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

Have you ever questioned your own whimsy? I mean, with the up-and-coming trends of “upping your whimsy”, how whimsical are you?

For a recent college project, my assignment teammates and I created a reel named ‘Day In My Life (Teapot Version).’ The concept was really simple: show the kettle in situations it doesn’t belong in. Use it in ways it’s not meant to be. From being used as a flower pot in the living room space to being a pen stand in the office, in every imaginable situation a kettle was suddenly there. The tea kettle goes so far as to be a cuddle buddy for the owner.

It’s absurd, I know but that’s the point of being whimsical.

While creating the reel, I felt myself push the bounds of how whimsical the reel can be while also having a satirical undertone. Of course, logically, nobody would go to sleep with their favourite kettle, but that’s the point, no, what is stopping us? I mean, the whimsical culture is the next best thing. Indulging in it would only add to your happiness. Thinking creatively gets monotonous at times, what looks visually pleasing, what fits a specific visual aesthetics. I realised, things don’t have to be so serious. Life doesn’t have to be so serious. Being whimsical breaks those chains, once freed, creatively? The world is my oyster and maybe, things won’t feel so stressful anymore. I can be creatively ambitious without wanting to cry every 5 minutes.

The last few years have been so hyper-focused on minimalism; doughnut-glazed skin and nails, clean girls, type A vs type B girls. It’s time for playful, childlike and slightly nostalgic ideas to come forth. To be honest my desi ass could never do minimalism anyways, but whimsical is definitely something I encourage.

I’ve realised as we grow older, we get serious and lose what made us, US.

I had Tamagotchi to play, hopscotch till our very technologically advanced beeping watches told us it was time to go home; our childhoods are filled with what we very serious adults would consider whimsical. All of these activities were just natural for me when I was a child. Who knows, maybe if I had a favourite kettle then, I would’ve used it as a cuddle buddy.

There was an innocence in that part of childhood which we all lost somewhere along the way into having to cough up 4 garments in the span of a few months or god forbid, get my drivers license. Can we go back to when nothing mattered the way it does now, everything had a story, and feelings. Nothing is stopping us from picking flowers on our way to the office, or wearing a princess dress for our next birthday. I vividly remember this dark pink DEEPLY UNCOMFORTABLE dress I wore for almost four birthdays in a row. I mean obviously comfort was a sacrifice all princesses made. That dress meant more than just a dress to me, I was literally Sofia The First in that dress. My mother didn’t even fight it, she knew that it was the only dress for me and god do I grieve that dress. It made me feel so at home.

To begin the whimsical journey, learn how to get in touch with your truest self and push yourself to get out of what you’ve nestled into, YOLO or whatever. Be the weirdo you are scared to be; you’ll never want to go back.

Edited by Hanna Villegas

Mental health in the 1950s was not taken as seriously as it is today. It was often regarded as a form of lunacy or defect, and individuals experiencing mental illness were typically institutionalized in asylums, where they received treatments such as electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) and early psychotropic medications (Kousoulis). Though some antidepressants had emerged during this time, specifically iproniazid and imipramine, they were still relatively new. Iproniazid, initially developed to treat tuberculosis, was discovered to have mood-lifting effects, while imipramine became the first tricyclic antidepressant (López-Muñoz).

To continue, mental health itself went through a series of acts within the world of law and medicine before Sam Selvon published his novel, Lonely Londoners. Going back to 1890, when the Lunacy Act was established. According to the National Library of Medicine, this act established legal control over psychiatric admissions, requiring only two medical certificates signed by qualified medical doctors for admission to lunatic asylums. Still, the Act required an additional ‘reception order’, generally referred to as ‘legal certification’ (Takabayashi) and helped to make sure that people were not wrongly confined within an asylum. Many psychiatrists were not on board with this because “they thought the Act deprived them of their authoritative position in mental health services, particularly through the introduction of legal certification and suspension of licensing of new private asylums” (Takabayashi). This is because private asylums were the most profitable in the psychiatric economy.

A journal article from the British Medical Journal goes into how, 40 years later, the Mental Treatment Act was established in 1930. This act had reorganized the Board of Control. The Board of Control for Lunacy and Mental Deficiency oversaw the treatment of the mentally ill. And just 18 years later, the National Health Service was established. This service involved the first health system to offer free medical care to the entire population.

People of color were usually those deemed more frequently as mentally insane due to the way those in power saw them as inferior. Walter A. Adams writes about how therapists should treat patients of color. Saying things like, “[The] therapist must learn to be careful in his choice of words and learn to avoid seemingly harmless phrases” and continues with an example that “a therapist who refers to Negroes as ‘you people’ or ‘your people’ calls attention to his own differences and makes the Negro patient suspicious, wary and fearful of being patronized.”

Displacement

Sam Selvon was born in 1923 in San Fernando, Trinidad, West Indies. He died in 1994 in Trinidad. He had moved to London in 1950 and lived there for six years before publishing The Lonely Londoners (Dawes). He takes his own personal experiences and writes them into his novel, as the main character, Moses, is also a Trinidadian man who moved to London. Through the novel, the reader can see and feel the sense of displacement, loneliness, and melancholy with the characters as they go through their lives in London as immigrants. Specifically, black Caribbean immigrants in the 1950s.

Moses is Selvon’s main character, who goes through the lives of every other character met within the novel. The audience first meets him at a station, waiting for Galahad to come to London for a friend. Moses is the man everyone goes to when they are coming to London, or if they need a job. Though, he is barely afloat. His sense of isolation is felt while he is waiting for Galahad, “For the old Waterloo is a place of arrival and departure… Perhaps he was thinking is time to go back to the tropics, that’s why he feeling sort of lonely and miserable” (Selvon 1).

Moses is unhappy throughout the novel. He is the man everyone goes to for help, but he has no one to go to when he needs it. Even though he longs for it, “Sometimes during the week, when he come home and he can’t sleep, is as if he is hearing the voices in the room, all the moaning and groaning and sighing and crying, and he open his eyes expecting to see the boys sitting around” (Selvon 12). These thoughts are what lead him to consider going back to Trinidad.

Akram Al Deek wrote the book Writing Displacement: Home and Identity in Contemporary Post-Colonial English Fiction, and says, “that distance can provoke a nostalgic national consciousness…nationalism ‘affirms the home created by a community of language, culture, and customs; and by doing so, it fends off exile, fights to prevent its ravages” (p. 60). This ties in with the psychological basis of what Moses is going through. This author also says that “[the] need for a reconstruction, a translation, or a reconfiguration becomes a necessity because melancholy (a persistent mourning) over a lost past keeps the displaced distant from the moment of now and here” (p 58). This fully translates to Moses and his constant anxiety of the past and future, and lack of a present. He does not live in the now and worries about how he has not done anything with his life.

He cannot go back home, though, because just like when immigrants move to America, being promised the American dream, Moses was promised the dream life in London. This disillusionment is also where his depression stems from and is why he cannot face his family or failure, but Moses is stuck in an endless loop of survival and welcoming new immigrants to London. He is repeating the same things and has little to reflect on. As he notes, “I don’t know these people at all, yet they coming to me as if I is some liaison officer” (Selvon 2). Though he plays the role of guide and supporter, this only deepens his emotional exhaustion with people and London.

Altogether, Moses’s depression and anxieties are not just a personal struggle but emblematic of the broader postcolonial immigrant experience. It speaks to a collective trauma of displacement and the burden of living between worlds, where the past is mourned, the future feared, and the present, empty.

Family

Tolroy is a character also from the Caribbean, although where he is from specifically is never stated. He is one of Moses’ friends who is first met at Waterloo Station, as he is waiting for his mother to get to London. He is initially nervous about his mother coming to London. Which is shown when he is talking with Moses and says, “’Boy, I expect my mother to come,’ Tolroy say, in a nervous way, as if he frighten at the idea” (Selvon 5). Moses has a hard time just supporting himself throughout the story; we can imagine that Tolroy may be struggling as well, but he is taking on the responsibility of his mother as well.

Lo, and behold, his mother had decided to bring his aunt Tanty, cousin Lewis, Lewis’ wife Agnes, and their children. His mother brought them upon hearing about his earnings and decided that London could not be much different compared to their home, and that Tolroy could support them all. This is shown with his mother’s answer, “‘All of we come, Tolroy,’ Ma say. ‘This is how it happen: when you write home to say you getting five pounds a week Lewis say, ‘Oh God, I going England tomorrow” (Selvon 9).

Tolroy’s earnings, while impressive to his family, are not enough for a family in London to live off of. Showing a lack of knowledge on how the real world works, they continue to stress Tolroy out: Tanty not knowing how London works, Lewis treats his wife terribly, and when she leaves, he burdens his issues onto Tolroy.

His mother, bringing his family with her, has added more people to his personal space and free time, and they see him as the one who bears their burdens. Anyone who is losing not only financial stability but also their autonomy would not only feel stressed but also be emotionally exhausted. This is evident when Tolroy has had enough and tells Tanty he is tired of Lewis asking him where Agnes has gone. He is frustrated that his whole family has come when he sent for only his mother. He reminds Tanty that they are no longer living in Jamaica, and that London is a very different place. He is facing unnecessary and unexpected responsibilities, which further highlights a kind of burden and isolation placed upon immigrants. His family has that “immigrant dream” that brought Moses and Tolroy, but as both have been there for years now, they have woken up to the frustrations and cultural differences between the two countries.

Optimism

When Sam Selvon introduces Moses, he also introduces Galahad, or Henry Oliver, as the person Moses is meant to meet. Galahad arrives in London with almost nothing (“What luggage? … When I start a work I will buy some things.”(Selvon 13)), which shocks Moses. He is fresh-faced and ready to work, as if nothing could frighten him. This is similar to how Tolroy’s family comes to London, believing that Tolroy can take care of them. Galahad views life with optimism and aims to live in a way that exhibits resilience, as if nothing can touch him. But then he eats a pigeon. He eats a pigeon because he is hungry, he is broke, and he is out of ideas. He is in the park and decides to catch a pigeon, as they are everywhere, and brings it back to Moses. As Moses tells him that he can’t just take birds from the park like in Trinidad. This shows a breaking point, a complete psychotic break, and his disillusionment with London is broken. Galahad had what everyone else had: a reality check. Moses knew this would come because he had seen it countless times with other men whom Moses was asked to guide around London and be shown the ropes; it was also something Moses had.

Sex and Race

In The Lonely Londoners, Sam Selvon offers a sharp critique of the racial and social prejudices that interracial couples faced in 1950s London, particularly through the experiences of characters like Galahad. Although interracial relationships were not illegal, they were heavily stigmatized, and public opinion often turned hostile. This is reflected in Ashley Dawson’s essay “In the Big City the Sex Life Gone Wild”: Migration, Gender, and Identity in Sam Selvon’s The Lonely Londoners, where she describes a scene involving a Swedish woman and her Jamaican husband. Their argument escalates when bystanders intervene under the guise of protecting the woman, but when she defends her husband, she becomes the new target, condemned for being married to a Black man. Similar dynamics play out in Selvon’s novel, where characters like Galahad, Cap, and Bart date white women for different reasons. While Galahad seems to genuinely enjoy his relationship and sees it as a sign of belonging in his new environment, Cap is more opportunistic, often relying on white women for financial support. Bart, meanwhile, is driven by a desire to improve his social standing through these relationships.

Galahad’s experience is especially telling. He is proud to be with a white woman, takes her to shows, and even visits her family, believing there is nothing wrong with their relationship. However, when her father discovers their romance, he erupts in fury and physically chases Galahad out of the house. This becomes a pivotal moment for Galahad, one in which his earlier optimism begins to erode as he is forced to confront the harsh realities of racism in Britain. Even earlier, a seemingly innocent moment, when Galahad playfully covers his girlfriend’s eyes from behind, elicits horrified reactions from onlookers. But it is the violent rejection by her father that truly shatters Galahad’s illusion of belonging. As Dawson points out, relationships between Black men and white women in the novel are not merely personal; they are politically and socially charged, reflecting how Black male desire is constantly policed and pathologized by the white majority. These personal encounters ultimately highlight one of the novel’s central themes: the painful dissonance between hope and reality for Black immigrants trying to find identity, love, and acceptance in a deeply prejudiced society.

Modernism

Sam Selvon attempts to hold a mirror to the world and how they were treating people like him who just wanted a life different from at home. Many immigrants were treated as unwanted, inferior, dirtier, among other things. Modernist writers liked to show their world how they were treating their people. One would think that “realism” would be a better way to show the world its true horrors but Laura Winkiel states that “as for many modernists, the real world is too fragmented, irrational and chaotic to be mirrored by realism” (22). She says before that “facts, evidence, and narrative causality are hallmarks of realism, a literary and painterly technique, that attempts to imitate a rational, empirical experience and knowable social world” (22). Except that the world does not make sense and is not easily rendered in a way that is true to the point of “what you see is what there.” A different method that she mentions is the ‘mythical method’, which “’ is a step toward making the modern world possible for art’ (178)” as she quotes on page 22. She continues on to say that “myth provides form, a way of shaping the complexity, scale and diversity of the modern world into something recognizable” (22). Selvon knows that the world cannot be rendered in a “realist” way, and that is shown through his work. A way he showed this was through melancholia. Melancholy, by definition, means the feeling of sadness. In a modernist context, it becomes more grey and less definite on what the definition is. Sanja Bahun speaks at length about melancholia and its origins with Freud. He also says that “[the] most significant among them are the blurring of boundaries between the subject and the object, and the consequential impossibility to identify loss” (Bahun). Bahun continues to say that Freud claims that “Melancholia…may develop around the loss of a social abstraction such as ‘fatherland’ and ‘liberty,’ or around the loss of an actual individual (SE XIV: 243; 245); it can be triggered by loss, or intimation of loss, of an idea or a whole system of symbols” (Bahun). All our characters in The Lonely Londoners experience a loss of their “fatherland”, in the case of Moses, or “liberty”, in the case of Tolroy.

Conclusion

Sam Selvon wrote a deep criticism of how black immigrants were treated in 1950s London and held a mirror to the reality of racism and the mental horrors that they went through during that time. Moses was Selvon’s main character who struggled with the idea that if he were to go home, he would face the disappointment from his family and the failure of accomplishing anything withstanding. Tolroy has to shoulder the burdens of his family following him to London because he is doing good in the standards of their home country compared to how they were doing there. Not realizing that doing well on their standards was not the same thing as doing well on London’s standards. He has to carry the guilt of feeling burdened by his family, but also has to carry the weight of their ignorance and financial burdens. Finally, with Galahad, the loss of dreams and the disillusionment of a world that was supposed to have streets made of gold. Galahad represents those who expected great things to come for them after they immigrated to London, and ultimately failed.

Edited by Lottie Bowden

Works Cited

Adams, Walter A. “THE NEGRO PATIENT IN PSYCHIATRIC TREATMENT.” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, vol. 20, no. 2, 1950, pp. 305–10, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1939-0025.1950.tb06041.x.

Al Deek, Akram. Writing Displacement : Home and Identity in Contemporary Post-Colonial English Fiction. 1st ed. 2016., Palgrave Macmillan US, 2016, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-59248-4.

Bahun, Sanja. Modernism and Melancholia : Writing as Countermourning. Oxford University Press, 2014.Dawson, Ashley. “‘In the Big City the Sex Life Gone Wild’: Migration, Gender, and Identity in Sam Selvon’s The Lonely Londoners.” Mongrel Nation: Diasporic Culture and the Making of Postcolonial Britain, University of Michigan Press, 2007, pp. 27–48. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv3znzng.5. Accessed 6 May 2025.

Dawes, Kwame S. N. “Samuel Selvon: History: Research Starters: EBSCO Research.” EBSCO, 2022, www.ebsco.com/research-starters/history/samuel-selvon.

Kousoulis, Dr Antonis. “Our History and Future: 70 Years of the Mental Health Foundation.” Mental Health Foundation, 15 July 2019, www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/blogs/our-history-and-future-70-years-mental-health-foundation#:~:text=In%20the%201950s%2C%20ignorance%20about,no%20incentive%20to%20treat%20it. Accessed 09 Apr. 2025

López-Muñoz, Francisco, and Cecilio Alamo. “Monoaminergic neurotransmission: the history of the discovery of antidepressants from 1950s until today.” Current pharmaceutical design vol. 15,14 (2009): 1563-86. doi:10.2174/138161209788168001

“Mental Treatment Act, 1930.” The British Medical Journal, vol. 2, no. 3637, 1930, pp. 139–41. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25337378. Accessed 6 May 2025.

Rivett, Geoffrey. “1948–1957: Establishing the National Health Service.” Nuffield Trust, www.nuffieldtrust.org.uk/chapter/1948-1957-establishing-the-national-health-service. Accessed 6 May 2025.

Takabayashi, Akinobu. “Surviving the Lunacy Act of 1890: English Psychiatrists and Professional Development during the Early Twentieth Century.” Medical History, U.S. National Library of Medicine, Apr. 2017, pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5426304/.

Timing is everything. As cliché as it sounds, people rarely attribute our decisions and our destinies to timing. J. Cole understood this when he released an unexpected teaser single from his long-awaited album The Fall Off. The song, titled “Disc 2 Track 2,” is built entirely around the concept of time, how it moves, how it deceives us, and how we only recognize its value once it has already passed.

Cole raps in reverse, beginning with his death and working backward through his life. From his casket, to the height of his fame, to the birth of his son, to marriage, and eventually to nights in the club lusting after women, the song unfolds back to front. This structure is a clear homage to Nas’ Rewind, where the legendary MC narrates a story in reverse chronology. But where Nas focuses on a moment, Cole zooms out, using time itself as the subject.

Listening to the track pushed me into a state of reflection. As nostalgia drowned my thoughts, I found myself being transported back to some of my earliest memories of consciously engaging with music. Foggy 6 a.m. Miami mornings, the streets quiet, except for two pit bulls barking faintly in the distance, and J. Cole’s Born Sinner blasting through my headphones. At the time, I never considered how moments like that, which I dreaded at the time, would be the fuel for me to become everything I’d ever dreamed of.

I remember walking to the bus stop, my steps subconsciously matching the tempo of the song, as if the instruments were physically tethered to my body by invisible strings. Time kept ticking; I watched the clock, hoping I’d make it before the bus pulled away. That’s the cruel trick of time: while we’re busy noticing it, it’s already moved on.

By the time you finish reading this sentence, the moment you started has already slipped into the past, another fragment of history we can never get back.

In middle school, I wasn’t privileged enough to have my own phone. Instead, I inherited the remnants of my dad’s past and present in the form of a third-generation iPod Touch. Its library was loaded with late ’90s and early 2000s rap. Burned directly into the device long before streaming existed. Back then, you had to buy albums or illegally download songs, and half the time the files didn’t even include titles.

I would play hip-hop roulette, scrolling through randomly numbered tracks, hoping one would be the song I’d been humming to myself all day. Somehow, that uncertainty made the experience even richer. That was the moment that made me fall in love with music. It felt like no matter what song played, the enjoyment was in the unknown.

There are only a few things in life that can trigger nostalgia at that magnitude. J. Cole’s music has always been one of them. Disc 2 Track 2 doesn’t just talk about time: it moves like time, unfolding backward, reminding us that every phase of life is fleeting, and every moment we’re in will one day feel distant. This song is a declaration: “I came and gave this game all I got and became one of the best to do it”. The irony in this release is Cole’s emphasis on what the general population of hip-hop fans perceives as “falling off”. He views it as ‘moving on’, but before he does he’s determined to show how much greater he has gotten over time. This may be an exact depiction of the phrase, ‘being ahead of your time’.

In a way, this review itself mirrors the song. Written as a reflection on moments already gone, it exists as proof of Cole’s message: we don’t notice time passing...we only notice once it’s passed.

Edited by Lottie Bowden

Jah’mal Lapomarel is a storyteller at heart, someone who pays attention to the small details most people overlook. Growing up in Florida, he developed a natural ear for music and conversation, which slowly turned into a passion for writing and media. Whether he’s behind a mic, interviewing artists, or putting thoughts on paper, his goal is always the same: make people feel something real.

To read more, you can find him in the following places

Substack: @jahmallapomarel https://substack.com/@jahmallapomarel

Instagram: @jahmal.l

Website: Jah’mal Lapomarel

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jah%E2%80%99mal-lapomarel-177363213/

Yes, Gen AI is bad.

For the environment, the craftsmanship of the creators involved, the integrity of art itself, and the development of the frontal cortex for future generations. Gen AI feels like the epitome of everything wrong with the massive corporate, capitalistic tech complex that’s plagued society since the term ‘social media brainrot’ became less of a derogatory slang and more of an acceptable way of life. It is not the omen that it should have been, the moment people decided to sell their human dignity, their respect for others and themselves-- for imaginary online validation, and money, of course. None of this is new. Just some of the many things that have been said and that people will continue to say within the grander scheme of all “Internet discourse” as of now and in the foreseeable future. And yet, amidst the doom and gloom and ongoing raging online debacles, one thing has left me wondering. AI is everywhere, operating in the background without us thinking about it much, if at all. However, the system under which it operates is different compared to the one that just cobbles up jumbled crap of misshapen extra limbs and plastic faces from whatever corner of the Internet it scours to steal from;

Hence, the clear distinction between Gen AI and the algorithm AIs used to feed you content instead of the other way around, which is what the former does. But forget the technology for just a moment. Let’s think about the context behind Gen AI - that is, its controversial purpose. It’s meant to create original content. Content, in this case, can span from something as relatively simple as sentences forming paragraphs to potentially entire catalogues of books that Amazon will peddle to its consumer base, because why not?. Except, there is an inherent contradiction, a paradox you can say, in its intended purpose versus the actual methods in achieving said purpose. Gen AI, after all, is still AI - artificial intelligence. It is a machine-based program that a human had to code, to input strings of numbers to produce results that feel too sterile, too detached in a way. It lacks the emotional depth that characterizes the physical and emotional process of learning and mastering a craft present in the final creation. It doesn’t understand any of this. think how we think, feel what we feel. It is just a fabricated, copied existence built on false pretenses, devoid of the self only humans are self-aware to actualize. Yet, in an act of great irony perhaps, one may only wonder where this chase for the supposed ultimate perfection, to create an ‘artificial life’ built to resemble and mimic our capabilities with minimal to little ‘human input’, had led the path they took.

However, I must return to my original point.

What has caught my attention is the emphasis that so many Gen AI users insist upon, the desire to create ‘original’ content that competes or at least levels the playing field enough for them to feel comfortable in participating with the chosen community. This is a sentiment commonly associated with those illiterate degenerates, of whom everyone else hates to hear because it is a pitiful excuse at best. It feels especially disrespectful because even now, there’s definitely a place for fun, meme-y, silly art not meant to be taken seriously (and yes, I consider writing as a form of art too)! There are a variety of styles and levels meant for anyone at any stage in their life to explore and take an interest in. And well, sure, there’s always the classic imposter syndrome, comparing yourself to well-established creators that are both “gifted” or “naturally talented” and popular. However, they still had to work on developing their skills, understanding the fundamentals through hours of practice and learning from the greats, teachers, and peers alike to reach the point they’re at.

This intuitive creative sense, for lack of a better term, is something only the individual can learn for themselves. What do I mean by this? Art is a pretty universal concept, if not a little basic, so to speak, but how it is interpreted is dependent on the individual perspective. Just because there is a classroom of artists, for example, doesn’t mean everyone will create the same work, let alone use the same medium. Their art styles, preferences, philosophies, those things are solely theirs to define their creative processes. The classroom can be given the exact same prompt, yet every single finished result will turn out quite different. You can say that that is ‘original’ content if you mean by how people interpret a concept; if we were to take the literal definition, it would be nigh impossible to create something truly 100% original. You can take upon a concept or idea and innovate, while also acknowledging the inspirations that influenced the final result, because everything is and has been influenced by something. The problem is that Gen AI does not acknowledge the works it steals from. We all know that.

However, as I continue writing out this piece, it occurred to me. The larger conversations surrounding the latest controversial topic of AI use have largely focused on two major arguments— its detrimental effects on the environment (i.e. increased water usage) and the emphasis on the genuine authenticity of human artists.

For instance, according to the United Nations Environment Assembly, every aspect of this technology, from where it’s generated down to the resources necessary to create and maintain AI, is quite demanding on the health of the planet. These massive data centers, for one, house tons of electronics that, on average, require 800 kg of raw materials for a 2 kg computer. Included in these raw materials are rare earth elements, whose mining operations contribute to the release of harmful chemicals into nearby soil, water, and air. Water, especially drinkable water, is scarce, yet they estimate that “globally, AI-related infrastructure may soon consume six times more water than Denmark, a country of 6 million…a problem when a quarter of humanity already lacks access to clean water and sanitation” (UNEA). They also reported that “a request made through ChatGPT, an AI-based virtual assistant, consumes 10 times the electricity of a Google Search” (UNEA), which is crazy considering the blatant misinformation AI spits out. Though then again humans are especially prone to confirmation bias long before this iteration of AI existed, so what would I know.

Meanwhile, “Humans versus AI: whether and why we prefer human-created compared to AI-created artwork”, a research journal by Bellaiche, Lucas et al. suggests that, based on a study by Newman and Bloom, “humans are sensitive to an authentic process of creative production as determined simply by a label. In other words, people consider non-sensory aspects of art, like context and background, in their judgments and evaluations of art (Blank et al., 1984; Chatterjee & Vartanian, 2016; Winner, 1982)” (Bellaiche, Lucas et al.). Much in the same way communities demand healthy organic food free of pesticides, synthetic fertilizers, and other factors that contribute to the detriment of the earth, the growing pushback against “AI generated art” stems from a similar sentiment. That is, there are people who value the time and effort that goes into every aspect of the creative process, which that authenticity is undermined in yet another cold-cut corporate means that everyone hates because it’s another example of corporations doing something no one asked them to do. In a sense, it’s not just fighting back against corporate greed—it’s fighting back to hold said people in positions of power and authority accountable while uplifting the communities that are directly affected by said actions. These ongoing conversations help spotlight human artists either through word of mouth amongst casuals or fellow artists supporting each other in a networking process that’s like “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” kind of deal. How close-knitted these systems are largely depends on the type and size of the community, since there are so many niches artists can occupy in this general art space. However, in general, supporting small art accounts generally does good especially since most people understand the challenging logistics of creating art, and especially for making art to sell.

All of these are valid concerns, mind you. Yet, I feel like this sort of debate has plagued the art community (feel free to correct me on this), specifically because I believe the difference in skill level can not only be visibly evident but can be substantial, which can breed insecurity and envy, often attributing the artists’ craft solely to ‘born talent.’ Even comments that mean to praise often end up backhanded, guilt-trippy even, unintentional they may be. I’m sure for any artist out there, you may have heard someone say at some point, “Oh, I wish I could draw like you. I can’t even draw stick figures,” or “I can never hope to be as good as you at making pottery,” or something of the sort. I know I have, I’ve been on both sides. And I feel like that attitude is the bigger issue in terms of how the non-artists and even many other fellow artists interact with the art community as a whole. People simply can’t enjoy making art that’s silly, fun, and unserious (memes are the exception). No, the overall skill level has risen, and so has expectations for what makes art “good” or “bad”. There’s a huge difference between constructive criticism and flat out bullying—and unfortunately the Internet doesn’t give a shit. No one is safe from the Internet mob hating for the love of the game, and it’s made worse with AI. People are being accused of using AI left and right and now have to prove they’re the ones creating the art, possibly opening them up further to scrutiny and/or plagiarism down the line. Sigh.

In addition, governments such as the Trump administration has done a lot of damage to the social humanities by actively defunding entire programs dedicated to funding the arts (the National Endowment for the arts grants), while the nature of corporations inherently breed hostile work cultures dissuading creative freedom on the basis of profit-driven margins on a ticking deadline. Not to mention sports taking bigger precedence just because winning culture is louder in every single aspect—think of American football, for example, and the many more available pathways to succeed, such as collegiate football teams (I personally believe that sport is an abomination and should be permanently deleted from the collective consciousness, whoever created that should rot in hell). Creating art, on the other hand, that competes in art shows is solely based on the whims of whomever is judging, which is a lot more subjective and prone to bouts of frustration. What do you mean that person won over me? How did my piece not win when it clearly followed what the prompt asked for? Why do I bother when people can just draw anime girls and still win? Those kinds of sentiments are hard to shake off because there’s no clear consensus with art juried competitions, which is made worse by the fees that artists sometimes have to pay in order to compete in the first place. And when art is not made for immediate consumption, made just for the fun of it? Well, because it’s not quantifiable, somehow there are people who will often dismiss it as a hobby that contributes, in some ways, to the negative perception that making art doesn’t make you money.

So what is the big takeaway from all of this?

I’m not sure. I’m sure everyone is probably sick of hearing about AI, and to read another one explaining why it’s bad is tiresome. I get that. However, I believe there’s a neglected aspect to this whole debacle that isn’t really acknowledged amongst the general community. The whole thing about wanting to use AI to create art is absurd, admittedly, and yet, I do pity them in a sense. Putting aside not knowing better because they’re born without a functional brain, it’s hard to create art. And yes, I know there’s a plethora of Youtube tutorials out there but I also think that’s also a problem, in my opinion. There’s simply far too many things on the Internet demanding your attention, so it would be quite difficult to pinpoint exactly what someone starting out should even need to begin to know. What kind of art do I want to create? How do I go about creating that? What are the best supplies I should get or can afford to get? Is this the correct way to learn? Having to navigate all of that and more can tax out anyone’s brain before they can start to enjoy the fun aspects of art. And that’s not including actually learning the skill, which can be a humiliating process for those not used to not being immediately gratified with good results. Information overload is a thing, and social media is built to overstimulate its user base with loads of whatever crap the algorithm recommends them with. Not to mention the decreasing attention span, though that’s a separate issue altogether.

That’s not to say I’m trying to justify/excuse these AI bros. I must emphasize that so people won’t misconstrue my words. At the end of the day, I feel AI art is, in some ways, a more evolved form of problems that already exist within the art community manifested into yet another greedy corporate philosophy every rational human being hates. Seriously, fuck corporations.

Works Cited:

Bellaiche, Lucas et al. “Humans versus AI: whether and why we prefer human-created compared to AI-created artwork.” Cognitive research: principles and implications vol. 8,1 42. 4 Jul. 2023, doi:10.1186/s41235-023-00499-6

https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10319694/

https://www.unep.org/news-and-stories/story/ai-has-environmental-problem-heres-what-world-can-do-about

Edited by Sonal Butley and Lilli Eve

Ten years ago, my mom and I started watching this new Netflix show that she thought wouldn’t be a horror show since the main characters were kids, and therefore, I, at the ripe age of 9, would be okay watching it. Around 15 minutes in, she turned it off and told me not to watch it. About two days later, I went to my then best friend’s house for a sleepover, and she had parents who didn’t really care about what their kids did, so we started this new show I was hooked on: Stranger Things.

At nine years old, I found myself falling in love with this show. At the time, I just thought it was a funny, scary show with (and yes, I knew this at 9 and I stand by it at 19) the love of my life in it—Mike Wheeler.

Throughout the later ten years of my life, I found myself adamantly falling more and more in love with this show. I would rewatch it when the new seasons came out, I would ‘illegally’ download Netflix on my ‘phone’ to watch it at night, since until around season three, I was not allowed to watch it. The person I was when I first started watching it, compared to the person who watched the finale, is two astonishingly different people. Well, one thing didn’t really change. I stayed in love with Mike Wheeler until I realized I was just in love with Finn Wolfhard, but hey, who isn’t?

Anyways, as I grew up with the show, I started to see the things that were there. New details, added subplots that the show writers were adding. Since I would rewatch the seasons every time a new one would come out, I can proudly say I wasn’t a member of the general audience; I was a solid member of the fandom.

This is all to say that after watching the last episode, I find myself completely unable to even try and watch this show again. And if I am being honest, it isn’t because I am sad this show has ended, I have dealt with shows I love to death ending and being able to rewatch them. Hell, I love when shows end because it is like a book, it ends, and now I can rewatch and see how the story always leads to the satisfying ending. Because I was too young to ever go through a show ending that was lackluster or just completely disappointing—I was in middle school when Game of Thrones (GOT) ended and it honestly was more of my moms show rather than anything I would watch since there was way too much sex for my young eyes— I never fully understood people’s devastating reactions to some show finale.

However, no, I can’t watch this show anymore, because the finale didn’t just ruin season five for me, but the whole show. I am not going to compare this show’s ending to GOT because the GOT fans get very pissed off at that, and I understand. I’ve seen the table read, everyone was crying, and no one really hid their contempt with the ending. Personally, I can’t wait to see what the Stranger Things cast says once it has been long enough for them to say stuff without it hurting their career or relationships, because, honestly, it is that serious.

My first and foremost complaint is Jane/Eleven’s story arc. My opinion on her story stands alone from my opinions on Mileven or Byler (which I have a lot of opinions on, but right now I just want to look at her story). This point, actually, was one I saw on Tiktok by the tiktoker @freddiesroommate, and after watching this video, it left me so angry I had to read one of my favorite Season five rewrites on Ao3! He talked about how one prevailing theme of the whole show is friendship and love conquers all, and can/will bring you back from the brink of death. Will’s return, El’s survival in season two, how Will was saved from position, Billy saving El in season three, Joyce saving Hopper, El resurrecting Max, Max running up that hill, and so on. Every storyline, character relationship, and everything is centered around this idea. Until it came to the end, because suddenly, El thinks even after ALL of that, the only way to end this all is to stay in the Upside Down as it caves in on itself.

Then the stupid documentary where the Duffer Brothers didn’t even have the empathy to talk about this act as anything other than “El has to k**** herself.” Look, that sure is what she is doing, but talking about it like that is insensitive and disgusting. Thereafter, these brothers go on after the show ends and talk about how El had to do it because she represented the magicalness of childhood, and “she had to disappear for the boys to move on.” Let’s pack that. They basically, and continued during the press following the ending, to contradict any ambiguity they gave her. If anyone in the fandom was keeping up with the press, they basically told me Mike’s theory is wrong, and she is dead. Right.

Then they write this character that people see themselves in, that people love. They write a teenage girl who experienced so much trauma and pain as such a complex and round character, only to, at the very end, dumb her down to being a personification of childhood, that— and these are their words— the boys have to lose. Not the party, not Max, the boys. They wrote a beautiful love girl for ten years only to force her into becoming a disposable female character. And since that is how her story ends, when I tried to rewatch season one, one of the best seasons—argue with the wall. I am sorry, I immediately started crying when El came onto my screen because that is her ending. Becoming disposable for men, just like she always was. Maybe I am being too woke or feminist, but this actually makes me want to throw up. El was a girl with a family, sure misshaped and abnormal, but the Byers and Hopper loved her. They wrote (I doubt it was the Duffers who wrote this monologue because it was actually good and didn’t sound like ChatGPT) a beautiful monologue for Hopper, begging her to see her future, all for what? It goes in one ear and out the other.

Second, they wrote one of the longest, most diabolical queer bait in the 21st century. According to the Oxford dictionary, queer baiting means the incorporation of apparently LGBTQ characters or relationships into a film, television show, etc., as a means of appealing to the LGBTQ audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters’ sexuality. Welp, we are back to the Duffers’ love for ambiguity! The ship was between Mike Wheeler and Will Bylers, coining the name Byler. When Stranger Things came out, and I have to admit I didn’t hop on the Byler train until around season 3, there was a small part of the fandom that seemed to believe that Mike had feelings for Will based on their relationship in season two. Continuously through seasons one to three, they hinted and alluded to the fact that Mike and Will’s friendship was different from theirs with the other characters. I personally felt like it didn’t start to get romantic until season three when Mike said, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.”

The pinnacle of these queer allusions is season four, when they pull out the Cyrano troupe. For anyone who doesn’t know, the Cyrano trope is a common romantic trope where character A helps character B with their relationship with character C. They do this by using character A’s feelings towards character B to keep B and C’s relationship afloat. Normally, what happens is that B realizes that their feelings for C are based on A’s feelings for them, and thereby B ends their relationship with C to be with A. This is a very, very standard romantic trope; you can see it in films like Roxanne (1987), The Half of It (2020), and the critically acclaimed movie Megamind (2010)!

This is exactly what the Duffer brothers did in season four with the van conversation between Will and Mike after he lied, saying the painting was El’s commission. Right, because El, who knows nothing of Dungeons and Dragons and is not even in the painting, will commission that. At the time, this was the peak of the Byler fandom, and people had started to see that this trope was causing the main part of the fandom to ship these two characters. However, this trope was left unsatisfied as they ended it with Will being forced to come out and Mike rejecting him in the last episode, around twenty minutes in. They dragged out this story with no gall to do the story that they themselves had been building up for at least two seasons.

I think the main thing is that in between season four and five, cast members and the Duffers were talking about how the van scene ‘will pay off’. Noah Schnapp, the actor of Will Byers, saying “Byler is at its peak right now, they are building that up,” at AwesomeCon in 2022; Finn Wolfhard, Mike Wheeler, saying at another press conference in 2023 that “I asked the Duffers and they said ‘don’t worry it’ll [the van scene] pay off in the end,” credit to @1dbyler on X. However this did not happen. What happened on this ship blew up. Tumblr released its top ships of 2025, with Byler being number one. AO3, a common fanfiction writing platform, has over 32,000 stories that center around this relationship; the ship is the most popular ship from the universe across many social media platforms, and nearly every cast member has been asked about it.

So, not only did the Duffer brothers write a story that completely self-contradicts, belittles, and dumbs down the three main characters, and has too many plotholes—most likely due to the usage of ChatGPT seen in the documentary on Netflix—they basically laughed in the face of many of their fans. Because that is what this has shown, the Byler fans are a major part of this fandom, if not the largest. The forced coming out and the soft rejection led to the last two episodes being the lowest-rated episodes in the whole show, with 5.6/10 and 7.5/10 ratings, respectively. They could have jumped the scary bridge they were on and show viewers and the creators alike that you can have a queer relationship in the forefront and have a monumental, phenomenal ending that is satisfying for all the characters. But instead, Will’s arc was the basic queer arc– self-acceptance with the possibility of maybe having love in a hypothetical future, Mike turning into his father, who still doesn’t say I love you or know anything about the painting, and El, a manifestation of childhood that must be lost to grow up.

We could have seen people relate to these characters because they are in love and happy, or see that it’s possible for them; instead, there are fans who saw this and thought they needed to come out or accept themselves to not end up like these characters. A viral video on Tiktok by user @screwrossduffer says, ‘character [Mike Wheeler] ending so terrifying my dad came out.’ This is the legacy the Duffer brothers will have. Maybe one day, the show creators will see that this story not only needs to be told but deserves it. Luckily, Heated Rivalry on HBOMax is going against this pattern. However, this once beautiful show about outcasts falls into the mix with the larger queerbaiting shows like Sherlock, Voltron: Legacy Defenders, and Riverdale. I guess it just goes to show when you have two white straight men writing a story about the outcasts and the rejects of society, they’ll never get it right.

Edited by Sonal Butley