s issues, they were not “feminist” but “feminine” (Allahar 1994, 115). In the context of revolutionary Cuba, this “femininity” implies an emphasis on militancy and physical labor as opposed to domestic isolation (Allahar 1994, 115). The politics of the FMC align most closely with Marxist feminist theory, which asserts that women’s liberation lies in the destruction of class society, and the subsequent abolition of traditional marriage hierarchies. It also claims the socialist model of family will emerge, with husband and wife as equal partners and the family as the “essential nucleus” of society (Murray 1979, 64).
While it was a step towards the Cuban state’s recognition of women’s oppression within society, the creation of a centralized state women’s organization erased the potential for diversity of thought and homogenized the gender struggle. The FMC would implement many reforms and initiatives towards gender equality with outcomes being impeded by the lasting colonial gender model. Concurrently, the post-revolution government attempted to reshape society according to a “revolutionary family” dynamic and the politicization of reproductive labor through institutional policies and propaganda. A three-way conflict existed between aspirations for equity, the revolutionary family structure, and persisting colonial gender norms. Thus, women principally faced a burden of double responsibility for workforce participation and domestic labor, receiving very little in terms of genuine equity.
Productive Labor—Women in the Workforce
In the post-revolution government, mass mobilization of the workforce was integral for economic and political objectives (Carnoy and Weisheim 1979, 21). Due to cultural norms which prevented them from working during the Republican era, women were regarded as an untapped labor force by the new government. Thus, the state politicized workforce involvement as a contribution towards the newly forming society and demonstrating support for the new government, meaning it was highly incentivized. Education programs were implemented to educate the unskilled workforce, women in particular (Carnoy and Weisheim 1979, 65). In post-revolution society, women emerged from the private sphere, entering the workforce.
The large unskilled female labor force was often exploited by the government through feminine unpaid labor and utilization of education to standardize femininity. Women were expected to volunteer their unpaid labor in “feminine” sectors of the economy related to interpersonal skills and care (Murray 1979, 71; Carnoy and Weisheim 43) in ways that men were not. Volunteer work contributed significantly to Cuba’s economy (Murray 1979, 70), but due to the nature of these positions, the women were not compensated for their labor. State education programs streamlined femininity via propaganda spread in gender specific job training. Women were trained in program schools with workforce skills for commercial and administrative jobs in urban centers, and domestic skills in rural areas (Allahar 1994, 102; Murray 1979, 67). Literacy classes were an aspect of all programs, allowing the government to more effectively distribute propaganda via text. Materials of the women’s education campaigns aimed to impart a homogenous model of femininity and womanhood in a revolutionary context (Hynson 2015, 141). Government programs for volunteerism and education, which primarily targeted women, intentionally perpetuated gender norms.
Beyond volunteer work and education programs, there were limited improvements in women’s share of the labor force. The proportion of women increased in government, though they remained a small minority. By the mid-1970s, women only amounted to 13% of total members of the Primer Congreso del Partido Comunista de Cuba, and 6% of the national leadership positions within it (Pérez-Stable 1987, 55). Similar patterns could be observed in the Young Communists, national trade unions, Committees for the Defense of the Revolution,
and the Popular Power assemblies (PérezStable 1987, 55). By 1974, women only made up 25.3% of the total labor force (Murray 1979, 68-69). Additionally, Cuban women were considerably less likely to hold managerial positions and were far more likely to be employed in careers with “nurturing and service roles” (Murray 1979, 69). Women’s relegation to these “feminine” professions was influenced by the lasting impacts of the colonial gender model and enforced by their legal status. In 1968, articles that prohibited women from participating in certain paid labor positions to “protect their reproductive health” were added to the Cuban Labor Code (Allahar 1994, 101). These articles were later repealed, but in 1976 another was added to the constitution granting women equal rights with a caveat asserting the State’s capacity to assign them jobs “in keeping with their physical makeup” (quoted in Allahar 1994, 102). This article—along with other laws regarding military service, marriage age, and child custody—reflect the sexism and gender hierarchies enforced by the legal system in the name of “proletarian chivalry” (Fidel Castro 1974, quoted in Allahar 1994, 102). The Cuban State engaged in paternalism, justifying women’s exclusion using masculinist protection rhetoric (Brown 1992, 3). The law argues women’s need for protection from the state and in turn, their estrangement from full incorporation into the labor force.
“The law argues women’s need for protection from the state and in turn, their estrangement from full incorporation into the labor force.”
While promoting professional engagement, the post-revolutionary government simultaneously suppressed the sex industry, an economic sector that neither provided valuable labor to the state nor fit within the post-revolution gender ideals. Immediately following the
revolution, all brothels were closed but soon reopened by Castro (Hynson 2015, 131). Brothels were often collectivized, and women who participated in sex work during the initial years of the new government experienced high demand and income—increasing the agency of individual prostitutes (Hyson 2015, 132). Despite the sex industry’s legal status, the government demonstrated its opposition to it through the various restrictions placed on sex workers in 1959 and 1960, making sex work a less attainable career path. These included the elimination of many Havana red-light districts, and requirements that sex workers were registered, fingerprinted, and carry health certificates (Hynson 2015, 132-134). Between 1961 and 1964, the State pushed to eliminate prostitution again. Propaganda depicted female prostitutes as victims, sexual promiscuity as prostitution, and (particularly in the case of Guantánamo) women who had sex with foreign men as prostitutes (Hynson 2015, 135138). The rhetoric of the propaganda reflected the value of female sexual purity originating in the colonial gender model. When previously prostitutes were seen as impure—contrasting the purity of the urbanite—they were now framed as victims: sexually exploited and worth protecting. While this may offer the prostitute greater dignity, it does so within colonial gender norms. Therefore, the propaganda only augmented the colonial gender model for the state’s revolutionary goals, namely, eliminating the class distinctions between the prostitutes and urban women and standardization of morality (McDermott ).
The FMC would continue the work of the state in eliminating prostitution, which was one of the initial tasks of the FMC (Lamrani 2016, 111). The organization created re-education programs for prostitutes, beginning with the establishment of live-in centers, most notably
the Havana Granja América Libre (Hynson 2015, 140). While some women entered the rehabilitation programs voluntarily, none were permitted to leave (Hynson 2015, 141), effectively imprisoning them. During the campaigns, educators taught incarcerated sex workers basic subjects such as literacy and hygiene. However, the programs also pressured women to style their physical appearance and comportment in alignment with the ideals of middle-class femininity (Hynson 2015, 142-143); at the same time, therapy programs for the women imparted government messaging of family-centrality and principles of motherhood (Hynson 2015, 144). After the programs, many “rehabilitated” prostitutes were placed in jobs in factories (Murray 1979, 67) assigned housing, and surveilled by the State (Hynson 2015, 149). Despite these restrictions, the Cuban sex industry was never fully eliminated (Murray 1979, 67), due to the resistance of sex workers against the oppressive government and the financial viability of the career (Hynson 2015, 147). Nonetheless, the propaganda, rehabilitation programs, threat of police violence, and disappearance of tourism correlated with a significant decrease in the population of sex workers, as women had greater means of financial survival through complementary reforms improving access to education and the workforce (Trumbull 2001, 356). Even so, the reduction of survival prostitution aligned with the post-revolution government’s paternalistic narrative of protection. By “protecting” the sexual purity of the women who participated in prostitution, it not only revoked their potential agency within the sex industry, but victimized them using the rhetoric of the colonial gender model. These initiatives were merely an extension of the value of sexual purity under the colonial gender model. Ultimately, for the sake of eliminating class distinctions, the government
programs targeting sex workers removed their autonomy and exemplified the perseverance of traditional gender norms in revolutionary Cuba.
Reproductive Labor— Child Rearing and Domestic Responsibilities
In the process of reshaping the Cuban nation, actions within the domestic sphere were politicized as either supporting or opposing the post-revolutionary government. This cultural shift predominantly affected women. While their reproductive labor was redelegated to the “family” through propaganda and legislation, this had little benefit for women due to a lack of gender equity in the domestic sphere. This was compounded by the politicization of reproductive labor by the revolutionary government, which reinterpreted consumerism, domestic labor, and child rearing as political acts— increasing feelings of domestic responsibility for women in addition to their obligation of workforce participation.
Similar to their status under Americanization during the Republican Era, the value of urban women in post-revolution Cuba was defined by consumption. While pre-revolution, the act of consumerism was merely a culturallyappointed responsibility, these actions were now politicized in a post-revolution context. Fidel Castro expressed this opinion in a 1959 speech, stating, “[in the process of nationbuilding,] Cuban women are helping us extraordinarily in the decision to consume Cuban products” (quoted in Chase 2015, 139). Cubanas and their buying power were
viewed as essential to the industrialization of the nation. Propaganda persuading women to consume industrial products also depicted the gender ideal for Cuban women through the clothing, body type, and hairstyles depicted in advertisements (Chase 2015, 140), not unlike the advertisements for U.S.-made products of the Republican era. The emphasis on consumption as a political act proved detrimental to Cuban women during the food shortages starting in 1959. The shortages resulted from a simultaneous decrease in imports and increase in buying power due to wealth redistribution (Wiesel 1968, 208), and had vast political and social impacts, particularly for women. As the primary domestic laborers, women were responsible for changing recipes and waiting in lengthy ration lines (Chase 2015, 16365). Furthermore, similar to the anti-Batista movements, propaganda addressing overconsumption primarily targeted women, and they became the targets of fear, hatred, and paranoia as a result of the food shortages (Chase 2015, 147). The belief that women could be purposefully trying to undermine the revolution, whether through purchasing U.S.-made goods or hoarding, was pervasive (Chase 2015, 150-51).
Family reform was a crucial element of the post-revolution period. Driving the goal of family reform was the idea that the reproductive labor within the home “transmits the culture and values to younger generations, and generally sets the tone for the continuing revolution” (Allahar 1994, 113). Thus, the revolutionary government created a greater emphasis on the Cuban family in society. The family dynamic drew on the maternal/paternal
prototypes established during the anti-Batista movements, and it continued to develop in the post-revolution period. A cultural shift was attempted by the Cuban Government through reforms incentivizing institutional marriage to standardize the family unit, prioritization of families over the individual in housing and property distribution, and propaganda with a family-centric focus (Allahar 1994 103-104; Chase 2015, 175). The responsibility of the reproductive labor of childrearing, considered the responsibility of the mother in the colonial gender model, was transferred to the family unit under the revolutionary government. Despite the potential for improved women’s status, this cultural shift further expanded their burden by placing the success of the revolutionary project on the shoulders of the women.
As Cubanas entered the workforce in greater numbers post-revolution, they continued to be disadvantaged by colonial cultural norms placing men inflexibly outside the domestic sphere, and women within. Thus, women were burdened with the sobrecargo, or “double shift” (Allahar 1994, 104), which required them to fulfill duties of both professional and domestic labor. Implemented in 1975, the Family Code hoped to address the sobrecargo through legal means by placing an equal responsibility on men and women to perform domestic and child-rearing duties (Allahar 1994 103-104). The initiative was met with significant backlash and did not ultimately create a lived experience of gender equality. While men’s domestic involvement increased minimally relative to the Republican era, women remained the primary domestic laborer despite the added expectation of professional work (Moya Fábregas 2015, 73-74).
Later, additional state-sponsored programs aimed to mitigate the effects of the sobrecargo, but always within the colonial gendered expectation of women performing reproductive labor. For example, the Maternity Law offered women up to 18 weeks of paid maternity, with no comparable program for Cuban men (Allahar 1994, 112). Government programs also offered women time off “to care for sick relatives”, shopping plans if they were unable to stand in ration lines, and electrical appliances for the home (Allahar 1994, 112). With these accommodations only being afforded to women, it is evident that despite the Family Code’s intent towards domestic equality, women were still expected to bear the domestic responsibility. Additionally, gender norms were perpetuated in another form of support for working mothers: círculos infantiles, a national nursery network created by the FMC. The nurseries and other attempts to “socialize domestic labor” (Murray 1979, 65) utilized traditional gender dynamics to garner support. Children attending the círculos infantiles were socialized in adherence to the colonial gender model, as “toys and roles in children’s games and stories” were used to “reproduc[e] traditional sex roles” (Murray 1979, 65). Furthermore, by employing mostly female employees (Murray 1979, 65), government programs that sought to alleviate women’s responsibilities only served to enforce women’s roles as caretakers.
Conclusion
As the role of women in Cuban society morphed along with the political and economic transitions from a neo-colony of the United States to a post-revolutionary independent society, the colonial model of gender lingered. During the anti-Batista resistance of the Cuban revolution, women had to either act within the colonial structure or subvert the expectation of women as apolitical, with few exceptional women fully defying the norms. Rather than making efforts to change colonial norms of gender, women primarily chose to work within them. The gender structures of the post-revolution period were the direct result of gender dichotomies of the anti-Batista movements and the underlying colonial model of gender. While women were no longer isolated to reproductive labor, they were now expected to participate in additional productive labor, with men not bearing the same double-burden. Their struggle by the politicization of the family structure—which idealized revolutionary motherhood as the ultimate expression of femininity— and the domestic space — which made consumerism and domestic tasks a political act
The difficulties experienced by women after the revolution cannot primarily be attributed to the actions of the Cuban government.
The legacies of extractive colonialism and neocolonialism and the structures upheld by these political-economic models are large barriers to overcome. Gender equality within a society cannot be fully achieved within 17 years. While cultural barriers and gender models were not overcome, certain government reforms, such as those for women’s reproductive health helped promote gender equity. Family planning education, women’s health education, youth sexual education programs, access to abortion, and access to contraceptives transformed women’s ability to make informed health decisions about their bodies and fertility (Kirk 2020, 294-298; Smith 1989, 167-179, 181).
Beyond 1976, the government would continue to implement reforms towards the goal of gender equality. In the face of the catastrophic economic conditions created by the U.S. trade embargo, the revolutionary society continued to march onward with the aim to, in the words of Fidel Castro, “trabajar, a organizar y a poner actividad el espíritu creador, el entusiasmo de la mujer cubana, para que la mujer cubana, en esta etapa revolucionaria haga desaparecer hasta el último vestigio de discriminación; y tenga, la mujer cubana, por sus virtudes y por sus méritos, el lugar que le corresponde en la historia de la patria”(Castro, 1960).
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Unperturbed Motion
Sasha Ivanov
Dear God,
A Prayer for Complacency
Let me have a man who loves me but doesn’t mean it
Let his unstirring kisses pepper my lips Guide his foreign touch around my hips, to cup my breasts, To stick a finger in my mouth. Please, Let him whisper something I’ve heard before in my ear
The last time I loved someone I curled up in their arms on a Sunday and it was all I needed, the air was soaked golden; The spirit of Thomas Aquinas came to visit us, or someone else who ruins sanctitylove is just neurotransmitters. It is chemicals it is function it is reproduction and survival.
It is doing what every other species does: keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going
I’d find it so much easier to die if I was hungry, than if I was full God, give me something to chew on, but never something I might digest No, don’t even let it take a form that can fit down my esophagus Let me be dismembered.
Give me scraps, let me walk around split in half, for I am scared of my full form
If I let love realize me I can no longer lie: How do I look past the homeless man on the way to work like I’m supposed to?
How do I just give him money, or a meal, even? How do I work?
How do I get a “useful” degree?
God, keep my heart away It is all I can do to bear this world. Or, the version of this world I live in.
bell hooks said love is profoundly political; If I allow myself something real, then how do I prevent the revolution from coming out of me?
Defying the Script: Reflections on the Work of Phillis Wheatley
Phillis Wheatley’s poems, “On Imagination” and “On Being Brought from Africa to America” were not merely works of literature, but acts done to reaffirm Wheatley’s humanity during a time in which it was not granted easily to Black enslaved women.
As seen in, “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” Wheatley’s writing is characteristic for its appeals to the white-Christian world and the salvation that it granted her. While criticisms may stem from this notion, it is the digestibility of Wheatley’s works that helped them spread to non-abolitionist audiences and that worked to emphasize her intelligence and cognitive competency. Many of her poems did not reference her status as a slave directly, and she instead focused on topics and subject material that helped grant her legitimacy as a poet, such as morality and religion.The capacity for Black individuals to be both creative and intelligent was an idea that was highly opposed at the time when Wheatley’s pieces circulated. Her existence and work as a writer pushed against the traditional anti-Black narratives and propaganda that circulated during the era of slavery in the United States and her contributions made large strides in helping secure a place for Black people in academic and literary spaces alike.
Wheatley was a particularly unique individual of her time. Despite being an enslaved woman, her captors educated her on literature, writing, reading, and various other subjects, while relieving her partially of her domestic duties. Wheatley was born in 1753, and was sold as a slave in 1961, at hardly 7 years old. In her early teenage years, poetry became a primary interest of Wheatley’s, and she eventually went on to become the first African American woman to publish a book of poems. Despite her elevated status in relation to other Black individuals, Wheatley worked as a servant for most of her life, and died in poverty. Wheatley then went on to become an emblematic symbol of Black literature, with her works and skills being cited frequently during abolitionist movements that occurred after her death and even to this day.
The members of the MJLC chose to reflect on her works in order to highlight the importance of leveraging individual privileges when aiming to address a larger movement. Wheatley took advantage of her unique position within society and used it to speak for others that were not granted the same luxuries of education. It is telling of the time period in which she lived that her academic success was still not able to grant her full freedom, yet her gift of the pen ignited an image, a possibility, of liberation for generations to come.
Phillis Wheatley’s poems reorient her agency in the story of her enslavement by challenging beliefs about enslaved peoples’ literacy and religious comprehension. In “On Being Brought From Africa to America,” Wheatley is reclaiming her religiosity by asserting her place among white Christians. Wheatley is aware that most white Christians at the time believed themselves to be spiritually superior to enslaved Africans and would use Christianity to indoctrinate enslaved Africans. Wheatley’s poems dismiss white people’s ability to use Christianity as a weapon of enslavement by using her rare status as a literate, enslaved person to write down and publish a contradictory narrative about her spirituality. Through her poetry, she asserts her place in America—one God defined for her—where she can, like Cain, be redeemed. Through her interpretation of a biblical narrative, Wheatley is taking back the power to define how her story is told after being denied her liberty and humanity through enslavement. By publishing a narrative that challenges the perception of enslaved peoples’ literacy, religiosity, and agency, Wheatley not only broadcasts her own individuality, but also forces Americans to reckon with the humanity of those they enslave. Wheatley is an example of how breaking free of the instruments of oppression can be used to transform them into tools of one’s own abolition. - Sophia Shashko
In “On Imagination,” Phillis Wheatley uses creativity and an innate longing for more to illustrate a phantasmic existence, where Imagination is queen and her inner Fancy may run wild.
The aforementioned Fancy “flies” to new heights; imagination providing a window of freedom that was not attainable to Wheatley as an enslaved Black woman. Wheatley acknowledges the fetters put upon her through the characterization of Winter, an allegory for slavery—the pale white hand that constrains Fancy, who looks down upon her and forbids her to aspire. Yet in this world, despite Winter’s frowns, “the frozen deeps may break their iron bands,” and she is no longer shackled and restrained. Instead, Imagination guides Fancy to conceptualize the coming of spring, to melt away the harshness and cruelty of Winter. But in the final stanza, the chill of reality seeps through, as Fancy is forced to turn away from the beauty of Aurora, the sun.
While the poem may finish with a desolate air, we do not—must not—forget the sunrise on the horizon nor the desires that Imagination instilled within Fancy. The hope remains imprinted that the realities between the two worlds may someday be leveled; “Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.”
This world of imagination allows Wheatley, and us as readers, to see past our current reality and aspire for more, in order to forge a better future. It is the courage to imagine—the courage to dream—that is the cornerstone of revolution. - Shu Lan Schaut
Can freedom shine through the veil of captivity? Phillis Wheatley’s “On Imagination” conjures grand conceptions of life and questions the boundaries of freedom. Wheatley’s writing flourishes—writing with a hand that sings every word in song. She tells of deities and Gods, marveling at the world’s endless beauties and grandiose spectacles. Her exacting prose conveys her clear understanding of being limitless in mind, a season of thought, only to be restrained by the winter, smothering all. Is that the limit to her freedom?
In “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” Wheatley recounts how her journey to America was accompanied by the adoption of a belief in a “Saviour,” and a restructuring of her sense of reality. Wheatly embraces this change completely, reasoning that she—like anybody else—had a right to be equal in the eyes of God. She is also painfully aware that the many eyes watching her did not belong to God. Can religion be freedom even though it was forced onto her? Perhaps it can. Is her conception of freedom enough to counterbalance the force of society inimical to her success, her liberation? Perhaps not. Does her adoption of Christian beliefs unshackle her unencumbered imagination liberate, or must she be bound by chain to her origins? The questions persist, and answers evade. Perhaps she does know her freedom; in the sun, the rain, the earth. Phillis Wheatley seemed content to ask and imagine—accepting the absurd to be perfectly reasonable. Her answer to these questions rings clear, as “there in one view we grasp the mighty whole” is a view we just might be able to envision. - Jonathan Tostrud
Among the avenues of revolutionary action available to oppressed peoples throughout time, education is one which is often underemphasized. Many understand the significance of educational reform in having brought about equality for Black people in the United States, but education is typically not brought up as in it of itself a revolutionary act—that is to say, if it is not coupled with protesting, violence, or widespread change. Phillis Wheatley looms large in history because of the revolution that was her very education, her birth as a literary juggernaut in a world where very few people, much less Black enslaved women, were educated. In “On Being Brought from Africa to America” and “On Imagination”, Wheatley wields her pen to discuss the place of Black people in the Church, and uses gorgeous prose to describe the leaps and bounds of imagination through sensory, religious, and historical allusion. The control of linguistic and academic prowess she demonstrates is striking; if “a prince among men” is the idiom for a man who stands out among his peers, Wheatley is a poet among people. Arguments can be made as to whether her writings about the “benighted” non-Christian African soul or the slaver George Washington make Wheatley complacent in anti-Black ideology of the time; arguments that she is anything less than a master of the written word cannot. Phillis Wheatley is an embodiment of the revolutionary, whose physical imprisonment could never denigrate their mind’s liberty. - Sreejita Patra
The
It is no secret that the messages of Phillis Wheatley’s poems are rooted in revolutionary concepts; from her heavenly musings in “On Imagination” to her raw depiction of her captivity in “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” she has consistently used the written word to remind her oppressors of her humanity and elicit social change. What makes Wheatley’s writing particularly revolutionary, however, is the context in which her poetry was published. Given her status as a Black, enslaved woman, the publishing of Wheatley’s pieces provided her with a rare opportunity: to have her voice heard by a privileged audience that would otherwise never read her work.
In a time when Africans were deemed cognitively inferior, Wheatley’s usage of traditionally “white” language demonstrated that those sharing her identities could produce comparable intellectual works to white men. In both “On Imagination” and “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” Wheatley utilizes technical writing skills—like the iambic pentameter and couplet—as well as classical literary references—namely to the Bible and Greek mythology—to assert her academic capabilities. Incorporating elements of “white” rhetoric into her pieces made them more accessible to non-abolitionist audiences, thus spreading her poetry’s messages to a more diverse readership. Without satisfying the abstract ideals set forth by white society, it is uncertain whether or not Wheatley’s poetry would have ever circulated in popular culture the way they did.
One of the greatest criticisms of Wheatley’s poetry, especially for “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” is that it is plain and lacks passion; that it does not push the boundaries of artistic expression. What these critics fail to recognize, however, is that it is because of this perceived simplicity that she was able to make history as the first published Black, female poet. Wheatley had to make her art palatable for “white” society in order for her subversive themes to be engaged with by her oppressors. The large-scale attention given to Wheatley’s poetry therefore exposed intellectuals to this new school of thought in a language that was meaningful and understandable to them. By appealing to “the Winter”—the oppressive system in which she lived—Wheatley could effectively communicate a powerful abolitionist perspective. In doing so, she brought discussions of race, religion, and liberation into the limelight; thus, persuading the very system that enslaved her to change. - Hannah Herbst
Phillis Wheatley seamlessly leverages her prose to admonish her oppressors while elucidating the power that imagination brings to those who sit alongside her in the margins of society. In “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” Wheatley asserts that while there may be a “God”— a nod towards traditional Christian values present during her time—it is her “Saviour,” whom she has devoted herself to that has sustained her thus far. She affirms that Black people are entitled to the angelic afterlife that their oppressors have unrightfully denied them for far too long, effectively dismantling the notion that her community is incapable of utilizing neither faith nor reason during a time defined by such values. Moreover, in “On Imagination,” Wheatley illustrates the restorative power of imagination: flipping the frigid winter landscape into fruitful flora and burgeoning bodies of forestry. The majority of this poem portrays imagination’s power as a tool, a medium, a constructive force—that can bring the speaker out of the aforementioned cold winter and into an alternative world where imagination can reign supreme over their conditions.
The act of existing in this liminal point, between both imagination and the conditions that limit imagination, mirrors Wheatley’s lived experience as an enslaved Black woman whose imagination was inhibited by systemic racism and patriarchy, and yet fostered by influential white leaders of the time. Revolutions necessitate a critical examination of both the systems we operate within and the systems we wish to create. This means using our status quo as a means of forging something greater than ourselves and the circumstances that envelop us. For some of us, though, including Phillis Wheatley, our present moment will forever be entangled with our identities. Any movement we make will inevitably impact our humanity. Ultimately, Wheatley’s brave undertaking of the literary movement in support of abolition, even amidst the shackles she wore, marks her a true revolutionary. She is a fervent reminder of the importance that the written word has when constructing a more illustrative and inclusive world. - Landis Varughese
The two poems “On being Brought from Africa to America” and “On Imagination” strike a harsh duality in tone. The former reads with a viscous, seething undertone and seeps venom from the seams. The latter rejoices in the creative force of imagination and the way it allows “new worlds [to] amaze th’ unbounded soul.”
I would like to focus specifically on “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” which I believe is much more insidious than the common interpretations would suggest. Generally, public opinion holds that the poem is a non-aggressive criticism of the status quo by participation in the traditionally white-exclusive art of poetry and prose, and as a relatively gentle admonishment of those who held Black people to be less religiously significant than their white counterparts. Phillis Wheatley voices her genuine appreciation for being introduced to a “saviour” and uses her prose to show, not just tell, her readers of the civility she and all other oppressed groups are able to achieve.
I think this reading is correct, but I also think there’s a phantom sense of rage and injustice that hovers just below the surface of the poem—that shines through the imperfections in the wall of “civility” Wheatley must uphold. The first indication of this in “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” is the distinct lack of passion and emotional language. There’s no anger. No sadness or joy. The whole thing can be boiled down to, more or less: “I was introduced to a new saviour, and you should remember that everyone can join the angelic train.” This isn’t to degrade Wheatley’s work; I point it out only to say that the emotionally charged topics of slavery and culture are missing entirely, which one would expect to be quite prominent in a poem ostensibly about “being brought from Africa to America.” Furthermore, Wheatley’s “On Imagination” is absolutely chalk-full of every literary flourish, image, metaphor, and emotion. There’s such a contrast between the two poems in length and passion that I cannot help but think “On Being Brought from Africa to America” intentionally neglects its due emotions in order to convey the depth of those emotions. You know how, when a dog who clearly has a rock or stick in its mouth, it refuses to give it to you? Wheatley’s poem strikes a very similar chord with me. They took her nationality and replaced her culture; they can’t have her rage, too. - Will Hicks
Works Cited
Wheatley, Phillis. “On Being Brought From Africa to America.” Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, A. Bell, Aldgate, 1773.
Wheatley, Phillis. “On Imagination.” Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, A. Bell, Aldgate, 1773.
By Emmett Lockwood
“From My Nôhkom” is a fiber arts piece made of blush pink canvas, blue metallic paint pens, markers, elastic, and white thread. While many people think about our current existence of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic as one of state abandonment, the COVID-19 emergency declaration also brought with it a restriction of movement, including movement of individuals like my nôhkom who was born in the so-called United States after familial flee from residential schools. While my nôhkom passed in 2020 from cancer and medical mistreatment not on her native land, the revolutionary call for free movement for Indigenous people is ongoing.
Slutty Statues
by Sreejita Patra
About a month before the end of my senior year of high school, I skipped a track meet to try and buy back an art piece that my drug addict ex-boyfriend sold for dope.
Michael was, among other things, a sculptor from the moment we met, when he cooked a playdoh cross-breed of an elephant and a tiger for me in our elementary school art teacher’s special kiln. He only ever improved in his talents from childhood to our late teenage years, even once the whites of his eyes reddened and his skin turned sallow.
Of course, he hadn’t made anything of note for me for some time then, in part because I was no longer worth creating for and in part because he had only been selling to one person for a while now. Solo, short for Solomon, was the heir to a nice old vintage market at the southend of town, and he had brokered a simple exchange with Michael: an art piece typically for $40, or five joints’ weed. When I learned of the deal, my first thought was that Michael should’ve gone to Etsy rather than shortchange himself.
But so it went that his collection of constructions accumulated over the years—paintings, sketches, sculptures of clay and filament and wood—one by one were seen in a nice trinket display at Michaela’s Market. Eventually, they disappeared one by one again. When Michael’s father peered into his son’s room on a whim of paternal affection and noticed the depleted walls, it took less than a day for Michael to be discovered and shipped off to rehab.
I didn’t know much about that. When the gossip inevitably got around to my teachers and peers, I was usually the first to call him a freak,
emboldened by an all-too-personal hate you can only reserve for someone you once loved. I’d feel it leak out a little when the others chimed in their agreement, because what they hated had little to do with him.
Nevertheless, I didn’t plan on showing Michael loyalty up until an advanced drawing and painting class on a Tuesday at 8 a.m., when my teacher told us who she was planning to submit to the town wide art K-12 fair. I cornered her at her desk when the bell rang and insisted she submit my old friend’s piece.
My teacher wasn’t interested in obliging my request because she really did not have anything to work it off. Michael had come to about three of her AP 3-D classes in the whole year and the only thing she’d liked about him was his work, of which there was nothing now available since he’d demanded anything that was submitted be given back to him. I told her that if I found something by him she should add it to the list, and she told me that the effort might be better suited towards helping myself.
Fortunately, she said she liked me well enough that she would seriously consider whatever I conjured up for her, so long as it was on her desk in three days. I had not then come up with a concrete plan for how I was going to fulfill these demands, but a daily 80 milligrams of prozac made me generally ambivalent about, among other things, high probabilities of failure.
Which is how I found myself back at the very office which I had spent much more time in than either I or my beleaguered track coach wanted, begging him to keep me on the team after that night where I drank a gallon of milk, bashed my head against a building, forced myself to run on the track and fainted after finishing off a disappointing spring season in junior year. I hadn’t banked on that last thing and never figured out how to apologize to a man who’d cried after finding me covered in bile and blood.
The meet was the first invitational of the season and would have been my first time competing since I was forced to take leave for fall. The practices leading up to it were brutal, mainly due to Coach’s wary eye and my teammates’
unsuccessful attempts to pretend they weren’t concerned for me. But, I had qualified based on a previous time and wanted to start and finish off my senior year on the field so, so badly. My coach had made sure I could, yet there I was again hearing myself saying that I couldn’t do it.
When I got my varsity letter at the end of the year, I put it in a box and never opened it.
Michaela’s Market was quite a pretty place aside from the recent add-on of a tabernacle outside in an excavated clearing. Its half-done wooden walls and draperies might have been perfectly biblical if not for the giant Israeli flags foisted around the perimeter.
Solo was calmly sorting through various animal furs as I trod across the littered entranceway, his expression mild as his eyes lifted to meet mine. I’d wagered that the easiest way to grab a Michael artifact and go was by politely asking Solo how much I could buy one off him for, since he’d confessed to me at a party once that he hoarded some of Michael’s art for himself. Solo didn’t bite. I then proceeded to explain that my teacher had asked me to bring something of his into class so he could have a display in the art fair, and that it would give his parents something to smile about and wouldn’t he please just give me one thing from Michael’s collection, even if it was shitty or broken? And Solo said he wasn’t feckless enough to break what he bought, but that I should probably not have come all this way to do something no one cares about, least of all Michael.
He felt a lot worse after saying that to me than I did, so Solo admitted he upsold the stowaway artwork as his own a couple weeks ago.
The boardwalk shop he sent me to was diffuse with colors straight out of Wes Anderson’s Darjeeling Limited, eucalyptus green walls and blue stained glass patterns complete with gilded decorative plates. The old lady at its helm threw an artificial marigold garland onto my neck when I entered and beamed at me as I surveyed the shop.
I’d fled Solo’s sacrilegious tabernacle almost immediately after he admitted to the deception, which meant I never asked which piece of
Michael’s the old lady had. I prowled around the shop and scoured its shelves, convincing myself that if I could recognize anything about Michael, it would always be his art. But I would end up circling around the thing for a good half-hour before I let myself consider it.
The killer clown sat atop of a fat, jagged pillar which was buried in his anus, bloodstained teeth and Musou black lips contorted to orgasm as an outstretched finger teasingly balanced the handle of an ax. The pillar was carved with a quote:
And did you get what you wanted from this life?
The only problem with it was which name was carved into its hair in yellowed resin.
The homely brick slab of a library which encased the art fair displays was filled with elan during its grand opening two weeks later, as live mariachi music trickled in from the food vendors outside and spectators marveled at their children’s, siblings’, and friends’ pieces. Those which won the top awards were in the library’s nicest glass casing display; their creators’ names and short biographies on placards beneath. It was, all in all, a respectable exhibition. Aside from one small detail.
As I joined my friends in locating our submissions and gushed over the very maximalist clay pot my sister made, I noticed she and her fellow miniatures were giggling together at brief intervals before swiftly scattering away. I watched my friend Larissa decide to tail the children into a small corridor, the lilt of her laughter eventually joining the chorus as she ran back to us, doubled over.
I had spent many sunrises that week hunched over the table in my parents’ unfinished basement dressed like Professor Membrane with an N95, as I went at Michael’s clown statue with sandpaper grits. I hadn’t bothered submitting the sculpture to my teacher on time: it was too vulgar and too Michael and I couldn’t let anyone see it like that. But I couldn’t leave it be.
I have this very vivid memory of Michael from when we were preteens and I had wanted to dye strands of my hair with Kool Aid, as was
fashionable in those days. And my mother had absolutely refused to let me dye mine, no matter how much I begged and all the friends I’d counted as having dyed theirs. So I’d cried to him about it and his solution was to let me color his entire head of blond curls bright red even though he knew his parents would ground him for weeks.
As such, even when my eyes began to droop and my neck started to click and my mind drifted instead towards the guy I knew last year, the one who had shook with laughter when he saw I lost half my hair from stress pulling—I still wasn’t able
to throw my hands up and walk away from fixing it for him.
Our group followed Larissa into that corridor, where the forgotten miscellaneous sketches and paintings from past years were put up. And in a glass case next to them which housed Sharon Creech books, the pillar with the suggestive, newly-bald clown was erected on top. It lasted for thirty minutes before someone got it taken down.
I took a picture and sent it to Michael.
Indifferent West: Desert Pool Murals by Daniel Mirer
Approach by Can Zhang
Indifferent West: Non-potable water picnic area
by Daniel Mirer
Any Last Words
A Found Poem
Jeffrey H. MacLachlan
Verily unto Allah do we belong, Verily unto him do we return. This inmate declined to make a last statement.
I hope that one day we can look back on the evil that we’re doing right now like the witches we burned at the stake.
What I want people to know is that they called me a cold-blooded killer when I shot a man that shot me first.
The only thing that convicted me was that I am a Mexican and that he was a police officer.
What about those cowboys?
I don’t say this with any bitterness or anger.
Hi, Mom.
Ain’t life a [expletive deleted]?
I wish I had a Shakespearean vocabulary, but since I was raised in TDC, I missed out on some of my vocabulary.
I was in their reformatory schools and penitentiary, but ah they create monsters in there.
Perhaps more important in a lot of ways is what we are doing to the environment is even more devastating because as long as we keep going the direction we’re going the end result is it won’t matter how we treat other people because everybody on the planet will be on their way out.
I’m an African warrior, born to breathe, and born to die. You are murdering me and I feel sorry for you.
I rescued her from a wretched life in Ireland. He will do it again.
I love all of those on Death Row, and I will always hold them in my hands. Peace.
Kate Foster Curtis-Hawkins
REPORT X2463-G
TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY
Scenario 1: It is 2003, and your mother is demanding that you put on a belt in order to attend Cub Scouts. You are not old enough to understand that the belt makes your body look wrong because it erases your waist. That these pants are cut for a man and are meant to be worn at your hips. Or that the belt buckle, paired with the slide and its neckerchief, draws the eye toward your shoulders, whose width makes your brain feel as though it’s filled with TV static whenever you see them. She tells you that you should be grateful to even have a belt to wear in the first place, that there are starving children in Africa who would love to have a belt like this. You ask her if you can send it to them, as this would seem to fix both problems, and she yells your name through gritted teeth.
inStructionS: Apologize for refusing to wear the belt, remember that you can’t get rid of these clothes. Forget about asking your mom why they feel so bad to wear.
Scenario 2: It is still 2003, and your father is chasing you around the house. You’re not sure what game this is, but it is the first time that your father has played with you in a year. Suddenly he turns around and runs the other direction, and the two of you collide. Your body falls to the ground and the air rushes out of your lungs. You begin to cry, and your father looks at you like you have become something grotesque. He tells you that men do not cry, and that this is a ridiculous response. He asks if you’re a Sally. He tells you that this did not hurt. All of which you can barely hear through the ringing in your ears.
inStructionS: Any time you begin to feel the warmth rising in your throat, and the liquid welling at the corners of your eyes, make it stop. Do not allow yourself to give in to these feelings, do not allow your body to contort into something it is not meant to be.
Fig. 1
Fig. 2
Scenario 3: It is 2005, and Trace corners you in the locker room to ask why you play basketball like the girls in your gym class. You don’t understand what that means, or why he’s upset about it, but before you can think of anything to say he throws you against the lockers. He repeats his question, and you assume this is what it means to play “like a man.” As you remain silent, he calls you a coward, spits in your face, and walks away.
inStructionS: Be aggressive in everything that you do. Use your body to obtain what you want. Do not allow others to question you.
year. Imitate the people you have been grouped with, model what they say and do. Do not allow others to know that you feel you may have the wrong body. Never allow someone to single you out again.
Scenario 4: It is 2006, and your voice has begun to lose its higher pitched, squeaky tone. Your mother has begun to comment on the hair growing on your upper lip with increasing frequency. You resent both the hair and the comments, but you keep it because she seems to like it. The boys in your class compare the hair on their legs and talk about how hot the girls are. Russell asks you how often you masturbate, and then calls you gay when you tell him that you don’t.
inStructionS: Ignore the feeling of TV static in your head that has continued to grow in intensity with each passing
Scenario 5: It is 2007, and you decide to join the track and field team. You eventually become the fastest hurdler on the team. You qualify for the state competition, and it feels like your father is finally proud of you. You begin to run faster than the others in your class during warmups, and one of the older boys yells at you during the one mile run. He calls you gay for trying so hard. He asks if you like making everyone look bad. He threatens to beat you up if you do it again while your childhood best friend runs next to you, remaining completely silent.
inStructionS: Make yourself smaller. Begin running slower on purpose and ignore that the coach has begun to call you lazy. Quit track and field after you lose at the state competition and tell your father that you are done with athletics.
Fig. 3
Fig. 5
Fig. 4
Scenario 6: It is 2008, and you cannot understand why your body is shaped the way it is. You’ve begun to feel like an actor who isn’t aware of the role they’re playing, and you feel like a stranger within your own home. Despite this, you never tell anyone how you’re feeling, you’re not even sure you’d know how to explain the way you feel. You begin to say “normal” when your mom asks you how your day was, because if you answered honestly, you know you’d explode. You’d tell her you don’t know why you’re grouped with the boys when you feel more comfortable around girls, that you hate gym class and all the activities you’ve been told that “men” should like. That you don’t know why you feel you have to cover up your chest when you change around others. That you have no idea what’s expected of you at any given time. That you feel like a girl, and that the skin you live in feels like it belongs to someone else.
inStructionS: Stop acknowledging the way you feel. Stop going online and telling chat rooms that you’re a woman. Internalize that perhaps your father was right when he said that men aren’t supposed to be emotional. Ignore how frequently you have begun to shout and cry when something small upsets you.
Scenario 7: It is still 2008, and you are cornered in the locker room again, this time after you missed catching a crucial pass from Derek. Trace calls you stupid, Garret calls you a fairy, and Aaron tells you that this is why you don’t have any friends. You point to Seth and say that he’s your friend. All three of them turn to watch Seth shake his head no. They begin to laugh, and you try to sneak past them to start getting changed. Trace steps in front of you, and everything goes dark.
When your vision returns, there is blood on your knuckles, but you are unsure how it got there. You look up and see that the gym teacher is shouting at you from the other end of the locker aisle, but you can’t hear anything he’s saying over the ringing in your ears. After class, you are sent to the principal’s office where you listen to him tell you that the entire administration knows how tough these boys have been on you, but that the school has a zero-tolerance policy for fights, even if someone is defending themself. You ask why, if the administration knew what was happening, they haven’t done anything. He provides no response.
inStructionS: Serve your detention in the same room as the boys who attacked you, do not allow their gaze to visibly upset you, do your best to understand why the use of your body has gotten you in trouble.
Fig. 7
Fig. 6
Scenario 8: It is 2010, and your father’s job has migrated north. Your body is being relocated to a new neighborhood, and a new school. You realize that this is your opportunity to redo everything that you must have done wrong before. You think that perhaps that was just the wrong place and the wrong time for you. Maybe if you can get a different group of people to accept you, then you’ll finally understand who you are.
inStructionS: Put on a mask, one that enables you to better follow the course of action that others have laid out for you. Become funny. Stop pursuing the arts and pivot towards military service. Start going to the gym, but avoid the mirrors. Build the most likable version of yourself.
would stick it out until the end, and that men don’t quit what they start. That if I’m going to be his son, I have to have honor XXX XXXXXXXXX. That I cannot be who he sees me becoming. This all feels strange to have come after I simply told my mother that I didn’t want to play XXXXXX anymore, but now I feel as though I’ve committed murder
. inStructionS: You begin to look at yourself from the outside, you promise yourself that you will learn what it takes to play this role, to be what is expected of you. You follow instructions.
THE FOLLOWING SCENARIO WAS RECOVERED FROM A CORRUPTED, EARLIER DRAFT OF THIS REPORT AND ITS ORIGINAL LOCATION IN THE SEQUENCE IS UNKNOWN:
Scenario {}: It is XXXX, and I am dropping out of another sport. This is a conversation that I have had XXXXX times with my father already, and it goes the same way every time. He is calling me a quitter, and a XXXXX. I am trying to explain to him that I didn’t seem to be very XXXX at it, and that I wasn’t enjoying XXXXX. He asks me how long I plan on being a Sally for? I don’t know what this means, but he continues on, growing in XXXXXX. He tells me that a man
Fig. {}
Fig. 8
Scenario 22: It is Thursday, March 31st, 2016, and your best friend has come out as transgender in a Facebook post. She uses words like ”gender dysphoria,” and “hormone therapy.” You do not understand what any of this means, but Google exists, and you want to be supportive. You spend the rest of the day reading about Christine Jorgensen, Stonewall, Marsha P. Johnson, the Cooper Do-nuts Riot, and the work of Judith Butler. You read The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson. You see your friend after she transitions, and your brain stops. It can no longer process information. You are beginning to drown, not by water, but by the long-buried static of the feelings you had abandoned.
inStructionS: Abandon your friend. Find a new mask, the current one no longer works. Make sure the next one is composed of a material that isn’t capable of slipping.
8th, 2020, and you are speaking with your best friend for the first time in nearly five years. You’ve reconnected with her because you ended up sharing a tattoo artist, which is convenient since you’ve begun to read about gender identity once again. Only this time you’re beginning to wonder if it applies to you. You apologize for not staying in touch with her, and you begin to share some of the thoughts and feelings that you have the words to describe now. She says that she cannot tell you who you are, but that much of what you’ve shared is relatable to her own experience.
inStructionS: Consider whether the choice in front of you is worth the cost. Write lists of pros and cons, pray to the god that you no longer believe in for guidance, and keep a journal. Attempt to understand what this new system of life you can live will actually look like.
Scenario 88: It is Wednesday, March 17th, 2021, and you are standing in line at the pharmacy. That morning, you were officially excommunicated from your church and stripped of the cloth. Only two hours ago, you were approved for hormone therapy, and now here you stand, waiting to step towards something new.
Fig. 86
Fig. 22
inStructionS: Spironolactone 25 mg tablet: Take 1 tablet (50 mg total) by mouth twice daily, Estradiol: Place 3 tablets (6 mg total) under the tongue twice daily.
Scenario 90: It is the present, and I wake up with my arms wrapped around the woman I love. Her eyes open and I say good morning. She calls me beautiful, kisses me, and says that she plans to make us pancakes for breakfast. I get dressed, and, as I look in the mirror, I can see myself clearly for the first time.
Scenario 89: It is Tuesday, August 17, 2021, and you stand before a judge. She asks you why you’re seeking a name change and you tell her that it is because you wish to have a name that is more suited to your gender. You tell her that you’d very much like to have your inner reality reflected in legality, and she grants your petition. I leave the courthouse and step out into the sunlight, my lawyer hugs me and tells me that there’s a party planned at the bar tonight. Later, I am surrounded by people, hugging me, saying congratulations, and buying me drinks.
Fig. 88
Fig. 1
Fig. 90
Fig. 89
Virginia (So Ends My Holy Night)
Nika McKagen
Quinn Henneger
“I love you” creeps from my lips— tongue of the beast singing to me a cycle of deception— illusioned by my reverie of the beast’s blood gushing against the chalkboard— a cracked skull oozes on my pale body I wait for the dark to consume me— time running away— until I hear the chime of a distant memory beckoning me to live in the uncertainty
I set the body down and walk outside— whisper, “I love you” to the fruit trees that feed my friend who asks if I am registered to vote. the Moon gives a hearty chuckle when I ask my friend what they are afraid of
“Belly of The Beast” explores the feeling of the constant tension between fighting towards liberation everyday and maintaining the beastly carceral state just by going about one’s daily life. Amidst this great play, an emphasis on voting feels sterile, yet still to many loved ones an important component of their lives.
Resurrection by Valerie Hammer (Amazing Grace)
He had first seen the painting in his father’s office when he was twelve.
Self Portrait. 1964. Oil on Canvas. Like all the other useless objects and decorations that congregated in corners of the house, he had dismissed it as yet another signifier of his father’s inability to part ways with the past, and his mother’s ostentatious disregard for what visitors thought.
Dev had thought the painting was ugly, or that maybe the man who painted it was ugly. His father was convinced that the rest of the country would soon notice the artist’s talent, and that the painting would be worth something someday. Dev loathed the confidence his father had in his delusions; when school friends came over, he would close the office door. Art like that belonged in textbooks about unsuccessful artists who had taken their lives, not in the house. Aside from that, his father had a penchant for collecting nude sculptures of women — his friends would leer at them, teasing that his mother’s
breasts were used as a model. I’m serious, they really do perk up like that!, they would laugh, pinching the nipples.
After rainfall, when the city smelled of sludge and jasmine, Dev would remember the house. Hundreds of English and American books stacked in no discernable pattern, scriptures from every universalizing religion, Kashmir silk draped on couches. His mother’s poetry left on the living room table in hopes her husband would pause to read it. There had been a cat which occasionally crawled in from the street. Dev would leave out a bit of milk for her. When his mother found out and the affair was put to an end, the cat found another house to bother. He cried that day, though he was far too old to be crying over a cat that was not even his own.
When Dev was about to leave for university, his mother revealed she wanted to move into an apartment complex in the city. All her friends were there, she was lonely, and her son no longer needed rural stability. Dev’s father had refused and, in his reti -
cent character, gave no reason other than he didn’t want to. His mother was apoplectic, threatening to smash every one of her husband’s precious sculptures. Dev remembered the woman finally getting on her knees, pressing her hands together and bowing her head. “I’ve never asked you for anything like this. I can’t go on here. I’m begging you, I’m begging you. I’m begging you.”
His father relented. Whether it was because his wife’s unhappiness troubled him, or simply because he thought it was less taxing to move than to go on listening to her complaints, Dev wasn’t sure. They moved in 1985; nude sculptures, ugly paintings, and Western books were wrapped in linen cloth and shoved in boxes. Because the apartment was about half the size of the house, the clutter amassed to such a point that the couple began to look like hoarders.
For a long time, Dev had been under the impression that his parents were subnor-
mal; his mother drank more than his father and neither of them went to temple. But in comparison to his university friends who had grown up in the city-center, he was lucky, he thought. Unlike his roommate, he had never been introduced to his father’s affairs during tea or forced to grip his mother’s blouse to prevent her from flinging herself off the terrace.
But gratitude always comes too late, and Dev’s father passed shortly after he completed university. He was survived by his wife, his son, and his art collection. Dev’s mother decided she wanted it sold, all of it. He had tried to reason with her. No one is going to want to buy a second-hand Monet. Especially in this city, no one cares about art.
“He cared, so someone else must. I don’t want to see them, and those art-types will try to cheat a widow. Can you go?”
Her voice held the same tremor of desperation and tired defiance as when she got on her knees and begged her husband to move to the city. So Dev collected the first batch of paintings and asked the driver to take him to the only art curator within a 40-kilometer radius. He was able to sell one original depicting the
British Raj.
The next day he returned with a second batch of paintings, and the day after, a third. Dev was growing tired. He would’ve preferred his father to have left him with something more palatable, like debt—the art he father had displayed was only a fraction of the amount he owned. If the curator didn’t want it, what was Dev to do? Burn them? But burning his father’s paintings would be akin to flushing his ashes down the toilet. He would donate them to primary schools, he decided, or wrap them in black cloth so his mother wouldn’t have to see them.
words—the effect of a man who thought anytime after breakfast was a go to start drinking—did not help. As Dev sat on the cold, metal chair of the curator’s office, tears began to pool in his eyes. But he could not locate their source.
When the curator finally put the phone down, he informed Dev that his father had come in possession of a painting that, if certified, would be worth very much.
“Well, how much?” Dev asked.
On the fourth day he noticed the curator, whom Dev had gathered was a drunk, staring at a particular painting. The curator put spectacles on, made a phone call, looked at the painting again, made another phone call and looked at the painting once more. This phone call was very long. Dev could not understand the curator’s dialect, and his slurred
When Dev later recounted this story he used the same revision tactics as his former political science buddies, telling only the parts which would work in his favor and then lying about the rest. He said that he always loved the painting, that he had proudly shown it off. That he had always believed in his father’s ability to discern talent. No, he had never heard of the artist. He had no idea.
He just knew his old man had good taste.
A pang of uneasiness was accompanied by this lie, as if his father would one day round the corner and announce that his son had never once taken an interest in anyone other than himself.
Dev’s mother had long ago given up on finding the romance of her poetry with her husband, but she too felt the loss of structure in his absence. The remnants of their years together.
“Maybe we should not have sold that one.
Helen and the Succulents
Patricia Patterson
He liked it very much. I think he thought of hi mself as the artist, looking all tortured like that,” she said one day. Dev could not discern whether his mother was sympathizing with his father’s tendency toward self pity, or mocking it.
“If I had known it was important to him,
I would have looked at it more when it was in the house,” he said, immediately turning to see if she would call his bluff.
His mother gave him a dry look, but it seemed as if she was smashing sculptures in her mind.
Timescape
Sundials were the first medium in human history that provided direct information regarding the time of day. This seemingly minor invention marked the beginning of humans recognizing time as a ubiquitous part of life. As it turns out, the knowledge of where you are in your current moment relative to both your past and future is a powerful punch of intellect that has since informed the very ways in which we live our lives. Revolutions, as defined by historians, are acts of domestic political upheaval that dramatically shape the future of our world. These substantial shifts in authority and culture are forever etched into not only our textbooks, but the very fabric of our societies. From the eras where governance was defined by autocracy—designating one person with absolute power—to our current political frameworks that stress robust representation within the polity, the world looks exceedingly different as time has progressed: for better and for worse.
Through a combination of time and transformation, revolutions have effectively reshaped not only how we interact with institutions of power, but the ways in which the state intervenes within our lives. It is high time that we critically examine how our path through history has sewn seeds of the future we strive to achieve. Members of the MJLC Staff and Study Group opted to write about various revolutions through the lens of abolition, examining the characteristics of these widely-known historical moments as well as their implications. For those moving through systems of tyranny and facing displacement, censorship and oppression, the prospect of envisioning a brighter day amidst the darkest nights is reflective of a relentless, revolutionary hope. These mere marks of time are forever exalted by not only their mark on history, but the humanity they forged and the beauty they created.
The American Revolution (1763-1783) Will Hicks
Ah, the American revolution. The Revolutionary War. What more would you have me say? It began with non-violent protests against British authority, when disgruntled colonists unified in groups like the Sons of Liberty to oppose the Stamp Act of 1765. It began with the scratching of pens against parchment, when Thomas Paine’s Common Sense motivated discussion among colonists, for the first time, about independence. It began in Lexington and Concord, when the local militia confronted British forces and fired the “shot heard ‘round the world.” It began when these confrontations begot casualties, and a small group of men gathered in Philadelphia to snatch the title of revolution like they would their muskets.
The price of that title was heavy. Embers popped on lamented land, danced beside a dead man’s hand; the Framers and the farmers and the redcoats and the turncoats all fell equally dead. A glory-stained flag rose, whipping in the wind over Yorktown. A similar flag appeared in France. In Haiti. In Latin America. In Ireland. In Portugal, Spain, and Italy!
And so revolutions sprouted like weeds. And so violence became the scourge of the world, And she bathed with new blood and broken chains. And everyone emphasized what the American revolution stood for, and not what it cost.
The politicians broadcast their freedoms and turned their statues into ideals. “Look at what we’ve won! Look at what the British lost! Fight and die for freedom! Power can’t disappear unless it’s met with power,” they said. And maybe they were right. But now that we’re here, 240 years later, are they still?
The French Revolution (1789-1799)
As popular opinion of the monarchy declined throughout the late 16th century, political unrest sprouted due to King Louis XVI’s failure to avert economic crises stemming from involvement in the American Revolution and regressive taxes. Significant events during the revolution include the Storming of the Bastille in 1789, the Reign of Terror between 1793 and 1794, and—most notably—the creation of the National Assembly in June of 1789. The Assembly later created the French constitution and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen—documents that outlined basic human rights for French citizens regardless of class.
The war drew to an end following Napoleon’s successful Coup of 18 Brumaire in 1799, establishing the rule of France under the Consulate. Despite the abolition of slavery in France and French colonies in 1794, the Law of 20 May 1802 revoked this decree due to pressure from pro-slavery lobbyists arguing economic incentives. The French Revolution stands out as one impetus for radical changes in institutionalized rule, by ridding France of the feudal and monarchy systems, demonstrating the first successful separation of church and state, and developing bedrock principles to modern constitutions in Europe—and democracies as a whole.
Jonathan Tostrud
The Haitian Revolution (1791-1804) Shu Lan Schaut
For years, the island of Hispaniola, then Saint-Domingue, existed under the control of France. As a colony, Saint-Domingue was responsible for producing the majority of Europe’s sugar and coffee, all through the horrific exploitation and enslavement of Africans.
By 1791, revolution was an inevitability; the societal tension between the White elites, petit blancs, freed people of color, and the enslaved people was ripe for upheaval. The French Revolution rumbling overseas and the newly published Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen merely lit the match in the powder barrel.
Under the tactful leadership of revolutionaries such as Toussaint Louverture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines, the conflict evolved from a slave revolt to a battle for complete freedom from European imperialism. In 1804, despite incursions from France, Great Britain, and Spain, Haiti was declared the first Black independent republic in the world.
The founding of Haiti was a complete repudiation of European racism and colonialism that haunted the people and land for hundreds of years. From reclaiming its Indigenous name, to establishing its independence in a world that refused to recognize it, Haiti stands as a monument to the true essence of abolition.
The Mexican Revolution (1910-1920)
Ronan Piontek
Beginning in 1876, the 35-year-long authoritarian capitalist regime of Porfirio Díaz saw peasant communal lands privatized into sprawling million-acre haciendas, organized labor brutally suppressed, and natural resource extraction rights granted to foreign companies. A blatantly fraudulent election in 1910 inspired Díaz’s political opponents to call for an armed uprising, initiating a decade of civil strife in which over one million people died before the government consolidated in 1920. The Mexican Revolution was far more complex than liberals and conservatives trading power, as radical factions—calling for land redistribution, Indigenous rights, and local autonomy—were repeatedly courted, utilized, and ultimately betrayed by liberal reformists. I
n the north, Pancho Villa and his army of bandits continually assisted aspiring Presidents, only to reject their authority when it became clear they would not honor agreements once in office. Villa also provoked the 1916–1917 Punitive Expedition by raiding into the United States, during which the U.S. Army unsuccessfully attempted to hunt him down in the Sierra Madre mountains. An equally uncompromising Emiliano Zapata demanded justice for the agrarian peasants of the south, which proved to be too much of an obstacle for the moderate President Venustiano Carranza; he was brutally assassinated by government agents in 1919. Zapata’s memory is honored as the namesake of the Zapatistas, the Indigenous anarcho-socialist rebel group venerated by the popular rock band Rage Against the Machine. More immediately, however, the Institutional Revolutionary Party appropriated the image of the Revolution and quickly abandoned its radical platform, replicating many of the same abuses of the Díaz regime. Today, Mexico is still molded by this legacy, as every political party tries to frame itself as the true inheritor of the Revolution.
The Cuban Revolution (1953-1959) Quinn Henneger
In 1952, former Cuban president and military leader Fulgencio Batista seized power through a coup, suspended the 1940 constitution, and canceled elections. In response, a young lawyer named Fidel Castro used his experience from the 1948 Colombia uprising to lead a group of revolutionaries in an attack on the Moncada military barracks in Santiago de Cuba. Subsequently, Castro was arrested and gave a two-hour speech in defense of the movement titled “History will absolve me” during his trial. This powerful speech was later published as a revolutionary manifesto and spread throughout Cuba.
Amidst the Red Scare, the U.S. continued their imperialist legacy in Cuba by supporting the Batista regime, later actively leading the campaign to murder Castro and his comrades. Castro soon joined forces with Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara and after being released from jail under amnesty, Castro used Guevara’s guerilla foco organization style to defeat the oppressive Batista-U.S. regime by 1959. Castro then established a new Cuban government, formalized ties with the USSR, and the U.S. placed an embargo on Cuba that has lasting impacts to this day, while continuing their mission to assassinate Castro.
Many Cubans have differing opinions on Castro’s legacy as the government he led after the revolution caused major wage inequality and discrimination, although, the U.S. embargo and the eventual fall of the USSR did not help him in this regard. On the other hand, the Cuban Revolution inspired many revolutionary movements across Latin America, promoted socialist ideas, and for most Cubans acted as the front of the fight against U.S. imperialism, whose ideas inspire the fight against imperialism to this day. So, while history has yet to absolve Castro completely, most can agree his ideas have impacted revolutionary movements immensely.
Tallow of the Lost by Erin (Ari) Murphy Stroth
AC KNO W LE E E M D G NTS
As an entirely student-run abolitionist group, we are forever indebted to the wonderful people who have intellectually fed us as we continue to learn and grow with one another. Revolution has been in the works for a little over six months now, and this level of commitment can only be sustained through the tireless efforts of our community. It is through their belief, care, and collaboration that we are able to showcase this curation of art and activism.
I am grateful for the continued support from the UW-Madison English Department. For this particular edition, I would like to sincerely thank the Associated Students of Madison’s Grant Allocation Committee, and ASM Financial Specialists Makenna Kull and Sara Solovey for facilitation of grant proposals and expenses.
I would like to express my utmost gratitude for Professor Monique Allewaert and Jagravi Dave for their scholarship and teaching. Although the theme of Revolution was a fragment of an idea brewing in my head before taking Professor Allewaert’s English 242 class, aptly titled “In Midst of Perpetual Revolutions,” I was truly inspired by the way Professor Allewaert facilitated such a deep, nuanced dialogue on “Revolution.” Thank you for curating such a thought-provoking and insightful class. Jagravi, thank you for making discussion section such a joy to be a part of with your intellect and passion. Collectively, these experiences have been truly paramount to my college experience.
The MJLC would truly not be where it is today without the support of our advisor Erin Polnaszek Boyd. Erin has not only been there for me, but for so many members of our organization throughout the years. Through logistical support, financial connections, and so much more, Erin truly has been the backbone of our organization. On a personal level, through her words of advice and reminders of hope, she has helped me navigate some of the most difficult seasons of life and out the other side, smiling. Ultimately, Erin’s commitment to not only serving students, but empowering them in their decision making has been a cornerstone for so many students at UW-Madison. Erin, thank you.
Thank you to the UW-Madison chapter of Promoting Awareness Victim Empowerment (PAVE) for continuing to collaborate with us through integral campus programming regarding state-sanctioned abuse. It is always a pleasure to work with like-minded student organizations whose passion and drive to eradicate systems of harm mirrors our abolitionist vision. A special thanks to Sawyer Johnson, Campus Event Intake Coordinator, for helping us secure spaces for not only our collaboration with PAVE, but also our release party.
Alongside the magazine, the MJLC also organizes a weekly study group. Through our discussions, members of study group learn from each other, challenge one another, and elevate our collective understanding of abolition. Every Tuesday, I cannot help but sit in awe of the intellect of our study group members. These people are redefining what it means to be a leader, an activist, and an advocate for social change—all while being college students. A special thank you to Quinn Henneger, MJLC’s Education Director, for organizing the MJLC Study Group this semester. Quinn has gracefully infused their devotion to abolition into our weekly meetings, resulting in deeply rich discussions. Study group was facilitated by members of the UW-Madison community, each bringing their own unique perspective and knowledge to share with our members. Thank you to Evie Erickson, Professor Samer Alatout, and Jonathan Tostrud for engaging us in meaningful conversations related to violent and nonviolent resistance. The MJLC is fueled by the brilliance of those who offer their insights to us, and that begins with our study group. To our study group members, thank you so much for entrusting us with your time and energy. Each of you fill me with an insurmountable amount of joy.
A special thank you to Ria Dhingra and Anna Nelson for entrusting me with the gift that is the MJLC. Ria and Anna chose me, a wide-eyed freshman, to serve as one of their first Academic Editors in the Fall of 2022. Since then, you both have taught me what it means to lead an abolitionist organization on a college campus. You’ve shown me what community care truly looks like. You two built this organization from the ground up, and being a part of that process has been paramount to my college experience. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for believing in my ability to carry this gift forward.
A huge thank you to all our former staff members. Whether the MJLC was a destination or a stopping point in your academic journeys, we have been so grateful for every individual and perspective that has shaped our ever changing team.
I would certainly be remiss not to mention the very reason that you are able to read this magazine. The current MJLC staff is made up of 18 intelligent, creative, wacky souls, who dedicate at least two hours of their week (but certainly more, if we are being honest) to this organization and to each other. They’re published writers, researchers, acclaimed artists, activists, and grassroots organizers. They are people who will, without hesitation, hop on emergency zoom meetings over summer break and haphazardly carry couches into our office. They scrawl meticulous drawings on the whiteboard and keep the candy bags stocked with sweet confections. They step up, take charge, and refuse to settle for less.
Most importantly though, they are always here for each other.
Quinn, Jonathan, Sophia, Shu, Meera, Eleana, Hannah, Celeste, Sarah, Mihika, Will, Sreejita, Mary, Lexi, Rissa, Sofia, and Chloe—thank you so much for committing to the unadulterated chaos that is the MJLC. Thank you for believing in me, and each other, in fortifying this publication. I am beyond grateful to be your Editor-inChief, and will forever be in your corners, just as you have been in mine this semester. The world is a better place because each of you is in it, never forget that.
Thank you all very much. It is my honor and privilege to share this edition of the Madison Journal of Literary Criticism with all of you.
With love and appreciation,
Landis Varughese
Editor-in-Chief
Contributors
Alexis Chun - Personal Plastic / Alexis Chun is an Asian American 14 year old student from Fremont, California. She finds joy in expressing her creativity and innovation, especially in writing and art. When reading the excerpt for this year’s prompt, she felt a connection to the theme of revolution, to break free from the oppression of the world around us that makes us feel small, even when our presence as a human being is so beautifully overwhelming. Her art shows the literal form of creating your own freedom, and hopes that every person can find a way to unburden themself from their own Personal Plastic.
Amy Laudi - New Kids on the Block / Amy Laudi is currently a twenty y/o junior attending University of Madison Wisconsin. Amy is in the process of getting a Communications BA degree with a photography certificate. She has been working on a photography project for class and found this project specifically powerful. Amy is taking street photos trying to encapsulate reality around her in regards to where she lives, who she runs into, who will talk to her, etc. The theme of revolution describes change and circling back. This photo captures the youth today and the similarities from the past.
Can Zhang - Approach / Can is from Shanghai, China, and left home to go to high school in South Carolina. This art piece symbolizes Can’s own revolution against their father. Can’s father divorced their mother because he wanted a son, and he cut off all the connections with Can in 2020, while they were away from home. It was tough for Can to go through the emotions and they decided to stand up for themself in their own ways. One of which, creating this piece of art. There are a few approaches to the image of themself included in the self-portrait.
Daniel Mirer - Indifferent West - Non-potable water picnic area, Desert Pool Murals & Flooded Desert Homestead / Daniel Mirer was born in Brooklyn, New York, and currently resides in California, where he works as an artist and educator. Daniel received his Bachelor of Fine Arts from Pratt Institute and a Master of Fine Arts in Photography from the California Institute of the Arts. Daniel’s creative research primarily uses photography to explore the cultural aspects of the Western American landscape that reflect the American persona. The Western landscape is linked to the ideological political use of Western space as a subjective metaphor for notions of the untamed hostile wilderness, seeming lifelessness and void.
Elle Green - A prayer for complacency / Elle is from Des Moines, Iowa, and attends the University of Iowa. They were compelled to produce this poem from contending with their issues with embracing real love in their life and how it is intertwined with embracing a different structure of society, and their fear of both. A true revolutionary is guided by love.
Emmett Lockwood - From My Nôhkom / Emmett Lockwood (he/they) is a University of Wisconsin - Madison undergraduate student in their senior year. Lockwood is a mixed white and indigenous individual in the process of reconnecting to the Pimicikamak Cree Nation, located in Treaty 5 land in so-called Manitoba, Canada. “From My Nôhkom” was created during the summer of 2024 with materials provided by the Sins Invalid School of Popular Education and CLAP, the Collective Loss Adaptation Project. The intention of the piece is to honor the lives of indigenous individuals separated from their families during the ongoing pandemic and call for a deconstruction of settler-colonial borders.
Erin (Ari) Murphy Stroth - Tallow of the Lost / Erin Murphy Stroth, commonly known as Ari, is an illustrator located in California. Ari is 17 and currently applying to art school. The piece titled “Tallow of the Lost” is a continuation of a series Ari created depicting female figures hidden in plain sight. “Tallow of the Lost” depicts a burning candle, made up of a woman guiding a phoenix. All revolutions are a spark that refuses to be snuffed out. With this in mind Ari illustrated her piece in the ideas of growth using both the phoenix and fire, as symbols of new birth and change.
Greta
Krueger - Will Herstory Absolve Me? Gender and Revolution in Cuba (19021976) / Greta Krueger is a sophomore from Wauwatosa, WI studying Spanish and Botany. She has a continued academic interest in the history of Cuba and the Cuban Revolution, as well as in feminist and socialist theory. This piece was originally written for her Latin American History class, in which few women or gendered impacts of the Cuban Revolution were covered. Her favorite books are The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, and Assata: An Autobiography by Assata Shakur.
Jeffrey H. MacLachlan - Any Last Words / Jeffrey H. MacLachlan has recent work in New York Quarterly, The Penn Review, Landlocked, among others. He is a Senior Lecturer of literature at Georgia College & State University. His work relates to the theme because the poems feature characters who either crave revolution or actively pursue revolution.
Julia Weber - Broken Dreams / Julia is 20 years old and grew up around the city of Milwaukee. She is also currently a student at UWMadison studying Psychology and Art History. She wanted to capture the life of a young girl (center left) and the truth society portrays through her lens (right side). This piece relates to the Revolution theme as a representational depiction of socioeconomic status within the layers of human lives through realistic qualities. In short, it is simply a young girl looking for a new perspective on the noisy confusion of life, hoping to regain a childlike vision of the world.
Kasden Phillips - Major Tom / Kasden is a Sophomore at the University of WisconsinMadison, but is originally from Orange County, California. Kasden is an Art-BS major and works best with charcoals and acrylics. This piece specifically is made with black charcoals and white chalk, revealing the figure of an astronaut that is inspired from the Mercury Seven Astronauts. Kasden put her own twist on this piece, however, by putting her face in the helmet to symbolize feminism and women empowerment. She also wanted to highlight the themes of striving for ambition and how gender and sex no longer constrain what people can do in work.
Kate Foster Curtis-Hawkins - Preliminary Instructions on the
Evolution of My Body
/ Kate Foster Curtis-Hawkins is a twenty-seven year-old writer originally from DeKalb, IL but now resides in Madison. She hosts a podcast on the works and context of Thomas Pynchon entitled Mapping the Zone. Kate writes both fiction and creative nonfiction that focuses on personal identity, society, and the evolution of humanity in the twenty-first century. She composed this piece to narrativize the revolution she underwent in her personal life and her connection with her own body, but also to examine the broader structures that women grow up under and how women can often find freedom when they follow their own instructions.
Mars Mittelstadt - A dreamed house / Mars is a 21-year-old nonbinary man from the small town of Randolph, WI. He is a Creative Writing major with an emphasis in poetry. Their work is informed by their experience of navigating through trauma while living as a disabled and transgender person. His piece, “A dreamed house,” reflects on the grief of leaving behind an abusive environment and the want to return to the familiar, no matter how toxic it is.
Martha LaBine - Red / Martha LaBine is a twenty-four year-old from Anoka, Minnesota. She has a Creative Writing Certificate from Anoka-Ramsey Community College and will soon earn a bachelor of science in Psychology from Bemidji State University. Her piece, “Red,” was written in a creative nonfiction course and is a letter to her currently fictional future daughter, consisting of tips and lessons on how to protect oneself in the world, specifically from men. Martha believes this piece relates to the theme of “Revolution” because it contains truths of what she has experienced, as well as hope that her daughter will never experience the same.
Nika McKagen - Virginia (So Ends My Holy Night) / Nika McKagen works with traditional wet darkroom photography, sculpture, and textile. Her work explores the sublime experiences that occur at the edges of worlds, cultures, technologies, and languages. Her practice focuses on intersections between digital and analogue methods of creating images and objects. She is an MFA student and lecturer at UW-Madison.
Nilvio Alexander Punguil Bravo - Susurros de la Revolución Silenciosa
(Whispers of a Silent Revolution) / Alex, originally from Ecuador, is a PhD student in Civil Society and Community Research at the School of Human Ecology. He is a self-taught artist and musician who draws inspiration from his travels and experiences in nature. The poem “Susurros de la Revolución Silenciosa” was inspired during a twelve-day visit to California, specifically while backpacking in Sequoia National Park. Alex felt deeply connected to the forest and experienced a sense of guidance and protection with each step. His piece captures the ongoing natural cycle and growth among the giant trees, emphasizing their dynamic, living nature and constant cycles of rebirth.
Octavia Ikard - My Brother Wasn’t a Strange Fruit / Octavia Ikard is from Durham, North Carolina. They come from a long line of proud African American women and men who have been at the receiving end of the horrific crimes this country commits against black people. They wrote this poem to give their brother justice and release the anger passed down to them from his loss. His story is a revolution. They wish for it to ring alarm bells for every person who has forgotten that black pain is not poetic, nor is it a metaphor.
Patricia Patterson - Helen and the Succulents / Pat lives in Evanston but spent twenty five years in Mexico, having returned just a year ago. As an arts administrator and art teacher, she has witnessed many minor revolutions in the lives of her students in both countries, but also in her own life. Leaving one’s home requires a vulnerability to new traditions and intuition is momentarily useless. Coming back, one is also out of place, but home, at least.
Priyanka Vasavan - The Father, the Son, and the Artist / Priyanka Vasavan is a senior at UW-Madison studying marketing. She is originally from Woodbury, MN. She believes that revolution can often be internal, specifically a change in perception.
Sasha Ivanov- Unperturbed Motion / Sasha Ivanov is a 21-year-old senior at UW-Madison studying Molecular and Cell Biology and Philosophy. She is pursuing research in developmental biology after graduation, with an emphasis on more precisely defining the variable ‘sex’. She is from Milwaukee, WI, and has a passion for bioethics and research that empowers women. This painting, entitled “Unperturbed Motion” was inspired by themes in cancer and regenerative biology: complex systems of individually complex molecules rely on each other to mitigate or cause harm to a larger being, which portrays ‘revolution’ on a microcosmic level. It depicts abstract shapes representative of cellular structures and interactions.
Valerie Hammer (Amazing Grace)- Resurrection / Valerie Hammer is a PhD student in Curriculum and Instruction at UW Madison. For her undergraduate education, Valerie studied art and animation. After a winding career path that took her across industries and nations, Valerie became a middle school teacher in Madison and Sun Prairie before returning to UW Madison to get her PhD. She is interested in the intersection of imagination, creativity, and collaboration in writing instruction for middle school students. This silent comic explores a dystopian future where ancient ways of being are intertwined with futuristic technology in hopes of resurrecting the land.
