U N S P O K E M A G A Z I N E
RAC E + CULTUR E
THIS MAGAZINE As we face a contemporary world that is constantly shifting politically, encominically, culturally, and socially, we must make sense of it--the strange, the infuriating, the inspiring, and the heartbreaking alike. Some topics are left unspoken, perhaps out of fear of rejection, fear of persecution, or fear of being silenced althogether. Our mission is to bring these topics to the table and get people talking. We strive to provide a platform for artists, writers, activists, and thinkers to share their voice with the world, releasing the unspoken and shining a light on it.
THE IMPORTANCE OF THIS ISSUE Our conversations about race and culture have changed drastically in the last decade. Outcry for reexamination of our societal values in regards to race, gender, sexuality, class, nationality, and much more have rattled educators, legislators, activists, and the media. We are at a crossroads in our history, where we must reckon with how our cultures have defined us: how they limit us, how they liberate us, how they bring us together, and how they tear us apart.
Cover: “untitled” by Loren Toney......................1 Vocab.................................................4 ‘untitled’ by Loren Toney.............................5 ‘GROUNDS’ by Lili Mac...............................6-7 ‘Freckles’ by Bree Bracey..........................8-11 ‘Jared, age 21’ by Loren Toney....................12-15 online conversation: fall fete with Clyde Moreau + Lili Mac........................................16-17 ‘Things I Wish People Knew About Me’ & ‘What I Wish People Didn’t Know About Me’ by Emmet Harrigan....18-19 Credits..............................................22
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VOCABULARY appropriation - (n.) selectively exploiting an aspect(s) of a culture outside of one’s own, typically of a culture with less social economy than one’s own discriminate - (v.) to make unfair and prejudiced assumptions when judging a person’s character or worth diverse - (adj.) inclusive of more than one race, ethnic group, nationality, religious sect, age, sexuality, gender...mix it up a lil bit genocide - (n.) racist/culturalist mass murder nationality - (n.) one’s identity relative to which country they are from; does NOT negate ethnicity, race, culture, etc. privilege - (n.) societal advantage, earned or not racism - (n.) some bullshit segregate - (v.) to separate by arbitrary judgement sensitivity - awareness of the world social economy - (n.) perceived societal or cultural worth
UNTITLED by LOREN TONEY
GROUNDS by LILI MAC
by BREE BRACEY Yesterday my mom called again to tell me that she hadn’t heard my voice in awhile. It had been a long time since we talked last night, and how was I, and did I get the box of ramen she had mailed out lasta Wednesday? We talked for awhile about nothing really, the same stuff you talk about with your mom when you haven’t got anything in particular to say, but you know that she just wants to hear your voice. The hot goss this evening was birthmarks, specifically how the clusters on either side of her nose were starting to make her look like Morgan Freeman. “Morgan Freeman has freckles, they aren’t birthmarks,” I sarcastically chided. (Upon revision I dually admit that freckles are indeed, technically birthmarks.) A sigh, then she laughed. “So maybe your birthmarks are actually freckles”, I continued. “Explains mine. I just figured I was the only one in the family.” She paused. Though I had known about the light spray of freckles checkering my tongue (of all places) for most of my life, it had never occurred to me to bring it up to my mother. The thought had not crossed my mind that I had probably developed them around puberty, after mother’s stop noticing little features like freckles on your body. Until my casual remark this evening, she had had no idea. The tone of her voice shifted, quieting slightly. “You have freckles on your tongue?” “Yeah, why what’s up?” “Well... I never knew that..” I could tell that she was hurt, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. So what if I had freckles?
It’s not a serious condition or anything. I told her how I regarded them with a sense of great pride as I had never met anyone who had them on their tongue before. “People thought they were cool”, I told her. I liked being noticed. As one of the only black kids at my school, a member of one of the only black families in my quaint hometown in Illinois, there were a lot of things I noticed about myself that the other kids didn’t have. One of my earliest memories was of watching the other girls stroking each other’s hair gently, weaving uneven braids to pass the time. Eventually they’d come over to me and ask to play in mine, and I would light up at the offer of inclusion in this sacred ritual. When they didn’t get their fingers caught in my tight kinky curls (which they usually did), I would bite my lips to hold back tears as chunks were removed with each attempt to mimic the mermaid-esque twirling they were so accustomed to. But I never told them to stop. And I didn’t bite my lips too hard- I had figured out a long time ago that they were particularly sensitive after years of the other kids in gymnastics class pleading to feel them, inquiring about why they had grown so large, and did I get hit in the face or something? I let them, and patiently answered their questions. At night my lips would swell and bleed where painful rashes formed from all the sudden contact. In high school, I wavered between being the token black friend or labeled with my peer’s affectionate moniker “oreo”- it wasn’t until college that I fully understood the “black on the outside, white on the inside” implication. For the way that I spoke, for the town I was raised in, I was often ostracized from the few black
peers I had for my so-called whiteness--to the point where I subconsciously tended to sit far from them in the lunchroom to avoid taunting or feelings of embarrassment. I told my mother these things, and several other similar accounts. She had not known any of this, until tonight, because I had not known there to be something strange happening. As they had taken interest in my freckles and made me feel cool and unique, I figured their interest in my other attributes was the same- they just wanted to understand. It was sweet, blissful attention and I didn’t want to lose it. My mother was understandably horrified. Born and raised in Chicago (and my father in Jackson, MS), she lived where black faces were not instantly picked out of every crowd, every class photo, every cul de sac. My parents were black people, brought up in the backdrop of the Civil Rights Movement, who had tried to escape the discrimination they had always known by raising my brother and I somewhere so far removed from urban racial dynamics. Ironically, this presented a whole new challenge. More than anything, I could tell that this sudden admission had broken my mother’s heart. Not just because of how I was mistreated- but largely because at the time I hadn’t known that I was. I got to thinking about the secrets we keep from our mothers, both intentional and incidental. I have gotten too used to white fingers criss-crossing my Afro, too used to being stratified by the so called discrepancies between my appearance and my personality. We have reached a beautiful time for black acceptance, but some of us are still facing an identity crisis- “too white” for the black kids and “too black” for the white kids.
My hometown is where diversity screeched to a halt. We are told to have pride in our identity, to celebrate our blackness--but my blackness is not your blackness. My identity is one I have had to find on my own. I thought about freckles, the cluster of darkened dots that made up my tongue. Something that is so wholly and irreparably a part of me- but still so easy to miss that my own mother wasn’t any the wiser. What else hadn’t she known? What else didn’t I? Were there more off handed remarks, more behaviors and slurs, that nobody had explained to me? We said our goodbyes and I laid in bed, thinking of the two ethnicities that felt nearly foreign to me, feeling isolated from a culture I am meant to champion. To the black kids from white towns, to the racial identities that are made up of the sum total of our experience, and not prescribed standards and socialization: We are never too white or too black or too brown or too hazel. We are as we have always been, just exactly enough of what we need to be. I climbed out of my bed, and went to the kitchen for some Oreos. I thought as I chewed them up, how quickly they became completely black. The white crème dissolved instantly in my mouth but still the cookie remained. I went back to bed without brushing my teeth, and let myself let go of the past, the secrets, the lies that we think will help us sleep at night. For the first time I thought, they were hurting me and I let them. They were hurting me and I let them. But not anymore. I let all the weight ease off my shoulders, and slept better than I had in months.
by LOREN TONEY
with CLYDE MOREAU + LILI MAC I found something genuinely positive on Facebook the other day. A friend of mine, Clyde, whom I met through Chicago’s DIY music and art scene, is very active on Facebook. He shares lots of music, lots of news, lots of events, and lots of (good) memes. He’s also busy promoting an album at the moment as part of the band Ze’ev, entitled ‘GTP’. I’m a big fan of Cedric’s online (and offline) presence; I keep my eyes peeled for whatever he shares, and recently he wrote this:
“I would like to curate a fall fest highlighting POC, lgbtq, and other marginalized groups that really make challenging and thought-provoking art. If I do so, would any people/venues be open to helping?” Even when a large majority of your online friends are artists and creatives, this isn’t a post you see everyday. I was immediately activated by this concept and wanted to know all of Cedric’s ideas and envision what this might look like. So I asked him. I messaged him.
lili mac:
ok, first question: when did this idea for a poc/queerfest pop into your head? is this something you’ve had in mind for a while?
clyde:
lm:
c:
Since I’ve been in the scene and seen others my age out shows together. I always admired their work ethics but wanted to attempt something on a slightly bigger scale. Choosing to include marginalized groups came later when I noticed how dominated the scene was with white men making unchallenging art as an artist, a performer, an audience member, a person of color—what has your experience in the chicago diy scene been like? I feel that just based on my interests and tastes in art, I often feel like I have to prove myself worthy to be in a circle with people don’t look like me. However, some people prove to be allies and I’m grateful for the white people or those who have given me a chance/platform and used their privilege for good.
lm:
c:
so, for this project, what kinds of artists are you looking for? One of two things or both. People included in marginalized groups that don’t have a platform or those who I feel push their audiences and themselves to make art that challenges the norm.
lm:
are you looking more at musicians? or would this extend to visual/performance artists, writers, etc.?
c:
For this lineup, I’ve been mostly looking at musicians, sound artists,poets, visual artists, but am trying to stay open to other mediums.
lm:
what has the reception been like? you posted this on facebook, and the last time i checked, there were lots of comments! have you received engagement outstide of just facebook? have the wheels begun to turn?
c:
Not outside of Facebook just because most of my network is ther but I have reached out to some artists personally who are in favor. So far, I have two venues locked down out of the desired 4.
lm:
c:
lm:
c:
that’s so exciting! i’m glad things have been put in motion. what else do you need from the community for this to come to fruition? Volunteers, sponsors/vendors, and of course crowds. My wish for this is that these acts have crowds to speak their truth and are honestly paid well. If you aren’t able to pay, bring one or two friends who can! as this is a fall series, i assume this is being hosted in a corn maze or a pumpkin patch. Haha unfortunately not! But I hope the falling leaves give enough scenery. You can contact Clyde Moreau at ccasimier16@gmail.com, @clydemoreau, or via Facebook.
“Gurira’s award-winning Broadway play is set amid the raging Liberian Civil War, where the captive wives of a rebel
ecl
community – until the arrival of a new girl, who can read, and an old one, who can kill.”
Cast: Morayo Orija, Maya Prentiss, Aja Singletary, Adhana Reid & Sola Thompson | Understudies: Elaine Bell, Alexandra Hunter & Koshie Mills Design | Production Team: Tony Bruno, Amanda Caputi, Carrie Hardin, Tanuja Jagernauth, Jacqueline Penrod, R&D Choreography & Megan Turnquist | Quenna Barrett, Becs Bartle, Jennifer McClendon, Justine Palmisano, & Kevin Rolfsa
lipsed by
Danai Gurira directed by
Ilesa Duncan
October 4–November 4, 2018 Thursdays–Saturdays: 7:30pm | Sundays: 3:00pm – Tickets: $18–30
All Performances at: Chicago Dramatists | 773 N. Aberdeen For tickets and info, visit pegasustheatrechicago.org
C R E D I T S
CONTRIBUTOrS Bree Bracey, Ilesa Duncan, Emmet Harrigan, Lili Mac, Clyde Moreau, Loren Toney
Natalie Day FoUnDeR, EdItOR Natalie is currently entering her third year at Columbia College Chicago where she is studying acting and journalism. She is originally from Omaha, Nebraska. She is so happy to be a part of providing a platform to discuss issues that aren’t always talked about in daily life and hopes that the words of this magazine affect at least someone. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter @nat__day.
Lili MAC DeSIGN EditOr Lili Mac (she/they) is proudly from New Orleans, LA and is currently a junior at Columbia College Chicago studying musical theatre, playwriting, and a bunch of other stuff. Lili Mac loves exploring the uninhabited spaces of art, performance, and other people. Shameful plug! @lilimac866