Artists Note: This year I became involved with a group in my city that I learned of following the murder of George Floyd this past May. One Pasadena is working to address racism within community of Pasadena, MD.
These are some of the faces of that fight.
The words and the stories that follow belong to the participants in this series.
For more from each participant, click here to view the live stream event that accompanies this series.
“Growing up in a predominantly white area and school my whole life has had its challenges. I often found myself not being…
All captions are from participants
An illustrative series based on your moments in isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic. My hope is that you’ll find some collective compassion, hope, joy and love for each other through these narratives.
United in Isolation, 2020 | №30
“Gowning up for the first time entering a covid room was the single most anxiety producing moment of my nursing career. I was going into a small, compact room with a very sick, positive patient. He was incessantly coughing, on high flow oxygen, and I had only a gown, eye shield, and a mask to protect…
When you say that if someone was “really” raped/assaulted, they wouldn’t have waited 35 years to “say” something, I tell you that it’s been nearly 20 years for me and am always echoed by other women and men who have waited years…some decades to come forth somewhat publicly with their stories.
Then you say, “had you only reported,” they would have been convicted, locked up. Put away to make it “safer” for others. I then provide you with facts. …
I continue to be horrified.
I refuse to resign myself to the idea that this is our new normal, so I read the victim lists. I read their bios that sum up a decade or several (or sometimes not even that long) of life in 1–2 paragraphs. I look into the memory of their eyes captured and shared with the public and let myself feel pain over the loss of someone I didn’t know anything about until they were taken suddenly and violently. I cry. Good God, I’ve cried.
Worshipers in church. Clubbers. Concert goers. Teachers. First responders…
I keep seeing the Veteran meme pop up. You know, the one that talks about the fact that you’re going to see a lot of profile photos change for those of us that are vets because we need to remind you to thank us.
I usually try to not let memes irritate me, but I can’t completely shake this one.
I guess I want you to know that it’s not about needing to be thanked.
It goes a lot deeper than that.
I’ll explain why I change my social media profile photos come Veteran’s Day and I’ll do it by…
18 years old and at a party. I’ve had too much to drink. I wake up with my pants yanked down to my knees and a man on top of me who I don’t know. I say “No! Stop!” And he — no shit — says, “You know you want it.” This isn’t my rape story. I was able to get away this time.
There’s a problem. It starts long before drinking and parties.
My oldest daughter lays on her stomach in her Dojang facing off against another black belt in arm wrestling. They lock eyes, giggle, struggle against each…
Artist, designer and dabbler in all sorts of creative endeavors