September 13 marks two years since Kailon Magazine went public, while December 1 marks two years since we published our very first print issue. We have come a long way, and we have learned even more along the way.

I still don’t know what we were thinking when we spent an entire year sewing clothes with local artists for our debut runway show on September 13, 2024. I don’t think either of us imagined that, just two years later, we would be invited to NYFW, let alone launching our fourth print issue during it.

We certainly never imagined interviewing greats like Tracy E. Gilchrist, or the many artists, creatives, and collaborators we would meet, work with, and eventually call friends.

We have been incredibly fortunate in many ways, but Kailon’s growth has never happened by accident. Our team has worked hard. We still have the majority of our original members, with the exception of Mía Shane, who is chasing her fashion dreams in Miami, Devin Andrews, who has embarked on his journey as a tattoo artist, and the many wonderful interns who have taught us more than they probably realize and helped shape how we want to run this magazine.

Since our runway debut, our team has also grown exponentially. We have been enriched by exceptional people like Michelle Mesiano, the primary reason our print issues look as beautiful as they do, and Sam Luna, our project manager and social content lead, whose smile and ideas have brought so much life to our social pages.

Print Issue 04

From our Founder & Editor-in-Chief:

With every issue, I become increasingly aware that I have started to sound like a parakeet with limited vocal stims:

“This is the best issue we’ve ever made.”
“This issue was truly a labor of love.”
“Welp, now we know better for next time.”

How do I put into words, every time we release an issue, that I have the best team on the planet? How do I call something the most incredible issue we’ve ever made when I said the same thing last time and the time before that?

Maybe that’s the point. It seems our best issue is always the next one.

Issue 04 was, without question, our most difficult and possibly our boldest yet.

Don’t let our indie follower count fool you. Kailon Magazine has received invitations, yeses, and offers that we have had to turn down. This was actually our first time encountering some no’s, but they were no’s for reasons we understand and respect. Reasons that also reminded us of the immense privilege we hold in being able to make this magazine at all.

I can’t remember a time when I haven’t wanted to be on the right side of history, the side of the underdogs, the marginalized, and the uncomfortable. Last year, I reached a point where I had to reevaluate how exactly I was doing that.

I have always been a long-time yapper. All hot girls had that talkative teacher comment on their progress reports…right? I can now confidently admit, from a place of healing, that I have often talked more than I have listened.

Between my activism, my mouth, and my fuck ice phone, laptop, and car stickers, I have always felt that more could be done and said. At the same time, I have often wondered whether I was the ideal person to say it.

Last December, I chose to close all of my social media accounts and take a massive step back from much of my life because of my mental health and a much needed break. I later wrote about that period in an article titled “Growing Pains.”

A break is not something I have historically known how to take. Many of my close friends would probably argue that I even really took one at all. But I think that in pieces, I grew more in this past year than I have in years.

At 25, I have accomplished quite a lot on my resume and in my professional experience, while also severely neglecting myself, and the magic that can come from simply sitting in silence.

Kailon is now at a point where its infrastructure can continue running without me for a while. And while it did, I had to remind myself why I started this magazine in the first place.

Whether it is this magazine or the art collective I built as a lost, newly postpartum 22 year-old, my intentions have always been rooted in collaboration and providing a platform, for artists, for issues, and for community.

As loud as I am, I never wanted to feel like I was being loud and wrong, or speaking over someone who deserved to be heard. But I also knew I couldn’t simply sit around and wait for the “right” or “perfect” person to come along either.

I had to go looking for them and or do the work to become them myself.

With every issue, I have learned to put myself further out there. With Issue 04, that became an especially ambitious and courageous undertaking.

We reached out to artists from countries affected by war and genocide. Many were afraid. Afraid of political backlash, afraid of repercussions for themselves or their families, and even afraid of what our own position and intentions might be.

That was when I knew we had to go even harder.

We had monumental artists believe in us and in our mission because they share many of the values that have guided Kailon from the beginning.

As stated in the print issue, Carrie Ann Baade’s cover artwork explores the first recorded interracial marriage in colonial Louisiana. On August 4, 1725, Jean-Baptiste Raphaël, a free Black man from Martinique, married Marie Jacqueline Gaspart, a Bohemian (Romani) woman, in colonial Biloxi. Despite the strict prohibitions of the Code Noir against interracial unions, their marriage received special approval from Commandant General Pierre Dugué de Boisbriant. Marie’s Bohemian heritage placed her outside the rigid racial hierarchy of the French colony, allowing the union to proceed.

The Bohemians, who had been exiled and deported to Louisiana in 1720, occupied a socially liminal space. Their marriage—the first recorded interracial union in colonial Louisiana—highlights the complexity of racial, legal, and social dynamics of the time.

Baade’s Oil on Panel with Mixed Media (2024) was painted on top of a wooden tabletop and incorporates oil paint, silver leaf, leather for Marie’s braids, and actual fabric for the clothing of both figures.

Seeing the piece in person was incredible. After much back and forth about how we could incorporate it into the cover, displaying the much loved, paint stained easel became an intentional part of the design, brought to life initially by our graphic lead, Michelle Mesiano.

From the beginning, I knew I wanted the artwork to wrap around the magazine, with each portrait appearing on either side and the piece continuing across the interior spread. Michelle’s handwritten typography, used to present the artwork’s details, became another small but beautiful part of the design.

It doesn’t stop there.

This issue features photography, collaborative art, and poetry from Puerto Rican artist Jairo Cortés; artist features from feminist icon Serena Viola Carson and NYC’s next legend, Karim Machado-Aman; and, most notably, work from Nabil Anani, widely known as “Palestine’s Picasso.”

I knew immediately that I wanted Anani’s work splashed across the pages. His vibrant use of color carries a warmth and comfort that I believe anyone can find something in.

We also have some ballsy pieces, including FUCK THE KING by artist GAWD, paired beautifully with Who Knows (2025), a collage on paper by Andrea Luccia [NENX].

Another legend and feminist icon, Meredith Bergmann, joins us as well. Her practice moves between monumental public sculpture, portraiture, intimate sculptural studies, and poetry. Her work frequently considers how art carries history forward—what gets remembered, what gets overlooked, and how familiar narratives can be reopened through humor, ambiguity, beauty, and contradiction.

PURCHASE A COPY HERE

Every print purchase directly helps us continue building Kailon and creating more opportunities for artists.

Kailon is still 100% volunteer run. We are actively working toward securing funding and building the infrastructure that will allow us to grow, but for now, so much of what we do is made possible simply because our team continues to show up and because artists like you trust us with your work.

So if you’re comfortable sharing the issue, tagging Kailon, sending the link to friends, or simply telling someone about what we’re building, it genuinely helps. Every share puts our work in front of another person, and every print purchase helps us keep making the next issue.

And this one means a lot to us.

Kailon Magazine had the privilege of speaking with one of the most influential voices in LGBTQ+ media, a journalist whose work has helped shape the cultural landscape of queer storytelling for more than two decades.

Tracy E. Gilchrist is an award-winning journalist, editor, interviewer, producer, and trailblazer in queer media. As the former Editor-in-Chief of The Advocate, this nation’s oldest continuously published LGBTQ+ publication, she helped lead award-winning journalism that amplified LGBTQ+ voices and earned multiple GLAAD Media Awards for Outstanding Magazine Overall Coverage.

But Tracy’s legacy extends far beyond the titles she’s held. She has spent her career documenting queer history while helping create it, ensuring that LGBTQ+ people, artists, activists, and visionaries are not only seen, but truly understood.

And if you’ve ever had a girl crush, chances are Tracy has interviewed her.

From Rachel Weisz to Kate Winslet and Janelle Monáe, to countless groundbreaking artists and changemakers, Tracy has built a career on asking questions that move beyond publicity and into something deeper—identity, artistry, vulnerability, and truth.

In 2024, her now-iconic “holding space” interview with Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande transcended entertainment journalism and became a global cultural moment, sparking conversations around empathy, listening, and connection as well as cementing itself as a pop culture moment we will all be quoting until the end of time. The impact of that moment reached far beyond queer media, leading to appearances on platforms including The Kelly Clarkson Show, where audiences across the country were introduced to the journalist whose thoughtful approach to conversation has long made her one of the most respected interviewers in the business.

Today, Tracy continues creating meaningful dialogue as host and executive producer of Holding Space with Tracy E. Gilchrist. She also serves on the board of the It Gets Better Project and was recently honored with the Equality New York Storyteller Award, an especially fitting recognition for someone whose life’s work has been preserving the stories that shape our community.

Because when we talk about pioneers in queer journalism, we’re talking about people who don’t just report on history. They make sure that it is not forgotten.

Like most people, I tend to get hit with random revelations at any given moment in time. This revelation hit with a lovely dose of inspiration following a theatre viewing of the new Spider-Man film. Watching someone fighting with incredible strength and resilience made me think about the rigorous process that leads someone down that path. I’m talking beyond the movies, specifically the strength it takes to build oneself into becoming the character. All the actors that put in work and effort into physically and mentally forming themselves into the characters they seamlessly portray on the big screen.

It takes more than willpower. I honestly believe that willpower is not the means to anything, it is more like a push that triggers a snowball effect. The true power lies within discipline. To be disciplined is to hold power. When someone has reached a level of self-discipline, to where they are able to follow through their words with action, they are the most powerful people. All successful people have discipline. It is the secret sauce. Superhero’s are who they are due to that discipline as well. While they have superhuman strength, they still need to go down this path of hard grueling work to get to the level of ‘Super’, and I believe the same goes for us. While becoming an inhumanely strong being with spider-like abilities is out of the question for most of us, it is incredibly possible for us to become our ideal versions of ourselves. That ideal looks different for every single person, however, it is attainable. It is.

Reaching self-actualization is a lot easier said than done. Gaining that level of discipline that allows actors like Tom Holland to become Spider-man is not any easy feat. It takes a lot of work, not just physically. We need to alter the way we think. Our brains are wired in a way where they will constantly choose the easiest path. The easiest path is the known one, the one you have taken every single day of your life. To divert that path is to take the journey of discomfort, and your mind will fight you every single step of the way. That is what makes it difficult, however, we have proof from many incredible and successful people, that it is doable. If they could do it, so could we. Rome was not built in a day, therefore expecting oneself to go from one extreme to the other is not feasible. We need to start small and allow our brains to find comfort in being uncomfortable, until it becomes easy. Until your brain stops fighting you for the sake of comfort, because it now finds comfort in what allows you to reach self-actualization.

This revelation is one that has ruminated in my mind for a while, and I think tonight it took center stage. It’s time to put forth the effort to reaching self-actualization. I watched a video a few weeks ago where this girl was talking about how doing nothing is a choice that also leads to discomfort. We are uncomfortable whether we make that push towards becoming the person we want to be, and uncomfortable if we don’t. We just have to choose which discomfort we would rather live in. The discomfort of never reaching your fullest potential, or the discomfort of living in infinite regret. Abraham Maslow discusses this idea way further in his argument that suffering is unavoidable within the human condition. You either suffer through the regret of squandering your potential, or suffer through the inherent pain that comes with transforming oneself and growing into your ideal self. If pain is inevitable either way, I would personally choose the pain that is worth something, versus pain that leads to nothing.

If you were looking for a sign to begin working towards self-actualization, then take stumbling upon this as a sign. The right path is the one that makes you happy. Being a human is hard enough as it is, we do not need the weight of unnecessary future regret weighing us down too. With that said, it is important to note that growth is not a linear path, it is more like a swirly squiggle of sorts, one that goes up and down and sideways and frontways and all the ways. We have to be okay with that. Spiraling over a few sick days or lazy days or whatever it may be, is not going to aide you in any way. Take that time and then lock back in. To be human is not to be perfect, it is to try. Trying alone makes you a winner. I think we are winners regardless. I truly do not believe in failure. We never fail, we just learn. Learning is you gaining something, something that you could not have gotten without failing. Thus, leading you into evolving and becoming better than you were prior to the ‘failure’. When you stop believing in failure, an angel gains its wings. Truly. You free yourself of these imaginary shackles that force you into making the safe choices because you were afraid of failure. Embracing failure and rejection opens up so many doors. All we can do is try, and hope for the best. If things work out, then that’s amazing, and if they don’t, then you’ve simply learned and gained experience that you can use the next time you try something. It is so important to try things, you might surprise yourself, even if you suck at it. With that, I leave you to find your inner Spider-Man.

Immersivism is an art movement focused on the intersection of internet communities and “traditional” art, including painting, sculpture, and photography. It is a way to depict digital life through an artist’s eyes, not simply viewing internet social forums as something tied to a computer or VR headset, but as something that impacts life beyond the pixels through tangible, interactive art.

The term Immersivism was formalized in 2024 by the focus of this article, K Guillory, and her fellow artist, Bryn Oh. This art movement encompasses a broad range of styles and media, but it consistently centers on some aspect of cyberspace. Guillory describes Immersivism quite succinctly as “the art of the internet.”

Cyberspace as Subject

Historically, artists have only been able to depict the physical world or the imaginary using earthly imagery. Even when looking inward, painters like the cerebral Vincent Van Gogh could only depict his inner strife through the night sky, plants, or buildings. With the invention and popular usage of cyberspaces such as Second Life and VRChat, artists can create detailed renderings of people, places, creatures, and plants that do not or cannot exist in real life.

The popularisation of impressionist painting spread the practice “en plein air,” the seeds of which were planted by landscape painter John Constable, c. 1813, who pioneered outdoor sketching. En plein air’s direct translation is “in the open air,” and it entails painting an entire work outdoors in the presence of the subject(s) rather than in the studio, drawing on sketches or memory. The primary goal of this technique is to capture fleeting elements of the environment, such as how light bounces and the shades of the sky.

With the innovation of art capturing cyberspace, artists can bring this technique to settings you can only see on a computer or in a VR headset. This centuries-old technique relates to Guillory’s art, as she has depicted “outdoor” locations in virtual worlds. Traditional painting practices merge with the new age, as bounding cliffs can be painted on a solid, real-world canvas as she stands looking at the horizon of a VR space.

This is where Guillory’s signature practice of “blind contouring” assumes a pivotal role. When she wants to capture a physical “screenshot” of a VR space, Guillory is blinded from her canvas by the all-encompassing screen of the VR headset. To balance her physical process with the virtual setting, Guillory keeps a strict gaze on the avatar and/or environment she is capturing. Without visual feedback, Guillory homes in on the feel of her paintbrush across the canvas, channeling the texture of already laid pigment to guide her where she needs to go.

This technique is not entirely new; artists of the past have created techniques to capture a raw aura or vibe without being distracted by an intense focus on the canvas, materials, pigments, or traditional art rules. In the 1920s and 30s, at the height of the Surrealist art movement, artists such as André Masson and Joan Miró used “automatic drawing” to access their subconscious. They would work in near-complete darkness, allowing the brush to glide across the canvas almost subconsciously. Like Guillory, these artists tried to capture a hidden landscape, theirs being the mind and Guillory’s being the virtual.

Guillory’s blind contouring relies heavily on her intuition, consistently creating oil paintings that evoke a messy, tangled, bright, and human presence within a geometric, clean, and artificial digital space. She combines taking a quick screenshot with the practices of older art movements to create a human depiction of an inhuman space.

“I paint avatars, people, and places I find. As platforms die and become erased from the internet, my paintings record their presence and leave an artifact of who they were.” (K. Guillory)

Cyberspace as Medium

The concept of the artist’s studio is completely altered for Immersivists. Rather than being a small shack overlooking a stuffy city street filled with works in progress, messy canvases, and seating for prospective portrait sitters, an artist’s studio, while painting a virtual work, is always changing. This means your artistic space is at the whim of servers, and it could be completely erased in an instant.

“No matter if I paint a landscape, do a blind contour portrait, or film an experiment, my intimate knowledge of how VR and cyberspace work is innately present. It’s the little things that inform a work of art and keep it fresh and genuine.” (K. Guillory)

The in-depth knowledge Guillory has of virtual spaces, particularly her main focus, VRChat, enhances the quality and immersion of her pieces. A key aspect of Immersivism is the ephemeral nature of online spaces. Online communities gather in beautiful spaces filled with unique avatars, interesting environments, and predictable NPCs (non-playable characters).

There is not much research on the permanence, or lack thereof, of these specific programs’ online servers, but looking at the base coding that creates these worlds reveals how fickle their existence is. On VRChat, most worlds are created using game engines like Unity, which then must integrate with VRChat’s scripting language, Udon. Small updates to VRChat’s core code happen often, but these rarely change the appearance of worlds; instead, they change how interactables such as mini-games, NPCs, or video players operate. The massive, world-altering updates happen every few years and often make previously created worlds unrecognizable. Many once-loved spaces become completely unusable, a ghost of what they once were.

“The internet is written in pencil.” (K. Guillory)

Guillory understands this transience, and rather than avoiding it, she embraces it by capturing these fickle social spaces. When Guillory paints virtual spaces, she is not painting a natural landscape or the face of a real individual; she is rendering a genuine person’s chosen avatar or a carefully crafted ideal environment. The person behind the screen has chosen this avatar or space to reveal an aspect of their reality. This intersection among user, avatar, and artist creates fascinating works of art that document the intriguing third space of the social internet.

In a traditional studio, people come as they are, only able to apply makeup or wear decadent clothes to alter their appearance. In VR, the subject creates or chooses their 3d avatar. There is an entirely different level of personalization, as one can present themselves as tall or short, a man or a woman, an animal, a fictional character, or even a meme. When Guillory paints a VR player’s portrait, she captures a chosen identity that is then transferred to reality through paint and brush.

Guillory’s VR portrait painting becomes a form of performance art in her series “Cross-Reality Studio Visits,” in which she records herself depicting avatars in her physical studio while blindfolded by her VR headset. The subjects enter an instance that looks extremely similar to Guillory’s real-life studio, and are allowed to share the intimacy of a muse-artist relationship despite possibly being hundreds of miles apart. While painting, Guillory converses with her sitter to best depict their chosen digital persona, making the portrait more than just a static copy of a 3D model.

Cyberspace as Canvas

The Paris Salon was the epicenter of Western art history for over two centuries. The semi-annual event became the only realistic way for an artist to support themselves through their art fully. They would converse with wealthy patrons, compare their art with that of other giants in the industry, and gain international recognition. Once a jury system was implemented, conservatism and elitism grew within the Salon, causing even the select artists who could afford the journey to Paris to be rejected for failing to follow standard painting practices.

The Salon was a historic canvas, providing opportunity for the most famous artists of all time to exhibit their work and receive funding to create even more significant masterpieces. However, this public exhibition was inaccessible to most artists of the 18th and 19th centuries. An artist must have had years of formal academic training and be sure to adhere to the Eurocentric hierarchy of genres, which places history paintings well above still lifes or landscapes.

Immersivism circumvents any traditional institutional gatekeeping, presenting art from any medium and any skill level. Spaces like gouache painter and Immersive artist Oz Pearsall’s “The Strange Pear” VRChat art gallery are the antithesis of the strict bureaucracy of the Salon. This gallery hosts monthly exhibitions, special shows, and lectures, while artists from around the world can converge into one space and discuss their work and sell physical commissions. “The Strange Pear” played a key role in the formalization of the Immersivist movement. On August 3, 2024, Guillory delivered a speech to artists in the server about the necessity of naming the emerging virtual art movement; thus, Immersivism was born.

“The internet is our wall space, so we put up our art wherever we want to.” (K. Guillory)

By turning cyberspace into a canvas, Immersivism removes the physical walls of the traditional gallery. Exhibitions are no longer limited to brick-and-mortar buildings in major metropolitan hubs. To formalize this decentralized model, Guillory and her peers established The Museum of Immersivism. Operating across multiple virtual world instances, the museum serves as both an open exhibition venue and a research facility.

Guillory has been intensely advocating for the legitimization of Immersivism as an art genre, teaching blind contouring techniques to fellow virtual artists at The Museum of Immersivism. Once the movement is more self-sustaining, she plans to step back from organizing and dive back into her horror and blind-contour art. (You can follow her work at kgpaints.net)

Outside of Immersivism, Guillory’s recent creative focus has been on narrative comic work as seen in her comic “CLOUT” (a snippet of which can be read here). Additionally, Guillory will likely continue her work as a freelance writer, focusing on VR, virtual design, gaming trends, and digital subcultures (much of which can be found on The Metaculture).

Throughout history, art movements have reflected the technological and cultural shifts of their era. Just as 19th-century Impressionists stepped outside their studios to capture fleeting light in an industrializing world, Immersivists step into headsets and virtual grids to record human life in digital spaces. Through a “Trinity of Interaction,” Immersivism redefines what it means to create fine art in the 21st century.

Through K. Guillory’s pioneering cross-reality sittings and blind contour oil studies, the volatile world of servers and code meets the permanence of paint and canvas. As platforms update, links rot, and online worlds vanish overnight, Immersivism ensures that these virtual communities are not forgotten.

Thank you to K. Guillory for taking the time to meet with us and share their art with KAILON, to see more check out their website!

Edited by Hanna Villegas

Have you ever looked at the hands around you? Every pair of hands is different; different colors, sizes, scars, blemishes, calloused or smooth. But each pair of hands has the same purpose.

If you want to know how much love a person has given in their life, take a look at their hands. Ephesians 4:28 tells us how we’re supposed to serve others, by working with our hands. Our hands shouldn’t be pristine, or neatly folded in our lap. Our hands are meant to be used to support others, not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally. The wrinkles, blemishes, and callouses on our hands represent not just a life well lived, but a life spent loving others well. Worn and battered hands indicate that we’ve spent our lives not just taking and serving ourselves, but that we’ve spent our lives giving ourselves to others.

Each one of the wrinkles, the blemishes, the callouses, the rough spots, reveals the ways we’ve given pieces of ourselves, to other people, to help fill in their brokenness, to help heal them, rather than to keep ourselves whole and perfect. The stains, the imperfections, and the dirt beneath our nails that our hands show, and let others know that we have lived and we have loved. For what good is life, if we do not have love? Without love, we are nothing. We can have all the riches in the world, but if we lack love, we have nothing.

Our hands are our way of showing that love to the world, to the people around us. The paint smeared across the palms of my hands means that I’ve loved the patients where I volunteer, by bringing in crafts for them to do, my hands gently guiding theirs along the paper. Dirt surrounding my fingernail beds means that I love my nephew by spending time with him, playing outside, and showing him how to dig a small spot to bury worms leftover from fishing in the garden. Scarred and calloused hands mean that I love my family and friends, spending time baking for them, taking trays of cookies, or pie and cake tins in and out of the scorching oven. The markings and blemishes on each of our hands show different ways we’ve given pieces of ourselves to others, the multitude of times we’ve chosen to love, in a world full of sorrow.

Dirty hands may not be acceptable to society. But they should be. Dirty hands are what make us human. Isn’t it love, that they say distinguishes humans from all other species? If our hands are grimy from the muck of all that is love, from wiping off the dirt of doubt off of others’ wings, so that they can have the courage to spread their wings and fly, then so be it. I’d rather have filthy hands from loving others, than a love of my own neatly folded, flawless hands placed in my lap, any day. For what good is love if we don’t choose to spread it on our hands to give to others?

Edited by Natalli Newman

Eve must have been so scared

Taking that first bite.

Knowledge dripping down the corners of her mouth with each rebellious swallow.

And with each bite,

Thirsting for more knowledge.

She could’ve stayed in “paradise”

But I believe something in her knew it was a lie.

The first display of female intuition and defiance.

Once consumed, her seven sisters sewed her a blanket of leaves to keep her warm.

They welcomed her without judgement,

For she had chosen to change.

She rejected the life of the obedient woman,

for one imbued with the power to shed her skin and give life to man.

Everyone always says growing is painful, but they never tell you how disgustingly embarrassing it is. As I have recently begun reconnecting with select family members via therapy and cultural ceremonies, I have become receptive to the fact that I come from a long line of very nuanced hogwash. I know I have come a long way—exponentially farther than generations of my family—but I have spent the last few years feeling farther than everyone else around me, like I am endlessly on a treadmill, just trying to catch up.

In just about every room I’ve ever been in, I have been the youngest, along with most of my friendships. Coupled with my arrested development, this has gotten me into quite a bit of trouble as I am trying to keep up. I have always—maybe on a minutely obsessive level—wanted to know more; to get closer to my idea of “the perfect human”. That well-rounded, calm, decisive individual who knows just what to say, exactly how to act, interprets every invisible rule, eloquently handles every conflict. With all the confusion youth begets, I wanted to be a part of the intellectual masses, not the young people still learning and growing; I wanted to skip the mistakes and go straight to the lessons.

At a young age, I began befriending professionals, professors, and anyone with lived experience that embodied the ideals of my imagined “higher self”. I have always worried about the knowledge lost between generations, and felt a deep compulsion to learn as much as I could from those with wisdom to share. This, of course, led to uneven power dynamics and unfortunate situations such as condescension, grooming, and manipulation. For the first five years of my twenties, I truly felt like my life changed every two weeks, and I just couldn’t keep up. I was so ungrounded. I don’t think I ever really had a plan, because I honestly never thought I’d make it this far. I’ve just been kind of bouncing around; surviving, adapting, and chasing the “next big thing”. Trying to find my footing while constantly on the edge of slipping.

While I have always had the best intentions, I certainly have not always gone about things the right way. My parents were practically kids when they had me. My dad was in a foreign land and didn’t even know English yet. Both my parents came from very complex upbringings that left them without the tools to handle the complexities of life. From a young age, I always knew it was up to me to set a good example. Being the eldest of my siblings, I often found myself playing the role of the family manager, acting as everyone’s emotional support system, despite my inability to do so tactfully. Not many liked what I had to say, as my attempts to help arrived in a very matter-of-fact way, but in my mind, I was simply assessing the situation and offering improvements where they seemed fit. Unfortunately, this was often taken as “I knew more” or “thought I was better”, which was far from my reality. To counteract this assumption, I began fawning—dumbing myself down and doubting my intuition.

I come from bipolarity. I come from yelling until you lose your voice. I come from violence. I come from a long line of things that are not okay and a long line of people who pretend they are.

I’m not sure if it’s the stereotypical latin passion that is behind much of my inherited behaviors, but despite my best efforts, I still found myself to be defensive, emotionally reactive, and just downright dysregulated. I constantly over-explained, often feeling that I was in sitcom-esque scenarios where too many things happen at once, nothing is what it seems, and I am somehow left with a tangled mess of wrong perceptions.

In hindsight—which is all this personal essay is—I can recognize the situations where a reaction was truly warranted, just not quite to the level of primordial abyss I delivered. On the other side of the coin, I can also recognize the situations in which I could have reacted better. Situations where I was fully in the wrong. Situations I would not have even been in had I not carried such a colossal amount of self-loathing.

In my Sisyphean pursuit of reaching my “highest self”, I have spent my lifetime surrounding myself with elders, working to feed the endless cycle of managing a family that still doubted me every step of the way. While I was trying to absorb wisdom left and right, I was constantly reminded that I was “just a silly young girl who doesn’t know anything.” Which, of course, only made me chase it harder. I had something to prove.

I remember the pride I felt when, as a postpartum 21-year-old, determined to prove I could be a mother and still do it all, one of the organizations that nominated me for an award told me I was the youngest nominee in their history. While this was a momentous high at the time, it quickly faded.

I needed more—something of a higher quality.

I still had proving to do.

I still sensed doubt.

I was stuck in a wash cycle of making up for the previous mistake, tripping over my feet across the stage of my life’s play, no guardrails in sight. Thankfully, this is when I became more embedded in my local queer scene, which is heavily composed of young activists doing their best to stay informed and foster healthy communities. They helped me to deconstruct the outdated, toxic, compulsively heterosexual settings I grew up in, as well as validating that maybe some situations were truly unnecessary to my character development.

These past few years have felt like an endless fall from a building whose height could rival that of the Burj Khalifa, down into the dark hole of Alice’s Wonderland — except instead of floating tea and books, I passed the different lives I could be living, too fast to reach. I was coasting on all of the what ifs and memories I did not fully savor, until one day, I finally hit the pavement. All within a mere second.

In what felt like asphyxiation, my metaphorically thrifted toolbox was opened to reveal a missing majority of tools. I had thought the box was heavy with equipment, but I came to realize that I was just carrying self-hate and distrust. I ignored my intuition, which led to a lack of discernment for how to handle difficult situations. I had spent years severely masking who I was, and in turn, masking my own intuition—even from myself. I listened to what others said I should be; tried to squeeze into their molds; tried to be who they told me to be.

So, much like the ancient tale of King Siddartha becoming the Buddha, I figured it was time to really commit and focus on my journey.

Buddha’s origin anecdote is the ultimate story of searching for purpose. He left his wealthy palace, visited every corner of society, and tried every path to enlightenment. He realized that the answers were not in extreme luxury or harsh suffering, but in a quiet, balanced mind. This felt like a mirror. I always felt that I never had enough and that I needed to suffer to progress further

On my path to enlightenment, I started by stepping back from every active conflict, analyzing ways in which I wasn’t thinking straight and causing more harm than good. I gave myself some much-needed time to breathe and get my mind right and begin processing what I wanted to fix. I needed to climb up above it all to get a better sight and sense of what I was dealing with. I discovered an inability to let things sit; I felt that an immediate response was owed, and I accepted that I was overdue for some shadow work.

Taking this step back was triggering to the people in my life who had become reliant on my predictable reactions. They felt I was avoiding them or their problems, because I was not healing or engaging on their terms—of which I could neither figure out nor compromise. For others, it took intensive psychotherapy before I finally accepted that there was no fixing the conflict, and that it was not a reflection of my best efforts or intentions. For the rest, I am still learning and processing and using these discoveries to become the person I am meant to be.

In all of these rooms, with all of these elders who had have had the time to screw up and acquired the tools to get it right, I had found myself to be afflicted with this plague: a rhythmic ocd loop of toxic shame and guilt, replaying in my mind, keeping me up all night to finish tasks that paralyzed me in the day. While some still believed I was far away in a world of avoidance, my reality was much dimmer. I was trapped in daily replays of every single mistake I have ever made, of every conversation where I was horrendously wrong, and every finite diagnosis on my character that arose from each. This made me shrink myself, both in my career and personally, as I thought every mistake or judgement would be waiting for the right moment to strike me. I feared that, no matter what changes were made, it would all be futile in the end.

I was drowning in the feeling that I am not seen for who I am, and regrets that I should have traveled the world more before settling down in my hometown that I never left. Fears that my son deserved a better mom who knew all the answers because she’s done it all and could open all the right doors for him. The complex cherry on top is that I truly love the little family that I have created. They are my world, my comfort, my reason for being—and I would not trade them or my life with anyone else’s for anything in this universe. I just couldn’t help but still feel so behind everyone and ill-equipped for them.

The next stages came in waves. Sobriety. Deactivating every account. EMDR and IFS. Multiple therapists. Community activism. Crying to close friends. Video essays. Self-curriculums. Self-help books. Reiki. Cultural spiritual ceremonies. Philosophy. Severe introspection.

All of it has led me to a divine level of disgust over what the fuck has been my problem.

It has felt like I’m a bird in a long-term molting process and I’m taking longer than my other bird counterparts. And it’s SO uncomfortable. I know that we are meant to make mistakes to become our highest selves, but I have to grit my teeth trying to be nice and hold hands with my past self, rather than stabbing her in some dark alley. I know there are people capable of genuine and profound change, I’ve seen it. Take the complete 180 turnaround of Jersey Shore’s “Mike The Situation”. If he can turn it around like that, I most definitely can.

Now, my journey is about making peace with myself and my past, while still prioritizing accountability. I allow myself to feel guilty, taking it as a positive sign, considering the lack of guilt we’re experiencing in the world at-large. I also understand that much of my shame has stemmed from prioritizing other’s feelings over my own, and because hindsight really is 20/20.

I was recently reminded of a quote by Frida Kahlo: “And in the end, I believe that we don’t need to do anything to be loved. We spend our lives trying to seem prettier, smarter. But I realized two things. Those who love us see us with their hearts and attribute qualities to us beyond those we really have. And those who don’t want to love us will never be satisfied with all our efforts. Yes, I really believe that it is important to leave our imperfections alone. They are precious to understand those who see us with their heart”.

I am praying that the changes I am experiencing are not only the fruits of my labor, but also my long-awaited frontal lobe finally dinging in the oven, “I’m ready!”

As Anaïs Nin said, “your reality expands or contracts based on your bravery and imagination.” I am embracing bravery with my community. I am leaning into imagination with my son.

Viola Davis said, “The definition of hell... on your last day on earth, the person you became will meet the person you could have become.” I am finally becoming the person I always wanted to meet.

I don’t want to be remembered for my worst mistakes and I don’t want to be on my deathbed with regrets. Who does?

So, I am choosing the harder path, leaning into the growing pains.

Yes, it is humiliating.

And then, all at once, you are free.

On May 15th Obsession was released into theatres being advertised as a new psychological horror. Later that month on May 23rd, I went to the movies with five other friends to see this movie. We were horrified so badly, we left the theater, hopped over to the one next door and finished Michael (yes— I know this is bad theatre etiquette BUT you really don’t understand how bad the car scene is when you’re in the first row!)

Obviously, being the film buff I am, I still rated this on letterbox and there is nothing anyone could give it other than five out of five. Looking at it from a film stand point, Inde Navarrette is able to change and construct her face and emotions better than some well seasoned actors. Michael Johnston, while not new (especially to the other Teen Wolf fans out there) brings Bear to life in the most believably awful way— I forgot I actually love the actor so much. Curry Barker is such a large inspiration– being a 26 year old film director who started on YouTube. The entire movie is a testament to the actors, crew, and director who had a vision and completed it in such a beautiful way. I, an A Lister for AMC, broke my movie theatre etiquette because it’s so realistic. I did later go see it again and was able to stay through the whole thing I swear!

Obsession pinpoints such a specific type of dread with the horror it uses. While yes it has both psychological and body horror along with jump scares, it somehow brings out the fear that I think most humans but especially women have: to lose all control over your body.

This movie scared me in ways I didn’t know I could be scared because it hits the nerve that is currently wounded right now. The 2025 global rate for femicide (female homicide) currently stands at one woman being killed every 10 minutes. In the United States alone, we have had a triple homicide in Utah, where the lives of three women were lost. Gilgo Beach had a serial killer this year who murdered 8 women, and sadly many more cases just like these are happening every day.

This coincides with a rise in misogyny in male Gen Z’ers – with 1 in every 3 men subscribing to hyper-misogynistic agendas that are perpetrated to them through youtubers and podcasters like Andrew Tate and Clavicular.

While all this may seem to not be connected to the movie at hand, I think it’s important to understand the social climate that this media is released in. We are living in an era where being a woman is dangerous. Whether it is in the United States or Afghanistan, women are the target of many extremist policies.

Enter Obsession. Incel horror isn’t a new thing– movies like Don’t Worry Darling (2022), Fresh (2022), and Companion (2025) all look into the type of horror where a man removes control and autonomy from a woman to exert some kind of power or status over them. Obsession does this so well and is bringing more people to the important conversion at hand.

There are many parts of this movie that are genuinely horrific, however to me, the worst part isn’t Sarah’s death or the walking backwards, it’s the sexual scene, or more accurately the rape scene, where Nikki is crying. It’s a smash cut to this “intimate moment” and she is both expressionless and crying. It’s the most gut wrenching part. Tears roll down her face as ‘Wish Nikki’ is putting on a performance of enjoyment with exaggerated moans. Bear doesn’t look at her, he doesn’t care about her at this moment at all, he just cares that she is underneath him. And I think this calls to many women’s greatest fear, because no one should lose that sense of self where the real Nikki knows this is happening but due to Bear’s wish, she can’t stop it.

I think this movie is a one that most everyone should watch and while I feel like I am always saying ‘this movie is a movie everyone should watch’ I think it’s a testament to the rising stars in film making because every new film brings something to a global conversion we are having. Obsession brings the extreme horror of something very real, yes it’s a psychological body horror; but it’s also a story of a woman who loses control over herself and then later is the only one to deal with the consequences of what she couldn’t control. It’s a horror movie that mirrors the lives of thousands of women and it’s done in a way that does not degrade or condescend the true stories of this evil. It’s a five out of five movie and I fear I can never watch it again.

Now that enough time has passed where I feel that everyone has watched the last season of Euphoria, I feel free to discuss my grievances. I had quite the busy schedule while the episodes rolled out that I kept forgetting and missing Sundays and having to force myself to take time to sit and catch up as I did not want to encounter too many spoilers online as the netizens are quick with it nowadays. I honestly was hate-watching for the sake of it—I love the cast, for the most part, and my brain needed the completion. I have strongly come to dislike Sam Levinson’s writing, as should those that claim to pertain to the intellectual masses. I was also disheartened at the loss of Labrinth’s musical score as it undoubtedly made the show and added to its emotional core, and even gave us Zendaya’s voice again, a door she admitted she was “afraid to open again”.

Very quickly within the first few episodes we see what happens when Levinson runs out of Petra Collins’ fuel and vision boards. Character depth was reduced to cartoonish subplots. Jules was once a vibrant and central character yet she was now reduced to a dull and disconnected sugar baby plot where she drops out of art school and is particularly cruel to Rue. Rue becomes a drug mule with thick plot armor for the most part, Nate somehow both became a pansy and got embroiled with organized crime while trying to build a nursing home on endangered flower land, and Cassie became a wet dream for the incel manosphere—not much acting for Sydney Sweeney there.

Overall the series seemed to have lost its soul. Style was prioritized over substance. We saw more flashy visuals and cunt walks than we had of intimate dialogue and cohesive storytelling. We saw more of Kitty’s BBL and Cassie’s tits than we saw of Jules. For a while there, we had an interesting new character by the name of Alamo, played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, who did a phenomenal job with what he was given. However, even he couldn’t escape Sam’s poor writing, and eventually his character became a misogynist edgelord creep wrapped in cringe. Reddit users have expressed that the introduction of neo-Nazi and white supremacist drug gangs feels tacked-on and is not meaningfully explored through the show’s biracial Black protagonist, Rue. There was a Tarantino-esque air to the N-word being thrown around and although in one scene Alamo’s character is clearly upset by the racist slur, he takes further offence to being called a ‘pig’ later in the scene by Laurie, a moment which has left fans divided. There was a lot of confrontational dialogue that many users on Reddit described as forced, race-motivated, and out of place for the show’s setting.

I could go on and on about everything wrong about this season and how unforgivably bad it was, however I have not seen much discourse over Rue’s death. Believe me, I was not one bit upset over Rue’s death, in the sense that Zendaya is having one of the best years of her life and career and I want her out of Sam’s grasp as soon and as far as possible. Nonetheless I felt this was Zendaya’s best performance as Rue. What upset me was that Rue spent the entire season showing us—and telling us—how desperately she wanted to change, only for her death to be reduced to, “Well, she was an addict.”. In Sam’s own words, “The honest ending is people like Rue don’t make it...People relapse. They f–k up. They’re not ready to get clean. There’s no reason to sugarcoat it”. He also added that, “In terms of the story that we set out to tell, which is a story about addiction and its consequences, this feels like the end to me”. While that is a valid take—and I’m no stranger to addiction or its harsh realities—I still think it’s a cheap conclusion. It reduces Rue’s death, and everything she fought for, to the fact that she was an addict. God forbid an addict with heavy trauma doesn’t have her shit together by the time she’s 23. While Lexi’s character seemed the most grounded in logic especially when it came to Cassie, even she seemed dismissive and judgemental of Rue, judging her by her past when Rue tried to open up to her.

With heavy religious and allegorical symbolism, and even slipping up and telling Alamo her goal was to go “legit”, her path to “being better” was constantly derailed by her environment and mounting pressures from both the DEA and local dealers. She showed survival over morality and gave us an act of preservation by working in Alamo’s strip club in order to distance from Laurie. This was her most sober season yet. I would actually argue that Rue’s death is more everyone else’s fault than it is her being an addict. She maintained sobriety amidst everything happening, while being deep in the drug world—She did not die because she was an addict. She didn’t down a bottle or recklessly relapse—girly pop was dragged by a horse on gravel dirt, had a gash on her hand that required stitches and a broken nose. She was manipulated by Alamo into taking an unlaced pill with her and granting her time off. This false sense of security made Rue trust that the pills HE gave her were safe and meant solely to manage her pain, leading her to ingest them while staying at Ali’s house. While Rue’s overdose scene was undeniably cinematic—one of the most visually beautiful sequences the show has ever produced—it also felt strangely detached. The tribute to Fez was heartfelt and easily one of the sequence’s strongest moments, but it also owed much of its emotional weight to the real life loss of Angus Cloud. Ironically, I found myself mourning the actor more than the show’s central character. As breathtaking as the sequence was, it seemed more invested in creating a beautiful ending than in honoring Rue herself.

What’s perhaps even stranger is what comes after. Rue is arguably the central character of Euphoria, yet we never see a funeral. We never really see people grieve her beyond a few passing conversations weighed down by guilt. The show spends more time mythologizing her death than mourning her absence, and that emotional void made the ending feel oddly hollow. While Lexi is confiding in Cassie on her guilt regarding Rue’s death, Cassie responds, “Yeah, well, she was an addict.” Not only did Rue not die because she was an addict, but it’s the kind of cold, matter-of-fact dismissal that too many people struggling with addiction receive. As though the complexity of their lives, the progress they made, and the love they inspired can all be eclipsed by a single label. As though their humanity begins and ends with the worst thing they’ve ever battled. Rue’s character was probably the only one this season who showed true growth and depth and she, like many other addicts, were reduced to just that, being an addict.

Overall, I felt the show contradicts its own portrayal of addiction by flattening Rue’s death into a moral inevitability, despite spending the season showing how external forces—not just addiction—kept sabotaging her attempts to change. If there was one saving grace in the finale, it was Colman Domingo, whose presence once again brought a level of humanity and emotional honesty that the writing itself too often failed to reach.

In America, the 4th of July is a day that commemorates the Second Continental Congress adopting the Declaration of Independence— a document that announced the official separation of the original 13 colonies from Great Britain. What few know is that the vote for Independence by approving the Lee Resolution—a bold, three-part proposal formally introduced in the Second Continental Congress on June 7, 1776, by Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee, officially declaring the thirteen colonies independent from Great Britain, calling for the formation of foreign alliances, and proposing a plan for confederation— actually took place on July 2nd. The first public readings of the document took place a few days later on July 8, and a year later on July 4th, 1777, the tradition of celebrating with fireworks was born out of a spontaneous celebration that included a 13 gun salute.

This day of Independence was not designated a federal holiday by the U.S. Congress until 1870, and it wasn’t until 1938 that it was made a paid federal holiday. Today, this spirit of patriotism and national pride lives on. Americans observe the holiday with large scale community events, including dazzling firework displays, neighborhood parades, family barbecues, concerts, and gatherings. Taylor Swift in particular, was known to have a star studded “TayMerica” bash at her Rhode Island mansion annually, mostly in the 2010’s and has since died down.

Personally, my family is full of immigrants that never really celebrated it in the first place, but here’s especially why I, and many others,believe there is not much worth celebrating.

The Declaration of Independence introduced the famous principle that “all men are created equal” and possess unalienable rights to “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”. This however, was a statement of ideals, not a legally binding framework of governance. When written, these ideals of equality were not applied in practice to women or enslaved people. 11 years later in 1788, The U.S Constitution was written providing actual legal structure of the U.S Government. When ratified, the Constitution did not create a uniform national standard for voting, Instead, it gave individual states the power to set voter eligibility laws. Because the Founders believed civic participation required having a financial stake in society, most state legislatures restricted the right to vote and hold office to white men who owned a specific amount of land or property. Over the following decades, poor white men demanded and eventually won the right to vote by changing individual state laws, achieving near universal white male suffrage by 1856. Voting and civil rights for other groups—such as African Americans and women—were not formally established until much later through the passage of constitutional amendments like the 15th Amendment and 19th Amendment. 41 out of the 56 men who signed the declaration of independence owned enslaved persons. The document not only condemns Britain for “inciting slave rebellions” but also refers to Native Americans as “merciless savages”. Post Civil War, black communities would hold their own 4th of July celebrations just to be attacked by white mobs.

While the British immigrants were jumping for joy at the “rights and freedoms” both of these documents stated and protected, this was not the case for everyone as it would take 87 years for the abolishment of slavery to be ordered, and two years after the Emancipation Proclamation was issued, for freedom to finally arrive for those in Galveston on June 19, 1865, when Union General Gordon Granger arrived with federal troops and read General Order No. 3 to the people of Texas. This pivotal day is now widely commemorated as Juneteenth.

Frederick Douglass, a former enslaved man and leading abolitionist, was invited to speak by the Rochester Ladies’ Anti-Slavery Society. He purposefully chose to speak on July 5, rather than Independence Day. In his address, he noted: “This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn….. “What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim.”

While 53 years earlier the white immigrants would declare their rights and freedoms protected on this new land, there was nothing of the sorts for the original Americans. The Trail of Tears took place between 1830 and 1850. This was the forced, violent expulsion of approximately 100,000 Native Americans due to the Indian Removal Act.

Violating the Treaty of Holston signed on July 2, 1791, an agreement between the United States government and the Cherokee Nation—establishing that the Cherokee tribes fell under U.S. protection, redefined frontier boundaries, and granted the U.S. management of all Cherokee foreign affairs in exchange for peace and annuities— and driven by white settler greed and the discovery of gold, U.S. troops burned homes and dragged families into camps. Roughly a quarter of the marchers perished from starvation, exposure, and disease. The forced marches pushed people through freezing winters, rain, and severe drought. Wagon space was critically scarce at this time, leaving the majority to trek the 1,000+ mile distance on foot, many without shoes. Malnutrition, dehydration, and cholera took thousands of lives, leaving survivors to bury their loved ones in shallow graves along the route. Approximately 4,000 to 5,000 Cherokee men, women, and children alone died during the arduous, six-month journey. Other tribes, including the Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, and Seminole, suffered similarly catastrophic losses.

Today, freedom still seems to be as it was when the declaration was issued and when treaties were constantly violated, for white men. Wealthy or not. We still have a president that believes he is above the law, much like Andrew Jackson believed himself to be—intentionally refusing to enforce a landmark ruling, allowing the state of Georgia to disregard Native American sovereignty, hence leading to the Trail of Tears. This disregard is mirrored in analysis done by news outlets like The Washington Post identifying widespread noncompliance by the current administration, finding that the White House has actively defied roughly one in three judicial rulings made against their policies in lower courts.

Recently, eight immigration protesters received an unprecedented, combined 450 years in federal prison for a July 4, 2025, demonstration outside a Texas ICE detention facility that turned violent. Among the historic sentences, former Marine reservist Benjamin Hanil Song was handed 100 years for the attempted murder of an officer, while other participants received decades long terms. Daniel Sanchez Estrada was sentenced to 30 years simply for moving a box of political pamphlets after the protest concluded. The severe punishments mark the first major convictions utilizing a September 2025 executive order that designated “Antifa” as a Domestic Terrorist Organization to drastically elevate standard criminal charges. Yet, the Klu Klux Klan has taken thousands of lives of innocent Black Americans, civil rights workers and other minorities and continues to avoid being labeled a terrorist organization.

In comparison–While January 6th was always a special holiday for Cubans and Latinos who celebrate El Día De Los Reyes, that was eclipsed by a mob of bigots in 2021. While the White House has published a page of their recollection of events, what stands true is that a mob of Donald Trump supporters led a violent attack on the U.S Capitol in an attempt to disrupt the congressional certification of the 2020 presidential election, which Trump lost to Joe Biden, fair and square. The mob overwhelmed police lines, broke through barricades and smashed windows while also ransacking offices in search of political leaders, most notably Democrats. The attack resulted in multiple deaths, injuries to over 140 police officers, and millions of dollars in damages. The difference in intention, violence and damage in comparison to the ICE protestors mentioned above is ASTRONOMICAL, however on Trump’s first day back in office on January 20th, 2025, he pardoned approximately 1,500 Jan 6th rioters, including those who had pleaded or been found guilty of assaulting police officers as well as immediate release and reduced sentences for 14 specific defendants, including prominent figures like Oath Keepers founder Stewart Rhodes.

Today, the rights of Immigrants, Black Americans, Native Americans and just about and just about anyone the white anglo saxon protestant pundits in power view as “less than” constantly weigh in the balance. Rights which should be unalienable, as proposed in the declaration of our country, are held in front of minorities like a carrot. The United States was built on a foundation of equality for all humans, yet this foundation has yet to truly meet fruition, for even when it was proposed, we were not equal, and we have yet to be so. (This article, especially and heavily within the last paragraph was with the help of my incredible friend and editor, Lilli Eve who stayed up late with me working on this piece <3)

Is it happy? Or is it even its 250th birthday? I’d argue it’s neither!

I don’t think the “happiness” issue is much of a question at all these days. Perhaps 30% of us (if that) currently could say we are in a state of happiness (per the polls). So we will just focus on the birthday itself. Is the USA indeed about to turn 250 years old on July 4, 2026?

Of the accepted USA “birth charts” out there, the July 4, 1776 chart is considered the standard. This is the date and time (rectified, by renowned humanistic and transpersonal astrologer Dane Rudhyar) that the Declaration of Independence was issued in Philadelphia (see chart below) and is widely celebrated as the nation’s birthday.

This July 4th chart shows the USA as a Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, and a Sagittarius rising, with a prominent Cancer stellium in the 7th house.

Yet, as a mother myself, I know something about the details of when a child is considered “born,” and when it is conceived. I believe that this chart shows when the USA was conceived, not when it was born.

When is a child - or a nation - truly born?

Let’s presume that the birth of either a child or a nation are based on the same criteria, even if they go by different descriptions. There is the conception of the child, but it must be seen through to the birth for the child to be declared “alive.” This can take 9-10 long months of growth, waiting, and enduring on the part of the mother.

However, the moment a child is born into this world is considered monumental, especially in astrological terms. A child’s birth is recognized and time stamped only after its body is fully separated from its mother and its sex and status (has taken a breath, is living, or not) are noted. Not when the mother is ready and pushing, not when the head crowns, not when half the body is out, not when most of it is out, not when the father passes out — the birth officially occurs once the baby is fully separated from her mother.

The Declaration of Independence was an important moment declaring the intention of the USA-to-be — but not the birth. The birth did not occur until the “child,” which was the American Colonies, was fully separated from her “mother,” which was England, and this did not occur until the Revolutionary War ended and the Treaty of Paris was both signed and ratified by both parties, signaling the beginning of new life separated from her mother.

This took place on the morning of April 9, 1784, when the Treaty of Paris was ratified in full by the English King in London, England, making final and complete the severance of the colonies into their own nation. They were not wholly independent of the mother country before this action took place. The War for Independence lasted just over eight years, from April 19, 1775 until September 3, 1783 (we could call this period the “gestation period”), when the signing of the Treaty of Paris took place (which we could call the “beginning of labor”). However, that Treaty was not legal and binding until it was ratified by both the Americans (occurred on January 14, 1784 in Annapolis, Maryland — “half the body has emerged”) and the English, which took place on April 9, 1784* (“the full body has emerged from the mother’s body”). This is the date I am using.

There is no time of this royal signing event available, that I can find anyway, so I have rectified it against the already-rectified July 4, 1776 chart**. And the result is astounding.

Open your mind as we discover a whole new way to look at the good-ole’ US-of-A.

(Disclaimer: I am in no way negating the July 4, 1776 chart, or proclaiming mine to be the only worthy chart, or insisting that my chart is perfect, right, or correct. This is just my own way of viewing the nation’s birth date and chart and I am well aware of the ongoing controversy regarding this nation’s date of birth, time, and continuing evolution through multiple important dates in its relatively short timeline of existence. Please see the “Ongoing Controversy” section below, as well as the Footnotes.)

The USA is an Aries!

In this chart, the USA is an Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon, and Aries Rising.

Aries is the first sign of the zodiac and is associated with being first-born, the first to arrive, and paradoxically, also the youngest — the baby of the zodiac. The reason for this is because the arrangement of the signs corresponds with both the seasons of the year (Aries aligns with the Spring Equinox, the beginning of the new seasonal year when the cosmic wheel turns and things are born anew) and with the seasons of individual life. We are born into the world as a separate individual (Aries), we grow through toddlerhood and discover our body (Taurus), learning to speak and explore (Gemini), to discover our feelings and attachments (Cancer), to step into our sense of self and project our personalities (Leo), to discern between good and bad (Virgo), to partner with others and learn how to cooperate successfully (Libra), to learn about sex and death (Scorpio), to develop a philosophy and determine what our beliefs are through exploring the world at large (Sagittarius), to become mature and develop self-discipline and sober responsibility (Capricorn), to innovate and learn to prioritize the collective instead of just ourselves (Aquarius), and to surrender our egos entirely to the Divine (Pisces).

From my previous article, Neptune in Aries: Use the Force, on the nature of Aries:

“Aries is the God of War and is ruled by the planet Mars, which is associated with war, aggression, masculinity, drive, determination, passion, competition, ferocity, enthusiasm, confidence, fearlessness, anger, impulsivity, strength, energy, force, quick starts and quick finishes, leadership, conflict, combativeness, self-centeredness, impetuousness, immaturity, being headstrong, rash, rage, ego, adventurousness, and independence.”

Aries energy is the emergence of Spring after Winter; it is the first green sprout pushing its way out of cold, hard ground; it is fighting for life, full of the inevitability and confidence of its arrival. It cannot lose, and it knows it. It is the first born child.

Chart Interpretation Synopsis

As a multiple Aries (Sun, Mercury, Ascendant, and significant 1st house placements), with an out of bounds Sagittarius Moon, an out of bounds Gemini Mars as its chart ruler, and an out of bounds Pluto in revolutionary Aquarius, the USA came to life in the world full of ambition, brightness, intelligence, innovation, and pioneering, independent spirit. It willfully and authentically walks to the cutting edge without blinking. It pushes boundaries. It is a trailblazer. It welcomes (and often instigates with a sharp tongue) debates and is not against using intelligence and information as a weapon, competitively asserting its self-proclaimed dominance and power over others with gathered information data. It projects youthful, fresh, energetic joviality and unsophisticated curiosity, yet is often unaware it also can appear boastful and arrogant. It tends to be brash, confident, loud, and feels entitled to be the leader in all situations. Others may resent it not because it actually is very good at what it does, but because it is so shameless and proud and utterly lacking in humility.

There is a strong spiritual manifestation and inspiration energy here that may produce innovations in religion, perhaps a new religion (or religions) entirely. A zealous nature that is infectious to others is present, and it may manifest in combative behaviors, even in imposing religious beliefs upon others in forceful ways.

There are indications of repeated unconscious self-sabotage due to difficulty reconciling emotional reactivity with rational discernment and sober ambition. There is a wild bucking horse inside that charges the gate relentlessly, only to find that when it is freed, it does not know how to exist outside of the pen. There may be indignation, rebellion against authority, and defiant boldness that drives it toward independence — and it does have what it takes to be utterly independent — yet it must strive to do so without burning bridges behind it. Learning to win graciously — balancing youthful, intuitive intelligence with responsible maturity and discernment, interdependence with others, while removing ego completely from the picture and acting toward the collective good — is the key.

The USA is a bold fire nation. A willful child confidently staking its claim
in the world without fear of consequence.

The USA Is Still A Child

This nation is a relatively new entity that has experienced rapid growth and extensive change in a relatively short amount of time. We have had so many iterations we’ve cycled through so far and it feels like we are still becoming. It seems to me that the Revolutionary War and its fallout — our Independence — is still unfolding. We are a nation still struggling to be born into a complete entity. Indeed, in the context of nations, 250 years is not that long of a time — France, for example, has been in existence as a distinct nation for over 1000 years.

We have a lot of unfinished business to take care of, and some extremely heavy karma to clear. We have not been completely honest, had integrity, nor acted with the best intentions toward all of our fellow citizens, and definitely not toward those who have wished to become citizens, nor especially toward those who were here before European colonists arrived and the enslaved people forced to come with them, upon whose exploited backs so much was carried and built. We have a lot of work to do to uphold the ideals (such as “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…”) that were set forth in the Declaration of Independence.

That this time coincides with the nation’s Pluto Return — in my chart, the Pluto Return will be exact on March 17, 2030, but is in effect now and building; more on this in Part 2 and continuing through the series - as Pluto takes approximately 248 years to orbit the Sun, is exceedingly fitting. Pluto governs sex, birth, death, and rebirth — transformation — and we are finding ourselves in a deep period of transformation now. It’s painful, messy, and we will never be the same after this, just like a mother transitioning in childbirth. We are growing into something that I can only hope is a more evolved and mature version of how we started. This is an ongoing event.

The Ongoing Chart Controversy

There is ample debate and controversy on the USA birth chart already. At least 15 different birth charts exist on astro.com for the USA Birth Chart. The most widely used one is the Sibley chart (so named after an 18th Century British astrologer), cast for July 4, 1776, at 5:10 p.m. in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA, though there are multiple other iterations with arguments for their veracity, including the date of the signing of the Treaty of Paris, and the date of the English general’s surrender to George Washington’s army which effectively ended the war, battle-wise.

Still, the July 4th chart stubbornly hangs on as the most preferred version, and has been painstakingly and thoroughly analyzed by multiple astrologers over many decades, including Rudhyar’s above, who altered the birth time by a mere 3 minutes from the Sibley chart, changing nothing significant. As mentioned, this chart shows the USA with a Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, and Sagittarius rising. I do agree that these planetary energies are alive in the ethos of the USA and they definitely show up in the April 9, 1784 chart, just in a different configuration.

Below are the astrological energies of the two charts (July 4, 1776 and April 9, 1784) listed in a side by side comparison table:

It is very interesting to me that the nation — no matter which chart we look at here — has the same Mars!
July 4th chart: Mars at 21°23’ Gemini. April 9th chart: Mars at 18°11’ Gemini. And both are out of bounds! Plus so many other similarities and significant conjunctions.
They are fraternal twins!

Coming Next, in Part 2: The Deeper Analysis of the April 9, 1784 Chart

The next segment of this series, Happy 250th Birthday, USA… Or Is It?, Part 2, will include:

• Comprehensive chart interpretation for the April 9, 1784 USA birth chart

• Segmented write-ups of each planetary placement

• Important and notable aspects and aspect patterns (Out of Bounds planets and Magic Wands and Thor’s Hammers, oh my!), and

• Crucial incoming transits that are super relevant to the times we are living in, like the nation’s Pluto Return, Uranus Return, and Neptune Opposition (though these may end up with their own dedicated series pages as this thing rolls on).

Footnotes:

*The Treaty of Paris was drafted on November 30, 1782, and signed at the Hôtel d’York at present-day 56 Rue Jacob in Paris on September 3, 1783, by Adams, Franklin, Jay, and Hartley. The Congress of the Confederation, operating as the legislative body of the newly established United States, ratified the Treaty of Paris on January 14, 1784, in Annapolis, Maryland, in the Old Senate Chamber of the Maryland State House. Copies were sent back to Europe for ratification by the other parties involved, the first reaching France in March 1784. British ratification occurred on April 9, 1784, and the ratified versions were exchanged in Paris on May 12, 1784. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treaty_of_Paris_(1783). I consider the May 12, 1784 date to be akin to “creating the birth certificate” and not the date and time of birth, however. So I continue to use the April 9, 1784 date for my chart as the date of “birth.”

Annapolis, Maryland, the acting USA capital city at that time, is where the child was when it was born; London, England just happens to be where the mother was during the “birth.” We have to stretch our imaginations a bit to imagine a woman birthing a child across state lines here, but the effect is the same. The child is born where the child lands upon birth. If it happened to land in a different state or even time zone than the mother, then that would be where it was born.

** Rectifications are imperfect. They are based upon analysis of pertinent events in the life of the chart holder and upon “look and feel” as well as upon intuitive pings the astrologer (and sometimes the chart holder or native, if available) receives. They are, in other words, educated guesses. Proceeding from this supposition, we will move forward in the open minded and curious exploratory spirit of the scientific method, utilizing observation, questioning, forming hypotheses, testing, analyzing, and concluding to form our thesis presented here.

Thanks to Carrie Ann Baade for her generous feedback and willingness to review, despite her heavy workload. Meow!

Thanks to Mark Lingham for inspiring the idea years ago, though with the focus on a different date (date of English army’s surrender to George Washington at Yorktown) at that time. We had the right idea, but the baby hadn’t yet been fully cooked.

Continue the series here with Part 2 on Psyche Astro

The other day, I heard about a theory that really stopped me dead in my tracks. It’s called ‘The Five-Year Stranger Theory.’ It basically states that in 5 years, most of the people whom you see daily now will become strangers. It made me realize that all of the people we try to impress: colleagues, friends, neighbors, gym buddies, the people we sit with at lunch, and so on, will become strangers. Our lives change; our priorities and dreams change. We were never made to stay the same.

This can make us feel sad, or hurt, when we think of all the things we did and tried to impress the people in our lives. But then, when we discover this, we can also realize something else. We can realize a freeing truth: that we don’t have to spend our whole life trying to please others, or shrinking who we are just to fit in with everyone else. We’re allowed to expand and to grow and change. Many people are in our lives for only a chapter of our story. So, we can learn to let them just be in that one chapter, and to not rearrange who we are, or our entire story around them. Because one chapter doesn’t define the whole book, and there are hundreds of other chapters waiting to be written and discovered.

Because no matter who comes into or goes out of our lives, we still have to live it; it’s still our story. We’re allowed to put our focus and our energy into what we love and who we want to be, instead of worrying about how we’ll fit into the mold with everyone else. When we live our whole life trying to please other people, we will one day look back and wonder if we ever truly really lived, if we were ever honestly who we wanted to be, or just who everyone else told us to be. In 5 years, most of the people around you now will fade into the background and become strangers again. Don’t live your life so focused on the background characters of your story that you forget to develop the main character in your story – yourself. Live a life that’s true to who you are inside, no matter who walks in or out.

Edited by Sonal Butley

Berlin certainly knows a thing or two about the way to celebrate International Women’s Day. On March 8, Berliners honoured the day’s original meaning, with the city resembling a patchwork of various demonstrations (’demos’, as they are known in Germany), bike parades, manifestations and creative meetups.

However, for the rest of the year, Germany maintains its consistent 16% pay gap and 43% gender care gap. Consequently, women still feel that the realisation of the first feminist ideas is far off in the future, as if the last 100 years had never happened.

Making women visible shouldn’t be a one-day event. In the footsteps of Women’s Rights Day, which was officially proclaimed a public holiday in Berlin only in 2019. Let’s take a moment to pay tribute to several Berlin female heroes who paved the way for future generations of girls and women, and who in their day, simply dared to.

Dared to lead the revolution: Rosa Luxemburg

Rosa Luxemburg was a woman of formidable contradictions: a frail, soft-spoken intellectual who became the most feared revolutionary in Europe. Born into a Jewish family in Poland and marked by a lifelong limp, she transformed her physical vulnerability into a razor-sharp weapon of words. After fleeing to Zurich to become one of the few women of her era to earn a doctorate, she entered the male-dominated world of German Social Democracy like a whirlwind. “Red Rosa” was a polemical genius who didn’t just fight the class enemy; she fearlessly challenged her own party’s leadership and even critiqued the Kaiser and Lenin alike. Her life was a relentless cycle of fiery speeches, clandestine editorial work, and repeated imprisonments, fueled by a belief that true freedom is always “the freedom of those who think differently.”

While she and Zetkin solidified the foundation of International Women’s Day and for the uncensored Voting right, Rosa’s ultimate loyalty was to the global proletariat, a devotion that eventually led her to co-found the Communist Party of Germany amidst the chaos of the 1918 November Revolution. Her journey ended in the dark winter of 1919, when she was brutally murdered by counter-revolutionary Freikorps soldiers and her body cast into Berlin’s сanal. Though her life was cut short, her legacy survives as a reminder of a woman who sacrificed everything for a world where humanity and justice might finally prevail.

Dared to dance like noone’s watching: Valeska Gert

In the 1920s, while traditional dancers sought grace and beauty, Valeska Gert turned the stage into a laboratory of human convulsion. Born into a wealthy Berlin Jewish family, she was a professional observer from childhood, obsessively mimicking the raw emotions of those around her. Her dance was a radical departure from ballet; she replaced flowing lines with tremors, screams, and the stark realities of urban life—playing prostitutes, impersonating politicians, and even imitating the process of dying. She’s been called an expressionist, a pantomimist, a grotesque dancer, a Dadaist, a madwoman. But almost everyone agreed on one thing: there was no dance like this before. She did not just perform; she provoked.Using scandal as her primary medium and finding power in the discomfort of her audience.

The rise of the Nazi regime abruptly ended her German career, labeling her art “degenerate” and forcing her into a penniless exile in New York. There, she reinvented herself by opening the Beggars Bar, a bohemian basement where she famously lured customers by reporting her own establishment to the police as a “spy den” or “an opium joint”. Upon returning to post-war Germany, she remained a jarring presence, staging in-your-face performances about Nazi atrocities long before the public was ready to confront them. Settling eventually on the island of Sylt, she opened her final cabaret, The Goat Shed, and was rediscovered by a new generation of rebels. By the time of her death, her rejection of “pretty” art and her embrace of raw, ugly truth earned her a new title: the “Grandmother of Punk,” a direct inspiration to icons like Nina Hagen.

Dared to stay human in nuclear physics: Lise Meitner

In the progressive yet prejudiced world of early 20th-century Berlin, Lise Meitner rose from working in a makeshift basement laboratory to becoming Germany’s first female physics professor. Despite facing systemic exclusion—at times literally forced to enter the institute through the back door—she formed a partnership with Otto Hahn, leading to the discovery of protactinium and the groundbreaking physical explanation of nuclear fission. However, her journey was severed by the rise of the Nazi regime; as a woman of Jewish descent, she was forced to flee into a precarious exile in Sweden. It was from there that she provided the crucial theoretical insight for fission, yet she was ultimately erased from the Nobel Prize that honored Hahn alone.

Throughout her life, Meitner remained a figure of profound moral clarity, famously refusing to join the Manhattan Project and rejecting the sensationalist title of “mother of the atomic bomb.” In the post-war years, she stood firm against the “moral passivity” of her former colleagues, refusing to provide the “Persil-certificates” used to whitewash their Nazi-era affiliations. Though her contributions were systematically undervalued by the institutions of her time, she is remembered today not just as a brilliant scientist, but as a person of immense integrity. As her epitaph in Cambridge simply states, she was “a physicist who never lost her humanity”—a legacy finally cast in bronze at Berlin’s Humboldt University.

Dared to call herself a doctor: Franziska Tiburtius

While the Prussian authorities were busy decreeing that women were intellectually unfit for medicine due to “smaller brain sizes,” Franziska Tiburtius was proving them wrong one patient at a time. Forced to study in Switzerland because German universities remained closed to her, she came to Berlin in 1877 only to find herself legally barred from calling herself a physician. Undeterred, she hung a modest sign next to her first office: “Dr. med. Zurich University.” Alongside her lifelong friend Emilie Lehmus, she opened a polyclinic for the poor, charging ten pfennigs or nothing at all. She navigated a world where famous scientists like Rudolf Virchow would walk out of a room rather than hear a woman speak, yet she won over the public with her pragmatism and humor—once even charming a satirical editor into ceasing his mockery of “lady doctors.”

Franziska’s legacy is not just one of individual success, but of systemic change. She understood that for women to truly enter medicine, the entire educational pipeline had to be rebuilt. She helped establish the first high-school courses for girls that led to the high school diploma, finally forcing the state to allow women into medical exams by 1898. By the time she passed away in 1927, she was surrounded by a generation of female surgeons and specialists who no longer had to enter their profession as guests. She died at 84 in the same clinic for women she had opened, having lived a life she claimed she “would not trade for any other.”

Dared to travel around the world at the dawn of car era: Clärenore Stinnes

In 1927, when the automobile was still a fragile luxury and paved roads were a rarity, twenty-six-year-old Clärenore Stinnes made an unthinkable declaration: she was going to drive around the world. As the daughter of Hugo Stinnes, one of Germany’s most powerful industrial tycoons, she was raised in a world of massive scale and ambition. Yet, after her father’s death, the era’s rigid gender norms barred her from leading the family empire. Refusing a life of quiet domesticity, Clärenore took her inheritance of iron and coal, forging it into a new identity behind the steering wheel. With 17 racing victories already under her belt, she secured corporate sponsorships and set off from Frankfurt in an Adler Standard 6. She was determined to prove the endurance of German engineering and her own adamant will.

The two-year odyssey that followed was less a road trip and more a brutal battle against geography itself. Accompanied by Swedish cinematographer Carl-Axel Söderström, Clärenore navigated the frozen, cracking ice of Lake Baikal, the trackless sands of the Gobi Desert, and the thin air of the Andes, where they used dynamite to blast paths through the rock. Along the way, her crew dwindled and her relationship with Söderström evolved from formal friction to a partnership “made of steel.” By the time they returned to Berlin in 1929—having covered 47,000 kilometers—they had achieved a feat of human and mechanical endurance that caught the attention of even Henry Ford. Despite her global fame, Clärenore eventually chose a quiet life in Sweden with Söderström, rarely looking back at her pioneering achievement. She remained a woman who throughout her long life always looked forward, leaving the world a smaller, more reachable place.

Dared to be poetic af: Else Lasker-Schüler

Else Lasker-Schüler did not merely write poetry; she inhabited it. A central figure of the Berlin avant-garde, she was unmistakable on the streets of Schöneberg with her jet-black bowl cut, flamboyant harem pants, and a neck draped in layers of shining jewelry. To the world, she was a bohemian eccentric; to herself, she was Prince Jussuf, a forever young oriental royalty out of a mystical fairy tale. This alter-ego was not a mask, but a reality she used to navigate two failed marriages and a life often spent on the brink of starvation. She traded verses along with hand-painted postcards with icons like Franz Marc and Gottfried Benn, inventing secret nicknames for her friends and creating a poetic language so personal and cosmic that it defied the rigid materialism of her time.

Despite her whimsical persona, Else’s life was marked by profound tragedy. Her radical drama, Die Wupper, exposed the jagged soul of the industrial working class, while her masterpiece poem, “An Old Tibetan Carpet”, wove human souls into the very texture of the universe. The 1920s brought her the prestigious Kleist Prize but also the devastating loss of her son, Paul, to tuberculosis. When the Nazis rose to power, the “Theban Prince” was forced into an exile, eventually finding herself stranded in Jerusalem as World War II broke out. Even there, as her health faded, she continued to write, envisioning a world where even Mephistopheles would repent in the face of Hitler’s atrocities. She died in 1945, a “citizen of Thebes” who proved that strong sensual poetry could survive in the flames of the world’s collapse.

Recently, I attended a women’s church conference at Fellowship Community Church. The keynote speaker was author Katherine Wolf. In April of 2008, a 26-year-old Katherine, without warning, just 6 months after giving birth to her first son, collapsed in her kitchen and suffered a massive brain-stem stroke. She spent 40 days in the ICU on life support after going through the surgery which saved her life but took away nearly each one of her physical abilities. She then underwent two years of intensive therapies to relearn how to eat, walk, and talk.

Even though she survived despite all odds, Katherine refuses to call herself a miracle. Rather she acknowledges that life, after all she’s endured, is hard, frustrating, and exhausting. In 2013, her neurologist discovered and operated on an aneurysm within her brain, and she developed multiple lethal vertebral artery dissections in 2017. In 2019, she was confirmed to have an incredibly rare and undiagnosable neurovascular disorder called Moyamoya Disease, in addition to Intracranial Stenosis.

Her book, ‘Treasures in the Dark’, was the book that Anchored in Hope, a bible study I attend at Fellowship Community Church for women with chronic illness, just finished a series on. At the conference, Katherine touched upon many of the lessons she covered in her book.

What she talked about that resonated with me the most was the verse Galatians 6:4-5, the Message Version, which reads, “Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.” Each line of this verse gives an instruction, a guide to live our lives by. Paul isn’t just telling us to look in the mirror, at what we see, and study our reflection. Paul is telling us to look at each and every piece of ourselves, the good and the bad, all the bits that make up who we are, even those that are the most broken parts.

If we look closely, we’ll realize that the work we’ve been given often correlates with who we are inside, with each of those bits and pieces that make us who we are. We are called to dig into that, because that work is how we will impact others who are hurting or in similar situations. If we pour our hearts and souls into first discovering who God made us to be, and why, we are better equipped to lead others, to allow them to find their true calling, their purpose scattered amongst the pieces of their own lives.

We are called to look at not only what we see in ourselves, but to—as Katherine put it—“cultivate ridiculous gratitude for what remains. For those of us with chronic illness, this verse isn’t just a list of instructions; it’s our way of life. We learn to redefine what a happy life looks like, and by doing that, we beat the devil at his own game. Because he wants us to think that because our life doesn’t look like everyone else’s, we could never be joyful, or praise God. So, when we, as Paul instructs us to, “do our creative best with our own lives”. We’re redefining what joy is, what hope is, what goodness is, by thriving, despite everything that tells us we can’t live a good life. Don’t let the devil win; get creative and inventive with your own life. Because when we are creative and make the most of what we have. Everything is not picture-perfect, but we’re showing the world that we can trust God in the creatively messy life we’re living, because he is the master artist and the author of it all.

The next lesson Katherine shared was the beauty of sharing our darkest places with others. She explained how we are living as a survival guide for others. Whether we know it or not, others are watching us navigate our own journeys. We may never fully grasp the impact that our story can have on someone else. Others may use our same battle tactics, or use our words as a map to help them out of the woods.

“While my suffering has no quota, neither does my hope.” This is one of my favorite quotes from Katherine’s book, which she discussed during the conference. She talked about how none of us is guaranteed that our days ahead of us will not be harder than our past. If we focus on only the hard things, that’s all we’ll see. She then mentioned that if we choose to flip this around, we can see that if something good has happened to us once, good things can happen again. She explained that if we’re willing to open our eyes to see the good things, our future can be full of them. While there may be an abundance of hard days ahead, there may be an abundance of good days ahead as well.

One thing that Katherine stated during her speech was that if we are here on Earth, we are supposed to be here. This really stuck with me. If we’re still here on Earth, we’re here for a reason. Our story isn’t finished being told yet. For those of us with chronic illness, we often struggle with the guilt of needing help from the people around us. We often feel like a burden to our family and friends. But we don’t have to feel bad about needing help from others. We’re a part of their lives, a part of their stories for a reason. If we’re on this Earth, we’re here for a purpose. God is still using us for something bigger than we could ever imagine. Just as Katherine said, “I might need help getting to the table, but I still have a seat there.” The same is true for all of us; we are still here, still alive, for a purpose, for a reason.

Another important note that this amazing woman remarked was that every one of us has a different brand of brokenness. We might not always see other people’s brokenness the way we see our own. They might do a better job at hiding it, or it might not be something so physically evident. But every single person has something that has broken their heart, leaving them frantically trying to glue the pieces of it back together before anyone notices. Whether it be loss and grief, addiction, disease, insecurity, etc., each of us is going through this world in physical or invisible wheelchairs. Every one of us is fighting to hold ourselves together inside, in fear of appearing broken to the world. Our brokenness, funnily enough, as empty as it can make us feel inside, is the one thing that connects all human beings together.

Katherine talked about redefining goodness, a concept that didn’t make sense at first when I heard it, but later realized it’s so essential to being able to pull ourselves out of this pit of suffering. You see, we can choose to see what was taken from us, in the midst of our pain and heartache, or we can choose to see the good that has come out of it, and will continue to pour out of our pain, if we just open our eyes and our minds enough to see it. Our idea of goodness might not look like what the world deems as good, but that’s okay. Our pain and our suffering have transformed our minds to be able to see the goodness in life despite the hard things we endure daily.

Another thing that Katherine communicated was that our trauma should be seen not as a diminishing of ourselves, but rather as an expansion of ourselves. We often look at our trauma and see how much we’ve lost because of it, how much of who we were before our pain has faded into the background. We tend to focus not on what we’ve gained, but what we’ve lost.

When it comes to trauma, it can often feel like we’ve lost part of ourselves, part of our identity is gone now. But at the same time, we’ve grown so much. One of the things I’ve often heard from my friends who have had brain tumors is that they wish their friends and family could see that they’re still the same person. I’ve often felt the same way. But Katherine opened my eyes to the fact that maybe, after our traumatic experiences, we’re not the same person. Trauma tends to give you a new perspective on what really matters in life, that the things we should be striving for aren’t the things the world tells us to go for. We grow from what we learn through our traumatic experiences, which is often more than we want to ever learn. So maybe, our trauma is not a diminishing of who we were, but rather, an expansion of who we were created to be.

One of the themes of her book, ‘Treasures in the Dark’, is this idea of a “good/hard” life. This is the idea that once again, while we will have many, many hard times in life, we will also have many good times in life. Katherine shared that “the good/hard life isn’t about ease, but about showing up scared to the ongoing hard in our lives, and choosing ongoing hope.” This is the idea that we don’t always know or see how the hard in our lives will turn out for our good, but choosing to hold onto the hope that despite all of the hard we face, something good is just around the corner. Also, choosing to fight through the hard to get to the good, no matter how long it might take, how uncertain our future seems, or how terrified we are.

The biggest takeaway I had from Katherine’s book and speech was that God can use our deepest, most hurtful wounds, to bring healing to the world. Through sharing our own story of healing in the world, through sharing our suffering, we can allow others to grab onto that tiniest thread of hope, that if we can pull through our darkest times, maybe, just maybe, they can too. One of the things that I loved about ‘Treasures in the Dark’ was that at the end of each chapter, she gives an affirmation, and then states, “If it’s true for me, could it be true for you too?” This is such a powerful statement, as simple as it may seem. Because what if we start not just encouraging others, but affirming that their pain will one day get better. By affirming that others wounds will someday be healed, that they will come out on the other side, is indeed how we change the world for the better.

Edited by Sonal Butley

Sources:

Wolf, K. (2024). Treasures in the Dark. Thomas Nelson.

My relationship with Sex And the City growing up was nonexistent. I didn’t even know the show existed until I was well past my formative years. Therefore the attempt to watch SATC, was one made with “grown” eyes. I will be completely honest, I could not get past the whole Mr. Big obsession. This made watching video essays on SATC, more entertaining than actually watching the show. The hours poured into exploring the world of SATC through the lens of multiple video essays, as opposed to anything beyond season 1, has been enough for me to declare that Mr. Big should’ve been burned at the stake.

That may seem like a harsh punishment, however, women were burned at the stake for far less in both media and in history. Therefore, I don’t think this is that much of a far fetched idea. Mr. Big is a big reason why I could not get into SATC. He’s got me wishing that the peloton got him sooner. Unfortunately pelotons were not released until 2014, which would’ve been a bit of a timeline/continuity issue. Though, I am not above getting Dr. Strange involved.

Carrie and Big’s relationship was a major plot point that should’ve ended the second it began. While I can appreciate the realness that comes with being obsessed with a guy who honestly could not care less if you got ran over by a truck in front of him, I do disagree with all the ways in which Carrie embarrassed herself time and time again for him. It physically pains me to watch it happen. She is too much of a baddie. Baddie down. Especially considering that when she finally got him, he still continued to embarrass her. I will never ever forget when they were supposed to get married, and had Vogue cover their wedding, only for Mr. Big to not only be late, but also tell her, outside of the venue, that he did not want to marry her. The fact that she went back to him after that… humiliation ritual. I need my girl, Carrie, to stand up immediately.

To all the girls, gays, and they’s reading this… do not be a Carrie (romantically speaking). If you have a Mr. Big in your life, please do yourself, and your friends a favor, and leave him. Walk away from the humiliation ritual. As a chronically online netizen I saw this comment somewhere on the great internet that said, and I quote, “SATC is like Obsession from Mr. Big’s point of view”. You do not want to be like Bear. So, bare with the pain of not having your Mr. Big, and walk away.

Editor-In-Chief Note: In December 2021, The Hollywood Reporter published accounts from two women who accused actor Chris Noth (Mr.Big) of sexual assault in 2004 and 2015. Shortly after, additional women came forward with similar allegations. Noth was subsequently fired from CBS's The Equalizer and dropped by his talent agency, while his character's final scene in And Just Like That... was cut.

Thus, some questions remained hanging in the air. The major being: do the queer venues stand a chance in the modern world that’s rapidly changing?

This photo project was conceived with an intention to capture the atmosphere of one popular meeting spot for Berlin’s queer community – Tipsy Bear bar, usually bustling and filled with music, sex, flirtation and dancing. But to see it not only in the party lights in the midst of its regular karaoke night, but also when its dance floor is still empty, the barman behind the bar idling waiting for the first guests, neon spotlights illuminating the darkness of the stage in vain, and an eerie silence reigning in the back corridors.

I was trying to imagine what would happen if the city were to lose such get-together spots. Where would the voices of the queer community be heard then? And what would the city and its residents lose as a whole?

Tipsy Bear acts as an important sanctuary for international immigrants, trans individuals, and diverse facets of the queer community. Known as a “no-frills” hideaway, the venue is celebrated for giving emerging and multidisciplinary queer artists a platform, providing opportunities for Drag Kings, DIY drag performers, and open-stage acts to hone their craft. The bar became a focal point for queer solidarity and local activism after its Pride flag was stolen and burned. The venue responded by hosting major street demonstrations against rising local queerphobia, turning acts of hatred into visible celebrations of love and acceptance.

I think that everyone, or hopefully everyone, walks around life trying to put their best foot forward. Obviously, everyone has a different meaning of what it means to be a good person– but I really don’t think that there are many people out there that wake up and aim to be a bad person. But, is it possible that there are people who wake up and have such high moral standards that it brings their own good nature down, labeling them as people who cause more harm than good?

This idea began after spending a solid hour doom scrolling on Tiktok, actively avoiding final essays that I have to write, when I came across Hannah Glenn ( @hannahglennhannahglenn) and a video she posted about her new substack essay: Moral Superiority Will Turn You Into A Bad Person. She states that 98% of people believe they are the nicest person they have ever encountered and goes to say that how people act online shows that they never once have had any human mess ups and are in fact “the perfect person”. I feel like this can be seen in Gen Z in the past election term, when it showed many of the new democrat voters chose not to vote since Harris was not the ‘perfect politician.’

There has started to be a large emphasis on being ‘perfect’ even in possible imperfect ways. Consumers and people on social media want people to be honest, but not too honest because they have to save face; humble but not ingenuine— be niche and original but relatable. I don’t know if this is a niche reference, but around two years ago a woman posted a recipe video of her bean salad to which someone commented “can this be without beans, i hate beans.”

It has become standard now to produce things that others can be involved in– to pass opinions on. I think it also has a major influence on purity culture that has risen in the last few years. I don’t mean religious purity– though that too probably has a lot to do with this topic, but health and aesthetically. I can really see this on my college campus, if you don’t meal-prep, or go to the gym everyday, or spend 16 hours on your school work, yet still make time to go out until 2 in the morning you are doing ‘adult’ wrong. If you don’t subscribe to group-think you are outed as someone unworthy of any entertainment. People really continue to believe that how they live life is the best possible way and they hold themselves higher than those around them.

I think the best way to combat this is higher morality that causes you to end up just being a mean or ‘bad’ person, is it to recognize that all that matters is yourself. I am not suggesting everyone turn into selfish humans, but move through life understanding, you live with you the whole time and would you even want to be around you if you met yourself? I think that by focusing on these questions, you start to realise; if you can’t stand yourself you probably do not need to judge others. Obviously it’s a lot easier said than done and if I’m honest I really don’t see my generation changing much anytime soon, but maybe if at least one person starts trying to be nicer to themselves, see their own flaws, we will stop pointing out others flaws.

Edited by Lottie Bowden and Lilli Eve

“What is a person if not memories?”

Spoken by Spencer Agnew on the Smosh Pit YouTube channel while explaining the evil lore of Resident Evil. What was meant to be a passive remark about the start of this video game readily gained traction on TikTok within the highly popular niche called hopecore. The hashtag hopecore has thousands of videos and posts spanning across TikTok and Instagram, and it really has me thinking, when did being human become a trend?

Obviously, there has always been a sense of interest when it comes to human emotions that are more complex. Stories that detail the human condition go as far back as hieroglyphics in Egyptian culture, where it highlights the lifestyles of that time. Through each passage of time, an emphasis on what makes humans human has always been at the core of art. But somehow that started to become ‘performative.’

I think it started during the pandemic. I know, a very basic take. Nearly everything became a trend during COVID. You had the Tumblr aesthetic of 2014 and the Instagram baddie of 2016. You had people who liked a look but not a feeling. Then COVID happened, and soon enough, people couldn’t be people the way they always had. Everything was virtual, and sure, art and humanity found a way to weave through the limitations, but soon after, hopecore came to life.

Hopecore is essentially the trend where people look at the world with a sense of hope– it is pretty much in the name. There started to be a whole niche where the core of it was wishing for a time where we could be vivaciously human. The videos and posts under #hopecore consists mostly of dancing, laughing, and being affectionate. There is also this major wave of collective nostalgia that I am sure everyone has felt when you leave your childhood behind– but I feel like social media (I sound like an old person, but it might actually be those damn phones) has hit a total peak. Instead of actually living, we romanticize the idea of living. Maybe that is because my generation as a whole is more aware of how scary living is. Our whole lives, we were told that we were the ones to save the world, and now, drinking water is running out, we are at war, and everything is so expensive that few of us can survive on one job alone.

It’s interesting to see, because of this frankly increasingly depressive time, that this idea of hope is gaining so much traction. We are nostalgic for a time most don’t remember. We crave making memories, yet it seems most of us are just doing this from our phones. We are making edits to sounds about people having memories, but there aren’t a lot of memories being physically made in our lives. Personally, I really love this trend– contrary to how I sound writing about it. I think having hope is the best thing we can do. We seem to be longing for a time when everything was more physical, more real, after constantly second-guessing if the rabbits were actually jumping on the trampoline (TikTok: @rachelthecatlovers).

I guess my takeaway from hopecore and the quote “what is a person if not memories” is to stop applying it only to fictional characters in a show. I have seen beautiful edits to different characters from hit television shows that I save in case I need a pick-me-up later in the day. But maybe, instead of romanticizing the fictional lives in shows and the lives our parents were able to have before the chronically online lifestyle took hold, start living that life. Over spring break, I took my first adult trip. Fully paid by myself, with three of my closest friends, and yes, we took a lot of photos on our iPhones, and we made silly TikToks like the 212 trend – because we were literally in the 212 since we were in New York. However, about 75% of our photos and videos were taken on my digital camera and my best friend’s old vlog camera. Our photos came out with the fuzzy look that comes from old thrifted cameras. It made us live more in the moment; surprisingly, my phone time went down, and so did my friends. We focused on capturing memories of our first adult trip rather than capturing photos for likes – they were still great photos because we know our way around a camera.

I think it’s possible for us to have the memories and life we crave; we just literally have to put the phone down and live a little.

As Wai-Tung realizes that his father is having serious health issues, he decides to fake a marriage with one of his tenants, Wei Wei. She is a Chinese immigrant painter in need of a green card to stay in the United States. As his family arrives in the states, and this said trio’s fake marriage, their lies, secrets, and patience start to wear thin on each other as the parents deal with more health scares, truths, and disappointments. Chiang describes the film as an open space for “gay people in homophobic Asian and American communities…it also calls to mind the co-optation of the gay male in the reconstruction of Asian patriarchy” (Chiang). Lee’s film, The Wedding Banquet, shows how the characters use performative heterosexuality to maintain power, most notably through the directorial choices of lighting and music that show the instability that the characters experience as they lose the power that they once thought they had.

Lee chooses to show who is lying in a different way than normal directors do. Throughout the film he puts a focus on who is lying in the family and is burdened by the secrets from the performative heterosexuality that many of them display by keeping them out of focus or darkened while in frame. One scene that relates to how someone is lying is the scene after Wei Wei and Wai-Tung’s courthouse marriage. In this scene Wei-Wei, Wai-Tung, and his family are walking forward as Simon rushes in front to take a photo of all of them together, Simon is in complete shade and darkness compared to the other characters. Simon is the secret that Wei Wei and Wai-Tung are keeping. He is Wai-Tung’s boyfriend and rightful partner, where Wei Wei is not. Compared to Simon, Wei Wei (also in the front of the group) is completely lit up, because she is the hope for all the characters. The beard to help Wai-Tung and Simon conceal their relationship from Wai-Tung’s family and present the hope for a grandchild for Mr. and Mrs. Gao. She holds hope and secrets in her hands, theoretically holding all the power within the parties. (The Wedding Banquet, 40:33).

Wai-Tung and his father on the other hand are shadowed on one side each, the side that faces Mrs. Gao and each other. This can be theorized to be a visual representation of their lies to each other. The side of which Simon is on is lit up for Wai-Tung, because Simon knows his secrets; he is not being lied to. While Mr. Gao’s lit up side is to a wall because at this point in the film, no one, not even the audience, knows the secret he is keeping. At 40 minutes 38 seconds, just 5 seconds later, we see Wei Wei completely covering Mrs. Gao in darkness. Mrs. Gao’s power as the matriarch of the family is now being replaced by Wei Wei, ultimately making Mrs. Gao obsolete in the care of her son (The Wedding Banquet, 40:33).

Earlier in the film, we see that Mr. and Mrs. Gao are shrouded in darkness in the car upon the first time being in America to see his newly betrothed son and daughter-in-law-to-be. The darkness on their faces is almost a little too literal in sense, because in this portion of the film, both of them are completely in the “dark” about the truth of their son and his “marriage.” They do not start to be shown in light until Wei Wei continues to explain about her family: the only truth they have heard so far in the film. (The Wedding Banquet, 25:27).

Ang Lee’s choice in music with the artist Mader, also helps show how performative the characters feel they need to be and the anxieties that come with it. In the same scene in the car when the parents are picked up by Wai-Tung and Wei Wei, a more “mysterious” roll of the song “Ma & Pa Arrive” at 2 seconds as the Mr. and Mrs. Gao look at each other knowingly and concerningly because Wei Wei is from the “mainland” of China (The Wedding Banquet, 26:00). This shows their own anxieties with the fact that Wai-Tung is marrying a Chinese girl, instead of a Taiwanese girl. Taiwan and China have been at odds for centuries due to China believing they own Taiwan and Taiwan wanting independence. Letting Wai-Tung marry Wei Wei and accepting her within the family gives up a lot of the power they sought to have as traditional Taiwanese citizens. This was further shown that this scene happens right after they mention a tradition they have towards the parents of the bride that Wei Wei ultimately dismisses.

Later, in the same song, a more jazz sound starts up with a trumpet playing at a more anxious pace as we see Simon hurrying to make food for the family and rushing to the door, while also taking off his earring. This scene is important, because it shows a hurriedness in Simon to make sure everything is perfect. The song, the food, the earring; it all gives to the performance that Simon is playing for the guests that don’t even see him yet. The jazz of the music makes this feel more like a dance as well as a welcoming. (The Wedding Banquet, 26:12).

Throughout the film, Mader chooses to mix in more traditional Chinese influences into the music. During really critical points of the film Mader chose to have more of a traditional sound playing, like “The Boiling Point” during multiple scenes: when Wei Wei drunkenly takes advantage of Wai-Tung (1:08:55) or during Wei Wei’s shower scene where she ultimately realizes that she is pregnant (1:13:37). These two scenes are pivotal to the story and around times when something big is happening for Wei Wei and Wai-Tung together when no one is looking, and Wei Wei still makes Wai-Tung put on a heteronormative performance, even though she does know the truth. These are also instances that Wai-Tung has no power at all, even though he is the man, he has unwillingly given control to Wei Wei.

The final kind of music that Mader chose to include, is music mixed with his rhumba and Chinese accents. His song, “Rhumba (end credit)”, at the end of the film mixes both of the sounds we hear throughout the film and this scene also shows a mixing of cultures. With Simon, Wei Wei, and Wai-Tung all shown as finally happy. Simon has been given Mr. Gao’s blessing to be with Wai-Tung, Wai-Tung is out to his mother and has made his father proud by giving him a grandchild, and Wei Wei has a family that will be there for her and a green card so she can stay in the states and be a painter.

The Wedding Banquet (1993) is a film that takes intergenerational relationships between two cultures and tries to find common ground between them. Ultimately, at the end of the film, they all realize they had lost the power they so desperately were trying to stay hold of with the lies they were telling each other and got the happiness they wanted when they finally started telling the truth. The only character to have seemed to have genuinely gotten everything and held power the entire time is Mr. Gao. Mr. Gao held all the power throughout the film, except over his own body. He’s dying, he is having strokes, and he is in hospitals, which is why any of this happens in the first place. The lack of power each character holds is nicely shown with Ang Lee’s choice of lighting and music. The anxiety, lies, and deceit are why they all are miserable throughout the film.

Works Cited

“Ang Lee.” Edited by Encyclopaedia Britannica, Britannica Academic, 2025.

Chiang, Mark. “Coming Out into the Global Systems Postmodern Patriarchies and Transnational Sexualities in The Wedding Banquet”, Q & A: Queer in Asian America. 1998, 374-395.

Mader. “Mao / Photos.” The Wedding Banquet (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack), 1993. Loon Music

The Wedding Banquet. Directed by Ang Lee, Bleeker Street Media, et al. 1993

Edited by Isabelle Hampton-Zabotti

Mary Shelley is the mother of Gothic literature ever since she wrote and released her novel, Frankenstein. Many people have taken an analytical approach towards this novel and Mary Shelley herself in comparison. In Kathleen Béres Rogers’s article “The Monstrous Idea in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein”, she says that “scholars have contributed valuable psychoanalytical readings of Victor Frankenstein’s various obsessions-be it the homosocial obsession with the creature, his filial obsession with his mother, or even his obsession with his father’s lack of love” (p356). On a further look into Frankenstein, one can see the similarities between Mary Shelley’s mental state and life and that of her main characters, Victor Frankenstein and the “monster. ” By focusing on Mary Shelley’s background and relationships she had with her family, friends, and the influences they had in her novel without contributing, it can be compared to Victor Frankenstein’s own relationship with his family and the “monster” he creates.

Mary Shelley grew up with her father, step-mother, and step-sister. Her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, died shortly after she had given birth to Shelley, and it had been a guilt Shelley lived with her entire life. She had wished for her mother and visited her mother’s grave regularly, even into adulthood when she met with Percy Bysshe Shelley before they married. In “Mary Shelley as Frankenstein” by Elisabeth A. Waites, she describes in her introduction, “After a whirlwind of courtship of secret meetings with Shelley at the grave of her mother…” (pg. 583). Going into her relationship with her father, Mary Shelley and William Godwin had a strained relationship as she was growing up, as her mother was the reason he opened up into life and when she died, he became even more closed off than he was before. This grew worse when he married Shelley’s stepmother due to the strained relationship with the stepmother as well. And this worsened when she “slipped furtively from her father’s house in London to join Percy Bysshe Shelley who was waiting to elope with her to the continent” (Waites, pg 583). Waites then continues to describe the state of either side’s family during this, “[Percy Shelley] had recently left his pregnant wife and child, and had been angrily cut off by his father. Mary’s father, William Godwin, was also furious at the runaway couple and refused to be reconciled” (Waites, p583).

Mary Shelley is seen using her relationships as influence within her novel. Starting from how she thought of the novel to why she wrote it, and the comparisons between herself and the characters. Shelley felt a lot of guilt by feeling like she was the cause of death for her mother and felt even more guilt when she lost her first child after two weeks of giving birth. Waites explains that “Mary grieved her loss but was soon pregnant again…she gave birth to a son” (Waites, p583). The fact that she struggled so much with motherhood and birth can be related into the fact that in her introduction of the novel, Frankenstein, she calls the novel her “hideous progeny.” Her description can be seen as a reference to how much she struggled with motherhood with the loss of her own child and then creates Frankenstein during another pregnancy, where she could potentially have the same problems as her first child. Shelley’s struggles are analyzed by Stephen Bann who “interprets association by drawing a double analogy with Mary Shelley’s own ‘anxiety of authorship’ and ‘anxiety of monstrosity.’” (Onega, p126). In the book, this can be shown with her character Victor Frankenstein as well. Victor Frankenstein had a close relationship with his mother in the novel before she died. She then sets this guilt upon Elizabeth because “Elizabeth had caught scarlet fever…[the mother] attended her sick bed…Elizabeth was saved, but at the consequences of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver” (Shelley, p 65). Shelley is seen to have put a lot of herself into the novel’s characters.

Victor can be seen to the Creature the same way Dr. Jekyll can be seen the Mr. Hyde. Throughout the novel, both characters mirror each other in different ways. When being introduced to Victor, we are told that he wants knowledge. He consumes chem and alchemy even when his father and one of his professors tells him it is useless. He goes so far to create the perfect man, so that he can prove that he could create life. The creature on the other hand also wanted knowledge. He wanted to know how to speak the language, he wanted to know how to build a life, how to speak to people, and how to interact with everyone. He yearned for any kind of relationship with Victor and other people. But just like how Victor shunned his own creation, the creation was shunned by the world, and then shunned the world back. Shelley perfectly captures Victor’s feelings towards the creature, “instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy daemon, to whom I had given life” (p 96). Continuing onto how the creature murdered those who had done him wrong. “Could he be (I shudder at the conception) the murderer of my brother...I became convinced of its truth…” (p 97). Victor’s brother, Victor’s friend, and Victor’s wife. After being completely betrayed and shunned by his creator he exacted vengeance on him and in return, Victor ended up dying because he wanted his own vengeance on the creature.

Victor’s own lust for knowledge can be taken back all the way to Mary Shelley herself. In the “Motherless Child in Science Fiction” by Steven Leeman, he states that “Mary Shelley’s grief over the death of her baby is refracted through the obsession of her “mad scientist protagonist”, Victor Frankenstein…underlying his megalomaniac hunger for power through procreative science” (p 49). Indicating Victor’s own want is reflected from the fact that Mary Shelley wanted her baby. The death of the baby turned Mary Shelley into a grief stricken woman which she put into Victor with his obsessions. His obsession with learning and with the creature. The creature also has an obsession, he was obsessed with the suffering of Victor.

Works Cited

Capri, Daniela, editor. “Monsters and monstrosity.” De Gruyter, vol. 16, 17 June 2019. Law & Literature, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110654615.

Lehman, Steven. “The Motherless Child in Science Fiction: ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘Moreau’ (L’Orphelin de Mère Dans La Science Fiction: ‘Frankenstein’ et ‘Moreau’).” Science Fiction Studies, vol. 19, no. 1, 1992, pp. 49–58. JSTOR.

Onega, Susana. “Patriarchal law and the ethics and aesthetics of monstrosity in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.” Edited by Capri. Monsters and Monstrosity, vol. 16, 17 June 2019, pp. 115–130. Law & Literature, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110654615-007.

Rogers, Kathleen Béres “The Monstrous Idea in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.” Literature and Medicine, vol. 36, no. 2, 2018, pp. 356-371. ProQuest, doi: https://doi.org/10.1353/lm.2018.0018

Soccio, Anna Enrichetta. “Victorian Frankenstein: From fiction to science.” Edited by Carpri. Monsters and Monstrosity, vol. 16, 17 June 2019, pp. 131–140. Law & Literature, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110654615-008.

Waites, Elizabeth A. “MARY SHELLEY AS FRANKENSTEIN.” Psychoanalytic Review, vol. 78, no. 4, 1991, pp. 583. ProQuest, https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/mary-shelley-as-frankenstein/docview/1310158072/se-2

Edited by Hannah Villegas